I am madly reading (reading madly?) in order to achieve my 2018 100-book goal that I set on Goodreads. I was in a 10-book deficit position a few days ago, and am pleased to report I have only four left. I must acknowledge I have made a couple of recent visits to the library looking for “skinny” books to make the task seem more realistic.
In the process, I also worked through a few books that have been on my “I need to read this” list for a while. One of them is Teach to Work, by Patty Alper. An accomplished businesswoman, Alper is also a board member of the Network for Teaching Entrepreneurship, which promotes focused, project-based mentorship as a way to engage students and prepare them for real-world endeavors.
As I note in my Goodreads review, I rated this as a 3.5 because Alper devotes a fair portion of the book to anecdotal storytelling of student successes. The stories are admirable and encouraging, but offer the reader no specific guidance in achieving the same outcomes.
Fortunately, Alper redeems herself with an appendix at the end of the book, which is a “Mentor’s Resource Guide” of organizations that participate in student mentoring programs.
This book also served as validation that project-based teaching and learning, when focused on #realworld projects, is a magnificent way to engage students, and to help prepare them for adult life.
I’m so pleased my #CLMOOC colleague Anna started a conversation about a 150-words-a-day writing challenge. I oftentimes imagine my CLMOOC colleagues to be “perfect,” consistently engaged in connected learning practices, including writing/blogging. In a sense, Anna’s admission of her “failure” was an invitation to (re-)develop the habit of writing consistently. 150 words a day seems achievable.
I find many excuses for my inconsistency. I’m too busy designing and finding resources for my next #PBL (project-based learning) class. As part of that effort, I investigate and learn to use relevant, #realworld technology tools so that I can incorporate them into the projects my Meliora teens develop.
Simultaneously, in the back of my mind I am often contemplating the possibilities of offering effective PBL courses in an online environment. When these musings come to the foreground, I wander down many rabbit holes pursuing ideas.
I’ve dabbled in becoming familiar with Appreciative Inquiry, and pondered ways it could be applied in education.
I’ve also been steadily working on completing some micro-credentials, including Google Certified Educator Level II. Preparing for the exam requires time and focus.
Then there is the large unfinished work of writing “something,” (it started as a blog post and has morphed into a much larger entity) to demystify the many variations on project-based learning methodologies.
At the end of the day, these are all excuses. One of my objectives as an educator is to reflect on my practice. And, in all honesty, reflexive writings are an effective tool to help clarify and find answers to my various contemplations.
Over two years ago, some wise CLMOOC participants launched the “postcard project.” Like all things CLMOOC, this is a low-key initiative people can participate in (or not) at whatever level they would like. I have received stacks of #postcards from others, and have sent… far fewer. Since I am enthusiastic about the worth of postcards and the human connections they reinforce, I decided to put some #fierce (my #olw2018) focus on it.
In the last few days, I sent 59 postcards. And, I don’t even have writer’s cramp! Because I “cheated,” and used a digitally-based #process to make it more efficient. In December, I participated in “#decdoodle,” a CLMOOC pop-up that invited people to create a themed “doodle” each day of the month. Many of these I did in the form of a collage that I assembled in Canva. On purpose. With the intent of using them for postcards.
To further streamline the process, I used TouchNote to write personalized messages, address the postcards, and mail them.
Process applies to most everything we do in life. How we scramble eggs. Or tie shoes. Sometimes when we consider process-based methodologies for classroom teaching and learning, we feel hesitant or overwhelmed. My recommendation? Tackle the steps in small bites. Play with the concepts. You will “fail.” So what? Learn from the experience, revise your approach, and move on.
For the month of December, we are “doodling” (broad definition) in #CLMOOC. Come join us! Yesterday’s theme was “pink.” While my brain was in idle mode, the thought drifted by, “What if I use Google to search for images in my drive that have pink in them?” I had no idea if it would work, but I typed the search “pink images” and voilá, a bunch of pink stuff popped up on the screen. An image of paper cranes, some of which have pink in them. Me wearing a beautiful knit hat made by my CLMOOC friend Sarah Honeychurch. Images embedded in a CLMOOC activity from last summer called “Searching for Chalkboard Man,” the list goes on (and CLMOOC seems to to be prominently featured). A text document containing references to “pink” also popped up.
Two lessons/reminders resulted from this experience. The first is to “just try things.” Some will work, some won’t (or not at first go), but that’s fine. There was absolutely no cost (okay, a few milliseconds of my time) and no pain in seeing whether Google could find my pink-containing images.
