Think Like a Teacher

Here we are in DC! EdubloggerCon has grown from about 45 people in Atlanta to over 200 here. The topics for discussion range from web 2.0 tools (and these are THE adopters who know the doodads!) to school reform…the most exciting part is that these are educators who takes the time, pay the extra night in the hotel, and bring together serious passion and deep concern for the future of kids and the adults they will become. There is not a person in the room (or hallway, sitting on the floor) who came here to maintain what is. They are all interested in what can be, will be, and should be. There are some who are “consultants” or educators morphed into other roles, but all are here talking about the “what if” and the “why not.”

That is what makes EBC different. I am sitting in a session about the K12 online conference, an “unconference” that has happened for a couple of years and is being planned IN THIS ROOM for later 2009. How do we get teachers to pay attention? How do we avoid overwhelming people who have never heard of it?

What I wonder:

1. How do we help teachers prioritize which things they MUST know, since there is so much to learn, with more every day. How do we talk about tools entirely in the context of their application and USE for learning? I am listening to people make suggestions for “packaging” new ideas and technology USES in a context that is meaningful and personal to a teacher’s situation.
2. How much bigger will the gap between Group Know: those who dedicate significant time to personal prof dev and are NOT afraid to appear as a learner in from of their student,  and Group O (for overwhelmed): those who are concentrating on day to day survival in an environment with little professional support, unreasonable bureaucratic demands, and personal lives that are less than “perfect”?? I see the gap growing and growing. The marvelous people who hang at EBC are often those who spend ALL their time on this stuff–and GREAT stuff! They have also  continuously paid attention to new developments in both technology and in learning. Group O is like someone who has had their TV off for six months or suffered a traumatic brain injury. They are not just behind on today’s news or weather forecast. They may not even know who the president is…
3. Do the people who make it to NECC and EBC have more time in their day/week to continue exploring or do they just skip sleep?
4. I wonder whether the Facebook idea would help… Teacher apps: Which teacher is more like you? What is your edtech IQ? Take the quiz now… Send an edtech Bravo to your favorite teacher.
5. Can we embed ongoing learning into everyone’s life? What’s the code?

Just a few thoughts (unedited and without my usual metaphors) as I eavesdrop on session 3 of EBC09 and reflect back on the day so far…

I just read a thought-provoking article on course blogging by Sarah Hurlburt, a college professor of foreign languages and literature. Her analysis of the issues swirling around setting up and evaluating the success of a classroom social blogosphere are dead on. It makes me sense a hollowness in attempting any use of web 2.0 without a strong basis in pedagogy and analysis of the intricate relationships defined and created by each tool. These tools really do require rethinking. We aren’t just shaping the soft clay of learning into differently-shaped vessels. When we use these tools, we throw the clay into a communal lump and let everyone have at it at once. And if no one ever even told us about the foibles of clay in the first place (cracks easily if not dried the right way, requires glaze to hold liquids, etc.), we as teachers are likely to end up with a useless –though possible pretty – BLOB. We at TeachersFirst (especially the Edge team) can review tools and place them in a context familiar to teachers and students, but we risk missing the point entirely in doing so.

Perhaps the real power of some tools lies outside of any known classroom context. And the classroom context one teacher knows is different from that another knows. The chemistry teacher is not a writing teacher. So, as Hurlburt points implies, the chem teacher would not know the pedagogy of writing that an English teacher or Writers’ Project fellow might find intuitive.

Blogs were tacitly tossed aside as “passé“  by many attending NECC this year, even though blogging was the hottest topic in 2006. I do not believe that this was because wikis or Second Life are so much better. I personally believe that writing is so high-level a constellation of processes that many never “get it.”  And many are intimidated by it. And if you don’t “get” writing, you’ll never be able to create a successful, authentically social blogging community.

Hurlburt’s analysis is from a post-secondary context. What if we took blogging down to the little ones where writing process is less encumbered by self-consciousness? If  ever there were an opportunity to build an extended writers’ response group, this would be it. Start with a bunch of third graders (they might have some keyboarding skills), and let them customize their blogs (Hurlburt is right about the personalization!). learn about response and revision as social creative processes, and build a supportive mini-blogosphere. I can’t think of a better way to lead kids into seeing the tools as extensions of themselves , helping them learn positive ways to interact in virtual spaces, and building their vocabulary about language and message before they venture into collaboration on a wiki or other, more complex social tool. (Of course, we’ll have to get the school to stop blocking blog tools…)

I suspect that those who learned to blog at age 8 would never stop. And wouldn’t that be a dream world: people able to express themselves instead of hitting each other? They might even be able to form a beautiful sculpture out of all that messy clay. I can dream. can’t I?

