Risk

Create Simple Personalized Professional Development #IMMOOC

Posted on by Aaron Hogan

In college, I had a professor who would read PowerPoint slide shows to us about the benefits of engaging instruction for students. The irony was not lost on me. It’s rare that a class is a perfect match for you as a learner, but I learned a great deal of what not to do throughout that course.

For all the innovation out there in education today, there’s still a lot more whole group lecturing about how we should differentiate and individualize our instruction for the students we serve than I’m comfortable with. Professional development that ignores best instructional practices is insulting to teachers and detrimental to leader credibility.

I understand part of the hesitation on the part of leaders. Differentiation in a classroom is an incredibly complicated, albeit rewarding, undertaking. There aren’t a lot of options out there for differentiated professional development, and creating something from the ground up seems like a monumental undertaking. So, we often opt for a standard delivery of a new idea. When we do that, we rob those in the room of the opportunity to experience something innovative. Sure, everyone hears the same content. But as Dave Burgess often reminds educators, “What good is covering content if people aren’t listening?” Professional development can’t just wash over you; you have to internalize it, wrestle with it, consider how to make it your own. It’s high time we stop measuring professional development in terms of seat time. That’s a measure of compliance, not learning. As George Couros reminds us, “Compliance does not foster innovation. In fact, demanding conformity does quite the opposite.”

Professional development that ignores best instructional practices is insulting to teachers.
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Exploring Another Way

I’m in my first year on the campus I serve, and for our last two campus professional development days, we set out to do something different. We knew we wanted our PD to challenge and support teachers on their self selected goals for the year, and we also knew that we wanted staff to have time to implement some of the new things they learned about. More than that, my principal and I (both new to the campus this year) didn’t want to come in and talk at people for an extended period of time for professional development.

We decided to run the majority of our time as an EdCamp (with a bit of scaffolding). In a traditional EdCamp, participants design the day when they arrive to meet their needs with conversations among those who take part in the EdCamp. It’s highly organic (which I really like), but it is a bit of an adjustment for many not familiar with the style of learning.

For our purposes, we added scaffolding to not overwhelm anyone on the first iteration. We took the teachers’ goals from the beginning of the year and teased out four common threads: Student engagement, Social emotional learning, Growth mindset, and EdTech. With these in mind, we created a schedule for the day that allowed teachers to grow in their self defined goals, but also pushed teachers to learn not simply with presentations, but primarily through conversations with each other about the topics at hand. Check out the schedules below:

October 10th schedule

February 20th schedule

We sent teachers out to these conversations with these instructions:

When you get to your session, here are a few reminders:

  • If there’s a video, be the one to get it playing.
  • Find someone to add notes in the Google Doc.
  • Help get the conversation started. (Yes, you! You’ll be great!)
  • Find out where everyone stands on the topic.
    • Ask what experience people have with the topic.
    • Ask what people want to learn about the topic.
  • Make sure everyone who wants to contribute gets a chance to participate.
  • Encourage the conversation. Be patient.
  • Don’t let a little wait time fool you into thinking the conversation is over.

Our teachers loved these two days. The best thing about that for me is that it wasn’t about us as leaders at all. We got out of the way and let the teachers connect with and learn from one another. In those conversations, they challenged one another and worked through tough conversations about the hard work that teaching really is.

Selfishly, it was an incredible way to get to know our teachers on a deeper level. That wasn’t the purpose, but what an important benefit it was for us. We received overwhelmingly positive feedback on the day, and even heard some frustration in October that we wouldn’t be able to revisit this style of learning until our time together in February.

Compliance never got me that reaction.

Offering Empowering Encouragement

Before launching the October PD day, I had a chance to put one other support in place. It was probably my favorite part of the entire experience.

The unstructured conversations needed a secret leader, a plant in the room. Someone who would keep the conversation moving and focused on the topic at hand. So for each of the sessions, I thought through our staff, selected a staff member or two who had a lot to offer in that conversation, and went and had a conversation. I got to share that I was excited about our new, somewhat risky (but hopefully really rewarding) PD that was coming up. But more than that, I got to share that I saw greatness in them. That they had something that needed to be passed along to others. They they were an integral part of the success of the upcoming day.