The second point is that using technology was not my goal; creating something interesting and related to “pink” was my goal. Google search helped me find material to integrate into my project. I used Microsoft Paint to crop the images and screenshots. Then I moved all the cropped pieces into Canva, where I produced my collage:
In project-based learning there is sometimes the misconception that #PBL = use-technology-to-make-something. Not so! Just as in the #realworld, technology is a tool which can augment the complexity or sophistication of some projects. Tasks like research and video editing are magnificently simplified and improved with tech tools. “Old-fashioned” tools such as paper, pencils, crayons, paintbrushes also create beautiful representations of pink (or anything else), as illustrated by these:
We are wrapping up the first formal week of #CLMOOC 2017, where we were optionally (after all, everything in CLMOOC is optional) invited to add an introduction in Flipgrid. Flipgrid is a video-only platform, and my CLMOOC colleagues have used a variety of methods to introduce themselves; some funny, some serious, some silent.
I had the idea to create a video that emulates an old-style flip book, so went searching for a tool to use. I found FlipAnim, which seemed quite straightforward, a web-based app which had a short learning curve. The first (disappointing) thing I discovered is there is no “erase” or “undo” capability. The only way to remove mistakes is by deleting the whole “page.” The second “problem” with this tool is that the drawing is done using one’s computer mouse.
Even though I am left-handed, I have always used a right-handed mouse (maybe for the same reason I still use right-handed scissors – lack of availability when I first started using the tool?). When I was faced with the prospect of applying my atrocious right-handed drawing-with-a-mouse skills, along with the can’t-undo-mistakes reality, I sighed and considered finding a different app.
Then I thought better of it, and simply drew. I accepted that the result would be “primitive” at best. And discovered it was so liberating to play! I was relaxed and reckless as I created my crude facsimile of a girl with wild hair, and as I hand-wrote, er mouse-wrote my “credits.” Yes, the result is primitive, but it was such fun!
This experience ties in with the Twitter chats we had a few days ago, where a number of us acknowledged we feel we aren’t artists, that we are “bad” at art.
Our perception that we are not “artists” usually starts at a young age, oftentimes as the result of a classroom experience. My absolute favorite example of using a positive, iterative process to improve work comes in the form of “Austin’s Butterfly,” from Expeditionary Learning’s Ron Berger. In this process, instead of telling students their work is “bad” or “good,” peers offer “kind, specific and helpful” feedback. If you haven’t watched this video, DO! It provides such a superb example of how first-grader Austin steadily improves his work based on peer feedback, and how closely his final product resembles the photograph he was using as his model.
Confidence in the ability to continuously improve one’s work is a characteristic identified in Carol Dweck’s research on growth mindsets. It is interesting that many of us who participated in the CLMOOC Twitter chats demonstrated a fixed mindset regarding our artistic ability.
As we explored this discomfort and feelings of inadequacy further, we talked about the need to “play” with art, to have fun. Algot Runeman reminded us periodically how we need to treat ourselves more kindly, and to continue practicing. To allow ourselves to “stumble,” and to measure progress over time.
The point about the importance of play is well-argued in Stuart Brown, MD’s book Play: How it Shapes the Brain, Opens the Imagination, and Invigorates the Soul. As he says, “[p]lay is a state of mind, rather than activity” (p. 60). He further states “the impulse to create art is a result of the play impulse… art and culture are something that the brain actively creates because it benefits us…” (p. 60).
This week’s NWP iAnthology challenge, presented by Kim Douillard, is to think of #weather and how it impacts our photography. As one who is living in the Midwest (Chicago suburbs), weather this time of year can be pretty severe and bleak. As it is today:
I went out this afternoon to look for interesting shots of this prairie country I’ve lived in for sixteen years, and which will never be “home.” It’s too flat and boring for my liking; give me mountains and oceans any day.
One thing I have observed, having lived in a variety of climates, is that the sky is what most helps identify which season we are in. The ones below were all taken mid-afternoon, with #nofilter. The sun is already making a descent. There is a certain chill to the shades of blue.
