The #ISTE2015 Pulse

I have a confession to make . . . I am a crier. I cry when reading books and watching movies. I cried while watching a Powerade® commercial (and do so every time I watch it), and there hasn't been an ISTE conference that I have attended when I haven't cried. Yes, at ISTE there are powerful messages, and when they are paired with impactful images and (on occasion) moving music, those messages tug more on the heartstrings. However, when I consider all the messages that have resonated, they inspired because they were paired with stories.

While the Shia Labeouf's "inspirational" video I saw in +Steve Dembo's The Viral Video Effect: Storytelling for the YouTube Generation provides lots of laughs and opportunities for special effects, Shia didn't produce goose bumps or move me to change. (By the way, I have never been disappointed by a +Steve Dembo session, so if you get the chance to attend one, please do!) Sorry, Shia, but the lack of story does not provide much connection to me, my life, my stories. 

Yet if you listened much or even at all this week, there have been hundreds of stories. We connect with these. We can identify with Soledad O'brien's reflections on her parents, +Hadi Partovi's early connection with coding, and Annie Griffiths's connections with women. Their stories, in the interwoven moments that make up their daily lives, spur them to action to be bigger than their dreams, to harness amazing people, to elevate the world. There is a little piece of our stories in their stories, and that's why they are so compelling.

I cried more than usual this year, especially when it came to Jack Gallagher's keynote on Tuesday. You see, I am a former teacher. I, too, had children that didn't quite fit in. No, none of my children have autism; however, they do not like to sit for seven hours, would rather do than listen, and love to have (mainly loud) conversations that involve many questions. Such traits often annoy teachers. Such traits do not bode well for testing. Such traits are interpreted as behavioral problems. I was a "good" student . . . I sat, I listened, I was quiet. I did my work. I didn't challenge. And while I always had a special place in my heart for the high school student who appeared on my roster and made other teachers grimace, it wasn't until my own children entered school that I finally got it. My children were smart: they read, they questioned, they observed, they engaged, they loved, they played, they imagined, they lived. But school didn't often allow them to showcase their "smarts." Being that former teacher who did not want to turn into the crazy parent whom teachers dreaded, I often bit my tongue, not speaking up at missed opportunities to harness my children's talents. I have known them since they took their first breath, and while I am not an expert on them, next to themselves, I am the second-best witness to the events and people who have shaped them. Yet, I only had one teach ever ask me to submit to her what I wanted her to know about my child.

It is important to know that the tears flowed on Tuesday, not because I felt as though my children's education wasn't as amazing as it could have been. I cried because I connected. My daughter Maureen was not the student I was. See, like Jack in viewing his son, there was a period of time that I wanted her to "fit in." Life would be so much easier if she sat still in class, didn't chit-chat so much, and wrote neater. By the grace of God, a dear friend helped me shift my perspective. There was a beautiful energy to her that I should not break but rather harness. She had amazing qualities: she was kind, generous, fun, excited, energized. She was forgiving and loved to see people happy -- including her classmates and teachers. She was considerate and creative. She sang -- even if was off key, she danced -- even if she was off balance, she tried -- even if she wasn't going to be the best. NONE of those amazing qualities that we want for our children to experience true happiness are graded on a report card. Yes, I will acknowledge the elementary school citizenship section, but there are no tested or listed standards for such important human qualities, and while I am not sure there should be, we can recognize that there are concepts that are reinforced that are never and will never be tested. That lack of testing does not diminish their power or importance.

My daughter, Maureen, loved school. She loved learning, but she also loved getting a hug from her principal every morning, seeing her friends, laughing on the playground, adding pizazz to her school uniform, and getting selected by the teacher to assist. The truly intuitive teachers in her life recognized her gifts and leveraged them in the classroom so they were assets and not distractions. Instead of viewing her as bossy, they cultivated her leadership skills. Instead of asking her to repeat a mastered concept a hundred more times, they allowed her to move on. So, when a semester at a new school her fourth-grade year seemed to be squashing her amazing spirit, I struggled with doing what I felt was right in my heart for my daughter and what I thought might be perceived as the crazy parent. I set aside my own ego and opted to save her spirit; I refused to sacrifice it for the sake of learning such lessons that could be experienced later. I called her former principal and humbly asked if they would let her return. She began the spring semester with renewed hope and vigor. The grades shot up as did her attitude. Looking back, that decision is one of the best I ever made. You see, she died three-and-a-half months later. Knowing that she spent those final months in a classroom that celebrated her "Maureenness" warms this parent's heart. 

