#DML2012 – On Love and Infrastructure

I’ve been continually struck at DML with the notions of connectedness and participation.  It makes sense that these would be sticky ideas here, and dominant ones.  The conference opened with the announcement of the Connected Learning Research Network and a talk from John Seely Brown that dealt heavily with notions of participatory culture.

But in our rush to make and play and tinker and connect and engage in learning that matters in institutions that might not, I feel like I’m missing the love.

No, that’s not quite right.  Actually, I’m finding notions of love everywhere I look.  But perhaps that’s because I’m focused on looking for it, and you know how it goes – when you look for something, when you look really hard, you can find it anywhere.

I keep coming back to this interview that Fred Rogers gave to the Academy of Television Arts and Sciences.  You should watch the entire series, but here, at 5 minutes and 17 seconds into this particular segment, Mr. Rogers give his definition of teaching and talks about what he was trying to do with his television show:

His words here stick hard with me – I cannot divorce his concept of love and teaching from my way of thinking about teaching now.  And the Internet, or a school, or a community center, or a museum, or any institution of and about learning, can and should provide examples of teachers in love with what they love in front of others as a way of communicating that love, and helping students to find and communicate their own.

And I see resonance with that in the talk of the new DML Connected Learning Research Network, especially in Mimi Ito’s description:

In a nutshell, connected learning is learning that is socially connected, interest-driven, and oriented towards educational and economic opportunity. Connected learning is when you’re pursuing knowledge and expertise around something you care deeply about, and you’re supported by friends and institutions who share and recognize this common passion or purpose.

In talking with her briefly the other night about some mentoring work she’s hoping to do, work to connect passionate mentors to interested learners, I wondered more about issues of scale that have been raised at the conference, about what can scale, and what cannot.

And while I’m not sure that love, itself, can scale, I wonder if finding love maybe can.  Certainly people have limited capacity, and can only love so many so deeply, but computers can help us to find each other.  Networks can help us to find each other.  Institutions can help us to find each other.  Then we can .

And finding each other, then looking after each other, is well worth doing1.

In this morning’s panel on technical and social innovation, I saw too much emphasis on systems designed around outputs.  I think that’s a large problem in education – we look heavily at what comes out of a system, but not so much on what we put into it.  I’d argue quite strongly, with anyone who’ll listen, that we need to look quite closely and intentionally on what goes into a system, and on what sorts of inputs are privileged in our infrastructures.  And how we inject love and care and compassion and concern into infrastructure is very, very important.  It’s not considered enough, if at all, and these things rarely show up on measures of output.

So how do you build love and care into your systems and infrastructures and learning environments and experiences?  How are you doing so in a way that doesn’t over simplify the complex backgrounds of the people and communities you’re learning from and with?  How are you looking for ways to increase the love and care in your systems?

What are you loving in front of your students and colleagues?  What would they say gets loved in your spaces?

  1. Certainly, too, it’s worth wondering about people who aren’t getting found, or served, or looked after, by institutions of love and learning.  How do we make sure that we focus on entry points so that those who wish to be found can be, and those who don’t want to be found can do that, too.  I’ll say more on entry points, infrastructure and inputs in a future post. []

Three Things I'm Thinking About Right Now

  1.  Looking forward to attending my first #DML2012 conference.  Should be a fascinating opportunity to learn from and with folks who are thinking about learning.  Also, as I’m mostly facilitating others’ learning lately, it’s nice to attend an event in a primarily learning role1.

  2.  I’m honored to be a participant/facilitator for a session at this conference.  It’s called “Tapping into the Mutiplicity of Composition” and is a panel featuring several teachers who are making interesting things with students in the service of teaching writing and composition.  That should be a fascinating conversation. And, of course, we’ll be writing together.  Never a bad thing to do.

To support the conversation, we’ve built a couple of Pinterest boards as ways of creating galleries that show some of the texts that students are making in the panelists’ classrooms.  A second board focuses on the testimonies of the panelists as a way of providing some background that might not surface during our conversations.  The agenda for that session is taking shape and will be finally finalized soon.  At a time when so much of the “interesting learning” that is taking place for students is taking place beyond the classroom, and sometimes in spite of it, I wonder about the role of schools moving forward into new learning landscapes.  I hope that schools see the potential in other ways of learning that haven’t been privileged in our classrooms.  I wonder how to bring the fringe learning into those spaces.  I know that the has a role to play in these conversations2.