For the past six months or so, I have made a concerted effort to relish, rather than complain about the weather. Especially since I really, really hate winter. Today’s photography exercise helped me see some of the beauty of this stark time of year. It reminded me of a recent New York Times travel article entitled “David Foster Wallace’s Peaceful Prairie,” which describes Foster Wallace’s enjoyment of the Illinois prairie country. The article quotes from the opening paragraph of Foster Wallace’s posthumously-published novel The Pale King, “Ale-colored sunshine and pale sky and whorls of cirrus so high they cast no shadow.” The sun was more lemonade than ale today, but the big sky was certainly there.
To wrap up 2016, Kim Douillard challenged the #clmooc community to curate #2016bestnine photos. I’m not an avid Instagram user, so the collage the app created (below) was collected from a small selection of the photos I took this year. My phone also exploded this fall, so I lost a bunch of photos, including the Mt Hood shot.
Nonetheless, Instagram and I agree on some of the themes I explored during the year. As part of the #clmooc #silentsunday thread, I look for subjects that represent my surroundings and my interests.
The first photo (collage) I chose is of my son tipping off at a basketball game. He played competitive travel basketball for five years, and this summer decided to abandon the sport. Part of me still grieves, because he is a talented player, and I feel like he is walking away from something which has much to offer him, and to which he has much to offer. I also developed friendships with many of the other parents, and think the loss of those hours sitting on bleachers in solidarity with them is what I miss most.
This next shot grosses some people out :-). An orb spider in his/her domain. Spiders creep me out as well, but nonetheless they are magnificent beings, and (as Ms. Frizzle informs us all) beneficial for eradicating other insects.
I love the defiance of this leaf, standing up in the grass.
These next two were taken this fall, in the same area. I love the symmetry of the two paragliders, and the study in light and shadows and reflections.
After a glorious, mild autumn, we were abruptly shocked into winter with the first snow. The accumulation of heavy, wet snow provides a magnificent frame for the tree branches and decorative crab apples.
Perhaps my favorite shot of the year is this self-portrait taken as a fluke. In this blog post, I describe the circumstances, and the subsequent analysis and connections related to it.
To cap it off, I selected these two shots of lights. The first is soft, the glow of candles in a darkened room. The second is more dramatic, part of a light and sound show presented by the Morton Arboretum in the Chicago area.
Thanks, Kim for inciting me to think about the photos I took this year, and what they mean to me.
As I mused about creating this season’s #AltCV, a recent interaction with #CLMOOC friend Stephanie Loomis came to mind. She was wrapping up a project related to social media profile pictures (you’ll have to ask her for the details!) and messaged me with some questions. She asked me for my interpretation of the following Facebook profile picture:
To which I responded:
I hadn’t consciously analyzed the photo before posting it as my profile picture. However, when Stephanie asked me what it represented, I came up with my description easily, with very little thought. So, the analysis and interpretation were already there, just at a subconscious level.
I was also somewhat astounded by the similarities in Stephanie’s interpretation:
She and I “know” each other only in virtual spaces. The photo spoke for itself.
As Stephanie and I chatted further, we explored the blurring of lines between “professional” and “personal” identities:
In reality, our professional and personal lives co-existed before social media. The difference was that on our resumes, and in presenting our “professional face,” we emphasized our skills and experience vis-à-vis the position we held, or wished to hold. We downplayed our personal lives, only divulging details to our closest colleagues.
Given we are holistic beings, this new era of transparency is refreshing. When we fracture ourselves into multiple personalities (Sybil anyone?), we are inauthentic. So here I stand. Strong, hopeful, and as documented in this 2014 #CLMOOC avatar, a warrior.
Phew. That’s all I can say. When the #DigiWriMo folks issued the call to create an “alternative CV,” “based not on degrees and position and peer-reviewed publications, but on what we think is most important about who we are and what we are genuinely most proud to have accomplished,” I decided to make the exercise a challenge. More of a challenge than I anticipated, really.
Animaker is a tool I have barely glanced at, but which has fascinated me for some time. So, I decided to use it to create my #AltCV. Thus the adventure began. Animaker has an eleven-and-a-half minute tutorial. I watched it once. Fumbled through assembling a few “scenes.” Several things did not come together as I wanted them to. Went through the tutorial again, to find the explanation for the nuances I was missing. Like all good learning experiences, the process was iterative. I would make some modifications, replay the video, identify the improvements I needed to make. Again and again.
