What We Can Learn from Great Car Salesmen

by Shelly Blake-Plock

My car was totaled in a wreck a few months back and I'm just now getting into the car-buying state-of-mind you have to be in to go to a dealership to find a replacement. Looked up the handful of models I'm interested in online -- the VW Jetta, a couple of Mazdas, the Ford Fusion, a Toyota or two, a Civic -- and did the "build your own" to figure out what I could get in the price range I had set for myself. Been to a few places on Sundays (when they were closed) just to look around the lots and see the cars in person.

Perhaps not surprisingly, the dealerships I've been considering are places that presented well online (the place just outside Baltimore that literally cut and pasted all of its inventory descriptions from a Canadian online magazine without so much as credit -- but whilst retaining phrases like "here in Canada..." -- well, they aren't getting my patronage).

Today was my first attempt to actually go in to a dealership to talk about getting a new car. It was a VW dealership on the west side of town where we were greeted by a man in a three-piece suit named Hans. A thirty-year veteran of auto-sales (most recently selling Porsches and picking up $6K a pop in commission until the economic downturn tasked him with selling Suburus and VWs, Hans had me hooked as much by his demeanor and great stories of racing 150mph on the Autobahn and his side project as a clock repairman as he did by anything he could tell me about the cars.

I knew all about the cars. I'd done my research online. I knew I liked VWs. I knew what a Jetta was going to cost me and I knew what that would run me per month. I knew all the available options and I knew what each trim offered. I knew how the car compared to others in its class and I knew what it's crash safety ratings were. Hans didn't have to tell me any of that. He just had to compel me to enjoy the car.

Not that I'd exactly equate car salesmen and teachers, but I think there is something for us to learn here. When we went for the second of two tests drives, Hans told me to accelerate hard at a certain point and, as I did, he explained the mechanics of the feeling I was getting from the accelerator pedal. As I blew passed a pickup on Route 40, he explained how best to sense all of those things -- torque, horsepower -- from the point of view of the driver's seat. Not once did he tell me the price of the car or ask me if I wanted to buy it. He just allowed me to experience it and helped me tie my experience into the engineering of the vehicle itself.

It was as much a master class in physics as it was a test drive.

As teachers, we're usually pretty good when it comes to content. And we're also pretty good when it comes to designing lessons. From a purely pedagogical standpoint, the most crucial part is linking those two things with the motivation and experience of the student. Because like any car buyer, they already have access of one sort or another to the facts. But the facts alone don't sell cars. And the facts alone don't sell education. It takes a guy like Hans who can give a master class in physics from the backseat of a speeding Volkswagon to make the sale.

Do you have a little Hans in you?

As postscript I should say that I didn't buy that car today. And I think I may have annoyed Hans a bit. But I did learn a lot and now I'm going to take that experience to the other shops I visit. And it just might turn out that I return to Route 40 and that I buy a car from Hans. We'll see.

From a teacher's perspective, however, I feel like I learned another lesson: sometimes it's not apparent that we've "made the sale". But we shouldn't assume. It's our part to impart knowledge and let that lead where it may. For all we know it will come back to us sooner or later. The challenge is to keep going out there for those test drives, riding in the backseat, and encouraging that kid with the hands on the wheel to really understand what they are doing.

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

Education Beyond School

By Shelly Blake-Plock

While there has been a lot of discussion recently in the news about making the school day longer, a group of us here in Baltimore are working instead to create a new kind of after school experience for city kids.

I'll be posting the specifics of what we're working on soon enough, but for today I'd just like to know about the kinds of after school activities your kids have benefitted the most from.

From sports to internships to outreach to chess club to team debate to drama club: what after school program have you seen make a difference in the lives of young people?

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

What Would Happen If I Broke Up With Google?

by John T. Spencer

I'm bothered that Google has a profile on me. I've known it for years, but something about the new Terms and Services (I'd go Google it and add a link there, but I'm too lazy) seems like a creepier step closer to Big Brother.  Which I think is the problem. I already view Google as a Big Brother - a giant android there to help me, adding the training wheels to life and pushing me on my way so that I can function.

I make the assumption that my data is safe and that this profile is somehow different from the real me that taps away at a machine. But if the online me is still me, a part of me, full of interests and ideas and questions and drives - then I'm making a bold assumption about the inherent benevolence of Big Brother Google.

