You cannot know a coral reef from the dusty pages of a book. You cannot know a reef from a sleek and shiny laptop. To know the reef, you must enter the reef. And that is exactly what we’ll be doing until we return a week from now. Wish us safety and luck. Wish us blue skies. Wish the wind to gently nudge our sailboats to the next patch of coral. Wish my students the experience of their young lives.

Since I began writing this blog in 2008, the time between adventures with my Marine Biology students seems… compressed. It seems like we just returned from one of our Bahamian field studies. I’m pretty sure that’s a sign that I’m not getting any younger. Nor are my nerves any less frayed. I now spend a massive chunk of my days behind the screen of a computer, and that wears on you a bit at some level.

I need this week like my students need this week. Right now, I need to be off the grid. I need to step away from bits and bytes. I need to, wait… swim… away from the grind of rapidly moving an entire district into a 1-to-1 learning ecosystem. I need to swim to a place where I can think. I need to find renewed perspective. I’m betting I can do just that on a coral reef. I’ve done it before. In 1998 a similar experience helped me to understand not only the planet, but myself a little better. Here’s hoping the coming week does the same for a new crop of eager students…

Just saying.

Maybe that’s important, maybe it’s not. I’ll leave it up to you to figure out what business this post has on my blog. Perhaps nothing. I’m open to that.

Thanks,

In my time as a teacher, I have tried purposefully to connect my students to experts beyond the walls of our classroom. When I began as a teacher in 1991, this was a pretty difficult task compared to today. Contacting local experts in biology or conservation took going out of the way to recruit the efforts of kind, caring professionals who were willing to share their experience with my students and I. Today, it can happen almost accidentally. Today, a few extra steps can flip the equation to a reality where talented individuals can find you. While balancing a myriad of responsibilities in the classroom of today, this shift in reality can be a transformational one… helping to bring relevance and authenticity to the lives of students.

Allow me to quickly switch to the issue at hand, and then wrap up my case by the end. Today, I bring you yet another opportunity to assist the education of students in Missouri, from wherever you may be. Cutting to the chase, a talented and giving artist from the state of Florida recently contacted my students and I with the offer to contribute an a work of art to help my students pay for the fees of a field study on the coral reefs of Andros Island, in the Bahamas.

Connecting to art

Cheryl Ferrari is a passionate artist and a giving person. My students and I are quite happy tonight to announce an opportunity for you to own an amazing piece of art while making a donation to hardworking students who are doing extra work on their own time to learn about something they are interested in. On Friday, I will be able to add an actual photo of the actual work. It is an beautiful and massive 36×24 inch print on canvas. Not only was the work donated at an approximate value of from $2000 to $3000… but the framing was donated by a local company. J. Franklin Gallery of St. Joseph donated the $400 framing.

Clicking the “buy now” button above will allow you to enter a credit card via PayPal from wherever you may be… to an SJSD account to earn a chance to win the print. This is essentially a donation where 100% of the funds go toward a rich educational experience for my students. We are offering each chance at $5, and three chances for $10. The raffle will take place on the night of March 28th, the eve of our upcoming field study in The Exuma Cays.

Yes, public

You see, I take the idea of being a public educator rather literally. In short: whenever and wherever possible, I pull open a window of transparency allowing a peek into the work we are doing. Softening the walls of the classroom in this way has brought us many powerful connections over time. Cheryl Ferrari is a Florida resident who grew up snorkeling and diving on Florida’s coral reefs when they were vibrant and healthy. She no longer dives today, and relies on photographs from those who do as inspiration for her work.

Cheryl messaged me via Flickr in April complimenting the work we are doing in chronicling the life (and sadly, death) of coral reefs today. She kindly asked permission to reference our work, and three months later, she messaged again with the image you see above. We could clearly see the elements of the painting that were inspired by photographs we have taken and shared. After more conversation on the details of our program, she offered to donate a limited-edition print to help student offset the costs of the field study portion of the course. And really, though you can’t quite tell it here, this connection has almost left me speechless at times.

