All of the career decisions I have made in my ten years in public education have been guided by my desire to affect positive change in the lives of young people.  In my roles as both a teacher and a school psychologist, I have been able to create or influence these changes primarily on a classroom level (e.g., teaching techniques, uses of assistive technology, incorporating principles of Universal Design for Learning).  It is my hope that in matriculating to _____ University’s Ed.D. in Educational Leadership program, I will be able to build upon my existing leadership skills and knowledge of educational practice to affect change at a much larger systemic level, either through the training of undergraduate pre-service teachers, researching and contributing to education policy reform, or acting in an administrative capacity.

Fingers crossed, chin up, etc.  Here begins a new chapter of my career in education.

Am I making a difference?  Is there anything more I can be doing?

When I left teaching to go into school psychology I (perhaps naively) thought that it would put me in a position to do a greater amount of good for a greater number of students than working as a teacher.  Now, almost two years later, it seems to me that my scope of influence has actually diminished from my classroom days.

So what’s a natural-born do-gooder to do?  I try to compensate in a few ways.  I co-advise my high school’s Gay-Straight Alliance, not only because I think it’s a righteous cause, but also to increase the face-to-face time I spend with young folks.  I also volunteer to conduct professional development sessions at work and help teachers get comfortable using tools like wikis and podcasts to develop more student-centered, authentic projects.  Of course, there’s also the consultative role I play as part of my job, which I guess (I hope) is beneficial, too.

Reading up on education reform and going to conferences like EduCon and Constructing Modern Knowledge (if I can get away for three days!), although not directly related to my responsibilities as a school psychologist, are important to me because they prevent me from becoming too isolated in my practice and, more importantly, keep me engaged as a visible stakeholder and participant in the discussions I think we need to be having about education right now (many of which, I’m finding out through my reading, have been going on for decades, to little avail).

At EduCon two weeks ago, as much as I enjoyed it, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was the only one (psychologist) in the room at any given time.  As many of the conversations at EduCon focused around what teachers can do differently and how teachers can improve their practice, I continually wondered, “What can I do differently?  How can I contribute to some of these changes given the limited interactions I have with students?”  The teachers and administrators and techie folks all had at least a few kindred professional spirits to bounce ideas off of; I was not so lucky (this is probably fodder for another post).

I asked in a blog post almost two years ago what, if any, place psychologists have in the School 2.0/Unschool framework.  Let me expand that somewhat narrow question to YOUR vision of what school could/should be, free of movements or labels.

Maybe a better question for you progressive educators out there is this: what could I, given my skill set, do to support your efforts if I worked in your building?  Sky’s the limit; just put it out there.

I’ve just walked in the door from Educon 2.2, a conference structured as a series of breakout conversations about current and future issues in education, facilitated by classroom teachers, professors, researchers, and students, among others.

I was fortunate to attend sessions led by Gary Stager, Ben Hazzard & Rodd Lucier, and Jon Becker & Justin Bothan.  In between I spent time walking around the conference site, Science Leadership Academy in Philadelphia, and taking in the classroom setups, the facilities, and even the little details like the posters & flyers on the walls.  The majority of what little down time I had, however, was spent speaking and rubbing a friendly elbow with many people with whom I had heretofore only corresponded online via Twitter or Facebook.

Doubtless, there will be a flurry of blog posts over the next week about how great EduCon was (and it was!), and what people’s favorite presenters or sessions were, or what have you.  What’s on my mind right now, however, is the value of the time spent in between sessions.  I imagine that most folks at EduCon have a few things in common:

• we fancy ourselves “progressive” educators (for whatever that might mean to each of us)
• we are proponents of increasing student access to technology
• we believe that there is a significant degree of change needed in the American education system, from the federal level down to individual classroom practices.

I don’t know that these phrases always describe the majority of our colleagues outside of our little online pseudo-social circles.

While it’s easy to look at the folks congregating in-between (or in some cases, during) sessions and cast aspersions that they’re prioritizing socializing over their own learning, consider how isolating the teaching profession can be in general.  Then, place yourself in a small subset of educators who can be defined by the above criteria.  For teachers who work in districts where their passion is not only ignored, but sometimes actively discouraged or prohibited by colleagues and superiors alike, social sessions with like-minded people are a necessity for sharing ideas, blowing off steam, and, as someone I spoke with earlier today said (I forget who, sorry!), “remembering that we’re not crazy”.  In some cases, it can feel like a deep exhalation.

There’s always been talk of the dangers of the “echo chamber” effect in ed-tech circles online.  Yes, it’s a valid concern, but considering how far the pendulum swings in the other direction for most of us in our professional lives, it’s not as if there’s not plenty to bring us ‘back to reality’.  Indulging in some off-the-clock camaraderie, perhaps even at the expense of a structured, scheduled activity, is not only acceptable, but vital to our continued advocacy in the face of continued opposition.  The sessions gave us plenty of food for thought about what we can do differently (or do more of) in our classrooms, buildings, and districts, but the shared food, drink, and laughter outside those sessions nourished our souls.