  1.  I’m struggling to write about some of my adventures in building cultures of play and love both in my school district as well as in my classroom.  I hope to get chunks of that thinking out here on the blog over the next few days.  My lens for this conference is basically “How do we promote cultures of learning and playfulness and care and concern for each other?”  Important.
  1. Which isn’t to say that I don’t approach teaching as a learning opportunity – but that sometimes the logistics of facilitation interfere with my ability to process what I’m learning as it’s happening. []
  2. Disclosure – the NWP has supported my attendance at this event.  I’m grateful for that. []

The Podcast: Two Fall Projects

In today’s podcast, I talk about a couple of projects that are keeping me pretty busy this fall – finishing my thesis and building  with some friends from the NWP.  Oddly, they go together.  Which is a good thing.  Keep your fingers crossed.  And, as always, would love to hear your thoughts in response to mine.  This time, I could definitely use the help.

Direct Link to Audio


So I'm Going To Be Teaching This Class. And Could Use Your Help.

I like new frontiers.  That’s why I’m excited to be participating in Karen’s attempt to create a School of Ed at P2P University this fall.  It should be a neat opportunity to fiddle with what it means to do PD.

I couldn’t be more excited to be facilitating a course we’re calling “.”  I pitched the course as “a course on writing to learn for non-English teachers” and that’s almost exactly what I’ll be teaching1.  Better yet – some of my friends from will be helping me to develop the course.

The six week course, which will begin mid-October, is going to begin with a deep look at the Common Core State Standards, and particularly the section of the standards that addresses the role of writing across the curriculum.2 Then,’ we’ll tackle writing in the classroom from two distinct lenses:

  1.  Writing to Learn – the habits and bits of writing that you do to make sense of whatever it is that you’re learning and exploring.

  2. Writing for the Disciplines – the writing that’s specific to content areas other than language arts.  How do historians write for each other?  Scientists?  Mathematicians?  And why does that matter? How can we help our students to write in these ways?

As a final project, participants in the course will use for their own classrooms that should result in some thoughtful writing for and with students.   We should all get some good ideas.

As I’m developing the collection of resources, I know that NWP’s Digital Is will be an important text for the group.  And I’m also reminded of Peter Elbow and Donald Murray and their essential contributions to writing as process and writing as something that teachers just, you know, do.

But I could use your help.

Here’s a Google Doc where I’m beginning to draft a collection of readings and resources for the folks3 who I hope will take this course.

I’d sure be grateful if you’d offer your favorites and help keep me honest by pointing participants to actual examples of the two areas I outlined above.

And of course, this entire experience is, for me, first draft thinking.  I’d be open to your ideas, suggestions, and feedback as I’m working to construct an experience that’s ultimately useful to teachers and results in increased use of writing in their practice.

Thanks in advance.  And perhaps I’ll see you in class?  Sign up opens soon.

  1. Er.  Facilitating.  Teaching.  Guiding.  Whatever.  The participants and I will experience it together.  And we’ll all take turns. []
  2. Yes, technically, this is a rather large section.  Pretty much the entire language arts section.  But we’ll hone in on the specifics of writing for the disciplines other than language arts. []
  3. Remember – a targeted audience of non-language arts teachers. []

#ISTE11: NWP's Inaugural Hack Jam

Yesterday afternoon, I had the opportunity to attend the first ever , an exploration of the opportunities to fiddle with text and writing and code on the Internet.  It was a useful event for me, as we were able to think and play with ideas about what “hacking” means right now, and how it’s about reading and writing and thinking.

Masterfully facilitated by Chad Sansing and Meenoo Rami, the event took us to some interesting places and conversation.  Here’s my recap.

We started the day in table groups with a box of Monopoly and a simple task – hack the game.  Chad and Meenoo explained that our task was to fiddle with the rules until we found a game that was better than the one we were handed – and so Sandy and Gail and I tinkered our way through a version of Monopoly that was all about freebies.  Other groups fiddled to make the game about tossing pieces and giving to charity.  It was good1.

But the point of the hacking was to give us an opportunity to explore that games and systems have rules – rules that were made by people.  And we can mess with those rules if we understand the underlying principles involved.  That’s powerful learning – and applies not just to board games, but to school, and to work, and to civic engagement and to computer systems or the Internet.