Connecting to science

Since 2000, we have had authors join our discussions of their works. We have had the Center for Biological Diversity request photos for use in a formal federal petition to list two Caribbean corals as threatened, and eligible for protection under the Endangered Species Act. (it worked, by the way) We have had a former student of this program now with a Ph.D. and working on national marine policy, rejoin our community from time to time, as one of our informal teachers. We have had students live blog hurricane landfalls from the gulf, and report back from their work in fisheries from Dutch Harbor, Maine. And on and on. I’m certain I’d leave someone out if I tried to name them all.

These connections have transformed our classroom time and time again. It is this sort of real transformation that makes expenditures of modern technology worth the cost. Join us in some way. Take a chance on owning a bit of our story, and thanks so much in advance, from all of my students and I, for donating to such a relevant and authentic cause in the lives of kids.

Artwork thanks

“Turtle Flirts” by Cheryl Ferrari… photograph of oil on canvas

“Massive Sea Fan” is one of ours. See the connection?

“Mike Westfall – Thumbs Up” is also one of ours

In 2007, a then virtual-only colleague asked whether it was, “okay to be a technologically illiterate teacher?” NETS-T provides one standardized, big-picture perspective. Many others speak of new literacies unleashed by the reach of the Internet. A few have mentioned “big shifts” that define the changes and challenges to educators in rather recent history. At the other end of the spectrum, the Edu-Twittersphere offers up a litany of “gotta be using” tools on a nightly basis. Here’s the problem from where I see it: we have a gap.

On Sunday, the 29th, I’m leading a session at Educon 2.4 to drag a room of interested educators into that gap to poke around for 90 minutes or so. It’s like this: to the typical classroom teacher, things like “new literacies” and cultural shifts are pretty stratospheric. That’s not a value judgement in any way- it’s just the way I see it in my experiences working with teachers. In defense of teachers, it is quite possible that this career has never been more challenging than it is today. But if you’re reading this blog, you likely aware of this fact already.

In 2012, there is much chatter in social spaces that are loosely-tied by educators. Collections of teachers joined by technological tendrils tend to spout the virtues of every new digital tool to hit cyberspace. So many of these startups seem to vault into the limelight in no time flat, each in turn destined to set the educational world right again. Hype travels fast in a world devoid of complexity and nuance. Take Twitter for example. Twitter has been co-opted by educators in what is perhaps one of the most productive uses of its potential to date. That said, the media always affects the message, and 140 characters leaves much nuance at the door. Sure, you can hyperlink to meatier reflections, but that isn’t the norm.

So what do we discuss on the Twitter? More often than not: tools. We all get value out of the “head’s up” links on Twitter to new and interesting digital applications that -on the surface- promise innovation. And yet, I’d argue that tip-offs to shiny apps do little on their own to advance our understanding of the effects of this communications revolution. Who knows, perhaps we’re not meant to grasp the breadth and depth of a revolution in its very midst? Personally, I think education has to make an attempt to fly the ship while installing more effective wings. To ignore the challenge is to allow children fly a plane alone- and with untested wings. Life moves too fast and recent changes seem too profound I do know this: digital tools won’t educate a child any more than a hammer will build a house. Think of it this way: what does a carpenter need to know, and be able to do in 2012? And if you’re an administrator, perhaps you’d better think like a contractor. Yes, the metaphor is a mess, but it’s worth the ride. Take it…

Think of it this way: what does a carpenter need to know, and be able to do in 2012?

