For the last several years, I’ve used this blog every April as a space to help folks write and share poems. It’s been fun, but I’m thinking it’s time to do something different and possibly combine efforts.
Ben Rimes has a great site up at Poetry for People where he’s posting visual prompts and folks are sharing poems. This month, let’s spend some time together there. Poetry is better when we’re reading and writing together1.
How are you working poetry into your life this month and all months?
- Bonus option – encourage your students to enter the NY Times Learning Network’s Found Poetry Contest. [↩]
Recently, a project I spent some time on last spring and summer came to life. Teaching in the Connected Learning Classroom is now available for free download as a PDF or a 99 cent eBook via the Amazon Kindle store. I’m biased, but I think you should take a peek.
The goal of the project was to put a face of specific examples from real classrooms on the Connected Learning principles. Again, I’m biased, but I think if you read the text, and follow the links to the projects from Digital Is we focused on, I think you’ll get a sense that real, live teachers and students are engaging in some very dynamic work in classrooms right now. They’re not waiting for someone to show the way. I was particularly pleased to see so many examples of “teacher” and “student” shown in the text. We all take turns with both of these roles. That’s important to remember. Gail, Mike, Adam, and Jenny, the teachers who wrote the examples I showcase in the chapter I worked on, were all my teachers on this project and I’m grateful for their contributions to my learning and this text. You will be, too. So take a look already.
But other teachers, as well as plenty of non-teachers who make big pronouncements about schools and schooling, would benefit, too, from a glimpse of the work we reference. So share this with them, would you?
Last week, several of the other project editors visited for a webinar at Educator Innovator. That webinar is below. Give it a listen.
My school district has been adding some infrastructure to a facility for support offices recently, and our network team noticed some serious spikes in WiFi use after hours at the sites. A few years ago, we implemented a very easy to use public network for any guest or personal machine in our schools to be able to connect with minimal inconvenience. Basically, we have Starbucks-style free WiFi running at all of our sites. That’s a good thing – as public schools are community institutions, funded and supported by the community. That support should go both ways. And yet – it’s a rocky road.
This facility, surrounded by homes and broadcasting a strong WiFi signal, was getting hammered by private residences in the area. Serious use. Non-staff use on the public network side.
So the decision was made, because of concern about the network and the high traffic, to shut down that site’s access points after business hours.
One network technician, leaving the site, was asked by a nearby resident “Why did you turn off my wireless?”
What an interesting question, and it got me thinking. What is the role of public infrastructure when it comes to personal use beyond the scope of our educational mission?
I see both sides of this one – a network with no available bandwidth for students and staff to conduct their work just won’t do – and the primary mission of an educational entity is to educate the folks within the entity.
But I wonder, too, about the larger role of a public school district in terms of its educational mission to the community beyond the classroom. How do we create opportunities for learning for the folks served indirectly by our primary efforts? Is a school’s WiFi, funded by the community through tax and use fees, “mine,” or “theirs,” or, maybe “ours?”
As the lines blur further between personal and professional and in-school and out-of-school, I think this is an important question. I wonder how you’re answering that in your institutions, districts, and classrooms. If you’ve got a great answer, I’d love to hear it in the comments.
I taught a class tonight and made it home just in time for bedtime. I’d been looking forward to stories – and expected my daughters to be on their way up to bed. But what I found instead was that Ani was already in bed and tucked in. She wasn’t feeling super well and had retired early.
Without packing her lunch. Which meant it was going to be my job.
But I found out that the lunch wasn’t made because I caught Teagan, her younger sister, already in the process of packing two lunches. Without any prompting or complaining, she was helping out. Just to be nice.
That, though, wasn’t what floored me. I watched Teagan grab a Sharpie and begin to mark up the sandwich bag she had just filled full of sliced peppers, a staple vegetable in our school lunches. Immediately, I told her that she needed to show her mother what she had done.
She did this1:
I can’t tell you how proud I was. But I can tell you that I never told her, explicitly, that the way you help someone feel better is to write them a note. That was something we modeled for her by slipping notes her way from time to time.
You can’t teach love, so much, by way of demanding it or requiring it or lecturing on its finer points. You’ve got to model it. You’ve got to live it, or at least try to, and let the lesson come through a little bit on its own, as we trust that our children, or students, or colleagues, pay attention.
Tonight’s scribbled notes2 were a fine reminder that, even when an example isn’t perfect, plenty of times the message still gets across.
And I wonder where and how I could be modeling love better, myself.3
- It’s maybe a bit hard to read – but it says “I love yuo (sic) Ani! (Heart) Teagan”. [↩]
- She wrote a similar message on the pizza in another sandwich bag, too. [↩]
- Later, Teagan chose Peter Reynolds’ The Dot as her story for the night. Love notes to sisters and that book were the one-two punch of love for me tonight. If you haven’t read that book, oh, you really should. [↩]
Be sure to read his comments about the conversation over at DML Central. I really hope we get the chance to continue the conversation. Let us know what we should focus on in future videos in the comments.