To illustrate the power of this codependent relationship, I'm thinking about what it would look like if I had a falling out with Google.  This has already happened in real-life with my twin brother and the lasting effects are that I'm a little more insecure relationally and I deeply miss the man who shares such a long history with me. On a relational level, the impact is subtly present. However, in terms of functioning, I'm doing okay at life without him.

Now, consider a falling out with Big Brother Google. In one day, I would lose all my contacts. I would lose my calendar, both in terms of what I have already done and in terms of what I need to do. I would have to ask sheepishly for people's birthdays. I would lose my ability to communicate with distant friends through e-mail. I would lose my blog, the domain name that goes with it and the community that has stuck with me for several years. I would lose whole manuscripts of books I wrote and books I'm trying to write. I would lose our family's budget and critical work documents and the fragments of spiritual journals that I started and then abandoned out of boredom. I would lose important things like the PD site I am developing right now and insignificant endeavors like the sketchy videos I've added to my blog.

In other words, I would lose a chunk of life. I would lose a sense of place. I'm sure I would find the manuscripts on my backup hard drive and I would find a way to go to Wordpress and I would hope that people still find me on Twitter. Still, I would instantly break relationships through lack of organization. I would feel lost.

There's something unnerving about how much I depend upon one corporation in order to function in this world. I still have a voice, but I'm willingly filtering it through the white noise of Google, hoping that when they claim "don't be evil" as a mantra, they'll stick to it.

The Most Important 21st Century Skill

John T. Spencer

Joel approaches me timidly. It's a rare weekend where I have no other choice than to work on school-related projects. He senses my frustration, so he whispers his request, "Dad, can we pick oranges and make orange juice?"

"Maybe later. I have to get this done," I respond.

He comes back five minutes later and I tell him, "Later means really later, okay?"

Christy calls him aside and says, "I'll help you. Daddy needs to work."

Something in the gentleness of her tone and the emphasis on the word "need" that pulls me from the office. I shut the laptop and put on my tennis shoes. It takes me a few minutes to adjust to the sun on my face and the cold air on my hands. But with every orange we snatch from the tree, I am forgetting about the website I need to develop or the videos I need to edit.

Brenna joins us. She picks thirteen oranges, but each time she counts, she stops at eleven. "I have eleven," she says to anyone willing to listen - to me, to Joel, to Micah, to the dog and to Micah's Papa Bear.

It feels like magic when the twirling machine converts each orange into juice. Joel is obsessed with technique and Micah is trying to figure out the mechanics, but Brenna is simply delighted to press down on each orange and watch the juice flow from the spout.

*     *     *

When I think about the skills I want my students to acquire, I often say things like, "think globally and act locally" or "recover a sense of the terrestrial reality around them."  Or sometimes I talk of sustainability and organic learning and growth and . . . what I really mean is I want them to learn what it means to shut off the devices, walk outside and pick oranges or plant a garden or study a sunset.

I want my students to figure out what matters in life and then have the courage, patience and endurance to live accordingly. The greatest twenty-first century skill is simply this: to learn to live well.

Mumford and Sons say it best:
Where you invest your love, you invest your life.

photo credit

Twimpact: Twitter's impact on my week

By Noah Geisel

I still hear people asking, often in a disgusted tone of voice, “Why would you use Twitter?” They say it’s just for people to see what celebrities are saying. They say it’s just a way for people attracted to the Me Generation ethos to transmit their self-centered Facebook musings to a wider audience. They say what they believe and I respect that, for them, it is the truth about Twitter. For me, Twitter is another story altogether.

The last 7 days have served as a shining example of how Twitter significantly impacts my teaching, learning and professional development. A sampling my week’s Twimpact:

• I attended an inspiring TED Talks salon event that I found out about via Twitter. Had I managed to learn about it through other means, it would have been after the tickets were sold out.


• I read dozens of articles and blog posts that were shared by the people I follow, 22 of which were helpful enough that I bookmarked them for future use. I copied the links and shared via email 3 of these articles with certain teachers and administrators in my building.


• I read 12 tweets that I thought could be valuable to others and were worth Re-tweeting (sharing) to my followers.


• I learned about 2 apps that I downloaded to my iPad and believe will be very helpful.


• I learned a new trick for the Promethean Board that I never would have known was possible.


• I reconnected with a teacher friend and brilliant education mind with whom I had not spoken in 18 months. It led to a phone call and awesome conversation that I already know will impact a lesson for my students later this week.


• I had conversations with 16 other educators, many of whom I’ve never met in person.


