Monthly Archives: September 2010

I’m Not Waiting

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For many of my colleagues, the last few days have been some of those days where it’d just be better if there were no Internet, and there were a safe place to hide.  Folks’re keeping their heads down, or their hackles up.  Either way, something’s not right.  Between Oprah and NBC, it seems that everyone’s got some rocks or agendas or something to be chucking towards teachers.

And you know what?  That’s just not okay.

I mean, yes, there are plenty of problems with American education.  And much that needs fixing.  However, the television narratives of these last few days are oversimplified and suffering from a lack of thoughtfulness.  To say that the unions are the villians and the teachers are the puppets, or any of the variations of that I’ve seen over the last few days, is to sell things short.  Really, really short.  And for “journalists” to be selling the twisted narrative of bad teachers running amok is, well, disappointing, to be polite.

Since we’re Waiting for Superman and all, I thought I might offer up these words on Superman from Chris Crutcher, a fine writer and author of many books that, this week being Banned Books Week and all, you might want to check out sometime.

Crutcher wrote a fabulous short story, Angus Bethune, that was made, I thought, into a fine movie.  Both the story and the movie are about Angus, a rather stout fellow who has to endure a rough go of it, in part because he’s bright and in part because he’s, well, stout.1

What you need to know to understand what’s about to come is that Angus has to face a Tough Challenge – he’s a funny-sized dude, and he needs a tux.   And there’s only one that’ll fit – and it’s the funky and funny colored tuxedo.  So Angus, who’s picked on enough for anyone ever to be, has to decide if he’s going to face the tux, and the kids who’ll see him in it, or if he won’t.  And, he’s not alone in thinking through this choice.  In the story, it’s his stepdad, in the movie, his grandfather2 who walks him through the situation with the relevant words:3

Superman.  He’s not brave.  .  .  .  You don’t understand. He’s smart.  He’s handsome.  He’s even decent. But he’s not brave.  .  .  . He’s indestructible  .  .  . you can’t be brave when you’re indestructible.  It’s guys like you and me that are brave, Angus. Guys who are different, and can be crushed — and know it –but go out there anyway.

Angus has to choose if he wants to be brave or to be Superman.  And I won’t spoil either story for you – you should read one and watch the other.4

But that’s just it.  The invincible few who are in positions to sling arrows, rocks, accusations, and mean words from their pulpits and broadcast booths and their fancy5 sets aren’t the folks I’m interested in.  What do they have to be afraid of?  What do they have in the game?  When NBC moves on to the next topic, or Mark Zuckerberg to the next write off, well, so what?  They’ll take their capes on with them to the next thing.  And good on them, I guess.6

And I’m not in a hurry for Superman to descend into the picture and grab us all and carry us off to safety.  As my friend Chris says, “There’s no one coming for us.”

And that’s cool, if uncomfortably so.  It’s true.  I’m a fan of truth.

And the truth is, I’m interested in those of us who are not invincible, who can only take so much, and who bleed, suffer and break when the rocks get tossed.  I want human beings in our schools.  I want kind and compassionate mortals working with our children, people who know what it means to hurt and fail and to rise up and succeed in spite of the foolish words from high places.  Those’re the models I want for our students.  Even better if they don’t sling hard words back, but just get on with the teaching and the learning, hesitant7 to rest until they’ve moved the ball down the field, to mix my metaphors.

Superman can stick it.  I’m with the teachers.

Now, there’s plenty of work to do, and it’s hard and scary and painful and dangerous.  And some of us won’t make it.  But it’s good and important and noble work, and it’s worth doing.  And the television these last ten days hasn’t been helping.  It’s been getting in the way.

So I’m turning it off and moving on.

You in?

  1. I know a thing or two about that.  For that reason, and several others, I’m not a fan of bullies. [↩]
  2. played exquisitely by George C. Scott [↩]
  3. I’m quoting the short story, the movie lines are slightly different. [↩]
  4. There’re some weird and strangely satisfying differences between the two.  Seriously.  Check them both out. [↩]
  5. And pricey looking [↩]
  6. Who, I wonder, is “for” bad teachers? [↩]
  7. But not unwilling.  It’s a long journey.  Take time to rest. [↩]
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The Week in Tweets for 2010-09-27

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Keep. On. Writing.

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I’ve been trying to make it more of a habit to make it to the blog lately to write.  Not so much for you, but for me – there’s lots going on and I fear losing the important bits in the maelstrom of daily tasks.  I figure that a few minutes spent writing any of it out will at least help me to maintain some sense of the good stuff.  And, it seems, my friend Chris is feeling the same way of late.  He says it so beautifully that it’s worth repeating:

And I realize the way you do it is to do it.


You write the blog entry.