I’ve been in several conversations lately where publishers and vendors have taken an awful casual approach to identity and student data management. The front end of their new “digital textbook” looks great. HTML5 and everything. Plays nicely with an iPad, or a Chromebook or any other screen on any other device. As they should. I get excited.
And then I get a look at the user database or authentication tools they provide for managing accounts and student data for the product. And again and again and again, I get a little sick to my stomach. No way to authenticate against our identity databases. No way to actively manage and/or sync data from our databases to theirs. Duplicate accounts. Terrible data management. Shockingly disappointing attention to issues of privacy or student ownership of the work they do.
The worst part isn’t that they don’t get it – educational software and publishers are often a little behind cutting edge when it comes to enterprise level technology. I get it. Many school districts are behind on this, too. It’s when we raise questions and express our concern that I get upset. Because we get one of two types of responses:
1. This is “the first time anyone’s ever asked these questions,” we’re told. As if we should be excited that we ask new questions that no one else is asking. That’s scary.
2. “Well, we understand your concerns, but other school districts don’t want these things, and we don’t feel the need to develop them,” I hear. That’s worse.
I can’t fathom why publishers and vendors are so willing to play fast and loose with precious data – student personal info, their schoolwork and creations, etc. But it’s not okay. And worst thing is when, in spite of our concerns, we hear things like this:
“Well, the front end is so beautiful and high quality. Would you really allow your concerns over this other stuff to prevent you from giving these amazing resources to your teachers and students to use?”
My answer to that question is always going to be yes. A pretty thing on the other side of a glass wall of awfulness will keep me walking right on through the universe of options. I’ll pick the resource that’s not as good if I know I can keep my students safe and our data reasonable to manage and protect. The “it’s only one more account” for a student to learn or use argument is no good when there’re only five or ten or more accounts for folks to actually have to learn in order to do their jobs.
Let’s do better. Let’s demand better.
2014 begins with me, as I do every year, reevaluating a bit of what I’ve been up to, a bit of what I’m planning to do, and a bit of what I’d like to do. And I’m a lucky guy, as I’ve never had a longer list of all three types of things when I sat down to start a year.
As I write my way into 2014, I’m stuck by all the things I could choose to do. How will I spend the minutes of this year? My brain of late is rushing with all the different things that I could be doing. Here, in no particular order, is what flashed through my mind just now:
- Explore the possibilities available in Longmont and the surrounding area for partnering with Spanish speakers to offer additional family-focused technical assistance in our new 1:1 initiative.
- Wondering about and thinking through how our 1:1 initiative is also a family digital literacy initiative, to some degree, and wondering about how to support student learning through the lens of family learning1
- Declutter and rethink my home office.
- Explore the possibilities of moving from physical book collections in our secondary schools and building digital libraries for students and staff to access via our iPad 1:1.
- Date my wife more.
- Helping schools to think through how to repurpose no longer necessary lab spaces by rethinking the use of space in those rooms. This might be looking at the Third Teacher and similar resources to create learning commons, or collaboration spaces. It might mean building “iPad writing labs” by purchasing some wired keyboards. It might look like something I haven’t imagined.
- Build robots with my children.
- Rethinking how we do professional development in my school district as the district has decided that we should not be utilizing substitutes to free teachers up during the school day, but rather that we should fit professional learning for adults into nights, weekends, and summers.
- Play more music. Maybe even write and record some.
- Redeveloping and redefining my digital and paper workflows – collections of notes, active projects, and lengthy lists of to dos – in order to improve my efficiency and focus on any and all of these tasks.
- Finally replace those shrubs in the front yard. Determine if they are, indeed, dead, or just resting.
- Wondering about my long-term career goals and whether or not I’m working towards them in my current work.
- Diving deeply into how my children interact with technology, each other, and the world.
- Helping teachers to rethink analog habits at a time of digital change and the eventual 1:1 move. Wondering about how to help teachers both bring along the practices that they value and abandon the practices that they do not, either analog, digital, or some combination thereof.
- Train for longer races as a runner who’s certainly 10K capable, but somewhat intimidated by half-marathons.
- Thinking about family history, family archives, and the long term digital legacies I’d like to create, manage, and leave behind.
