Think Like a Teacher

I met a great group of motivated, creative teachers in our OK2Ask ™ Guided Wiki Walk sessions this week. (OK2Ask ™ is a series of free, online professional development “snack sessions” for teachers offered by TeachersFirst. We use an online classroom space from Blackboard/Collaborate, formerly Elluminate.) The teachers were creating their first wikis or improving on ones they had recently begun.  This two meeting offering included time between for the teachers to work on their wikis, then return in 48 hours to learn more, share, and ask a million questions.

One group was so quick to learn and so gregarious, they quickly had their own backchannel running in the chat space, helping answer each other’s questions during demonstrations. They even asked if they could critique each others’ work on the second day. So we diverted widely from our original plans  and let them go. Their enthusiasm was EXCITING. Their critique was insightful and discriminating. They talked about pedagogy and practicality. They fed each other ideas. They did everything we want our students to do. These teachers who had never met– a probably never will — scored an #eduwin. Their students are getting the best of the best.

One of the conversations I especially enjoyed was about using templates in wikispaces to differentiate for different learners.  You can create a “template” wiki page, such as the skeleton for a student project, but you could also create several templates or options for different levels of project challenge. Students click to create a new page, select the template and — ta-da — their wiki project  is started. Right away, the chat buzzed about how to do this without appearing to single out one student over another. Should we perhaps offer all the various templates as options? Or perhaps name them with evens/odds that do not show a clear “level,” so it is easy to simply say, “Sam why don’t you try one of the even numbered templates.” We also talked about using a past student project as a sample or use it to create a template. You can click to create a new template “from” any page that already exists in that wiki, then edit the template as you wish. So if past students have generated unprecedented project options, you can add them to the bank of templates, perhaps stripping out the finished work to reveal the skeleton of a new project format.

As a teacher, I always fear offering a “sample”project. The teacher-pleasers make theirs identical. The perfectionists think they can ONLY do theirs the same way. The minimalists will never go further, and even creative kids often squelch the urge to do something different to conform to the model of school success. The helicopter parents compare their child’s work against the example and tweak it, thinking no one is looking.

Just as our OK2Ask™ session diverted from its original template thanks to participant input, I love the flexibility of any tool that allows projects and products to become springboards to unexpected, broader options. Thanks wikispaces and thanks to the teachers who continue to make OK2Ask™ a load of collaborative fun. #eduwin.

Do more with less. We keep hearing that. In school, as in any other workplace, it means adding more responsibilities to your already full plate.  It also means making supplies go further, doing without tech support (or waiting longer to get it), and having no money available for professional development. Even if you find a regional conference that addresses the very problems we are being asked to solve, you must pay for it yourself.

There is perhaps one silver lining to doing more with less. We get very good using the tools we do have.  And we don’t have to apologize for knowing only a tool or two for making online projects. If the school only pays for one, it is the one we will become expert at. If we as teachers must pay for online tool subscriptions for our own classes, we either stick with the inconveniences of the “freemium”  tools, beg for money from parents or PTO, or shell out the bucks to “do” with one tool.

Doing more with less time matters, too — more precisely, using less time to accomplish the most.  I want my students to move past the tech toybox stage and into the nitty-gritty thinking of creating and evaluating their own information. What if  a class were to simplify to a max of three tools?

As I prepare for an OK2Ask ™ session next month on three Editors’ Choice tools, I wonder which tools I would choose as my triad. I love Bookemon, Glogster, and Voicethread, but Google Earth is completely free. I think I would want a balanced triad: one very visual tool, one that is ideal for verbal/language, and one that offers a broad and perhaps unexpected perspective, such as the “world view” of Google Earth.

What couldn’t we do with these three? Concept maps we could do in a visual tool. Writing and sharing of words in a verbal tool, numbers and quantities we might have to represent in a real or symbolic context: applied in visuals or written in number sentences. We could use a visual tool to represent temporal concepts such as timelines. We could “place” events on the earth and in our hometowns using Google Earth. What other concepts have I missed? I haven’t though about things that require sound, though we could add sounds to our visuals, if we chose the right tool.