Apologies to any readers who may not have been at NECC or even know what it is. This post is part of my personal reflection/debrief on the National Educational Computing Conference, my biggest annual opportunity for formal professional development.

I have concerns about the hats we wear — or the choice of invisibility cloaks – for the many forward-thinking educators who come into NECC  with more than one role.

Feeling the Tension

When I arrived at NECC this year, it was with a sense of regret that scheduling had prevented me from attending this year’s EdubloggerCon (EBC), my favorite part of NECC ‘07 in Atlanta.  I followed enough of the blogflak about video and gleaned between the lines of ISTE’s policies about recordings, though,  to know that Pearson’s videotaping at EBC was a hot issue.  I also read and commented on pre-conference discussion on the NECC Ning regarding “commercial” postings there. A conversation with friend Jim Gates on NECC day 3 was the third time I felt it: there is a stigma attached to any role or affiliation that makes a NECC attendee or presenter “unpure.”

Reflections 

As a  27 year teacher who went over to the “dark side” two years ago by switching my moonlighting  job to a full time job, I am aware that no modifier I can include in the description of my role running TeachersFirst can erase the stigma; “free,” “ad-free,” “service,” “non-profit,” “noble,” even “saintlike” would be inadequate.  If I choose to don my TeachersFirst hat publicly, I am tainted. Even worse, my ideas and contributions become suspect.

I would maintain that many respected contributors and organizers at EBC, NECC, and the most respected educational technology/ education reform collaborations have additional “hats.” Many individuals moonlight outside of their classrooms as consultants. Others have relationships with publishers, tool developers, or hardware/software companies. I have no problem with that. Teachers need the money, and the good ones have good ideas to share. Many in the “inner circles” at EBC or NECC are aware of the consulting/training  that others do. I would suspect that there are quite a few other “hats” would show if everyone engaged in complete disclosure.

So what to do?

The dilemma: is it better to don an invisibility cloak  (and remain quieter) or wear your hat? Aren’t we, as teachers forever (for that IS what I am– a teacher — no matter who pays me) , just as entitled to learn and grow out of genuine interest in the topics at hand? If NECC is a part of my personal learning network, what is the best way to participate: hat on head or invisibly? Are my ideas less valuable because I changed jobs? Should I refrain from speaking because I come from the dark side? I don’t think so.

I wear my name badge with job title. I tell people what I do when asked. I share ideas that others seem to value. But I must “be careful.”  At what point do my ideas become suspect as an agenda instead of the honest contributions to the conversation they are meant to be? And at what point does the suspicion prevent me from learning as well?

I am frustrated at Pearson for raising the suspicion level of everyone by showing up to “document” EBC. I will admit that I am also suspicious of them, given the fact that they are not participants or teachers, just a commercial company videotaping. They recently launched a “foundation,” and that raises my antennae, too. Will their “foundation” status end up throwing more suspicion on genuine David (to Goliath)-sized non-profits such as my employer in the long run? Is their foundation an intentional invisibility cloak?

So I throw these question out ot the twitting-blogging-Ninging-gadgeting crowd from NECC and beyond:

1. Where and under what circumstances are teachers who wear multiple hats allowed to go for fully-engaged professional growth?

2. How would you prefer to see the hats that these teachers wear?

3. Is there a difference between moonlighting educators and those who retire and take that second career?

What are your thoughts?

As teachers, we sometimes forget how large a public window opens into our lives. The Washington Post today tells tales of intrepid teachers in the Washington suburbs who apparently think frosted web-glass obcures all public view of their web presence. Wrong. I wonder, though: Is it wrong to provide a consciously open window, even to keep it crystal-clear on purpose?

Thinking about any web presence requires the same approach as your bathroom blind:

• If I keep it open, who will see?
• If I do reveal something, it implies that I want it to be seen by anyone.
• Is there a good reason to share?
• What others will inadvertently see it?

As a lifelong teacher, however, I ask one more:

• What can I teach this way that I cannot teach any other way?

My first decision would be to post a “See next window” sign on the outside of the bathroom blind, directing people, instead,  to a slightly-less-voyeuresque view of my living room. Now, I ask:

• What can I teach from my web “living room” that I cannot teach any other way?