Those conversations are some of my favorite interactions I’ve had with our staff.

In the end, each EdCamp was a great day. But more than that, I hope it showed teachers that we were willing to practice what we preach, to do something that might not run perfectly (but would be better than the way we’ve always done it). That’s what the Innovator’s Mindset asks of all educators.

Regardless of your role on campus, where do you need to make sure your methods match your message? Do you notice anything that’s contradicting itself? How can you fix those inconsistencies?

And as much as you have control over it, how can you drive PD toward something that honors, rather than sells short, teachers who are giving so much to serve their students?

I’ll be writing more about my own journey with innovation over the next few weeks as part of this MOOC (massive open online course) centered around George Couros’ book The Innovator’s Mindset. Check out the #IMMOOC hashtag to see some conversation about innovation in education.

The Myth of Innovation Killers #IMMOOC

Posted on by Aaron Hogan

I’ve been in several conversations lately that go something like this: “[THAT WHICH IS OUT OF MY CONTROL] is an innovation killer.”

Don’t get me wrong. I understand that there are real constraints and awful situations that educators find themselves in. I know that those happen more often than we’d like. But if we wait until our constraints disappear to begin innovating, we will forever miss the opportunity to create change.

Today, will I innovate, or will I let the excuses win?
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I have a hard time not seeing the “X is an innovation killer” message as a nicer way of saying innovation is too hard for me right now. As George Couros says, “Often, the biggest barrier to innovation is our own way of thinking.”

Nobody knows your situation like you do, so if it’s not the time to add something extra in life, I understand. But when it is time, remember that everyone who is poised to innovate has constraints and a choice. Don’t wait until the time is the constraints have disappeared. It won’t happen. You’ll always have constraints. You’ll always have the choice: Today, will I innovate, or will I let the excuses win?

As Seth Godin says, “Change almost never fails because it’s too early. It almost always fails because it’s too late.”

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I’ll be writing more about my own journey with innovation over the next few weeks as part of this MOOC (massive open online course) centered around George Couros’ book The Innovator’s Mindset. This week, we were challenged to write posts in under 200 words. Check out the #IMMOOC hashtag to see some conversation about innovation in education, and look for the #IMMOOCB1, #IMMOOCB2, and & #IMMOOCB3 for more of these short posts. 

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Risks Worth Taking #IMMOOC

Posted on by Aaron Hogan

I love this video. Jason Mraz is playing a show, and when he realizes there’s a guy playing a shaker in the audience, he takes a risk and invites him onto the stage. I think there’s a lot we can learn from it. But first, watch the video:

I love the way Mraz is surprised by the brilliance that Stan brings to the performance–even to the point where people thought he was planned to be art of the show.

When I see this video, I can’t help but think that this is what quality risk taking looks like in education. It’s not an uncalculated shot in the dark (which would be an irresponsible sort of risk to take). This risk taking is the kind that could pay off in a huge way for a student. It’s the moment when you could choose to send him out if class but instead you find a way to leverage the energy in the room for greatness. That doesn’t happen without risk. And the reality is this: We won’t reach some of our students if we fail to take some risks.

How will you anticipate these moments?

Who do you need to invite on stage?

We won't reach some of our students if we fail to take some risks.
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I’ll be writing more about my own journey with innovation over the next few weeks as part of this MOOC (massive open online course) centered around George Couros’ book The Innovator’s Mindset. This week, we were challenged to write posts in under 200 words. Check out the #IMMOOC hashtag to see some conversation about innovation in education, and look for the #IMMOOCB1, #IMMOOCB2, and & #IMMOOCB3 for more of these short posts. 

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Why Do We Do That?

Posted on by Aaron Hogan

why-do-we-do-that

I’ve got a little story for you.