The Gap

So that’s it? Pin the standards to your chest and guess…  or chase each and every new app to debut? Is that the life of an enlightened educator in 2012? I doubt it. And yet, I’m also pretty certain that the classic ostrich pose in these times won’t cut it either. I’m betting a solid path to improvement is to be found within the gap. I was once a somewhat “reluctant technologist.” I never wanted to be seen as an evangelist of shiny gadgets. Now, I’m proud to say that I live my professional life within that gap. I spend my days helping teachers connect tools and processes to concepts, and sometimes rather lofty instructional goals and ideals. I work with principals and building administrators in seeing the big picture of how instruction can look. It is my role to assure that solid instruction leads the way in any implementation of technology… as opposed to gadgets.

So what exactly is this “gap,” if indeed it does exist? Well, that’s just it. That gap is why I decided to attempt to frame this question. It is also why I intend to leave my opinions out of this preview, as well as the framing of the question to begin my session.

One thing I do know: the room that day will be full of smart, passionate educators with varied knowledge and experiences. I already know what I have experienced. I want to learn more. I want input, and I don’t want that input clouded in any way by my own ideas at the outset. I want to walk away from Philly with either a disrupted or a clarified vision. Either way, it will help me refine, in at least some small way, what I do on a daily basis. It will shape how I think, what I plan, how I talk, and what I do in the months to come. A conference where the presenters themselves come to learn? That is pretty big from where I sit. Come to Educon. Join us. Come to my session, and let’s chat. Thanks again, Chris and team, for doing it this way…

Artwork

Most would agree that “A picture is worth a thousand words.” Perhaps strangely, allow me to make the case that sometimes there is also value in distilling those thousand words into a scant few. This little post is a bit of practical sharing meant to point to two things: a cute little iOS application, and a few quick examples of its practical use. Oh, and really, I wouldn’t be doing it here if it wasn’t worth at least a handful of words as well.

Once upon a time, I enjoyed doing the occasional “check out this fancy new tool” post, particularly for the local folks with whom I work. Looking back, it seems that most of those posts were logged within my first year of writing here. Though today it has become far easier to point to shiny tools using the quick and dirty practicality of Twitter, this one seemed fun enough to bring back into this space.

We all have our own modes of sharing, and while I’m as proud of an original podcast or video as anyone, it seems I have a preference for words in print. I share a pretty respectable percentage of the things I create in one way or another. And as likely most of us do, we tend to share those things in which we see value, and also those that we anticipate others might find valuable as well. In thinking about it, for whatever reason, I tend to be more confident in sharing carefully-selected words. I guess I enjoy lining up words that altogether either communicate or sell an idea I am grappling with, or believe in a great deal.

If you’ve been here before, you might also know that I dig photography as well. I think this goes hand in hand with being a biology teacher. Both images above were originally snapped on student field studies in the midst of the natural world we were learning about at the time. Adding a fascination with images into a love of words naturally equals an interest in all sorts of creative typography.

So what?

What does this nifty little $2 app get us? The people who might get mileage out of this one will likely see the value instantly. From a purely practical standpoint as an educator, if you only create one graphic that helps to communicate an idea, then the $2 is worth the outlay. WordFoto is not Photoshop. It is not Illustrator. It only does one thing, and it does so rather simply. If you can get your image of choice into an iOS device, you can manipulate it with ease. And though I’d like a little more control over contrast, etc., once you have a .jpg inside of a web-connected device, the sky is the limit in terms of sharing. What idea would you like to convey?

Inspired by a question Will Richardson asked SJSD administrators this past September: "How many dots are on your 'map'?" (click to embiggen)

Several folks I admire have led sessions where participants were invited to mashup powerful ideas and images. Both Punya Mishra and Dean Shareski often try to push educators to begin to think in multiple media simultaneously. In my opinion, these exercises are always valuable. Because this type of thinking is so different for many, it pushes us almost instantly into a more playful mindset. That sort of mindset can squeeze creativity out of those who think they haven’t had a creative thought in some time. That reality equals valuable time spent for all educators.