• I had two former students reach out to share with me what is going on in their lives.


• I found out about a webcast hosted by an MTV VJ in Mexico, from which I discovered two new bands whose music I could share with my students.


• I connected with the lead singer of one of said bands who has agreed to Skype with one of my classes about life in Lima, Peru.


• I connected with a Venezulean baseball reporter who has also committed to a Skype conversation in which he will provide a season preview of the Colorado Rockies and take my students’ questions about the team in Spanish.


• And, so as not to leave out the celebrities, I favorited 8 tweets by Spanish-speaking artists that used the same vocabulary that my students were studying so as to provide them with examples of Real World, in-context use of our target learning.

I get it that Twitter is not for everybody. In my teaching and learning however, it makes a huge difference. What is the #Twimpact for you?

Imagine if the Government Censored the Web

It would be like China or Iran or . . . the average American school.

Maybe it's time we advocate for open Internet in every context.

-John T. Spencer

Don't Censor the Web

Sometimes Lo-Fi Is The Answer

by John T. Spencer

It's a rough afternoon. My directions were too long and too specific and the students acted out in boredom. I took it personally and yelled. I'm trying to rethink my lesson for the following day with the knowledge that the Clipboard Crew will be stopping by in an effort to see the magical formula that leads to higher test scores. I should be honored, but I'm terrified. I'm doubtful. I'm doubtful about my inability to create the kind of story they're looking for.

I turn on the Iron and Wine cover of the "Waiting for Superman." The song is the perfect marriage of a broken, lo-fi*, acoustic sound with the themes of humility and expectations. I'm reminded that we're human. We're all broken (even the Clipboard Crew) and the amazing story is that powerful things happen in humble places.

It has me thinking about the notion of lo-fi and the concept that sometimes less is more:

Tools: My students blog and podcast and tweet and all that. And yet, give them a composition book and let them draw in it, sketch in it, duct tape it, organize it however they want and their Individual Learning Journals become a powerful statement about minimalism, humanity and the power of low-tech learning. If the Eco House project was a tech-infused Postal Service tune, their journals were Sufjan Stevens with a banjo singing Casimir Pulaski Day in a way that would make you weep.

Directions: The lo-fi approach reminds me that there is a power in simplicity. When I listen to Iron and Wine, I am reminded of the need to slow down and allow for additional mental space.  Fewer directions. Fewer assignments. It's often where students find the autonomy to personalize their learning. An indie classroom should have indie thinkers and indie thinkers should be able to customize their learning.

Discipline: One thing I love about the acoustic, minimalist sound is that it retains the human voice. I don't want a discipline management system. I want a relationship that respects the human voice.

Approach: I think it's interesting that Iron and Wine has brought back a pastoral, naturalist lyricism (that never really left). It has me thinking that the natural, the pastoral, the outdated might just be the vintage, the classic and the sustainable that we're missing in our standardized Pop 40 system.  It's not trendy by any means, but a philosophical discussion, a confusing parable or even a choral reading or a powerful story all have a place in the 21st Century Classroom.

*I know some people would have a fit with me calling Iron and Wine lo-fi. I get it. Lo-fi is often used in metal (especially 80's lo-fi) but I'm really intrigued by the acoustic lo-fi sound.

The Aaron Rodgers Story

By Noah Geisel

I’m watching an ESPN profile on Green Bay Packers quarterback Aaron Rodgers. If you’ve listened to five minutes of sports talk radio in the last month, then you know people are talking about his season as one of the best played by any quarterback, ever.

One thing that is striking about the story is how it relates to assessment. In the big money, high-stakes world of college football, a lot of work goes into evaluating young men and their potential. Expert scouting begins as early as 14-years-old. As a teacher, this sounds familiar.

At the beginning of the profile, the reporter talks about Rodgers’ dream of playing for Bobby Bowden at Florida State, and how the assessments of his abilities missed the mark: “Florida State did not want Rogers. Nor did any other Division I school.” A guy with a 1300 SAT who would go on to be a 1st Round Draft pick and NFL superstar launched his collegiate career at Butte Community College.

When asked why he believes he was overlooked, Rodgers responds, “Far too much weight is put into your height, your weight, your ‘40’, your bench press. The things you can’t measure: your character, your confidence, your mental toughness, your physical toughness, not as much weight is put into that.” Again, this sounds familiar to educators.

