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?