Doing more with FEWER may be a good way to create our own classroom taxonomy of priorities and content. Yes, we need to teach kids to choose the right tools, but don’t we also need to teach them to dig deeper and become expert with a tool repertoire? Think of the mental flexibility it will take to use one of the three to show what they know about a sonnet or mitosis or three branches of government. How could you use Google Earth to represented an underlying concept of our constitution? Hint: think analogies.

I’d love to know which triad other teachers would choose.

I admit it. I am sick of social networks. My hermit feelings will surely pass, but this Friday finds me questioning the value-added of so many places to contribute, comment, rate, respond, or otherwise spill my guts. The cicada-like buzz about Google+ is deafening this week. I find myself taking an analytic look at social absurdity in hopes of avoiding an all-out rant.

As pundits point out, our social networks establish a false sense of consensus. We see and hear only the opinions of those who agree with us. Yes, it’s “social” to pat each other on the back and sing in harmony from the same choir stalls, but what do we learn or gain? What makes the difference between social networking that has value and social networking that wastes time and has little nutritional value?

The social marketplace: a food model of social networking

Premise: There are different places to acquire social network nourishment. Which describes the social network that you frequent?

The roadside table: We can stop by this spot for random offerings, whatever is in season. It stays open only as long as there is a surplus of cucumbers in the garden – a few thoughts to share. We rarely see anybody else as we leave a dollar in the coffee can, and the goods we take with us may be delightfully fresh. If left too long by the roadside in the hot sun, they shrivel and are of no use to anyone. Most web sites with add-on “social” features are simply roadside tables. We pass by without stopping unless it is a neighbor.

The farmers market:  We gather at specified times – the earlier the better – to buy or swap for the freshest of the fresh. The offerings change with the seasons, and we learn to anticipate the coming crops. We dicker, exchange, and find the best ingredients, taking them home to create new recipes based on today’s offerings. The level of chatter and common support is strong as we wait or weave through the hungry crowd, armed with our reusable bags. The selections and the company of this network influence our nutrition for several days, and we like it so much we come back, as long as it isn’t too far to go. It does require extra time out of our week, though. Some of us have such social networks as part of our weekly habits. #edchat seems more like a farmer’s market for edu-ideas.

The food coop: We organize with a group with common goals: good food, fresh, and at good prices. We plan and delegate work that will be shared. The ideas we acquire here are outlined in advance: an online conference like the K-12 Online Conference or the Global Educon. Only the very organized can manage this kind of network on an ongoing basis.

The independent grocer: If nearby, we know this store well,  and they keep it well stocked — given possibly limited space. They don’t spend much on advertising, so the we discover it by word of mouth. But the nutritional offerings are comprehensive and quite tasty. The management will even bring in something new we suggest. We know that the clientele and floorspace are smaller, but the combination of staples and new ideas keeps us coming back. TeachersFirst is like this, I hope. Perhaps not a megsatore range of offerings, but always open to new suggestions.  We customers talk to each other when we can, but the grocer respects the fact that we don’t have a lot of time.

The specialty shop (Coffees, teas, and gourmet baked goods): Our little favorite stops. We can only get one thing there, but it is our passion: the perfect bean, the best book club blog, the latest tech developer blog. We make time for this one. The rest of our food is not important to us as long as we have the best coffee beans. Good Reads is  such a specialty shop for book lovers. Classroom 2.0 is another. Once we choose a niche like this, we always come back. We don’t have time for many.

The growing, upscale market chain: The Wegmans of social networking nutrition, these have all the media buzz and the latest and greatest in both groceries and cafe offerings. We watch the pastry chef at work  as we gather the rest of our ordinary groceries. The lobster tank is full, and we are tempted by the very best.  Even the store brands seem special. We are quickly entranced and find ourselves wishing we knew everything they carry. If there is a new product, they have it. Google+ is the Wegman’s of social networking. If you haven’t bought new ideas there, your ideas simply aren’t as good.