I can teach that I am an art quilter and a writer, a side of me that splashes into  view immediately on the walls and in this blog window. My visual-spatial students and colleagues ask: how does this connect with what she does all day? Should I connect art  and/or writing into what I do all day?

I can teach that books  and TV can share a space in my life. Can they in YOUR life?

I can teach that family is at the center, and a dog closeby. My students and colleagues ask themselves what forms the center of their world.

I can teach that teaching and work sometimes make me tired (is that me on the couch, asleep?). The voyeurs ask: What is it that drives her to work so hard? What drives me?

I can teach that nothing is finished, even the space for the imaginary fireplace still down the list on our “ten year plan.” They ask: What am I willing to wait for? Are time and imagination as important as the final, tangible item?

I can teach that I don’t mind being honest and human, but that I will always try to present my best. A little dust is OK, though.

I even wash the windows (inside and out) occasionally. My windows are frames for viewing both ways, and I welcome the voyeurs. I have thought about what I will show them. I hope other teachers will do the same.

Why frost the glass when we can shed such light?

Will Richardson’s post (rant) on 21st century skills and getting educators onboard has drawn copious comments. He is so right in describing the conference venue as  frighteningly dull and disconnected. The sheer commercial nature of how conferences happen is study in slime. Exhibit halls are filled with the latest buzz-word wrappers on the same old products, and EVERYONE is “for sale.” The conference organizers, logistics companies, and convention center management each take a cut of the commercial pie, and Internet access is just another costly “add-on” in Edu-make-a-buck Land.  Been there, done that. As an exhibitor from a non-profit, I have enjoyed marvelous reactions (”Wow, you’re like Robin Hood!”)…but that is another post.

I disagree with Will, however, on the “network.” While he is fortunate to have the network (and respect) of reform-minded and creative people, many teachers do not have that network. Many teachers do not even have the facilitators or coaches or general support that is being offered by the “in network” commenters on his post. Yes, the process of changing teachers and administrators is glacial, but without some very basic barrier-removal, they have too many good reasons for not being a part of the “network.” Blogs are blocked. Anything that requires a log-in or “sucks bandwidth” is suspect or prohibited. How would you expect them to know a world that is truly invisible from inside those walls?  Yes, they should at least have enough GUILT to ask about these “new-fangled things” and to ask the non-educator people who control the filtering/network to at least explain why Google Earth  and blogs are ”bad.”

The best thing our “network” (and I don’t know if I’d be considered “in network” or not) can do is to simultaneously support those teachers by shoveling the paths they CAN take, applauding them for building learning networks in their classrooms, and realizing that they do not have time to toot their own horns. We may not even know about some of the finest teachers who have engaged in connections outside their classrooms with little fanfare and even less awareness by higher-ups so busy with test scores.

I knew a teacher who facilitated a virtual classroom created by HS kids for over 3000 kids from gr 3-12  over 5 years ago — when wikis and most web2.0 tools were not even in existence. They interviewed, shot pictures, answered and asked questions, connected to concepts from gr 12 calculus to gr 3 reading. A HS sophomore wrote all the code (Cold Fusion), and the team uploaded images and video until 2 a.m. from a ”borrowed” hotel connection in Alaska. No acclaim, no network, just great stuff. I truly believe there are others out there doing terrific, Constructivist projects. It is not their job to announce themselves. Let’s continue to support and highlight those who ARE doing it, and realize that their peers will learn from being nearby, as well.

At the same time, we need to continue to share visions of what it “looks like” to do education in other ways. That is what the network is for, not establishing “cred.” (end  of my rant)

When I read a piece of good writing, it sings. The feeling is much like the chill up my spine on hearing a perfect choral performance or that sense that a dive or gymnastics performance just IS a perfect 10 — even before the scores show on screen. You just know. There is a sound a guitar makes–I believe called harmonics– that is beyond the earthly, normal, and delightful plucking or strum. That’s what GOOD writing is. It does not happen often. It stops me and says, “Did you hear that?”

Rewind–replay in slo-mo. Yes, I DID hear that, and it is just as good the second time around.

I worry about web2.0 desensitizing us so we no longer can hear writing that sings. Even worse, I worry about the sound simply being drowned out. It is marvelous that everyone has the opportunity to create that perfect piece, and ironically sad that no one will likely even know it is there. The ease of tools makes one wonder about craft. Web2.0 may be the equivalent of the introduction of the power tools into sculpture. With artistic creation so simple and so much faster, are we losing anything?