And I’m definitely going back next year for seconds.

The post in question raises another matter in my mind, though, one that I don’t think was part of Wes’s agenda (well, there is the issue of showing ten full-length films in a semester, but I’d need more information to determine if that’s rant-worthy or not).  What guidelines does one follow with regard to blogging about one’s child’s school?  I’ve blogged about the schools at which I’ve worked and I’ve commented on issues of national relevance, but my kids haven’t yet hit the K-12 stretch of their educations.  It hasn’t been an issue in the two and a half years I’ve been blogging, but Dylan starts kindergarten this coming September.

Should that change things?

Much like Wes, I don’t want to be seen as a troublemaking parent, but at the same time, I’d like to think I reserve some right to use this space to comment on what my kids experience, both good and bad.  So what’s fair game (if anything) when it comes to blogging about your kids’ educational experiences, and what’s off-limits?  What have you decided was just too touchy or hit too close to home to blog about with regards to your child’s school experiences?

So why have I stopped the program just over a third of the way through?

It’s not that journaling was ineffective; in fact, I don’t know if I would have lasted as long were it not for the added guilt incentive my blog gave me to keep going – after all, I couldn’t punk out after having stated my intentions so boldly, could I?  I think I put my finger on the issue in my 27 December post:

Update: I took my “recovery week” as a real rest week – took about 4-6 days off completely. I did more days than I’ve blogged about here, but I’m finding I’m burning out – I’m a fit guy, and have run and lifted for years, but I’m having a real hard time finding 60-90 minutes a day where I can follow the program without other stuff interfering. I’m going to pick it up again today in Week 5 of the program and see where it takes me.

The problem was not with the supports; it was with the ultimate goal.  In the back of my mind, I knew that this was going to be time-consuming, but it wasn’t until I got into it that I realized I was effectively having to choose between exercise and my family (long story, not interesting, just trust me).  I have since switched to a different workout routine that is still challenging, but more compatible with my schedule.

So why whine about my workout on an education blog?  Simple: it was a stark reminder to me to keep goals attainable, behavioral, academic, or otherwise.  In hindsight, even though I was able to keep up physically with the workouts, the specifics of my work and family’s schedules made this an unrealistic undertaking for me.  I kind of knew this in the back of my head, and had a Plan B to go to just in case, but that’s not always the case, especially with our students who are attempting to meet goals that we set for them, either via behavioral expectations, grades, or IEPs.

The same may be true of your students.  If Johnny (why are these hypothetical example students always named Johnny?) picks his nose for 80% of the class period, it may be unrealistic to expect to extinguish that behavior right away.  If, after, say, two weeks of behavior interventions, he’s picking his nose during 40% of the class, that’s not bad at all – you’ve cut the frequency of nasal spelunking in your classroom in half.  Of course, you’ll eventually want to kill that off entirely, but in a case like this, it’s important to a) recognize his progress, and b) understand that behavior is complex, and can take time to change.  The same is true of improving study skills, academic performance, reading fluency… some improvements come quickly, but others take time, and don’t always come as easily as we’d like.

As educators, we often like to set the bar high and challenge our students, and that’s admirable.  We just have to remember that setting the bar too high too soon can sometimes do more harm than good – set up some smaller bars first, for them and for yourself.  The confidence boost they (and you) get from meeting those short-term goals (“Hey, I can do this after all!”) could be just what they need to get them to that ultimate goal.

I…release any photos taken of my child in class to be used for <company name> media outlets.

I didn’t see an opt-out checkbox for parents who don’t want their kids’ pictures being taken and put on flyers, pamphlets, or worse – THE INTERNET.  It was just, “if you want to participate, this is how we do”.

I understand that’s a slippery slope to head down, but my question is less legal than philosophical in nature – what happens between the pre-K level, where this is an accepted practice (and presumably unchallenged, though I can’t be sure) and the K-12 level, where most of us are dealing with hysteria regarding publishing student work (including pictures) online?  It’s OK for our kids to unwittingly advertise for corporations but not to promote their own work & interests?

Section I (to be filled out by professional):

Section II (to be filled out by teacher):

I’ll just leave this here for you to do with what you will.

Two years ago I blogged about my attempts to change an undesired behavior of mine using some pretty basic behavior management techniques.  This evening, I’m going to come at this from another angle: increasing desired behavior through blogging.

“Journaling”, or writing down reflections & analyses of one’s own behavior, is one of the “go-to” tools of the cognitive-behavioral therapist.  It helps make one more aware of one’s behaviors and consequences, and also allows for reflection on the emotional and social impact of those behaviors, both on oneself and on others (Ullrich & Lutgendorf, 2002).  In some cases, it may also have a general therapeutic effect beyond simple behavior management (Fritson, 2008).  It’s both a motivational tool and coping mechanism, and it can work as well for adults as for children.

