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).