It’s Christmas, and it’s the first time the family is having dinner away from the home they grew up in. The cook (not the matriarch of the family) is preparing the roast to cook, and the first thing he does is cut off the ends. He puts it in the pan, it cooks, it’s prepared to be served, and then comes the question. His mom asks, “Why did you cut off the ends?”

A little unsettled, he replies, “That’s what you always did when you cooked it, mom.”

She laughs, and he begins to get a little worried. After her laughter subsides, she shares why: “We only cut the ends off because we didn’t have a pan big enough to fit the whole roast.”

And just like that, the dreaded TTWADDI has reared his head.

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Credit goes to Amy Mayer (friEdTechnology) for this memorable image!

ANY SIGHTINGS AT YOUR SCHOOL?

Now think about your school. Why do we do things the way that we do them?

With some things, there are good reasons.

Maybe we do things that way because it’s best for kids or because it keeps people safe at school.

But with other things, I imagine that we don’t always have a great reason for what we’re doing. With many things, probably more than we’d like to admit, we’ve never even thought about why we’re doing what we’re doing.

I think it’s time that we start thinking seriously about what we’ve not thought about before.

What opportunities are we missing because we've never taken the time to look at why we do what we do?
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Typically I’m not one to make suggestions without offering solutions, but my goal is a bit different here. I want us to think of what we haven’t been thinking of. I want us to spend a bit of time exploring the gaps in conversations. Yes, eventually it’s important that we come to some conclusions, and I’m invested in that conversation as well. But I think it’s worth taking a step back from time to time and sharing a few ideas about what school could actually look like if we shook off the force of habit that has a strong hold on many of our practices.

So here are a few ideas I’m trying to rethink. I have some thoughts on solutions, but I’ll save those for another day.

Ideas I’m trying to rethink:

  • If we want our teachers to develop best instructional practices, why do we depend so heavily on whole group instruction for professional development?
  • If time out isn’t a good option for discipline in the classroom, why is ISS such a common consequence for behavior?
  • Why are we so hesitant to share our ideas with other educators? Why not connect more with others? Why not try to do that in new ways?
  • If we know that learning is often a messy, non-linear process, why is learning so often divided up into 6 or 7 or 8 period days?
  • If we know that learning happens at varying rates for various students, why are six weeks grading periods so commonly followed?

What are YOU going to rethink? What do we need to reconsider in education? What have we done the same way for too long?

Share your ideas in the comments!

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The Power of an Invitation

Posted on by Aaron Hogan

AnInvitationIn

There is such great power in an invitation.

A while back, someone invited me in to help support a new chat that was starting up. I had spent time in a few chats, but although I knew it felt like I was learning a great deal, I sure didn’t think anything special was coming out of my engaging online that would make someone notice let alone recognize and invite me into a new chat. But someone saw something in me and asked me to be part of something new.

As a result, I’ll never be the same. And not just as an educator.

I think we underestimate our power as educators, as people to speak powerfully into another person. At least I do at times. And on the one hand, it feels like nothing, right? An invitation to join in seems so insignificant that I forget the power that we have to speak hope into situations, to speak life into those we are in contact with until I’m on the receiving end of the conversation. But I can think of several times when something that probably seemed like nothing to the speaker left significant, positive, life-giving impact on me, and I know that I need to stop erring on the side of caution, of reluctance to step out into a bit of vulnerability, and make this a significant part of my regular routine.

But I don’t want to just leave it at that. Acknowledging that invitations are powerful and that change is needed isn’t enough. I need to make a habit of including this communication, and I’d like to share a few ways I think we can make a positive impact with a simple invitation.

AnInvitationIn (2)

Invite someone to critique something you are working on

It’s not always fun to have a critical eye on your work, but asking someone to look over your shoulder to help you refine something that’s important to you is a big deal. To me, it’s a great honor to help someone accomplish a goal that has personal or professional important, and so often as educators our work has both components.