I’m using journaling to support a new behavior I’d like to see continue.  After a false start last week, I started the P90X workout program this past weekend, and it is without a doubt the toughest workout program I’ve ever done.  I’m used to lifting very heavy weights with decent breaks in between, but this program has you up and moving, lifting, breathing, and sweating constantly for about an hour at a pop.

My cardio fitness level is not where it used to be, so this is pretty challenging for me.  In order to a) keep me mentally focused on the benefits and b) make myself accountable an audience (real or imaginary, I’ll grant you), I’ve started microblogging my efforts here.  It is my hope that this will help “keep me honest” and committed to the full 90 days of this workout program.  It will also help me track my progress as I (hopefully) gain strength and endurance throughout the program.

Other folks in the edublogoblahblah have done something similar, only as a group, regarding their running efforts, and I seem to remember (but can’t locate) yet another example of a similar group of educators rallying online around their weight loss efforts.

Do it in a group or do it on your own.  Do it online or offline.  Do it on a blog or do it in a notebook.  Journaling is a tool that can help you reach a behavioral goal you’ve set for yourself, whether it’s running your first 5K, losing that last 10 pounds, or even more long-term goals like surviving your first year of teaching or finishing that grad degree.

Citations:

Fritson, K.K.  (2008).  Impact of journaling on students’ self-efficacy and locus of control.  InSight, 3, 75-83.  Retrieved from http://www.insightjournal.net

Ullrich, P.M., & Lutgendorf, S.K.  (2002).  Journaling about stressful events: Effects of cognitive processing and emotional expression.  Annals of Behavioral Medicine, 24(3), 244-250. doi: 10.1207/S15324796ABM2403_10

Credit must be given where it’s due: I think the organizers of this year’s High Tech Hall really got it right in terms of how to provide participants in such a huge setting (we’re talking attendance estimates in the tens of thousands) access to tools and meaningful uses thereof (as meaningful as you can get in a giant convention center, anyway).  Presenters in High Tech Hall were given round tables (approx. 6′ diameter), 32″ LCD screens, and 8-9 chairs.  We hooked up our own netbooks, laptops, speakers, and whatever other peripherals we needed, and conducted “drop-in” sessions where we could talk with small groups of people (see photos) about our respective topics (I did 4 hours on wikis and 4 hours on developing learning networks).

Having given both large group lectures and small group drop-in sessions, my favorite type is by far the small group setting.  I really enjoyed being able to talk with the folks who dropped in, find out what they knew and what they needed to know, and learn about their specific professional circumstances.  I was then able to tailor my presentation to their individual needs and help guide them where they felt they needed to go, not necessarily where I wanted to take them.

Toward the end of the day, I was talking with a resource room reading (I think?  sorry!) teacher who was thinking that wikis might somehow be encouraging to her students.  After explaining the basics of the tool, as well as listening to her background, we agreed that a wiki probably wasn’t going to be of much use to her students.  Due to the small setting, however (she was the only one at my table; this was about 10 minutes before shutting down for the day), I was able to sit and brainstorm with her for a bit, and I showed her Audacity, a free program for digital audio recording.  We talked a bit about teaching reading, oral fluency, listening skills, and self-monitoring & self-evaluation, and after some further discussion and an impromptu demonstration, that teacher left with at least another idea for helping her students.

It didn’t matter to me that a wiki was not in her immediate future because that would not have helped her students.  I liked being able to go “off book” and use what knowledge of tools I have to help her brainstorm some ideas for activities (aided, not driven, by technology) that would suit her students’ needs.  We do all our students a far greater service by letting their needs drive the choice of technological tools (or the choice to not use technology), rather than the other way around.  As I have said in the past, when you add a wiki (or a podcast, or a blog, or a Voicethread) to a poorly designed lesson, it doesn’t magically become a good lesson – it’s just a bad lesson with a wiki.  Folks who attended the High Tech Hall sessions were exposed to dozens, if not hundreds, of technological tools, along with ideas for classroom implementations.  Speaking as one who knows all too well how easy it is to get swept up in shiny new things, it is my hope that they balance their enthusiasm for their new tools with a very clear picture of the pedagogical benefits they offer (or don’t).

If you’ll be at the convention, stop by High Tech Hall to see Kevin, Lisa, me, and a slew of other folks speak about (and, more importantly, show examples of) using various technological tools to enhance teaching and learning experiences.

On Thursday, I’ll be discussing “Exploring Online Personal Learning Networks” from 9am – 1pm (supporting wiki), then from 1pm – 5pm, it’s “Wikis, Wikis, Everywhere” (supporting wiki).  These presentations are both condensed versions of multi-day PD courses I conducted when I worked at Hunterdon Central Regional High School.

On Friday morning from 10:15 to 11:15, I’ll be running a shorter, 1-hour version of “Wikis, Wikis” in Classroom 2, where participants will have access to computers and have the opportunity to create and explore along with me (computer access is limited and first come, first served, so get there early!).

Hope to see you in Atlantic City!