Maureen greeting me at the airport when I 

returned home from ISTE13.

My last post to this blog was two years ago, and, boy, has a lot happened in those two years! After Maureen died, I posted on her Facebook page that had once served to keep our family and friends updated about her medical stay. For over a year, I posted a picture and memory every day. Since I hadn't been blogging here, I felt as though I had failed +Kyle Pace who had encouraged me to blog, but I was, in a sense, blogging about my daughter. I did not want her nine years to be enough; I wanted her to live on; I wanted to keep her spirit alive. If my stories about her . . . correction: if HER stories help a person to live a fuller life, make a parent cherish little moments more deeply, help a grieving parent to push on one more day, or cause a teacher to reflect on the worth of each student, then in some small way, my daughter lives on. 

In education, there is much talk about data and research. However, we must remember that there's a large (and underestimated) role of heart. We all remember how school, a grade, a teacher, or idea made us feel. Those are important. Such experiences could invoke confidence or doubt. +Angela Maiers has worked hard to remind us that kids matter and #youmatter. We must never let the passion and excitement leave us as educators nor our students. 

+Adam Braun's EdTekTalk was especially moving. I was captivated that such a bright, young man was so motivated to use his talents for a greater good. His stories and message resonated on a couple levels. First, he spoke about using a cause to honor someone you love. As a mother carefully setting up a foundation to honor her late daughter, I believe that that speech was exactly what I needed to hear. Her spirit must live on. More importantly, he said, "You must change your words to change your worth." As a former English teacher, I often can be overheard saying, "Words matter." They do. As a parent with living with regrets, I can attest that it is no easy task; however, I do know that, in time, if I am mindful of that charge, I will find a version of forgiveness. As educators, we should always see students through our eyes and those of their parents: with all the hope and promise of the grandest dreams; we must encourage students to be aware of their words . . . as we should ours. And because words matter, I was impressed to see Sean Robinson acknowledge that the tweets coming out of #ISTE2015 had more to do with education than technology. It has always been and will continue to be about good teaching. Period.

As +Josh Stumpenhorst sends you off on Wednesday with inspiration in your sails back into the violent ocean of limited budgets, lackluster equipment, and naysayers, I challenge you to consider a young +Adam Bellow, Albert Einstein, Oprah Winfrey, or Maureen Howe. How will you harness their energy? How will you be mindful of their needs? How will you ensure that their very special gifts are realized to their full potential? 

Take your pulse and decide, what stories will you allow them to tell?

The Face of EdTech

The Internet has allowed anyone with a connection to establish relationships all over the world. Even astronauts tweet! There is a social media buffet that stretches beyond the most impressive Las Vegas spread. If you want to be connected, you will be. I have been able to get blogging advice from +Kyle Pace, read Roxaboxen to +Amanda Marrinan's class, and get ADHD classroom strategies from +Kelly Jurkowski through virtual conversations. So why then, if the world wide web is so connected, do we even need an ISTE conference?

It's quite simple, really. Behind ever connected device is a person. Devices connect. People provide the energy to run the connections.

Even the most amazing technology in the word -- facial recognition, virtual simulations -- do not replace the human laugh, tears, or hug. Technology is amazing! I love watching my toddler handle the iPad like a whiz. (She even carries it properly!) My smile extended from ear-to-ear each time my eleven-year old son called to excitedly describe his latest creation with Minecraft. (I allowed him to download the iPad app just as I was loading up for this year's conference.) However, if possible, I would rather look into someone's eyes rather than through a computer monitor. 

And this, my friends, is why we should not be scared. Technology will not replace teachers. Technology frees time-consuming tasks so that teachers can have human interaction, conversations, and one-on-one moments with their students. Technology can open access to worlds even the most impressive library can't touch. However, teachers can gauge mood, sense fear, and offer the appropriate remedy or encouragement. Smart does not equal heart.

The ISTE conference provides me with information, ideas, connections, and energy to plot my next great educational adventure. Each year, I look to this late-June gathering to renew my beliefs about education and its possibilities. Sure, I can look up all the great ideas presented by +Dr. Alice Christie, but if given the opportunity to get PD by the Sea? You know what's more valuable. 