The mega-market chain:  The Walmart of social networking nutrition is Facebook. They tell us what to eat by offering loads of  quantity but a limited selection. Everything is Real Value and comes stacked high on the row-ends to fill our carts with blandness. Though “everybody” shops there, we leave only slightly satisfied– if at all.  Walmart Facebook is ubiquitous and blue.

The fast food stop: We run in, grab what looks good, and run out. Some of us stop far too often, and our nutritional balance is at risk if we are not careful to select well. We risk a diet high in fat or sugar, but the 140 character offerings can be so temptingly tweet. Definitely not the only way to feed your mind.

Take out/delivery: We can order up anything, but our interaction and learning are limited to a few likes and comments. We frequently order the same thing: this channel or What’s Popular. YouTube.

I think I need to decide my nutritional needs for this stuff.  But first, there’s a weekend…

The day before ISTE11 officially began, I attended EduBloggerCon, a marvelously relaxed and genuine opportunity for passionate educators to talk, mull over ideas, focus for an hour at a time on big issues in education and edtech, and just plain think out loud. I have been fortunate to be at all EBC since its inception in Atlanta a few years ago, and I would never miss this chance to renew my faith in grassroots educators as MiracleGro to a thinking society and to positive change. This group avoids the weeds of griping and generates blooming images of “before and after” learning than any educationinfomercial.

One of the discussion topics I chose to join this year was entitled Why isn’t education on the front page of the news? (Let’s talk about strategies to push this important discussion to the forefront in a positive and meaningful way). The gist of the discussion was that yes, we can convince local news to cover a unique event at our school, but that’s the end of it. No one will ever hear positive stories about learning in today’s schools in higher venues. When will positive stories about the bloomin’ good (see previous paragraph) ever gain national notice?  It is much easier (and generates ratings) when the media cover:

a. stories of education failures

b. stats of comparisons to other cultures– limited to the first sentence of the Executive Summary

c. stories of the high cost of education to taxpayers

d. all of the above

Fortunately, this EBC group was pro-active in approach and did not linger in the weeds of  woe-is-us-nobody-likes-teachers. We brainstormed. We generated a very do-able, very positive, and very realistic strategy to make the voices of winning education stories resound beyond the local news: the hashtag #eduwin.

Here is how it works:

• Every time you see a change in a student because of something that clicked, write about it in a tweet or a blog post, hashtagged #eduwin.
• Every time you see another teacher do something that works, share it, hashtagged #eduwin.
• Every time you see a tweet from another educator  about the way students are LEARNING, retweet it or share it on Facebook, hashtagged #eduwin.
• When you’re having a bad day, set up a Twitter search or do one on Google (when they get Real Time working again), looking for items hashtagged #eduwin.
• When you hear people griping about the state of education today, share a story you saw hashtagged #eduwin.
• When your class does projects, shoot some video and upload the clips of kids talking about what they did to YouTube, hashtagged #eduwin (cute kids or kittens can’t hurt…)
• When a parent volunteer wants to be helpful, ask him/her to take some pictures of the good things going on in your class (maybe from the back or close-ups of hands so there is no concern about identifiable pictures) and share them on Flickr or Facebook, hashtagged #eduwin.
• When your kids make glogs, Voicethreads, or other online projects that shout powerful evidence of learning, add the hashtag #eduwin to the very best examples (and resist the urge to put the hashtag on ones that could be appreciated without context)
• When you give awards to your students, us the title EDUWIN on the awards.
• When that one non-reader finally recognizes the sight words, clap and say “EDUWIN!”
• Collaborate every day with teacher colleagues on the digital storytelling of EDUWIN

As an FYI, one of those in the discussion asked whether the tag is Ed-U-Win or eduwin or edUwin or edu-win. It is read as any and all of these, but written simply, #eduwin.  For through #eduwin, you win, our kids win, we all win, and edu wins.