I am an art quilter. I celebrate the heritage of hundreds of years of women’s quilts as the underpinnings  (sorry—pun) of my work, but I also deny them in pushing the medium, cutting through it, redefining its edges into non-edges and its techniques away from a rigid 10-stitch-per-inch standard.

I don’t think writing should be subject to such a standard, either, but I will be truly sad if we can no longer hear it when it sings. Is there a way to tag a blog post that sings?

Thanks to Vicki Davis for prompting me to write this post.

What do you do about an “orphaned” blog? How about an orphaned wiki? Or the very cool project you and your students made using another web2.0 tool that now seems to have fallen on financial hard times and sits unattended on the web?

I moved my blog from such a place to this comfortable new home a couple of months ago. The symptoms that the parents were no longer there at my old “home”:  no response at all to any “contact tech support” email (of course, this happens at very busy places, too), no recent press releases, and no updates to their Wordpress software. The result was that spammers took over. Without software updates to stay ahead of the latest spam tactics, my blog was overrun with Viagra and porn-filled “comments,” clogging the moderation queue to the point that I had to turn off comments on all but the most recent post. Without updated blogging software on my “family” servers, I was unable to add better spam tools or BACK UP my blog. The host site had locked access to do things myself. In the end, I had to walk out the door, leaving all my worldly possessions (posts and comments) behind in a sort of suspended animation (visions of Miss Havisham’s decayed room with cobwebs, lost in time?). My blog was an orphan.

I spent a long time trying to take everything with me, to no avail.

What did I learn? I learned to pay more attention to back-up tools on any potential host site where I plan to “keep” projects, writings, etc. I learned that I should tell other teachers about this, too. We are such trusting souls; we never expect a sudden or prolonged “illness” to take our blog or wiki home away. (The next thing you know someone will start selling blog and wiki insurance…).

If you are not willing to lose what you and your students have created, back it up. Limit your choices to places that allow you to back it up. Or keep draft versions in Word and folders with your images. Even better, keep projects in a place where you can export your hard work to a new home if you need to.

So now my blog has a new name, but you have to visit it’s “birthblog” to see its full heritage. For now, that birthblog is still there, but one of these days it will likely disappear.

Jeff Utecht writes about teachers and students blogging as an integral part of who they are and what they do, not as an add-on. This promotes reflection, communication, and openness, among other things.

I wonder: what if other professions did this, too? Let your imagination run with this one.

• The president blogs on policies he/she is considering. Is this blog public?
• The apartment manager uses a blog to communicate about building issues and reflect on repairs?
• The CEO blogs on issues facing the company and encourages employee comments on ways to solve them?
• YOUR boss blogs on ..on what?
• The contractor blogs on how to build a truss that spans a 30-foot room?

Does every level of profession and avocation blog? Is it only the people “in charge” and the “creative ones”?

What were generations doing before that can be replaced by a blog? If we do build a generation of bloggers, what will these kids grow up to do with their blogs?

I REALLY need to get back to several other tasks now.

A quick observation: Twitter is a corruptive influence for those of us who multi-task. I was curious, so I am learning-by-doing with this tool. And I keep getting distracted by the twits (tweets?..not sure) that pop up. It’s worse than my RSS feeds. Right now I feel like an idiot consumer who gets hooked by the clever twits (tweets)  people fling at me. Of course, I chose to “follow” them. I’ll just have to learn better self-discipline in preventing myself from poking into the links they post.

For those who do not know it, Twitter is a quick tool to share  what you “are doing now”  in 140 characters or less via the web or text msg. While this sounds like a 13 year old’s dream –like going to the bathroom together with friends– it also is a way to share fleeting or momentous thoughts. The really clever folks include links that lure you from your work.

What am I doing  RIGHT now? Writing an email, editing a web review, teaching a new reviewer, answering another email, writing a blog post, and reading twits…

My Twitter persona: @cshively, for those who care. Torment me.

I feel inadequate. If blogging is about the dialog, I am shouting in a cell in solitary confinement. I just finished answering the questions on the Education Blogosphere Survey 2008 and I am clearly a failure. Before I moved my blog, I think my Technorati ranking had inched above “1,” but now it is back to the lowest of the low. I guess I’ll have to work harder to gain an audience enough to “talk with.” I am the loner at the side of the cafeteria, I guess.

But I will be interested in seeing the results of the survey.