You speak truth to power when you have the opportunity.


And you serve the children who have put their faith in you.


You let their voices rise.


And you let their voices inform and embolden your voice.


Because that’s what’s needed.


And that’s how we win.

Of course, his win is in the larger context of educational reform conversations. My win, this week, comes from knowing that I’ve been working with some really smart and hungry DLC team leaders who are starting a two-year journey of exploration and inquiry1  And there’ll be plenty of writing in there.  We’re carving out some time for thoughtfulness and exploration and play one teacher at a time.  And that’s a win, too.

Twice today, I was reminded of the exploration work that we did in CyberCamp the previous two summers, and how that was such a transformative experience for teachers here, as well as for me.   That was time carved out of the craziness and spent in reflection and exploration, with the requirement that, yes, we would write each day, if only to bang our hands against the keys to drum out the frustration of lack of progress.2   One true win of the Digital Learning Collaborative work so far is that we’re working that space for thinking about teaching and learning3 into the regular school year, instead of keeping it waiting in the summertime.

My other win for the week is that I’ve managed to slip over here a few times and to bang out some words, even if they’re these wistful ones.  I hope to return to a semi-regular rhythm here over the next few weeks.  We’ll see if that works out – and if it does, if it happens to be useful to you.4

  1. I know I’m pointing to the DLC work lots lately.  That’s because, well, it amazes me that I get to do it.  And it’s important. [↩]
  2. But there was never a lack of progress because the rhythm of the work kept us moving.  And when the rhythm of the work wasn’t enough of a push, the support of trusted colleagues was. [↩]
  3. With technology, but it’s not so much about the technology.  Don’t tell. [↩]
  4. I still subscribe to the notion that if it’s useful for me, it may well be for you.   But I might be wrong. [↩]
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On (Purposeful) Play

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In the Digital Learning Collaborative, we tell teachers that year one of their two-year commitment is to play with technology.1

And we mean “play” in the best sense of the word.  Fiddle.  Tinker.  Explore.  Discover.  Try.  Fail.  Reengage.2

“Play” doesn’t sit easily with some of the teachers that I work with, nor with several the administrators that I’ve explained the project to lately.  And that’s too bad.  But I understand it.3

There’s an intense pressure to perform right now, to be successful in all that we do with students.  So “playing” seems unprofessional.  Wasteful.

But it’s not.

To play on purpose is to take risks.  To challenge what you know.  To ride the edge between what is and what might be, what never was and what should’ve been.  To admit that there’s stuff worth doing that you don’t know the outcome to. To get silly. To be engaged with the world.  To dare to fiddle with the unfiddlable.

And we need teachers to be in regular, thoughtful, and purposeful, play.4  How are you making time for play in your learning?

  1. Year two is all about teacher research.  To be honest, I’m not sure which year is harder. [↩]
  2. Rinse.  Repeat. [↩]
  3. Even so, I worry when I have to spend so much time reminding educators that it is perfectly acceptable to be swept away by learning. [↩]
  4. Our children, too, need play.  Regularly. [↩]
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The Week in Tweets for 2010-09-20

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I’m Wondering: Starting Some Inquiry

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As part of our work this year in the Digital Learning Collaborative, we are going to be engaging in some teacher research. The homework for the team leaders this month was to start thinking through possible questions. Michelle and I are eating our own dog food – we’ll be trying to conduct our own studies.

Back in May, I wrote some about my possible questions:

I wonder about how these spaces change classroom practice. I think about how writing, and more generally, composition, becomes an extension for learning, particularly when there is a public audience for the work. Who is using these spaces? To what ends? How do the use of blogs and online courseware change the experience of teaching and learning in my school district? (Does anything change?) How are teachers using spaces like these? Is the learning day extended? What kinds of writing are happening in these spaces? To what effect?

Those are the questions I’ll start with. As for data – well, we’ve got lots to look at. The blog engine itself is a public repository of the use of these tools. What are the ethical implications of studying, in public, a public space where learning is taking place? I plan to blog my research log, a tool that I’ll use to keep my reflections and observations about what I’m seeing and learning as I study these questions. In addition, I anticipate that I’ll conduct interviews with people using these tools in my quest to understand their impact. I intend to publish these recordings, as well, prior to my analysis of them.

One question – and it seems a silly one – but should I start a separate blog over in the district blogging engine to collect all this work, or should I separate it a bit by placing it over here, at my place? I’m leaning towards creating a space there. But I’m still thinking.