Now you have to pass it on. #eduwin. You’re it.

Top Ten things to do the day after ISTE:

10. Sleep. At least a little extra.

9. Dig through the bags, pockets, and cases, sorting all the IMPORTANT cards and little notes that people handed to you– that is,  those who still use paper.

8.  Go outside and breathe non-city, non-convention center air (if you have it).

7. Plan the next 10 blog posts about amazing things you learned but had no time to blog about.

6A. Revisit the plans and files for your presentation, making note of all the things you would change if you gave it again.

6B. Revisit the best presentation you went to and make note of all the things you will say when you give the sequel next year.

5. Run a million loads of laundry. (Dirt is a reality, even in edtech world.)

4.  Dig through the iste11 items you threw into Diigo and add other, more meaningful tags so your library isn’t a giant ISTanglE

3. Resist the urge to do nothing but read #iste11 tweets for another day. #istechocolate is not a food group.

2. Decide which great new idea you will try first, write about, ask your tweeps about, or build.

1. Start item 2.

As I head off to EduBloggerCon and ISTE this weekend, I keep thinking about the teachers who won’t be there — who will never have a chance to even imagine anything like it.  I “meet” a few of the more adventurous ones in OK2Ask sessions. I know that many of them relish the weekly Updates and use TeachersFirst regularly. They are the teachers whose schools never provide them time or opportunity to learn about using technology as a tool for learning.  A few of them will step off the cliff and join an OK2Ask session to learn on their own. Tens or hundreds of thousands more remain on desert islands without the nourishment of professional growth.   They never have a chance to propose individual professional development goals; they never have a chance to learn about the power of learning leveraged by even the simplest technologies. They may have a new grant-funded gadget dropped into their classrooms, but no one ever sits down to talk with them about how it might fit into (or CHANGE) the ways their students learn. Even worse, no one even makes sure it works or fixes it when it doesn’t. These are the teachers on desert islands, and there are far more of them than there are of us, the fortunate few who greet each other at ISTE as if the rest of the teaching world should be following our lead.

I know there are plenty of teachers who have closed the door and secretly thank heaven that they don’t “have to” learn about using technology. But there are far more who simply do not have the professional development or support network. We can’t expect teachers to do it all on their own, but what choice do they have? And what are we doing to find them and help them? Yes, legislation for EETT– including professional development — is a great way to manage top-down, but what are we doing bottom-up to visit the desert islands? We expect them to come to our online communities and learn. We expect them to find those communities. We expect them to figure out how to repair things. We expect them to keep trying to swim off the desert island, but we don’t make an effort to find them and provide the encouragement they need to even try.

The state-of-technology-in-our-schools surveys are too generic to reveal the number of teachers on desert islands. These surveys are filled out by administrators eager to make their schools look good.  The way the questions are asked does not reveal the reality of one projector for a school of 30 classrooms (and a missing power cord)  or one very unreliable computer with a shaky Internet connection per classroom. It does not tell the tale of non-existent funding for professional development or tech support. When I talk to these teachers about why they should use tech, they laugh the laugh of a homeless person watching HGTV.

What are those of us lucky enough to attend ISTE doing to get the word — and some personal encouragement– out to the hundreds of thousands of our peers who will never see a conference, never have a tech integration specialist drop by, never know more about technology than what they see in a broadcast news 15-second filler? Yes, desert island teachers have a responsibility to learn and grow, but we have a responsibility to find them and help them. Would you volunteer to join something like “Habitech for Teaching” a la Habitat for Humanity where we go in and build it together with them so they can live in it and pass it on? What could that look like? How could we at least let them hear an actual human voice of support? I am guessing telling them to call in on Skype isn’t gunna happen.

I think I’ll mull this one over as I complete my ISTE conference planner. Surely there is a way all these creative, energized folks at ISTE can share with those on desert islands.