In my work as a PBL (project-based learning) coach, this is an aspect I impress upon teachers. Students need to be given feedback on their work, and the time to revise. Not only once, but multiple times. My all-time favorite example of this is Ron Berger’s video of Austin’s Butterfly:
It is all too common for educators to get caught up in the but-I-have-all-this-content-to-cover mindset, so students don’t have the occasion to delve deeply into any given topic, nor do they have the opportunity to reflect on their work, and to make improvements.
This year in our Meliora group, we are studying World History. To some, I will sound like a heretic, but I care little about what these students carry away in knowledge and facts about World History (well, I do hope they remember “les grandes lignes,” the major points). What I mostlycare about is that they develop deeper thinking and analytic skills. We spend significant time discussing events in history, and making connections to today, to my students’ reality. By using open-ended questions, “why?” and “how do you know?” being perhaps my favorites, the students are required to think, and to defend their rationale.
I also care that the students learn to reflect on their work, and to actively find ways to improve it. As they develop projects, I offer feedback throughout the process. They also conduct peer reviews of each other’s work, so they can learn to critique using “kind, helpful and specific” (a phrase coined by Ron Berger) feedback.
As I went through the development of my #AltCV, I was also applying Standford’s d. school ideology of “iterative generation of artifacts intended to answer questions that get you closer to your final solution.” As they further explain in the excerpt below, iteration is fundamental to good design. Interestingly, they discuss iterations within a process, in my case the complete video, and then within a step, in my case a single scene. That is exactly how I tackled it, narrowing my focus as the flow began to take shape.
I would argue this design process can be applied to many, if not all, academic disciplines. When I work with Meliora students on their history projects, we first look at the big picture, their overall argument/thesis, then over time narrow the focus to particular details that need fleshed out and refined. Likewise, when solving a math problem students need to learn to determine the process to be used, then drill down to the detail. And so forth.
The San Diego Area Writing Project (SDAWP) graciously included me in their list of invitees to the currently-underway Writing Thief MOOC, a deep examination of Ruth Culham’s book The Writing Thief: Using Mentor Texts to Teach the Craft of Writing. As I explained in my introduction to the MOOC participants, I’m an outlier in the group, as I am not a formally trained writing teacher. My passion is project-based learning, which encompasses all disciplines, and which is itself an (albeit quickly growing) outlier in educational methodologies.
I had encountered a number of the Writing Thief MOOC leaders and participants during the summer 2014 Connected Learning MOOC (CLMOOC). I learned tremendously from that experience. I received an introduction to many technology tools available to incorporate into writing experiences (as well as other disciplines). I encountered other professionals’ views on teaching and learning. Perhaps most importantly, I discovered that interacting with this virtual community of similarly-minded people is good for my soul.
Therefore, I was eager to join the current conversation. Similarly to #CLMOOC, The Writing Thief MOOC consists of a number of “make cycles,” in this instance related to topics and themes contained in The Writing Thief.
In the second make cycle, we were asked to “find a quote (or quotes) from The Writing Thief that resonates with you,” then “[l]ook at it closely and dissect it” before letting the quote inspire our creativity. We were also told to “give yourself permission…” As I browsed through the “makes” that others had posted to the G+ community, I realized that I would not be satisfied to simply gussy up a quote and call it complete. I needed to give myself permission to dive deeper, and to have fun.
A word Culham used multiple times (nine, to be exact) in The Writing Thief is “frisson,” how we feel “frissons” as we and our students discover great mentor texts, and discover ideas we want to write about. I think my attention was caught by the word “frisson” both because it is not commonly used in English, and because, as a French speaker, the word was familiar to me.
So, the investigation began. One of the beauties of e-readers is they make it straightforward to search for words and phrases. Once I had found all nine “frissons,” I needed to decide how to present my reflection about them. I chose the tool Haiku Deck, both because I had some experience using it, and because it was well-suited to my purpose.
Initially, I thought arranging the nine quotes into a “deck” would be easy. Ha! I had to create an introduction, so off to take photos of the definition of frisson from both French and English dictionaries. Oh, wait, the first quote needed a preamble. Then, some of the quotes didn’t want to fit anywhere. I arranged and rearranged them several times, attempting to find a narrative flow. Finally, I got stuck trying to figure out how to conclude the presentation. Not to mention choosing the images that best portrayed the sense I wanted to give to each quote. As I was working, I realized this was the same process that any writer encounters as s/he creates a piece of work. Although I was simply remixing (thieving?) words written by someone else, I was nonetheless seeking to tell a coherent story. After all, that is what humans like to do – tell stories.
Images, from left to right, created by 