When playing around with WordFoto for the first time today over morning coffee, I was instantly reminded of these exercises. In trolling through a few images on my phone, I created the images displayed in this post, as well as those within this Flickr set. Technically, WordFoto reminds me a bit of another nifty $2 iOS app called Percolator. This app helps to create abstracted versions of images much like this one of a reef shark on our honeymoon. Here is the same image from WordFoto using only the work “SHARK.” The important difference in this app is that it actually uses words to accomplish the abstraction. And that, to me, is a potentially significant leap. From here, we can quickly and easily incorporate words and ideas into the very fabric of images. Sure, posting contrasting text over a powerful image will always be a cool thing. And yet, this app allows something novel and interesting. Like several other techniques, if done well, it can even be used to synthesize something beyond the mere images or words themselves.

In memorial

Appropriately for the day, the first image that stuck out to me while trolling through images on my phone was this one, taken at Arlington Cemetery while at ISTE 2009. The version below (particularly when seen at full resolution) helps to convey the sentiment on my mind this morning while comfortably sipping coffee and playing with fancy toys…

To sum things up, pictures are worth thousands of words. Sometimes, however, it might be valuable to distill a few of those words to the surface to make a point. We aren’t all graphic artists who can make Adobe’s Creative Suite sing. However, I also see value in quickly providing a scaffold for the rest of us to engage in the kind of visual thinking provided by simple, inexpensive apps. Perhaps this is one that could be a valuable gateway drug that gets more of us into the game. Care to play along?

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What kind of an idiot would dissect ten George Brett rookie cards and paste them onto the outside of his baseball-themed “Valentine’s Day” box at school? I suppose it depends on whether or not that idiot was a primary grades student or not. A kid that would do such a thing is either really into the Royals, or really a bit twisted. I’ll let you decide that, but I’m glad the hobby of collecting baseball cards never really entered the “business” realm for me like it did for so many of my friends. If it had, I’d really curse the day I made George Brett and Frank White into Valentine’s wallpaper. Ick.

Fitting in

By now you might be thinking, “what’s this… another athletics-related post?” Though that might stand out as unique in this blog about learning, teaching, and the role of technology in education, it is perhaps less odd considering the “nashworld” title above. What might really throw you for curve would be the fact that this post (and most certainly the following one) will center on a little trip I’ll be making to Kauffman Stadium for a little behind-the-scenes experience called “Blog Your Way to The K.”

I’m a lucky guy. Period. Honestly, after getting the call that I’d been selected as a member of this first group of eight for the event, I began to wonder how I was even picked. After all, this is certainly not a sports blog. My Twitter feed is also rarely used to banter about sports-related things. In fact, I learned a while back that tweeting play by play details of the Missouri State Wrestling Championships tends to irk edu-followers. Shortly thereafter I created a spinoff “ANGRYREDBIRDS” account for such things. I briefly wondered if I should do something similar for Blog 2 The K. In the end, I decided not to go that route. In fact, I began this blog with the same, “let’s see what happens if I push this button,” mentality that encouraged me to attempt an application for Blog 2 The K in the first place.

I came to this space in 2008 as proof-of-concept that blogging about one’s passions in life could be a transformative learning endeavor. I was betting that, if implemented well, recent changes in social media could add value in today’s schools. Social tools like these are what you make of them, but I believe deeply in the power of amplifying the voices of our youth. For me, personally, over the past three years this blog has truly become a hub for my personal learning. I’d really love to be able to post here more frequently. Doing so does good things to my brain. Nashworld has become a bit of a portfolio of the thoughts I synthesize, a collection of ideas in which I believe, a summary of the projects I’ve been a part of, my overarching reflections on learning in general, and ultimately my attempts to share it all. Embedded within these threads are a good many of the things I am passionate about.