I spent most of the weekend prepping for one of my #ISTE11 presentations, “Cycles vs. Checklists: Fostering Creative Process in an Accountability World,”  In the process, I learned a few things that actually became part of the presentation:

1. one place is better than multiple places
2. color coding works
3. I never have to throw anything away

One the the best things about submitting ISTE proposals a eight or nine months before you actually give the presentation is the delightfully long incubation time to pull the presentation together in your head, make it better,  let it evolve to a higher plain. During the time from acceptance (December) to delivery (June), you collect, refine, do more research, talk to colleagues, read, read, read — and eventually create. At some point, it seems that everything you run across in your browsing and tweet-reading relates to what your upcoming presentation topic.

Along the way, you grab ideas and toss them into storage. In my case, Diigo seemed great at first because I could tag and add notes on the angle that particular image or article or video provides on creativity and creative process. But I also had my own ideas popping into my head: pithy things to say, questions to ask, things I wonder about, etc.– all related to the preso topic.  So I jotted some of them in a word doc on my cluttered desktop. About three months out, I also began a linoit wall– they call it a “canvas”–* which I dubbed my “idea bin.” I filled it with stickies and video clips and links, all related to the preso topic.  [*I chose linoit.com over Wallwisher because it has an app version for iOS users. Wallwisher uses Flash so would prevent the iPad folks from “seeing” and participating in the space. I considered Evernote, but I like the ease of lino.it for newbies. I also wanted to try something new to learn it.] Unfortunately, my own lack of consistency meant my idea collections were in three places. The lesson I learned: when it comes time to cull, arrange, and construct the actual presentation,  three attics filled with ideas are unmanageable. I had duplicates, lost things between the cracks, and wasted a lot of time.

Having learned that lesson, I tossed almost everything into my linoit “idea bin,” with the intention of sharing it during the preso as a model.  The result is a very cluttered space, especially it you are an outline-style person, which I am not. To help myself out, I found that color coding was huge! I sorted by making the “thinking question” stickies one color, the “MUST include” quotes another color, and so forth. If I had been really organized, I would have used tags on each sticky to sort, but I am visual, so I went for color. I even played with fonts and shrinking the relative size of less important ideas. Note that I intentionally did not “finish” color coding/sorting so people could see an idea-bin-in-progress. I LOVE this process and will use it again. It fits me.

An added benefit: That idea bin isn’t going anywhere.  I don’t have to throw anything out! I still have all the unused ideas as fodder for blog posts, future presentations, articles, maybe even a book. I am an idea hoarder, and having an omni-present, accessible place to throw things is right up my alley. Another lesson learned.

I have learned more than I could ever share about my topic, something about a tool, and something about myself in the process of preparing this presentation. And isn’t that what we want our kids to do?

If you are going to ISTE, I hope you will join me Wednesday, 6/29/2011, 10:15am–11:15am PACC 204B. If not, You will be able to see loads of related materials and resources — the equivalent of “handouts”– on the presentation support pages after June 29.

ISTE 2011 is just three weeks away, and I am as bad as the kids who procrastinate on projects. Circumstances have made it tough to wrap up my presentations, work I would normally have pretty much completed by now. Typically, I’d be adding extras at this point. Maybe this is a good experience for me. Now I know how the kids feel when they have no control over circumstances and end up working down to the wire. Yes, there are such things as personal accountability (I am a big proponent of pointing it out) and planning. Then there are occurrences and convergences you simply could not anticipate. For the kids, it may be the parent who simply does not share enough computer time or who does not have the money to buy a new printer cartridge. It may be the family trip your student did not realize was that weekend– the same one she had set for doing the project. Or it may be the younger siblings she is supposed to babysit. Even the most responsible student can become entangled in circumstances that force a rushed project.

How can we tell whether this is a controllable situation or not?  How do we know which speech to give to that student: the you-should-have-planned-ahead  speech or the how-can-you-reprioritize-to-make-the-best-of-the-time-that’s-left speech or the it’s-not-the-only-grade-you-will-get speech? Or is a speech really going to make a difference, anyway?