Hacking matters.  Douglas Rushkoff would say that we need to Program or Be Programmed, but I’d fiddle with that statement and say instead that we need to hack or be hacked.  Someone made the rules and systems of the Internet, power structures, as John Spencer called them during out conversation yesterday.  And, as others have said before, we’ve got to help our students fiddle with them, understand them, and, hopefully, change them.

We moved from that work into a visual exploration of our definition of hacker – folks focused on several things, but I was reminded of MacGyver, and thought of duct tape and wrenches and making things out of what we’ve available.  Purposeful play.

This led to some interesting conversation that I think was my key takeaway from the day2.  Paul Allison, who is always thoughtful, wrote this during the workshop:

My first thought is that hacking sounds like an important idea, but really? Do we need another word that takes teachers out of the mainstream “common core” standards conversation? Does hacking get my students more college-ready? Like gaming, isn’t hacking just another thing that pushes the risk-takers into the margins, and makes risk-adverse teachers run? How do we find a way to be more inclusive in our language and processes? Is it just a language thing? What else might we call hacking?

Later on, Paul continues3:

So part of why we hack has to do with understanding our sources more deeply, and this is absolutely an academic concern. But don’t we need words like “analytical reading” and carefully sourced research? Right so what else might we call hacking? It’s about creativity, but it’s also about making new things by really understanding the old, and this is a traditional, academic exercise.

I’m looking for language that will encourage the risk-adverse teacher to join with us in these enterprises.

And that’s what I leave thinking about.  Hacking matters.  Academic reading and writing matter.  And they’re not unrelated things.  Groups like the know an awful lots about good reading and writing practice, and are exploring thoughtfully things like gaming and hacking – but can they do so in a way that doesn’t scare off the “risk-adverse teacher,” as Paul asks?

I think we need the National Writing Project and folks like them to help navigate these spaces, and to explore them thoughtfully with teachers – and to help folks recognize that reading and writing and thinking and gaming and hacking are related – but in a way that doesn’t lead to further fragmentation and paradox.  I think we need teachers to play, like we played in the Hack Jam, with the rules and ideas that affect them.

Yes, let’s teach kids to hack.  Both the Internet and Shakespeare.  Minecraft and Fitzgerald.  Wordle and essay.  Picture and paragraph.  Logarithm and link. Tweets and Tennyson.  Second Life and the State Legislature.  It’s a big world.

Worth doing.  If you get the chance to attend a future NWP Hack Jam – you should go. I’ll see you there.

  1. Because it was a event, there were snacks.  Good ones. []
  2. And I know I’ve buried the lead, but that’s okay. []
  3. Read the whole piece.  It’s good and I can’t stop thinking about it. []

Shifted Learning Interview

Last Friday, I had the good fortune to spend some time talking writing and learning with John and Julia on the Shifted Learning Podcast.  We discussed writing process, tools and the National Writing Project, among other things.  It was a good visit, and I thought I’d pass along the audio.1

You might also be interested in their podcast archive.  Some good stuff in there, and I very much like Julia and John’s interview style.


Direct Link to the Audio

  1. As I listened back to the conversation, I began to wonder if it might be time to start a semi-regular podcast about writing.  Any interest out there?  Let me know in the comments. []

Yeah. It’s Like That.

Sheridan Blau on the National Writing Project, writing on page 98 of James Gray’s Teachers at the Center:

Having experienced what it means to learn in a community of learners, teachers are inclined to count such learning as more authoritative and authentic than any other and to think of such learning as the proper aim of instruction. They therefore become determined to turn their own classrooms into learning communities that will function like a writing project, where respect for the intelligence of every learner is the starting place for all activity, and where all learners are expected and required to take responsibility for their own learning as well as for assisting others to learn — a community where learning entails the production of knowledge as well as its reception, and where knowledge is always seen as provisional and subject to challenge and refinement.

As my friends and colleagues gather in Washington D.C. for the National Writing Project’s Spring Meeting, I hope they’ll take a few moments to reread Blau’s words here.

This is what’s worth fighting for, y’all.

This matters. It’s important.

Be well, be firm, and be kind.


A #blog4nwp in Which I Ask for Your Assistance. Urgently.

Dear Friends1:

I’m doing something that I don’t normally do – writing a letter. If you know me at all, then you know that I carry a very special appreciation for the work of the .  I talk pretty much whenever and where I can about the work of the NWP and what it’s meant to me as a teacher, as a writer, and as a person.

In short, it’s by far the best professional development experience/community/network I’ve ever been involved in.