Disclosure number two

In the spirit of full disclosure, I have to admit that a significant part of my application for Blog 2 The K, included the fact that I have truly fallen away from baseball in large part since “the strike.” Yesterday, I paid a rare visit to the attic. I drug out a massive plastic bin and rummaged through the contents to take the photo posted above. A few things are pretty obvious from that assembly (other than the fact that I still cling to one last Brett rookie card). Like many near my age in the KC metro region, I looked up to George. I’m sure I always will. Among the countless other games of my childhood, I was there late in the season in 1980 to see his batting average peek back above the .400 mark, I was there to see his last home game as a player, and more. Perhaps it’s the story that I missed. Perhaps, even more than timeless statistics, what baseball fans are after is story.

I played baseball as a kid from age six until high school. Looking back the past few days, perhaps more than baseball itself, I came to deeply admire the public character of guys like George Brett, Frank White, and others. Though we’ll likely never get stories like that again, I was at one point excited anew about the youth resurgence in the early to mid ’90′s. Sadly, we lost those guys in a a fire sale. At one point in the past decade, I tried to get back on the bus once again for a year or so, only to be disappointed again. I certainly don’t need wins…  but I need story. And for me, it’s become clear to me that those stories must include some pretty deep character.

Rebirth?

Fast forward to this morning, and I have to say that I am really fired up about tonight’s experience. I am ready to soak it all in from the first minute to the last. I am ready to let this current passion attempt a reconnect with an old one… one that still wears red stitches on white leather. I’m excited that the Royals organization is getting into the game game of social media. There is a ton of individual passion there to harness. Who knows, if the world can have an Arab Spring thanks to social media, maybe…  just maybe we can have a Royals Spring. Maybe this Spring will launch the lasting stories I’ve missed all these years.

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A whoa moment is somewhat akin to the recently ubiquitous aha moment. And yet, there are important differences. Trolling online definitions of the “aha” moment generally returns descriptions of sudden comprehension or the “flash of insight related to a problem.” If I could be trusted to launch my own five-cent definition, I’d loft the “whoa” moment for your consideration. Allow me to stitch together a few words in defense (offense?) of such an idea…

whoa moment |wō|

exclamation

Informal in usage. Used to indicate a scope of reactions to a learning experience ranging from basic cognitive connection and mild surprise to profound respect and awe. Often uttered momentarily due to a lack of ability to define an experience at the time. Whoa moments often spur deeper future connections and learning along the original topic.

Some of these moments are certainly cerebral, but many others seem to originate deep within the limbic system. I challenge you to justify that sort of experience in today’s rather narrow description of learning. Benjamin Bloom roughly hammered out the Affective Domain of learning over fifty years ago. The affective domain is the domain of attitudes, motivation, and valuation of learning. As we move toward a more “national” definition of what should be learned, we rarely ever touch on anything beyond the cognitive domain. Even within the cognitive domain, consensus is tough to find. But really, when you can stuff so much of the cognitive domain into multiple guess questions, why bother with the rest? Characterizing the rest is just so… hard.

I’d suggest that whoa moments (beyond those of Bill & Ted fame) put the fringes of the affective domain, the elements of valuing… into something we can touch, taste, and marvel over. I’m not here today to hammer out a treatise on the whoa moment, and the value of immersion and authenticity in education. While that might be a worthwhile future endeavor, today I came here to share a bit of our recent Marine Biology field study on Andros Island in The Bahamas. This program was conceived back in 1999 and I have written about it here several times in the recent past. This was our seventeenth field study over the past twelve years, and like each of them, taught us all more than our share for one week.

Finding a rare snow white hermit crab married to a bleached out mollusk shell, watching a lowly flatworm attack and kill a nimble crab, exploring a multitude of minute creatures in a natural reef nursery, finding a completely new and hidden crack into the chilly belly of the Earth (the locale of which is too good to mention in detail here)…  are all just a few of the subtly epic moments that were experienced during a week abroad and in the field this past April.

I’m certainly not suggesting that you aim for whoa in every single granular learning objective that falls within your curriculum. And I’m certainly not suggesting that learning out-of-doors, in the field, suits every academic pursuit. I don’t think it has to happen everywhere, but I do believe it has to happen. Somewhere.