The Aaron Rodgers story is yet another reminder of why we educators need to be implementing in our classes (and pushing for system-wide) assessments that seek to measure the important skills that we know are essential for 21st Century success. We work in a world of high-stakes testing that primarily focuses on evaluating students based on multiple-choice, knowledge-based questions. Certainly, there is a place for assuring that our students have acquired the desired knowledge in our classes but with the weight that is placed on district benchmark exams, statewide assessments and even national exams, we need to be evangelists for the importance of measuring not only what students know but what they are able to do as well.

If School Is Not Relevant

by Shelly Blake-Plock

Had a conversation with a friend a while back; we were talking about how to best evaluate what was working in schools.

After rambling through all the usual arguments about testing and achievement and technology and pd, he said to me, "You know, for all the effort we put into the kids while they are our students, we do really little to gauge how we did once they are out the door. We treat school as though it is the most important thing in the world; and then they get out only to find that most of what they spent all those years doing there wasn't relevant. The only ones who ever really come back to talk to us are the ones who got something relevant out of school -- whether with grades or football or even the class clowns who owned the place while they were here. The kids who got something out of school come back and tell us how great we were. So there we are only getting feedback from the kids for whom the whole thing -- or at least something important in it -- worked. But when's the last time you heard back from any of those kids at the bottom of the rung? The quiet kids? The ones whose names you never could remember right?"

Most of the forms of evaluation and assessment we use have to do with finding out how a kid is doing right now; but "right now" isn't necessarily the best indicator of where we are headed. Even worse, "right now" often becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy. Think about how many kids in reality are graded and assessed in the minds of the teacher before they ever open their mouths; how they are assessed in advance based on the accumulation of all of those "right now" experiences and testing events devoid of the context of a child's life. Unfortunately, for a lot of kids, that becomes the de facto of their school experience.

That's not to knock teachers, it's just reality; as institutions, schools are really good at stereotyping kids and how that plays out at the classroom level in terms of attitudes accorded to students by faculty and peers alike -- well, that's an unfortunate but absolutely real part of the school(ed) experience.

And so we Scantron and five-paragraph essay our kids to death in the interest of getting them to achieve; but what is that elusive achievement? Is it a demonstrable improvement over time? (If so, why do we give grades based on summative assessments?) Is it an accumulation of honors? (If so, does that imply that most kids achieve nothing?) Is it an acceptance to the next level, the next school, the next diploma?

And what of when they leave our tutelage?

Imagine if schools were judged not by how well students achieved while they were in school, but in how well they achieved once they left. If schools saw their worth not in how many kids got accepted to college, but in how many kids went on to live meaningful and engaged lives and who would point back to their school years as the point of relevancy that was the foundation of it all.

If schools gauged themselves not by how many kids passed a test, but in how well it prepared those kids who did not pass the test to see themselves as worthy of respect and ready to take on the challenges of life. In fact, if schools worked to make entrepreneurs and role models of every kid who failed a standardized exam. If failure became a calling card for innovation.

If schools prided themselves on knowing the dreams of the quiet kids. If they prided themselves on helping those kids attain those dreams.

Dreams don't always fit into curricula.

Neither do successful failures.

We need schools that recognize failure as being as much a matter of how well one fits into a prescribed system than how well one understands, well, much of anything really.

And kids know we are blowing smoke when we give lip-service to how everyone should think outside-the-box and then we hand them a box and tell them that everything they've learned should fit back into it. And when they leave things outside-the-box we define them as failures.

We do this at our increased peril.

Because we are all failures of one sort or another. And though we like to focus on what we consider positive, it is more often the case that we live in a world comprised of systems of struggle and unanswerable questions. And we fail on a regular basis. And we need students who understand how to fail.

And we know this, yet we continue to punish students who fail -- as though our invented system of textbooks and number-two pencils were a better predictor of intellectual and creative capacity than life itself.

I wonder if I did a good enough job explaining that to my students. I wonder about the students who slipped through. I wonder about the ones who failed out.

I feel like they are the ones we should be talking to.

They are the ones who understand the impact of schooling. Enough of the smartest kids in the class always getting to answer the questions. I want to hear from the kids for whom school didn't work. I want to hear from the alumni who feel cheated by the system. I want our schools to be judged by how well we respected the humanity of the student who graduated with the lowest GPA and how we celebrated and engaged his or her capacity within society.

Because we are a society, we are connected one and all; and ultimately, if school is not relevant for that kid, school is not relevant for any kid.