Ask someone to share their voice and expertise in conversation

I host a weekly Twitter chat with my friend and colleague Jeremy Stewart, so this is an easy place, but it’s still one I’ve neglected. I need to be better about thinking through the topics we are discussing and intentionally engaging those who have so much to offer in that conversation. Understandably, most people aren’t hosting chats, but I think there’s an easy face to face parallel; as conversations come up on campus, bring those informed voices into the conversation and take a moment to explain why you brought that person in before or after. It’ll make a difference.

If you blog, invite someone to write with you or to guest post on your blog

Most educators who are blogging are doing so to share the ideas they’ve been mulling over or sort through their learning. I’ve been awful at doing this, so I’m sharing it not only as an idea for others, but also as a call to action for myself. What a great opportunity to share that space and encourage another educator to connect and share!

Here’s our reality: We cannot do our work in isolation. We fool ourselves into thinking we can from time to time, but each time, after we’ve hit the wall (again), we remember that we need others. Take time to get ahead of the curve and invite others into something that matters to you.

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A Different Call To The Office

Posted on by Aaron Hogan

A Different Call To The Office

It’s May. While all eyes turn to the end of the year, I think it’s time we start counting up some of the end of year conversations we need to have before summer starts and we’re not seeing our students each day.

I’ve written before about my belief that we are wired up so that things outside us tell us who we are (here’s the link if you’re interested). That’s neither good nor bad; for me, it’s reality. Without getting into the whole logic behind it and whether or not that sits well with you, I don’t think it’s a stretch to say there is great value in speaking truth into the lives of our students.

My role as a assistant principal puts me in conversations with many students who have failed to meet expectations. I realized late last week though that a student who I visited with quite frequently last school year had a reasonably good fall and a fantastic spring semester. It didn’t take long for me to realize that it was time to call him to the office for a different sort of conversation.

This student is the one who is nearly unrecognizable from himself last year. He’s turned it around in terms of behavior, and that’s led to him being a totally different academic student. Here’s what he’ll hear from me:

“Last year was not your year. We had a lot of conversations–too many–in which I told you that you were the only one who could turn it around, that you had to want it. I meant it when I said that. I was serious. And you did it. I’m impressed with the young man you’re becoming. Let me know if there’s anything big of small I can do to help you out.“

Once I started through this conversation, I realized there were more students I needed to visit with. I’d like to share a few of the conversations that I realized I need to have with some of my students. Maybe one or two will remind you of a student you work with. If so, I challenge you to go and share a word of encouragement with that student. Be specific with the growth you’ve seen and share candidly how students have made an impact for the better this year.

The “Invests In Others Well” Student

This student is the one who gets along with everyone. She’s popular, but she really doesn’t care about that popularity. She treats everyone as equals. She is present with each person she interacts with, and each person’s day is better after interacting with her. Here’s what I’ll tell her:

“You’re a popular student who is successful academically. Really, it’s hard to find something that’s not going well for you. But what’s most impressive to me is the way you value people. I notice that you do a great job investing in others. You make little conversations a big deal, and the way you interact with everyone I see leaves them feeling better about themselves afterward. Thanks for investing in others.”

The “Always Positive” Student

This student is the one who always says hi. The one who is busy, who has plenty going on, but who always takes time to say hi. Even to this assistant principal. I’ve written before about the value of those little interactions, and seeing her interact with others reminds me to go back and be better about those little interactions because, on the other side of them, they really do make a difference.

“Thanks for taking time to be positive. I see your positivity each and every day. I know that it probably takes a concerted effort on some days to stay so positive. But I want you to know that I’m thankful for the way you interact with others so positively. It makes me better, and I’m thankful when we cross paths.”

My Challenge

So, who do you need to speak into this month? Time is ticking. Summer will be here soon. When you hear the countdowns that too often creep into conversation at school, remember that with each day and each hour, we have less time to invest in our students. Take the time to do that well over the next few weeks.

Embrace Challenges

Posted on by Aaron Hogan

Growing up, I can remember my dad going to exactly one movie: Apollo 13.

As a Mechanical Engineer, how could he resist the pull of a movie where the engineers are the heroes of the day?

This is the scene he came home telling me about:

I love the way they approach this.