Again, these are just a few of the many things I’m wondering about wondering about as the year begins. And the more I think about it, this is only a small fraction of a very large list. I know that I can’t do all of these things, or at least do them all well. I know that I am a very lucky person, as I have the opportunity to have my thumb in all sorts of projects and wonderings and dreaming about these and other things. But I’m also struck by, when I take the time to map some of these ideas out, the idea that sometimes, it’s easy to see all of the things I could do and get stuck by the sheer “bigness” of it all. I can get paralyzed by all of the possibilities and avoid moving in any one direction as I know that movement one way certainly closes doors on the other ways I could’ve gone.
One of the big takeaways of my freshman year of college was the phrase “opportunity cost,” one I picked up in an economics survey class. Wikipedia provides a clear definition:
In microeconomic theory, the opportunity cost of a choice is the value of the best alternative forgone, in a situation in which a choice needs to be made between several mutually exclusive alternatives given limited resources. Assuming the best choice is made, it is the “cost” incurred by not enjoying the benefit that would be had by taking the second best choice available.
I get stuck too often in wondering which thing to do at the cost of not getting anything done. So If I’m making a resolution this year, and, hey, it’s never too late, or a bad time of year, for a resolution, it’s this: I pledge to recognize that I can’t do everything I’d like to do, but I’ve got to pick some things to focus on, otherwise, I’ll never get anything accomplished. As I age, I discover that I have less and less time available, and saying no to some things is the only way to say yes to others.
Deep breath. Let’s dig in.
- Is a school district responsible for students only, or do we have a larger mission to support learning of all types for all folks? [↩]
Over the last few weeks, I’ve heard the phrase that is the title of this post used as a badge of honor. I’ve also heard it said this way: “There’s nothing we do with paper and pencil.” Folks have sworn that they never use, would never use, or would never have students use, pen and paper to further their learning, as if pen and paper were cancer-causing or habit forming.1 What’s creepy is watching other people nod their heads and smile when a speaker says that. Those folks should challenge the speaker. Sometimes, we’re just entirely too polite.
The last time I heard this phrase and saw the head nod/smile response was during the Champions for Change event. My notes are below. My, ahem, paper notes. I hope the video of the conversation is posted soon.
Too many proponents of digital tools get stuck in the false either/or dichotomy that suggests that we must abandon paper to embrace the digital. That’s silly. Paper is good for lots of things. Scribbling on a tablet isn’t yet the best way to get thoughts down in a hurry. Paper is easily sharable and postable in ways that notes on a tablet or laptop aren’t.
And anyway, the important piece of tool selection is picking the right tool for the right job. That it’s digital or analog really doesn’t matter all that much. What matters is that you are making something.2
I never leave my house without a notebook, or, more and more, a tablet computer. But if I’m only taking one, I’m taking the notebook. It’s where I scribble and wonder and draft and note-take. When I’m using a pen to do so.
I wouldn’t even mention this troubling phrase except that I’ve met many teachers turned off by digital things precisely because the people touting them say things like “I never use a pen and paper.” That phrase rubs lots of people, pen and paper-loving people, the wrong way. There’s an implied sense that they have to give up what works in order to embrace digital tools. That’s just wrong.
To those teachers, I’d say don’t drop anything that’s working for you, and don’t be too quick to pick up anything new unless you see that it might have some value. Us geeks get into our technologies sometimes, but that doesn’t make us right.
To the rest of us – let’s use better language, particularly if we’re trying to encourage better habits in others and ourselves. As my school district is beginning our work with our iPad 1:1, I’ve been encouraging people to think about going “paperless.” My team realized quickly that “paperless” isn’t what we’re after. We’re after folks choosing the best tool in a bigger toolbox for the job they’re trying to get done. So instead of “paperless,” we’re starting to say “digital friendly.” It’s not yet the right phrase, but it is an attempt to break our use of language that characterizes paper as a bad thing.
How, I wonder, does the language you use get in the way of the thing you’re trying to accomplish? Let me know in the comments.
Earlier today, the White House posted the blog posts from the Connected Educator Champions of Change. Including mine. Here’s an excerpt:
Technology is often seen as an addition to the learning experience. In the 21st century, in a time of Common Core State Standards, that is no longer the case. Change is hard. Doing right by our students and each other is hard. Playing with the newest toys is easy, and can feel like change. But it often is not and good instructional practices, like all good habits, take time and effort to develop. The work of connected educators, then involves helping learners to make connections to good tools and habits, and to break connections to the bad ones.
But take a peek at the posts. Some good stuff in there.
- Lengthened short sentences, fiddled with some of my preposition placement, and got rid of a couple of contractions. It’s cool. Their website, their rules. By way of comparison, here’s the paragraph from above as I submitted it. I find the edits fascinating. I couldn’t resist changing a couple of things back in the excerpt above, too. Take a peek at the original. [↩]
- And where you would’ve linked to things. I sent them a text with seven embedded links. One remained. Huh. [↩]