7 Things My Boss Gets Right

by John T. Spencer

Any leader who can get me to wear this is a great leader, indeed.

1. Have Fun: I'm not referring to simply hosting a potluck. Some of the best leaders go over-the-top either with zany humor or with something extra-classy or with something deeply thoughtful. The bottom line is that these types of events tell a team that the leader is willing to go beyond the expectation. Tomorrow I will sport that outfit above for our department Ugly Sweater party. It is, admittedly, goofy. However, there is power in a shared, memorable, goofy event. 
2. Be Supportive: I can't count the number of times that he has gone to bat for our department when we were being trampled on by the system or misunderstood by other leaders. 
3. Be Critical: Chad is the type of leader who isn't afraid to engage in hard conversations when things aren't working. I can trust his words of affirmation, because he is honest enough to be critical at the necessary times.  
4. Be Humble: I see this in small ways. For example, he sits with us rather than with the directors at meetings. He gives us credit anytime anything goes well and he takes the blame when things fail. He listens. He asks questions. When you work with a humble leader, you give them permission to enter into your world and the concept of submitting to authority doesn't feel like a chore.
5. Be Innovative: Although creativity and innovation are edu-buzzwords, the reality is that the system often forces people to push compliance above change. I feel the freedom to push innovative ideas and the freedom to fail in the process. It's a powerful motivator. 
6. Be Present: There is an intentionality to the moments when I am in his office. He is truly present. I've worked with people who are thinking about other things or trying to multi-task and the result is something even colder and less relational than an e-mail. 
7. Trust: Although this is the last on the list, it's the most important. I trust my boss and because I trust him, I can be honest and vulnerable and he can step in and help when it's necessary. He doesn't micromanage. He doesn't nag. But he's not entirely "hands-off," either. Trust allows for freedom within the confines of safety.  

Flipped: Why It Has to Be A Conversation

by John T. Spencer

I know that "flipped" is a trendy idea right now. While I am intrigued by the idea of video tutorials to help guide students in learning, it is absurd to suggest that a video can replace a human in creating the ultimate customized learning experience. What this concept misses is the nature of human learning.

Teaching is a relational endeavor.

I'm a proponent of the flipped approach. But if we are pushing for flipped, we need to make sure that remains a conversation. Take the most objective part (an algorithm) of a subject (math) that is perceived to be more objective than the rest.

If it's a multiple choice test, I can hope the answer matches the student's idea (rather than a simple guess). If it's an assignment, I can apply a red checkmark and tell the student that it's wrong. Either way, how does that help clarify a misconception.  A simple glance at the problem suggests a few possibilities:

1. The student guessed that it was greater than and doesn't understand the concept in the first place
2. The student doesn't understand numerators and denominators
3. The student saw the bigger number and jumped to that rather than thinking through it logically
4. The student knows that one-third is less than one-half, but learned it wrong (a crocodile mouth or something like that) 
5. The student doesn't care, because greater-than and less-than doesn't feel the least bit relevant to any context within his or her world. 

At this point, a graded paper doesn't make any difference. A new tutorial video is a shot in the dark. What is needed is a conversation where the student can reflect on his or her misconceptions and the teacher can re-teach and clarify.

Teachers can do this with small group pullouts and with student-teacher conferences. I'm a fan of both. However, here is where technology becomes exciting. See, with technology, the communication can be asynchronous. Here are some examples of technology as an interactive dialogue that helps push students toward deeper reflection:

• Google Docs: I can highlight text, add comments and start a conversation that will last anytime anywhere. It started with the writer's workshops, but eventually morphed into spreadsheets and documents in math. Students kept documents of common mistakes, vocabulary, etc.
• Blogs:  Students can take a snapshot of their work and describe the process in steps or in a paragraph. This allows me to start a conversation at any time and any place. This is also a great place to keep math vocabulary or engage in conceptual conversations about the math that students are using.
• Multimedia: Students record videos and podcasts showing their math processes and other students have a chance to comment. This allows students to articulate their process and I have a chance to watch them at another time (prep period, early morning, for example)
• Twitter: Last year, students used #mathmisconception as a place to post their questions, comments and mistakes in processes.
• Forms: Though this is less conversational, sometimes it's as simple as crowd-sourcing the conversation with the use of a survey. Similar to an exit slip, students mark a series of questions and I can organize the data to help me figure out how to approach our one-on-one conversations. In the example above, I can use the five options and gauge how the class, in general, is doing with a particular skill set. 