They’re faced with an impossible challenge and asked to be creative. Engineers who’ve precisely crafted aircraft for particular purposes with years of testing (to keep a mistake like this from happening), and they’re the ones tasked with developing a “creative” solution.

While it’s certainly impressive that they accomplish this feat–very square peg into very round hole–the way they go about out it leaves me with a lot to think about.

After the problem was defined, their first reaction was to say, “Let’s get it organized. Let’s build a filter. Gotta get some coffee going.”

I love that their first instinct was to be positive and proactive. There’s no complaining, no frustration, no negativity. Instead, in the space where those less than productive reactions could live, ingenuity and creativity win the day. Even though it seems insignificant, I like third line, too. They’ve got the coffee brewing, and after some of the most strenuous work of their lives, they’re ready to put in the necessary time to fix this problem within the timeline using none of the parts and pieces they would request if creating a design on their own.

The cast of characters is wonderful here. They’re clearly a team, and they put forth a wonderful product that’s a clear solution to the challenge at hand. But I don’t recognize any of them. And I like that. I really like that. I’ve seen the movie dozens of times, and these guys, though they get their moment here, they’re just a group who came together quickly, solved a problem, and saved people in the process. (OK, I’ll concede that they were probably brilliant NASA scientists among the most capable in the world, but they’re still the guys who weren’t the face of anything. They’re working in what seems to be a basement of some kind; not exactly glamorous.)

In our work as educators, the parallels here are clear. Regardless of the seemingly impossible nature of the challenge, we have to remember to respond to problems proactively, be invested for the long haul, and trust that teams of invested experts can make the impossible reality.

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Mind the Gap

Posted on by Aaron Hogan

post-4683-0-89462200-1402415014Pernille Ripp published this great challenge for administrators recently in which she addressed the gap that often exists between teachers and administrators head on.

Her entire post is powerful and has stuck with me over the past few days. It has had me thinking about a few changes that could have a profound impact on the trust between administrators and teachers in so many of our schools.

Our words build and destroy trust

Certain conversations have settled in as commonplace in education. In her post, Pernille put it this way:

From the poor jokes about going to the dark side to the hushed conversations behind closed doors discussing the latest admin “screw up,” it seems that there is an invisible mountain between teachers and administration that both sides don’t understand the origin of.

This is a situation where many people will look at that, think to themselves that there must be a better way, and not take the time to decide to do something different. We’re crazy if we think we can keep having those thoughts and conversations and expect something different as a result.

I’ve written before about the great care we should take to build others up with our words. If we want a change in the gap, we need a different story. Instead of thinking of and talking about people “going to the dark side,” we need leaders who will be so committed to bringing light that there’s no room for the previous belief. Administrators—commit to being great teachers of teachers who will support teachers when they need it and who will positively lead the campus with excellence.

In addition, we need teachers who will squelch the old story when it comes up (and it will come up). Replace these tired stories with stories of success. During those times when there just isn’t as much (or anything for you) to be positive about, having those landmarks to go back to will be reassuring.

Communicating our mutual trust

There are some assumptions on both sides that can inhibit trust. This won’t solve all of the problems between administrators and teachers, but if we could only correct one assumption, this would by my suggestion: Assume that people are doing the best that they know how.

This includes the idea that my principal may be showing me trust the best way he/she knows how. Be that as it may, how do we work through the gaps in our mutual understanding? Here’s a couple of ideas.

Administrators–Start the year by asking teachers what they feel good at, what they are working to get better at, and how they prefer praise and your attention. Then, make it your job to get them excited about taking on that new challenge. Get to know your teachers, and know the best ways to show your support for them. It can be both incredibly encouraging to have an administrator’s ear and a little terrifying to think you may have just invited that administrator to the riskiest thing you tried in years in your classroom. Know your audience before you show up on a risky day for teachers. The right support fans the flames of creativity. The wrong support is like a fire blanket for innovative ideas.