The important thing is the learning experience. I am going to select my own “speech” for my ISTE presentations: the how-can-you-reprioritize-to-make-the-best-of-the-time-that’s-left speech. I suggest that we need to ask our students to select the speech they should be hearing, too. Even better, as we promote creativity and more project-based learning, we need to make this discussion part of the experience. Just as we ask kids to develop intrapersonal awareness of their ideal creative surroundings, we must help them become aware of how they handle roadblocks and obstacles, self-made and external.

These skills do not show on tests or state standards, but they matter. A lot. In life. Which speech do you give yourself? How do you handle the detours?

It’s late on a Friday before a long weekend. I have been thinking off and on all day about John T Spencer’s post about Why We Paint Murals (thanks @ShellTerrell and Tweetdeck). Now those thoughts have turned a little surreal– or maybe not. If you are looking for a straightforward opinion piece, stop now. If willing, breathe deeply and dive into my mental swim.

Spencer got me thinking about the space where we learn and our drive to make that space our own. I, too, have shared butcher paper walls and seen students seize the space as finally theirs.  I love what they write and ask and draw when the paper goes up. I have also seen ideas in other classrooms: atypical ways of moving the furniture around a hub for learning, rooms where vertical space suddenly becomes part of the landscape, classrooms as environmental art pieces.  While it might be nice — at times — to remove classroom walls, there are positive aspects of walls, too. Walls are our surroundings and partially define who we are as a group of learners. Spencer’s video shows students making the space their own with brushes of paint and personality. If we could have it, what would a class Dream Space for learning and thinking look like?  Here is my stream of Dream Space ideas.

Surround:  verb to noun

The walls of the Dream Space hold nothing in. They surround us with experiences. The dreaded (and much reviled) IWB, if one has been put here,  can be part of this “surround” as a place for students to create and collaborate. Unlike butcher paper, this electronic surround can be saved, erased, sent, “finger painted” and edited, text-recognized, and used as a collection point for leaking ideas. What else should surround us? Walls of sound, perhaps? Walls of light or dark? Walls of images. I would love an IP addressable imagespace– floor to ceiling — to which we could “send” images any time, simply by knowing the address. The people we know could send us their back yard or their llama. The scientist we know could send us an amoeba. We could send things to ourselves from our phones or our weekends. We could bring in our worlds to wrap us in visual mind graffiti. The Dream Space for thinking is our surround.

Flip the walls

Just as we grow accustomed to the walls we create, take a day in our Dream Space to  Flip the Walls again. What is on the back of this wall? Erase it all and ask us to show the back of our thoughts, like the back of a web page.

Bring it ‘Round

For some reason, my mental images of the Dream Space persistently appear more like the stand-up omnimax theater spaces that have no corners. The Dream Space does not have places for learning to hide or get lost in an angular trap. Ideas in this Space can bounce freely and endlessly because they continue to deflect off the circular hug of thinking.

Then the door clunks open on sturdy school hinges, and the spell breaks.  A skeptical voice inquires, “Why is this teacher lady dreaming about a classroom that doesn’t exist? What is the point here?” In my Dream Space, even one that has suddenly morphed back to a regular classroom with rows of desks, a chorus of voices simply calls out, “Come on in!”

I spent some time exploring the Webby Award winners this week. Put away your iPad or iPhone (must have Flash) and open this on the biggest screen you can find. Turn up the speakers and turn off everyone and everything else around you.

Then tell me how any school anywhere can question the importance of having Art in every child’s life.

See the miracles of light and color.

Play the world through Monet’s eyes and your hand on the mouse/trackpad. Touch Art.

Whisper your amazement as you live Art, and tell us how the ripples in the water are not “necessary” to being  “productive citizen” or a thinking member of society.

Share this with a child of five or fifty. Then ask how we can cut the Arts from schools. They are no more frivolous or “extra” than light itself. Just ask Monet.

[I cannot include an image with this post. This experience is my image.]