So, when I think about the concept of "flipped," I wonder if the real flipping is allowing students to use the tools to demonstrate what they know, figure out what they don't know and engage in a process where they can fix their misconceptions. 

On a New Edtech Community

by Shelly Blake-Plock

Growing up in the Baltimore of the 80s and 90s, my personal heroes were the folks who developed their own way in the DIY community. From music to art to literature, it seemed like these DIY'ers could do what ever they wanted -- and they could. Down in DC, Dischord Records went against everything the "record industry" of the time stood for; they made their own records their own way and instigated the same throughout a DIY culture that found itself sprouting up in every nook and cranny where young people were sick of the corporate status quo. Here in town, art co-ops and radical bookstores challenged the ideas that you needed a commercial gallery to make it as an artist or that you needed a publisher to make it as a writer.

This was all before the Internet, of course. And it had deep roots going back into the 60s, the 50s, and earlier.

The DIY movement of the 80s and 90s flourished at that moment because it had to. Like the Beats in the 50s who found that Big Publisher wasn't going to touch their work and instead they had to do it themselves, the hardcore kids of east and west coast alike realized that they were going to have to do it themselves. Like the avant-garde NYC filmmakers of the mid to late 1960s developing their own community to create, show, and distribute their films beyond the reach of Hollywood, the weirdo Baltimore poets and zine writers of the 80s and 90s developed their own community to print, share, and distribute their chapbooks, comics, and Xeroxed masterpieces. And this sort of thing happened all over the place, from New York to San Francisco to Toledo to Lincoln, Nebraska.

I think we find ourselves in this type of situation once again.

Coming up through the edtech of the 80s and 90s was to come up through the era of hardware. Schools that did tap into the tech current did so by purchasing ridiculously expensive computers and software. In a way, those schools that wanted tech were then beholden to computer companies and the companies who repair computers. That underlying structure is still at the heart of so much that goes on in tech acquisition. There was relatively little room for DIY to flourish in edtech because DIY'ers didn't have the capacity to keep up with the sort of demand everyone thought they needed. Sure, there were always Open Source heads and hackers making cool stuff -- usually for their own schools/use; but there was no major flourishing of local DIY tech communities that could really put a dent into Big Software.

How things have changed.

Back in November, Mike Brenner brought http://educationhackday.org/ to Baltimore.

The mission was simple: listen to problems sourced by teachers from around the world, pick a dozen or so to tackle, and form teams around those problems that would each come up with and execute a creative solution to solve them.

Teams comprised of teachers, developers, and designers then spent two days creating apps specific to classroom needs. The results ranged from a school-specific mobile browser to teacher-customized video software to an image-to-speech app designed for special needs students. And one of the most interesting things to develop out of the event: teachers and technologists starting businesses based around their collaborations.

I see this as indicative of the way forward. Whereas big legacy operations like Pearson may have the money and the capacity, they don't have the feet on the ground -- i.e. the people creating their products aren't the people using their products. In that way, they will always be behind the curve. They will always work with the "input" of teachers rather than "with" teachers. Ed Hack Day showed a different model. A model not unlike those DIY companies that developed and in doing so gave something meaningful back to the local community while creating a global ecosystem of DIY networks.

That's what I see as a viable and sustainable way forward in edtech and entrepreneurship. With the advent of an Internet that revolves around the Cloud and apps that are cost-effective and purchased as-needed (rather than as a big Office-style package), we find ourselves in a situation where local entrepreneurs can be successful in tapping into big need -- and need driven by need rather than by greed.

Alas, there is a catch. (And as we all know, with edtech there is always a catch...)

The catch is that the Ed Hack model only works because a teacher is involved. There are numerous edtech start-ups (they are seeming to pop up every day). They see a fantastic market opportunity created by common core standards, 1:1 mobile, and dis-satisfaction with the state of schools. I recently talked to a guy who has created an entire LMS that he is selling to school districts and he ensured me that his LMS is the future. The only problem I saw with his LMS is that from a teacher-perspective it sucked. The entire time I was demo'ing the software, it felt like I was being forced to think like an engineer as opposed to thinking like an educator. While the basic idea of the program made a lot of sense -- and certainly could be sold to districts -- when it came down to the brass tacks, it felt like something created by someone who had no sense of what it was actually like to be in a classroom.

That is why the teacher perspective is so important. That's why it is so important to have a teacher leading the design. But there is something else going on as well...