So next year, if asked to justify why I think ISTE travel is warranted, it is without question that I can turn to thousands of ISTE conference attendees (past and present) who can offer up reasons why the exhausting days are so important. (I am sure I could also poll all the bummed people I read who post to Twitter about missing out and begging for those in attendance to share the learning.) Yes, +Jane McGonigal is spot on to point out that the person who plays the game reaps the benefits, and I am sure the portraits of ISTE attendees would mimic those of gamers. I want to work/explore/play/grow so that my students "thrive, achieve, and contribute." I teach; I am a personal coder!

Highway to Hello

On May 3, +Michelle Ravnikar and I were finally able to make something happen that we had discussed for quite a while. Looking back, it seems a bit silly that it took so long to coordinate, but I have to say that for all involved, it was worth coordinating. Michelle, a technology integrationist, and two technicians hopped in a car and traveled south on Highway 95. One incredibly hot place to another. No big deal for many, but for those of us involved, it was an experience that reminded us all why face-to-face is still important in this digital age.

Michelle and I met each other a few years ago as we worked on an implementation guide for Arizona's Department of Education's educational technology standards. We connected through our similar job responsibilities and shared enthusiasm for education. We were eager to learn about what each was doing to support teachers in their respective educational technology endeavors and how learning from one another could improve our knowledge and practices. Correspondence over the last couple years has been virtual despite us being fewer than 160 miles away from one another, both serving on the Arizona Technology in Education Association board, and even attending ISTE12! We plotted to one day conduct site visits and see how we could grow by seeing how "others" operate. We had no idea how the day would change us all.

Three schools and seven classrooms not only fulfilled Michelle's team's expectations, but the benefits extended to me, my technician, and the hosting teachers. As someone who is a sucker for all heartfelt education stories, I loved seeing teachers with whom I had worked using educational technology in their classrooms. Yes, I observed (with goosebumps and tears), educators harnessing the power of educational technology to achieve results, not just for the sake of using it. My role, purpose, and work was reaffirmed. While I personally no longer get to see the magic of learning on a daily basis since I am not in the classroom, this visit confirmed that my position did have value and impact. The technology was simply part of the learning, as it should be.

While visiting the awesome classroom of techEteens** (led by the ever-energized +techEteacher, Cary), the technician Ty, turned to me and thanked me. For him, that day gave him a perspective that went beyond laptop repairs and work orders. He realized the ultimate importance of his work and how technology integration in academics, when done right, could be an incredible learning experience for students. It reminded me of the GE Stories and how powerful it can be to see the true impact of your work. I was thrilled when Ty shared that realization so early in the tour, and it made me think back to the desire my former manager +Robin Krizay expressed for each worker in our organization to take a day and see what everyone else had to do on a daily basis. Experiences like that give employees insight about the organization's synergy, demands, and relationships. The day affected Ty, and I encouraged him to tout that experience so his coworkers could benefit from the same observations.

The Lake Havasu group raved about the visit. Ty made immediate connections. However, one of the most incredible outcomes was that we were able to showcase the wonderful happenings taking place on a regular basis inside classrooms -- from elementary to middle school to special education to the migrant program. With negative instances making the news, being able to draw attention away from those assumptions is critical. Teachers need to become master marketers, but with endless responsibilities, who has the time? Many educators humbly reply that they are simply doing nothing out of the norm, not recognizing that the magic is the norm in their rooms. Many would be impressed with the ease at which Melissa's kindergarteners retrieved laptops, opened software, and collaborated in groups even more efficiently than many adults! However, Melissa did not think it was amazing as those were simply the expectations in the classroom. Jarrod was fresh off his win as teacher of the year and brushed off the accolades.  I am fortunate that I have the time to coordinate such events and blog about them -- my teachers' own publicist in action.

Great power lies in venturing and exploring. Great power also lies in opening your doors for that exploration. Principal Drysdale of G.W. Carver Elementary School was eager to welcome us and allow her teachers to shine. She beamed with pride as Carol (who said we were welcome any time) discussed the focus and patience her special educations students had when the Promethean board was in use. Thomas, who has never refused an impromptu visit, never misses a beat when visitors watch his kindergarteners use the Promethean board, student response systems, and iPods. By the way, Jarrod was not the school's only teacher of the year, as Carver also has two other category-specific winning teachers. We wrapped up our day in the fourth Carver classroom where Rudy was able to show the academic progress his students made in his 5th grade mashup of all things worth using in the world of educational technology applications!