If it seems like one of your teachers who you can tell is doing a good job doesn’t know it, go out of your way to fix that. Tell that teacher what you love that you’ve seen and ask him or her what you can do to offer support. Maybe it’s time the teacher needs, maybe it’s a thank you note for the extra hours you see the teacher put in or the way that teacher cares for students; whatever it is, there is something you can do to champion and celebrate that teacher. Do it. I don’t know how isn’t good enough.

My only word for teachers here: If you have very specific expectations for your administrator, you should make those in a very specific way. As an administrator, it’s helpful to know those things, and it gives me a way to know that I’m going to meet that need. I’m just one administrator, but I appreciate it.

Is there anybody out there?

Pernille’s blog got me fired up—but not in a defensive way. It got me excited because I hope that I’m working to be an administrator who interacts with staff in a way that these questions don’t come up. Or maybe if they come up (like by people who are new to the campus or the district), people are reassured by campus veterans that risk taking, transparency, trust, and support are all part of campus culture.

So, to Pernille and to all the other teachers who are exhausting themselves to push students to learn, first of all–thank you. Your work makes schools the place where students love to learn, where they know they feel safe, and where they know they’re loved. There are administrators who want what you want, and I hope they are leading your schools.

To administrators, let’s make this happen. If you agree that change needs to happen, start thinking of what you’re going to do differently to make that change reality. It can happen, and as a labeled leader on your campus, I think it’s your responsibility to start the conversation.

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Unshared Ideas

Posted on by Aaron Hogan

I’ve really been enjoying reading Walter Isaacson’s recent book, The Innovators. It’s a history of the computer and the Internet that also explores what made the groups and individuals such visionary leaders and entrepreneurs when their respective innovations took off.

Reading through an early section recently, I felt like the story of John Vincent Atanasoff’s experience with innovation really connected to where I’m at right now. Here’s part of it.

In 1937, Atanasoff was driving along a country road when the idea came to him for an electronic computing device. He quickly began to work toward construction of his version of an early computer and made considerable progress. Impressively, while working largely in isolation at Iowa State University, he managed to develop a computing machine that was, at least in some respects, on par with the work that teams of engineers and mathematicians were developing collaboratively at Bell Labs. As you might expect, in the long run, collaboration won the day and the computing device being crafted at Bell Labs worked better, faster.

But that’s not what caught my eye.

Isaacson says that progress on Atanasoff’s project came to a near stand still when a programming issue came up and “there were no teams of machinists and engineers at Iowa State he could turn to for help” (60). That was astonishnig to me. He was on the verge of finishing up one of the first computing devices ever created and his work came to a stand still because he didn’t have a team with whom he could solve the problem.

As a result, “the almost working machine,” an idea that was just as viable as the one being researched at Bell Labs, ended up being “put into storage in the basement of the physics building at Iowa State, and a few years later no one seemed to remember what it did” (61).

Maybe you’re saying to yourself, “How much would anyone (much less academics) forget such an important invention?”

Here’s how much: In 1948, not even 10 years after it was in working order, a grad student disassembled Atanasoff’s nearly complete computer to be able to use the space it occupied. He didn’t recognize what the computer was even for.

Enlightened trial and error succeeds (1)

All of this started me thinking about how I react when I have the start of a great idea that’s not totally there yet. Too often I choose to sit on the idea instead of sharing it.

“Don’t share that now,” I’ll tell myself. “It’s too confusing right now. And what about problem X that you haven’t solved yet? And who exactly has extra time to be working on this anyway?”

I know that I err on the side of wanting to look like I have it together when I share my ideas, and I don’t think I’m alone in this. Reading through Atanasoff’s story, though, I worry that I have developed a habit of tucking good ideas away because I either didn’t want to ask for help or didn’t know who to ask.

All of this is happening in the midst of the easiest time ever for educators to be connected to one another.

I love that we don’t have to be in the same places today to “visit the lab” where the experts are, and I love that the increased communication has flattened much of the hierarchy that could have existed there in the past.

There’s almost no reason that Atanasoff’s issue should come up again, right? We (connected educators) are a powerful enough voice that people who are looking for help shouldn’t find themselves on the outside looking in. However, I’ll be the first to admit that this doesn’t just happen naturally. It takes a little initiative.