And, fortunately, it has survived, grown and flourished these last twenty years with support from the federal government – originally, the National Endowment for the Humanities and then the Department of Education2.  Sometimes, the good guys win.

On March 8th, unfortunately, that federal support ended, at least for the moment, when President Obama signed a continuing resolution that eliminated NWP as well as several other groups’ educational budgets.  As of October 1st, 2011, there will be no federally funded National Writing Project.  In preparation for that, the NWP laid off 60 percent of its staff last week and announced to local site directors that they will have to reduce their local funding by 25 percent.

And that breaks my heart.

And I need your help to fix this mess.

You are movers and shakers in your respective worlds.  People listen to you and seek your counsel.  On many occasions, I’ve sought you out for assistance and/or advice.  I need your help to help restore funding to the National Writing Project through whatever reasonable, rational and responsible means necessary.

That’s, well, pretty much all I’ve got.  I suspect that the usual avenues for these sorts of situations are to do two things:

  1.  Get the word out about the power of the NWP
  2.  Ask people with access to money if the NWP could have some.

You may not know much about the project, so I thought I’d tell you a little bit more before I ask you to do at least one of those two things.

Basically, the National Writing Project is a professional development organization.  In the same way that antibiotics were helpful to modern medicine.  They’re powerful.  They work with universities and schools to build spaces where teacher expertise is shared and valued.  Specifically, they work to promote the ideas that:

  1.  The best teachers of writing are writers themselves.
  2.  The best teachers of teachers are teachers themselves.
  3.  The best way to make a difference in classrooms is to invest in thoughtful reflective inquiry and practice among teachers and their students.  Cross pollinate like crazy, and let teachers be teachers.

They’d say it a little bit differently, but I’m thinking that, if you know me at all, as a teacher, as a learner, as a colleague or as a writer, then you know the National Writing Project.  I am the professional that I am in no small measure due to my exposure to the NWP, our local affiliate the , the influence of the NWP on my teachers and professors, and my interactions with NWP colleagues and friends around the country.

The National Writing Project believes in teachers and their agency at a time when almost no one else does.  They believe that students, teachers and administrators should write regularly – to include composition in all kinds of media, from papercraft to circuitboard to movie to audio to video game to good ol’ fashioned paper.

The power of writing and the power of teachers are two things that we need plenty of in this country right now.

So here’s the part where I ask for your help and thank you for sticking around in this letter for as long as you have.  If you remember that list a little while back, I need your help to either make noise or find money.  So I was hoping that you might be inclined to take some sort of action.  I’ll break down a few easy ways you can help:


  • Write your Congressperson and tell them of the importance of the National Writing Project. NCTE has an easy to use form.
  • Call your Congresspeople to follow up.  Repeatedly.  It’s okay.  They work for us.  Be polite.
  • Write publicly about your exposure to and experience with the work of the NWP or your desire to fund work like the NWP’s.
  • Help NWP teachers find venues to share their expertise and remind them to mention the NWP as they do so.  Offer them conference and unconference sessions where they can write with your organization.
  • Write a #blog4nwp.
  • Borrow these easy tweets.  Post them.  Often.


  • Make a donation to the NWP
  • Write your Congressperson, etc.
  • Investigate hiring your to do some inservice in your area.  They work for reasonable rates and you’ll get a high quality, teacher-led and centered experience.
  • Ask the people you know that work for foundations and corporations if they’re aware of the awesomeness of the National Writing Project.  Introduce them.  Politely ask for support.
  • You know that uncle or cousin or whatever that you’ve not spoken to in forever who went to work for that person that is in charge of whatever it was?  Drop them a note and let them know about the NWP.

I hope that you’re able to take one or more of these actions to help ensure that the National Writing Project remains a viable force for teaching, learning and writing into the 22nd Century.  And hopefully longer.  Writing doesn’t go out of style – it just keeps changing.

Writing matters.  And .

All the best to you.


  1. I’m emailing this to pretty much everyone I’ve ever known. I’m posting it here and everywhere else I can because I don’t yet have everyone’s email address.  It’s a big world.  Feel free to share this with whomever you’d like.  I’d consider it a favor if you would. []
  2. You can read more about the history of the NWP in James Gray’s memoir about its founding, Teachers at the Center.  I’m reading it right now – and it’s quite useful. []

An Open Letter to Congressman Cory Gardner – Restore Funding for the National Writing Project

Dear Representative Gardner:

We’ve not yet met, although I’ve attempted to introduce myself to you several times via Twitter. My name’s Bud Hunt, and you represent me in the House of Representatives. I live in Fort Collins and am proud to share the state of Colorado with you. While I didn’t vote for you, I think you’re a smart guy who has promise.

