Educational Meandering

It was the pre-institute social for Constructing Modern Knowledge 2010.  I was chatting with Sylvia Martinez, Jim Loewen, and his wife, and had just responded to Jim’s wife’s (what was her name again?) question: “What do you expect to get out of this event?”  The desire to spend time as a learner, meet others who shared my perspectives on progressive education and educational technologies, and having fun were all components of my initial response.  Then I paused and qualified my statement,  adding guiltily that based on what I’d heard and read about CMK I may be preaching to the choir.  That’s when Sylvia shot right back, “Sometimes the choir needs to sing”.

I’m not sure why I might feel guilt toward being part of something where like-minded people meet and share ideas.  I certainly spend many of my working (waking) hours in evangelize/proselytize/spread the word mode regarding innovative instructional practices, especially those involving the technologies of today.  Don’t I deserve need to be in an environment where it’s OK to open the fire hose of creativity and not be fearful of being too intense, overwhelming people, or scaring those not ready for change?  Guilty as charged.

No Need To Hold Back

My undergraduate years as an education major were extremely fortunate.  The professors at my small midwest alma mater largely did not rely on textbooks; among the first readings in my first course were Jonathan Kozol and John Taylor Gatto.  My former professors still offer monthly sessions for alums of the program to meet online and chat about current, relevant topics in education.  As many know, this is not the norm.

When I arrived for my first teaching job, I quickly realized not everyone thought the same way I did regarding educational reform, systemic improvement, small schools, or many topics.  This was the point at which I first learned to hold back bits of my thinking as an educator.  Of course, holding back is a skill we all possess to some degree.  I wonder when we first realize this?  How early in schooling is this “rule” acquired?  I’ll bet it at least partially has to do with what sorts of teachers one has (perhaps this deserves its own post at a later date).

In sharp contrast to the usual practice of filtering, refining, and packaging my ideas into palatable, politically wise statements, CMK10 invited me to be myself, take risks, and play, all out in the open and with the support of a wise, accepting community of co-teachers and co-learners.  I did much more listening than talking over the days in Manchester.  From the opening conversations the night before the institute began, I had a feeling there was no need to hold back.  While many institutes have big, fancy mission/vision/values/goals-type posters (laminated, in fact, because they aren’t meant to change or evolve), CMK was customized in every sense of the word.  Gary and the faculty offered the right conditions and support to us, and we in turn took our projects in any direction we chose.  Imagine what it’s like for our young students when we offer them the same courtesy.

Hard Fun

The project I endeavored upon with my colleagues Claude and Tony involved the creation of animated shorts with accompanying soundtracks also composed by us.  The original concept came from Tony, whom I admire for being the first risk taker to raise his hand and state it verbally.  He had never animated before.  He had never written music before.  He did not have a background in music at all.  Claude is a music teacher, performer, and composer, so he was certainly a team member from whom we could learn, but also had no animation experience.  I have no animation experience, and although I’ve been a musician most of my life, I’ve never composed anything.  We were all eager to learn something, of course!  Learn we did.

Playing and “messing about” with multiple tools for animation and music composition, we set to work combining digital photography with other graphics and crafting story lines.  While we each crafted our own short animated piece, we each composed the soundtrack for someone else’s work.  Critical thinking, analysis, and pure creativity all come into play here in authentic ways.  The intensity of the work and the uncomfortable feeling of working with an unfamiliar tool made it hard.  The collaboration, whimsy, and open-ended nature of the project made it fun.  Hard fun!

Don’t Be Afraid

So what did I learn?  As a young educator (turning 30 in a couple weeks!) CMK10 affirmed that it’s necessary to push, and push hard, to bring about positive change.  To paraphrase Gary’s closing talk: Someone has to be the crazy one pushing the boundaries.  When they stop thinking you’re crazy, do something even crazier.  Hearing the choir sing, from Deborah Meier and Alfie Kohn to Cynthia Solomon, Brian Silverman, John Stetson, Marvin Minsky, and Jim Loewen, the common thread for me was the idea of bringing about positive change through taking risks and being fearless.  Knowing mistakes will be made and learned from along the way, and being willing to keep playing until you have things right (a la Brian Silverman/Artemis Papert’s Turtle Art project) is paramount to success.

Constructing Modern Knowledge 2010 was exhausting.  Constructing Modern Knowledge 2010 was exhilarating.  When can we do it again?!

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During the Stone Age of blogs, 2006, I was teaching 8th grade U.S. History.  At the midpoint of the school year, sometime around the traditional winter break, we in the trenches received word that these wondrous blogs would be unblocked on the school’s web filter.  And, not only would the gates be swung open, but we would be allowed to use them with students!

Being the eager early adopter I was (and am), I did some late-night research, decided upon Google’s Blogger as the engine, and away we went.  After a few highly successful “learning adventures” with my students, they were engaged, I was engaged, and I suspect there were neurons firing to some degree.

Soon, it all came to a grinding halt.

A few days later, walking into my classroom during my conference period, I found an administration building technology person waiting for me.  She had heard about the blogging I was doing with my students.

She explained that while blogging was technically allowed, every teacher who wanted to utilize this tool must complete a “blogging course” (no one had shared this detail before!).  No problem!  I love professional development!  The course was online.  Even better!

That night, I followed her instructions to begin my course.  While I won’t name the subscription “learning” service here, I can say it was the worst screencast I’ve experienced to date.  By far.  Monotone voice, unnecessarily slow steps, topics irrelevant to what I needed, the list goes on.  After thirty minutes, I gave up.

I deleted my blog.

I’m still not sure if it was one thing or a mixture of things that caused me to be so impulsive about the situation.  But, I vividly remember the feeling of being told what to do by someone who didn’t know what they were talking about.  Clearly this person hadn’t blogged.  Clearly this person hadn’t suffered through the inane screencast that passed for an “online course”.  Otherwise, why wouldn’t this person have sat down with me in my classroom and offered real, authentic help?

In nearly four years, I haven’t been back to the blogging world as a contributor.  I’ve read and commented widely.  I’ve helped others blog themselves and with their students.  Something was holding me back from using this tool myself though, and the more I reflect the more I think it was that one negative experience and that one person’s actions.

What to do?

For now, I guess I’ll blog.