The world is an amazing place, and we live in amazing times. Big moments are all around us. Get on it.

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Repeat the title in your head a few times. Did you get an odd desire to click your heels together? If so, it would be understandable. If you truly believe in the sentiment that “there’s no place like home,” then you would be directly channeling one of the main themes of this post. What might the others be? Personally, I love to travel, but I also love home-field advantage. Also: I love to learn. Follow below as I briefly highlight an exciting upcoming week of learning for local educators… one that even includes a day where folks from our wider region are invited to share in an informal exchange that is commonly referred to as an unconference. But first, if you’re local, you’d better click over to the Edweek SJSD wiki. Open slots are going fast.

Context

Our district is currently in a very interesting place and time. We have a couple of building-level initiatives that have readied staff and students for the creation of a 1:1 ecosystem. The essence of that reality is one where the entire community is equipped with a laptop and empowered to utilize digital tools to transform learning in ways we cannot currently deliver. By this time next year, we will likely have 1:1 schools representing all three levels (elementary, middle, high). While we no doubt still need a certain amount of boot-camp type catch up to do in support of those plans, we also have early-adopters and innovators to support at a different level. Much in the same way we now expect it for our children, we owe it to our staff to provide differentiated opportunities for learning and development. Consider this week a squirt of gasoline onto the fires of those staff members ready to push forward with innovation at this time.

Format is everything

Can opt-in PD work in the Summer? We’re betting it can and will with this format. In fact, a couple of the sessions are already nearly full, and the others are filling up fast. And all this for a week in June? Wait: don’t they know this event is still two months away? Don’t these educators know that Summer break will have already begun by that time? It seems as if we have some people anxious for this type of experience with these sort of session leaders. More on our four guests later. So what’s so great about the format?

In short: everything. Think back to the last conference you attended. Walking into your room, finding a place to sit, and doing just that… sitting for an hour or ninety minutes before packing your things, getting up… and walking to the next room to do the same. In that typical format, real transfer of learning is hard to come by. After a few hours it can all start to blur together. That approach certainly can work for some things, but for many types of deep learning, you have to be very disciplined to emerge from the typical conference with anything close to “deep learning.” Finally, what about logistics? Sure, air travel to far away cities can be exciting and fun, but have you priced what it takes to send a couple of people to a conference several states away? Registration, airfare, room & board, etc. Imagine sending a couple hundred people to the same conference. Impossible.

If you’re a Dad like me, yet another three day weekend away from my adorable females is a tough sell at times. So, we decided to bring the conference home to Saint Joseph. There’s something to be said for sleeping in your own bed. There’s also something to be said for learning in the same room for an entire day, from the same gifted leader. In fact, there’s something to be said for actually experiencing and interacting in the learning event, as opposed to merely seeing or hearing about it. And what about being in the same room with 60 of your local district colleagues, all experiencing something new, in depth, and then having a huge body of future collaborators emerge from the room at 3:00pm? Finally, there is also something be said for the economics of it all. Several hundred district educators to the same conference? Good luck trying it any other way.

The week at a glance

Rather than spell it all out here again, I’ll be smart and point you to the EdWeek wiki. Be sure to check out the day-long sessions listed by date/session leader over in the right sidebar. Clicking those will land you on a page for each session complete with bio, and as time goes by, more and more information about the session for that day. In short, four friends I have learned much from in the past will be visiting us that week.  I have interacted and shared with them both digitally and face to face, in conference sessions and informally. I really can’t wait to introduce them to you, and you to them.