That said, we need to talk.

See, sir, you’re really, fired up about eliminating waste right now. And that’s good. I’m not a fan of wastefulness in government or anywhere else. The thing is, sir, I don’t believe that you understand some of what you’re cutting.

I get it. You’re new. And want to have a meaningful impact in Congress. And two years, well that’s just not a lot of time. So you’ve got to strike fast and hard and you’re coming out strong for stopping “reckless” spending. Good on you.

But you, and many of your colleagues in the House, seem to believe that the National Writing Project is wasteful and reckless spending. For that matter, you also voted to eliminate funding for National Public Radio. Somehow, you’ve decided that those two programs are “wasteful and reckless.” And, Representative Gardner, that’s just not the case.

The has been making a powerful difference for students and teachers for over thirty years. For twenty of those years, the federal government has provided funding to support the important work of helping to ensure that thoughtful teaching and learning of writing is happening in our schools. many of my colleagues in light of the possibility that federal funding will cease and the work of the organization will radically change, if not outright end. You might want to take a minute and read some of the stories. They’ll make you a believer, I suspect.

If those don’t do the trick for you, then perhaps you can just skim the research on the NWP. I’ll give you a one sentence summary – the NWP works. For students. For teachers. It makes a positive difference in American education. Or it did. Until you helped to end its federal funding.

The thing is, Congressman, you pulled the plug on a thoughtful and long term investment in education. Killing an investment that is bearing good fruit is wasteful, sir. Maintaining that investment is prudent. Wise, even.

You, sir, know the importance of writing. You write lots. I recently read an editorial that you published on your Congressional website. In it, you wrote that

a vote against the CR is a vote against cutting wasteful government spending. It’s as simple – and as important – as that.

Excuse me, sir. But it’s not that simple. In your haste to make a difference and rein in “waste,” you’re hurting American students and American education. That’s not acceptable. I’d appreciate it if you’d pay better attention to what you’re doing.

Recently, on my website, I wrote:

I want to live in a country that honors the important work of teaching and learning. I want to live in a country where thoughtfulness about how we teach and learn is an essential piece of that work. I want a government that understands that you can use a little bit of money to make an awful lot of difference. Children who can read and write well are a precious national resource. Groups like the National Writing Project, groups that so thoughtfully help children and teachers to become better writers, deserve federal support.

So, yeah, I support the National Writing Project. I believe in teachers teaching teachers to make a difference for students. You?

Don’t you believe that modest investments in programs that make a positive impact on our children and schools are investments worth maintaining?

I suspect that you believe in American teachers and American students. I suspect that you believe that a strong education is essential to making sure that we have a strong economic foundation for our future. I know that you value writing and its place in students’ learning.

But your vote, and your rhetoric, is anything but simple. It’s wrong of you to suggest that spending federal dollars, dollars matched 100 percent by local matches in each of the 200 sites of the National Writing Project, is wasteful, when those dollars make a significant impact on children. Those dollars, sir, keep good teachers teaching at a time when half of our teachers don’t last beyond five years in the classroom. Those dollars, sir, help children realize their potential as writers and their teachers to realize their potential to have an impact beyond their own classrooms.

That wasn’t wasteful, Congressman. But you either didn’t notice, or weren’t willing to look.

I hope that you erred, sir. And I hope that you’ll stand with others to restore funding for the National Writing Project for the 2011 fiscal year and beyond. I look forward to your public commitment to the work of the National Writing Project and programs like it that responsibly serve as good stewards of one of our most precious natural resources – our children.

I’d be honored to introduce you to children and teachers in our neck of the woods who have been directly impacted by the work of the National Writing Project and our local affiliate, the t. When you meet with them, you’ll see the value that the work has.

And maybe, just maybe, you’ll write with us, and we can overlook your error. We all make mistakes, Congressman. I’m willing to overlook this one, so long as you’re willing to correct it.

I look forward to that, Congressman. Soon.

Please do not hesitate to contact me if you would like to discuss the work of the National Writing Project further. I look forward to the opportunity. And I look forward to your response.

All the best,