I’m still thinking about digital spaces1, but I thought I might write a bit more about why. As we’re asking the team leaders to think through the passions identified by the authors of our text, I need to first contextualize my thinking through those. I’m thinking that my questions involve two of the passion categories – a desire to explore the relationship between my beliefs and my classroom practice2 (.p 38-39) and a “focus on understanding the teaching and learning context.” (p.54-55)

And I guess, too, that I’m still thinking about how we use those tools – how their presence affects what happens in the classroom. If what happens is “well, the notes are on the blog,” that’s not a terribly big change – or is it. I’m going to explore some examples of interesting blogging practice and try to see what influence those have on the classrooms they came from. A few teachers come to mind for my inquiry – but I’m still wondering if I want to try to look at these questions as someone looking at the texts or at the practices that generate these texts. Or both.

I know from my own classroom experience that the potential exists in these publishing tools to extend the school experience beyond the walls of the school – and to bring the outside world in. Permeable walls are possible through publishing. But are they happening? Should they be?  Writing3 is powerful learning.  If we create more opportunities for writing and being thoughtful, might that make a positive difference for students?  Teachers?  Learning?

As of right this minute, that’s what I’m thinking about.  That said, as with all good inquiry, I suspect my questions will change over the next several weeks as I dig in further.

  1. Good grief. As we roll out Google Apps in our district, any student will be able to publish anywhere without the intervention of the teacher. We’re rolling in places to post and share. [↩]
  2. Oddly, my “classroom” as an instructional technology coordinator is actually a virtual space – and, because of the areas of my interest right now, is the Internet. Which is pretty big. So I’m going to have to try to limit that somehow. [↩]
  3. or composition [↩]
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On Writing Without Links in a Time of Linking. And Also About Collaboration

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I’m sitting on my couch tonight as I write, trying to compose with my iPad. It’s a neat device – I enjoy reading, watching TV, taking notes at meetings1, and all sorts of applications. But one thing the iPad isn’t so good at is as a device for writing blog posts. I like to move back and forth between several windows when I compose blog posts, and, more and more, anything that I write. I dash hyperlinks into what I write like Alton Brown tosses salt into recipes. And when the salt is out of reach, well, it feels like I’m making a different dish.

I’m wondering if hyperlinks have happened to you like they’ve happened to me. When I write and I can’t stick a link into the text to further clarify an adjective or an adverb, to give the reader background information, or to accomplish a number of other really helpful writing tasks, well, it feels like I’m not allowed to use letters in the alphabet.

That said, well, I reckon there are still things to say without hyperlinks. So here goes.
I had the opportunity to cross Twitter paths with Steve Barkley2 this evening, as he was speaking to the difficulties of collaboration. Not the Web 2.0ish kind, as Darren Draper3 referenced during the Twitter back and forth, but actually, honest to goodness collaboration. According to Steve4, true collaboration requires two things:5 shared responsibility and feeling empowered to act.

And he’s right about both of those.

I think that, too often, I’m reading folks who would say that collaboration is so easy now. And that’s bogus. The act of sharing is wicked easy, but collaboration, as Steve describes it, is really, really hard. Incredibly hard. 6
As far as sharing goes, well, if I weren’t sitting on my couch with this handy little iPad, I might point you to Steve’s blog post, the one where he outlines some of his recent work on sharing. That post reminded me of some of the struggles that Michelle7 and I have been facing lately as we work to build and support teams of teacher around the district. It’s that work, in fact, which prompted me to tell Steve that I think empowerment comes from two places – the top down and from within. As he responded back, both are necessary for change.

I feel a bit subversive saying this8, but I really find that the best efforts for change do come from the top down and the bottom up. Simultaneously. That’s how lightning works, too. 9

Huh. I guess I can write just fine with an iPad. No problems whatsoever.10

  1. If anyone can enjoy taking notes at meetings, that is. [↩]
  2. @stevebarkley on Twitter. Very wise fellow. [↩]
  3. A tech director in Utah. Google him. Smart dude. [↩]
  4. Trust me again. He really tweeted this. If only I could easily link to it [↩]
  5. I’d cut and past his exact words, but that would require exiting this application, which might cause me to lose some text, so just bear with my paraphrase. Please. [↩]
  6. Worth doing, though. When the necessary conditions exist. [↩]
  7. I can’t even use just her first name in a world without hyperlinks. I’ve got to tell you that I’m referring to Michelle Bourgeois. Her blog is called “Milobo’s Musings.” Perhaps you can find it in a Google search, as I can’t link to it right now, what with the limitations here and all. [↩]
  8. And I shouldn’t, because it’s true that there are many agents in any organization. And they all, students included, have (and should exercise) their agency. [↩]
  9. I’d like to link right there to a YouTube video of a slow motion lightning strike. But I can’t. Not easily. Because, you know. iPad. Unitasker. [↩]
  10. The iPad, as a writing tool, isn’t quite ready yet. Thank goodness for footnotes. [↩]
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The Week in Tweets for 2010-09-13

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