We must practice in our professional lives what we promote in our classrooms: get to know one another, collaborate, share and celebrate successes, ask questions, get out of the comfort zone, cooperate, engage, have new experiences, and never stop learning. Your travels can merely be down the hall or across town. How will you challenge yourself travel down a near, and not-too-distant highway?

**The techEteens will be presenting a Student Showcase at ISTE13 this year. Please help them achieve their travel goal. Any amount you can donate is greatly appreciated.

   

 

Praise Matters (as a Verb AND Noun)

Praise matters (as a verb). I am not talking about empty, everybody-ends-up-with-a-trophy kind of praise. I am referring to genuine recognition of a job well done, unexpected effort, and appreciated acts. Praise matters because it feeds our soul, pushes us to continue the good fight, and give more even when we believe the tank is empty. Even the most philanthropic person could use a smile or simple words of gratitude. Praise is a reminder that we're on the right path and all the sweat is not for naught. Because of its importance, I wanted to dedicate this post to praise matters (as a noun).

Any teacher who has half a heart has turned to a box, drawer, or envelope filled with thank-you's jotted on the back of wallet-sized school portraits, prized gifts from loving youngsters, scribbled notes, and later-sent graduation, wedding, and birth announcements from former students because they serve as reminders of why one works tirelessly for little pay and little respect. Receiving an observation or evaluation by a colleague or superior with compliments about what they observed is valued as well. It is a dangerous game to assume that someone is receiving praise already and therefore your effort to show gratitude (in any manner) is unneeded or unwanted. "I am sure you hear that all the time," is often met with the thought, "Actually, no I don't."

Since praise DOES matter, and +Angela Maiers has taught me that telling people #youmatter is important, I think it is only fitting that I give an online and public shout-out to +Cary Fields. Cary is a teacher in one of the districts I serve, and man, that lady has initiative, persistence, and energy! She is fearless, and when it comes to trying out educational technology, she is the first to volunteer. Her middle school students use laptops and iPads. They create wikis and blogs. Edmodo, digital storytelling, and podcasts are the norm. She lobbied for an interactive white board and uses it, so much so that she is one of her district's certified trainers. The iPads and Apple TV she started using in her classroom were from her own wallet. Cary has been featured on TeacherCast and by Edmodo. Two years after her first ISTE Conference, she'll be taking students with her to San Antonio as part of a Student Showcase (a first for our community). 

Her nomination for this year's ISTE Outstanding Teacher was my honor to submit. No, she probably won't win, but praise matters. A nomination lets someone know that what you observe is meaningful and worth getting recognized by others. That nomination (with its two letters of recommendation) helps when she's up in the middle of the night figuring out the best way to screencast the lesson. Knowing that someone took the time (in a very busy schedule) to recognize efforts warms her heart. Even though educators KNOW their work is powerful, praise still goes a long way to keep that fire burning. Praise -- in all its forms -- are medals of honor on our hearts, in a shoebox, on a bulletin board, or glistening on a shelf.

Cary Fields (@techeteacher) displaying classroom tools.

Cary doesn't need me to sing her praises online. Heck, she has a huge virtual presence compared to me, but I know she will enjoy the recognition. She will see her accomplishments with a brighter sheen, and she will know that I sacrificed much-needed to sleep to write this and applaud her. She will certainly enjoy the people who will stop by her Student Showcase at ISTE13 and chat about what she's doing in the classroom. That is when the magic really happens because she will SHARE all her knowledge.

Someone who is really making a difference shares their knowledge, discoveries, and enthusiasm freely with only the expectation of an open mind. The mistake is being threatened by enthusiastic trailblazers and shiny badges of accomplishment. Many might be scared to wade into the pool because they don't feel they can be a Cary or +Kevin Honeycutt or +Adam Bellow. The key is not to resent the badges but learn from them so you can earn your own badges. While there may only be one teacher of the year or a few keynote speakers, there is no limit to the badges you wear on your heart or can earn from students, parents, colleagues, and administrators. Praise comes in many forms, and unlike a yearly award, there is no finite amount! That envelope quickly expands into an entire drawer, and it isn't long before the bulletin board begins to explode onto the wall.