Karl Fisch will be coming to us from Colorado, and kicking off the week for us on Monday. Skipping for a moment to Wednesday, we will have Silvia Tolisano in from Florida. Thursday brings another Coloradoan in Michael Wacker, and our week will be wrapped up on Friday with a visit by Dean Shareski from Saskatchewan, Canada. The wildcard of the week, is Tuesday. On Tuesday, we will be holding a local unconference in the Early Childhood section of the Webster Learning Center. That might just be the most different day of all in terms of overall format (in some ways). Please read my description of the day and try to imagine it in your head. After attending a similar event this past Autumn, I had several teachers ask, “why can’t we do this back home in our own district?” My reply:  ”we can.” And so we will. I think you’ll like it. In fact, due to the fact that this day could easily accomodate more participants, we will soon be opening up this day to our regional friends. You know who you are, right?

So, go…  check out the schedule, see what you can attend, and register online. Other than the unconference, all sessions will be capped at 60 participants in order to make sure the sessions have the setup required for truly active learning. I, for one, can’t wait.

Artwork

“It teaches the strong to know when they are weak and the brave to face themselves when they are afraid. To be proud and unbowed in defeat yet humble and gentle in victory. And to master ourselves before we attempt to master others. And to learn to laugh, yet never forget how to weep. And to give the predominance of courage over timidity.”

~General Douglas MacArthur, on the virtues of competitive athletics.

Reflections
Yesterday, the 2011 Missouri State Wrestling Championships concluded with the toughest battles of the year for many young men (and a handful of young women). Driving back across the state after the conclusion of a season is always a time of deep reflection and introspection for me. This year might have been a bit more intense. I competed in the sport of wrestling from the time I was ten. Ten years after that I began a coaching career that lasted for another twenty. Though I walked away from coaching two years ago, my younger brother stayed on to finish out these last two years. A first cousin of ours completed his career yesterday. He does not intend to pursue the sport in college. I’ve hardly missed a meet these past two years, but yesterday finally felt like a very real conclusion for me.

Cousin Bryson Dixon and I at the 2008 State Championships

Win or lose, when one of the boys in my family concludes a wrestling career, it is a curiously emotional thing. It is ingrained into the fabric of my family’s culture. I’m sure you’d have to be in it to get it, but I spent the better part of an evening in silence yesterday taking apart just why my family once again engaged in a festival of teary eyed embraces after Bryson’s last match. I’ve competed in many other sports throughout my life, but none dug into my psyche like that one. None of the others shaped my life quite like this one.

Lessons
My involvement in that sport as a competitor and a coach these past thirty years may have taught me more real lessons about learning and life than anything else I have done. Here are a few of the things I know as a result…

• There is no substitute for hard work.

• A man’s strength cannot be seen on the outside.

• Innovation without preparation is merely self gratification.

• Rigorous challenges reveal as much character as they build.

• There is nothing like a truly authentic assessment for milking every last drop of effort from a learner.

• Even violence breeds respect when concluded with a handshake.

• There’s nothing as brutal as the grip of someone who works on a farm.

• Our country’s tendency to think of our brains as separate from our bodies is an unfortunate error.

• The instructional model I favor today was honed while coaching kids to become powerful individuals.

• No matter what you do, no matter how good you are, everyone needs a trusted coach to reach their full potential.

• SMART goals work in the practice room too. Yes, I’m serious.

• We all have unique strengths and weaknesses. Differentiating development along those lines leads to individual success and self-sufficiency.

• Even in hand-to-hand combat, technology helps. Too much happens in those six minutes to not learn from video.

• Reflection works. If you want learning to stick, that single behavior should be supported perhaps more than all others.

• Success in something breeds a willingness to try other things.

• All leaders have four basic functions:  They inspire, they empower, they encourage, and they teach. The better you are at the first of these, the less you must micromanage the latter.

• There are few terms of endearment quite like that of coach.

Two years ago I made the decision to move away from wrestling and toward helping my district wrap our collective heads around the purposeful embrace of technology in the classroom. I’ll probably second guess that decision as long as I breathe.

I was careful to leave that team in better hands than when I found it myself. It was important to me to replace myself well before leaving. I feel like I did that, and now…  now it’s time to focus my energy surplus and continue to apply those lessons learned to every aspect of the future.