Here’s my encouragement and my challenge: Wherever you are as an educator, you need to be learning from others and sharing with others. Even those ideas that aren’t “presentation ready” yet, even the one you’re almost sure can’t work. Share them. You never know who you will inspire or who might see a creative solution to your linchpin roadblock.

Isaacson concludes his chapter on the invention of the earliest computers by saying:

Innovation is usually a group effort, involving collaboration between visionaries and engineers, and […] creativity comes from drawing on many sources. Only in storybooks do inventions come like a thunderbolt, or a lightbulb popping out of the head of a lone individual in a basement or garage.

I couldn’t agree more.

If you can’t figure everything out on your own, you’re not inept; you’re normal.

If you think your ideas aren’t ready to be shared yet, you’re probably right. Go ahead and share them; that’s how they’ll get better.

If you’re a well connected educator, be willing to listen to a myriad of trusted and new voices.

Sitting on our ideas risks delaying innovation that could profoundly impact our students’ learning experiences. Admittedly, every idea won’t be as influential as developing the next computer (and they don’t need to be).

The real risk is in leaving ideas sitting covered up, collecting dust.

Only in storybooks do inventions come

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I Feel Like a Fake

Posted on by Aaron Hogan

Confession time–I feel like a fake.

Earlier this week I decided to take on a new challenge: sketchnoting. I saw a tweet that pointed me to some resources and provided a few manageable first steps.

That afternoon, I found a copy of Mike Rohde’s The Sketchnote Workbook in town and bought a stylus to help me out (because, let’s be honest, I need all the help and confidence I can get). I got to work, and to make a long story short, here’s what I was able to put together by the end of the night:

IMG_0440Since I was pretty proud of how much I had accomplished, I shared my work with the world.

That looks great, right? I’m no artist, and that looks like I’m at least competent (if you disagree, you’re probably right… but no need to crush my dreams here). It looks great to see that eight hours after first considering the idea I’m taking care of business with a halfway decent sketchnote that’s ready to be shared on Twitter, right? But there’s a problem with this.

The problem is that if you look at where I actually started, it looks something more like this:

IMG_0441
The actual first attempt–practicing writing my letters (and not doing a great job)

I wasn’t about to share that. That’s what I work on with my 3 year old; it’s not what I need help with.

Except that it is.

It’s exactly where I needed to start. I needed the basics, and I  needed the eraser end of that stylus more than anything.

It didn’t take long for me to realize (1) that it was good for me to be working on something I enjoyed that stretched me and (2) that I needed to be more honest about my weaknesses and limitations

There’s no place for shame in learning. (tweet this)

There’s a lot of talk about the value of risk in education right now. It’s hard to spend much time reading online without coming across something–a new study, a new TED talk, a new insight in a tweet–that doesn’t touch on the value of trying something new.

But my experience hiding my first steps that I wasn’t proud of made me begin to wonder this:

At what point does an educator’s talk about risk become a safe place for him to hide? (tweet this)

We like safety, but I think we’ve done a good job of bringing the value of risk into our conversations. Still, I think we have room to grow in living out the implications of those conversations.

The frustrating thing to me is that I’ve been sitting on this “there’s value in risk/you can learn through failure” idea for far too long.

In the classroom, J.K. Rowling’s Harvard Commencement Address on the importance of imagination and the benefits of failure served as a point of departure for this conversation with students. Before I had every heard of Carol Dweck, I knew these ideas were important for people to consider. I don’t share that to say that I’ve been talking about this forever and it’s old hat for me. I share it to say that I’ve had this idea right in front of me since 2009, and I’ve done less with it than I should have.

Today is the last day of my contract for 2014-2015. We’re taking off on a little vacation for the better part of next week, but after we return, I am trying to set goals for professional growth that are fun and challenging. One of those is to get sketchnoting developed into a useful skill, but the bigger goal is to do what we so often ask teachers and students: try something new and learn through your failures.

I encourage you to do the same.