All the educators mentioned here do not hoard their secrets to success. They freely share stories, lessons learned, and are willing to collaborate. They want you to have the trophies too because our students win when teachers believe their accomplishments have merit! Cary e-mails me frequently about new apps or sites that I should explore. She blogs to open her doors to her classroom, and she Tweets like there's no tomorrow. I can always count on Angela for an uplifting Facebook post, Adam for a thought-provoking presentation, and Kevin to share all his brilliant thoughts in every form of social media that exists! In this virtual age, the sharing abounds; there are more portals from which to learn than ever! Unfortunately in this virtual age, we also see the ease at which mud can be slung and hurtful words are forever immortalized. Yet on this day in the virtual age, I will use this small forum to praise Cary -- a respected educator, fearless educational technology pioneer, and a champion for all that is good in the often-criticized world of education.

May these matters spur you to praise someone today and every day.

Tweeted pic in attempt to earn tickets to ISTE12 #EduBros event.

Feeding My (Student-less) Soul

In a small community, certain job opportunities only open once in a great while, and so begins the reason I left the classroom. With a recently issued masters, my decision to leave my eleventh grade students made much more time for my young family; however, it did not take long for me to feel the absence of my students. Serving as an educator truly is a calling that no paycheck can match. No longer was I greeted daily with smiling, eager faces nor were there the frequent thank-you notes discovered when I most needed rejuvenation. Of course, I told myself that by working with teachers, I was going to be able to impact more classrooms, more students' lives. (I told myself again and again.)

However, such an impact doesn't happen on its own. I relished every chance I had to work with teachers and found myself continually offering my services in an effort to wiggle back into the classroom and see the impact first-hand. But the professional development computer lab is not a classroom where I controlled the curriculum any longer. Right or wrong, I found myself feeling underutilized and undervalued. I went into education to make a difference. Was I still making one? How could I measure that? What was happening when teachers left a "training" and heading back into the wild? 

What could I learn from so many great educators I had discovered through AzTEA, ISTE conferences, and social media who were now serving in the same capacity? Stop the pity party and do something about it.

To feed my soul, I had to ask: What did I love about teaching teenagers? Those who have been in the classroom know that it certainly wasn't the paycheck, long hours, or red-tape. It absolutely wasn't hoarding writing utensils to take back to the classroom, begging for donations, or hauling stacks of papers to and from my car. I lived for watching lightbulbs ignite, proud moments of success, and seeing children blossom into young men and women. I especially welcomed having those apathetic, disengaged, often unwanted students because of the challenge. I recognized the potential for growth and change, and I was energized when they saw what could be. While I "taught" language arts, I knew my lessons were beyond content and lifelong. So what could I take from my years as a high school educator into my new role working with teachers? Ultimately, I still needed to help realize dreams, assist in making them happen, and showcase those achievements. 

This year, amid all my employer-listed responsibilities and family commitments, I decided to work with teachers who are embracing educational technology, provide them with assistance, and showcase their efforts. Receiving kudos are always welcomed in a world where acknowledgments are seldom shared, and in this information age, we can certainly learn from and connect with our hard-working colleagues. We need inspiration, ideas, and examples on our best and worst days. Many educators are not self-promoting or key marketers, and if I can help to share their ideas, then I should. If I can offer accolades on a larger scale, then I must. Another blog amid the many? Yes.

Even though I have composed hundreds of blog posts in my head, this is my inaugural attempt at blogging, and I am sure it will evolve and improve. (+Kyle Pace did tell me to just start, and I am sure the handful of readers will offer their two cents!) I wanted my students to jump in; I need to walk the talk. Expect to see some educators highlighted who hail from my area peppered with my own reflections and musings. I welcome connections, feedback, and opportunities. While I know I am beginning with a handful of readers, and in no way a following, there is always the hope that one post can matter to at least one person.

In the end, it does seem a bit silly that it took me a few years to give myself advice that I would have quickly delivered to my students, but I do know sometimes the solutions come about after a bit of struggle. I am just beginning my journey, and I honestly cannot say where it will take me. Yet I am learning to be more flexible by taking control. Somewhat paradoxical, but that is life, no?

My first year as a teacher (dress your homeroom teacher challenge).