A final thought
There’s a reason your community might tend to vote for athletic initiatives in lieu of those of a more academic nature. While it is easy to poo-poo that away as a distaste for “education,” it might indicate something else. It might just indicate a willingness to support those things that are real. To be clear, not everyone’s experience with athletics is a rosy memory. However, if our academic pursuits were allowed to take aim at things beyond artificial exams and grade point averages, we might just move closer to where we’d like to be. If all learning were as real… if our focus were on creating real things and tackling real goals, then the inner struggle of hours upon hours of practice might seem worth it.

Think about those academic programs that are well-supported by your wider community. What might those have in common with extracurriculars? Perhaps I’m wrong. Maybe I’m just a gym rat in need of a few push-ups.

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You must know that Keats, an experimental philosopher, is one rather unique individual. When further discussing if and when jargon becomes not jargon, he goes on to assert that words arising from marketing and self-promotion have little chance of becoming anything else. He suggests that the only way jargon rises up into something more universally-accepted is that if it does so organically. He claims that only the natural language that arises from the origin of a true and credible subculture has a chance of making it.

Metacognition

To me, the conversation there wound down just when it got interesting. Keats was then asked if there might be a noun or verb in science that doesn’t currently exist, but should. Though he hesitated to suggest a particular term, he spoke of the need for a term describing the realm of not-knowing. Smart educators have long been aware that one of the keys to deep understanding is metacognition. Today we should well know that keeping abreast of one’s own thought processes throughout the course of learning is a crucial element to success. In fact, a purposeful approach to formative assessment pretty much rests its core on attention to metacognition. Or rather, it should, in my opinion.

Foundational to the subject is Stanford Psychologist, John Flavell. Flavell differentiated between metacognitive knowledge and metacognitive regulation. Metacognitive knowledge can be as simple as knowing that the Biology textbook you just pulled out of your backpack will require a completely different approach than the novel in the next pocket. Regulation of metacognition is where the payoffs begin. These are the often subtle self-questioning strategies of comprehension.  –  What did that just say? Were you able to connect the previous few sentences to another event? Did you feel the need at some point to go back and re-read? Might you have even looked up a word or concept in a completely outside source for further understanding? That set of actions might just be the distilled essence of regulation of metacognition.

To ditch the jargon…  did I “get it,” or not, and what am I going to do about it?

Not-Knowing

It might seem that the concept of metacognition is fairly easily summed up in that one fancy word. Inherent in regulation would be not only knowing, but the ability to detect not-knowing. Right? Keats would suggest “not so fast” on this one. In the interview, the man who copyrighted his very brain, asserts that not only is the act of deeply not-knowing the underlying impetus of science, but that we might not hear much of this today. The reason? Perhaps because today we are so proud of being “in an information age.” Wary of outright suggesting a term or terms for not-knowing, he encourages people to widely discuss and debate the idea, thereby organically breeding words to describe what he sees as a potentially valuable addition to our language.

From my perspective, there’s truly something to this discussion. I can’t quite nail it comfortably in my head and that is what tells me this likely is a worthy debate. I can honestly say that in my years as a biology teacher, the parameters of certainty were something we got a great deal of mileage from. Though most of what I remember was instead an explicitly cognitive strategy… identifying, analyzing, and stating upfront the limits of certainty in experimental data. I always felt that a keen focus in that area was one of the things responsible for the success of so many of my students. That depth of… not understanding at the edges of what they had discovered was the impetus for the wonderment and awe that often led to some pretty remarkable things. Yet, as a meta-process, I’m just not sure. Do we truly need an inverse of knowing?

What do you think of this? After thinking this through a bit, are you able to make room for a bit of verbiage in this realm? I figure I might as well do my part to kick some rather important jargon around and see if we can’t elevate the discourse in one small corner of cyberspace.

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