Those Ed Hack projects came out not only of the experience of real teachers in real classrooms, but they were intended to be used by those teachers in their classrooms. In other words, the designer had a real stake in the usability of the app. This is at the heart of DIY. And it is at the heart of the developing DIY edtech ecosystem. Teachers making stuff for themselves and for other teachers like them. Designers thinking hyperlocal and through collaboration and community extending opportunities to the global.

I love Baltimore. I grew up here and I have lived here most of my life. I've seen the best the town has to offer and I've quite literally seen the darkest stuff. In my experience, the most rewarding thing about the city is the real sense of community that has developed amongst the seemingly fractious parts of the creative community. In a way, Baltimore is a city of misfits. NYC and Philly dwarf us to the north and D.C. reminds us on a daily basis that we are not "serious" enough. If the east coast were a high school, Baltimore would be the drama club.

But because of this, we've developed interesting collaborations that may not make as much sense in other places. Collaborations between visionary art and antique cars, beatboxing and symphony halls, local politics and swimwear. And we may be on to something with edtech in the hands of educators and technologists working collaboratively.

I would love to see Baltimore develop into a Silicon Valley of edtech. Not a city of behemoth mindless corporations, but a city where every classroom is a garage. I'd like to see edtech bring opportunity to city kids and their families. I'd like to see high school seniors start businesses based on their ideas and experience using and developing technology in the classroom rather than watch them struggle to stay out of the street economy. I'd like to see non-profits flourish -- advocacy and community training corps who would bring the digital age directly to the communities most people ignore. I'd like to see small and mid-sized businesses flourish and bring pride back to neighborhoods that have all but been given up on. I'd like to see edtech explored in dramatic ways not only as a means of bringing kids up to speed on STEM subjects, but as a way to empower students to create and publish literature, art, movies, music.

I'd like to see an edtech community develop whose goal was local but whose reach could be global. I'd like to see an edtech community develop whose eye wasn't on bringing up the bottom line, but in bringing up those students who have been on the bottom for too long. I'd like to see an edtech community develop that doesn't threaten teachers' jobs, but that rather empowers teachers to go farther with their students than they ever thought possible.

I'd like to see an edtech community that flourishes around the idea that we really are connected. And we really can do it ourselves -- together.

10 Tech Tools I'd Like to Replace with Old Tools

by John T. Spencer

Sometimes people create innovative solutions that seem logical, but end up being a step in the wrong direction. Either the tool is logical but not intuitive or it provides a solution for something that didn't require a solution or it made things easier while taking away autonomy. Regardless of the process, here are ten such tools:

#1: Digital Clock
I prefer analog, not for nostalgia or for beauty. I want to see the progression of time. I want a visual representation of just how close I am to moving toward the next minute. The digital clock doesn't reflect the human need to feel time progress. It is cold, logical and too far removed from the way we sense time naturally.

#2: Alarm Clock
I don't use an alarm clock for a few reasons. First, I want to trust my body. I want my sleep patterns determined by real sleep cycles. It's more than that, though. I want to wake up to silence. I want to begin my day in solitude. The shrieking sound of an alarm clock makes me irritable and panicky.

#3: Faucet
Okay, I know this sounds crazy, but I like the faucets with two handles. I like to control the exact temperature and water pressure. To me this is the classic case of "improving" something by allowing for less human autonomy.

#4: eReaders
I know. I know. I can highlight and tweet it out. It saves my spot automatically. I can jump from book to book. I can use a search function. I can use it on multiple devices. And yet . . . I like the feel of books. I like the way the weight changes as I progress toward the end. I like the asynchronous dialogue that happens when I let someone borrow and write notes in a book.

#5: Cordless Phones
I don't mind being tethered to the kitchen if it means I can find the phone every time it rings. I have a feeling this will only get worse as the kiddos get older, too.

#6: Automatic Transmissions
I drive an automatic right now and it bothers me. I miss the control of the clutch and the gears. The minute I got an automatic, driving became a very detached experience. And a part of me wonders if detachment is the ideal driving method.

#7: Interactive Whiteboards
I like having a white board. I like being able to shine a projector on the white board and then sketching on top of it. Yes, it's less fancy. However, it's multifunctional and I can write on anything without having to change settings, save pictures to a folder, etc. Yes, but one can save a flip chart! True. However, one can also take a quick snapshot of a whiteboard and post it to a blog.

#8: Complicated Remote Controls
I have never, in the process of channel surfing, decided that it would be great to adjust the color contrast, change the sleep function and set the time. It seems like these options ought to be part of a single menu from a single menu button. It's the classic case of offering too many choices when a set of numbers, a volume changer and an up/down button would suffice.

#9: Digital Speedometers
I once had a car with a digital speedometer and it constantly flickered between two numbers. I'd rather gauge my speed quickly and move on.

#10: Thermostat
When I was a kid (back in the days of the Oregon Trail, Culture Club and Trickle-down Economics) the thermostat was simple. One could turn the nob to the exact place. From a design perspective, I wonder if we've made a mistake in replacing knobs with buttons. The knob is faster and more intuitive.

Okay, that's enough. I promise that I'm not always such a curmudgeon.

Using Technology to Organize Your Lessons and Resources

by David Andrade, http://tinyurl.com/edtechguy

I haven't posted on Teach Paperless for quite a while, but I thought that this article would fit in nicely with the paperless theme and specifically on organizing lesson plans without paper. Like Shelley, I try to have a paperless classroom. Not all my students have smart phones, and I only have 7 student computers, but I've eliminated as much paper as possible. Here's how I organize my lesson plans without paper.

Technology is a wonderful thing. I've been lucky in that my father, a chemist, and my mother, an elementary teacher, both realized that my siblings and I should be exposed to technology early on. I was using a TRS-80 computer in 7th grade (1986-87) and my parents bought us a Radio Shack Color Computer that same year. I took BASIC in high school, using Apple IIe's and then went off to college and majored in Engineering and was an Engineer for 10 years before becoming an educator. I used technology all the time. I started using a PDA in 2000 (Palm IIIxe) and continued on to other PDAs and now smartphones. This early and deep exposure to technology has made it very easy for me to integrate technology into my practice as an educator.


I rarely carry anything home from school because of these tech tools. Administrators ask to see my lesson plans and they are all on the computer. Another teacher asked me how I do this, so after showing them, I thought I'd share it with my readers.


I use a few different tech tools to organize my lessons and resources for school and use a variety of tech tools on a daily basis. Here is the list, with what I use them for. Click the hyperlinks for more information and details on the tool and how to use it.



1. Evernote - Evernote is my main lesson and resource organizational tool. I have notebooks setup for lesson plans and lesson resources, along with notebooks for things to do, things to research, and things to share. My lesson plan notes are set up by unit and have the objectives, links, resources, and attached files (like handouts and lab packets). I also have notes setup by week that I use to keep track of where each class is and to schedule my plans out. I can easily share resources and information with my students or colleagues.

2. Dropbox - I don't have every single file I use for my lessons on Evernote. Some of the materials, including videos and animations, are too big to upload to Evernote. I have all of my files on my home computer backed up to Dropbox, and then I sync the "School" folder to my school computer. This folder has resources, lecture materials, videos, and much more for each unit. I can also put files into a shared folder and share them with my students and colleagues. I also have students submit work to me to a Dropbox folder using Filestork and DropItToMe.



3. Google - Google is my other main organizational tool. I use iGoogle, Google Calendar, Gmail, Google Docs and Blogger to organize my lesson materials and other resources, including my calendar. I use Blogger to create class blogs where I post their lesson schedule, assignments, and due dates, along with resources and links. I can share my calendar with students also. I also have files uploaded to my Google Docs account and use Google Docs to create lesson resources. I can then share or publish these documents, presentations, or spreadsheets for my students or colleagues to use. I also use Google sites for a class site that includes resources, files and links for both the students and myself.

Google for Educators - Resources for using Google in school




4. PowerPoint - I started organizing my lessons with PowerPoints when I used more lecture in my classrooms. I've moved to about 75% student centered learning now with projects, labs, and activities but PowerPoint can be used to organize lessons. Objectives, lecture slides, links to labs and other resources, embedded videos, and much more. I could just mark in my calendar what slide a class was on. That slide may be lecture notes, an assignment, a lab, or a quiz. I don't use this much anymore because I have my lesson plans organized in Evernote.


These are just some ways to organize your lesson plans and resources.



Other tech tools to organize lessons:

Learnboost-online gradebook and lesson planner - announces lesson plan sharing

Discovery Education - lesson planner and integrated lesson planning in your account

Related Articles:

Unfettered by Stuff - or "Why I don't lug stuff home every night"

Evernote - Get Organized for Free on All Platforms

My History with Technology

What tools do you use to organize your lessons?