You take inspiration where you find it...

It's funny where you find inspiration.

I am not a big fan of beauty pageants. When I was a boy, the Miss America pageant was a really big deal. (Yes, I'm that old). My family and I would crowd around our Zenith for 2 plus prime-time hours and eagerly await for Burt Parks to say the magic words:

"And the title goes to..."

People may forget, but when Vanessa Williams won the Miss America pageant back in 1983, that was almost as big a deal then as Barack Obama is now. That might sound incredulous, but it's true. For decades, the Miss America pageant was as much a part of Americana and American folklore as baseball, apple pie and Chevrolet.

But that was a long time ago. The Miss America pageant has been relegated to cable television and beauty pageants now seem, I don't know, strangely out of place. Young women parading around in poofed up hair and bathing suits, while not the worst thing in the world, seems kind of dated; passe.

That said, I was kind of intrigued when I opened my web browser this morning and read the headline: "It's Blogger vs. Beauty in Gay Marriage Tiff." I thought...alrighty now. This should be interesting. So I read the article.

Apparently, during Sunday night's Miss USA competition, Perez Hilton (a pageant judge) asked Carrie Prejean, Miss California, a question about her views on same-sex marriage. She answered that it was "great" that the option is available in some states, but that "in my country and in my family, I believe that a marriage should be between a man and a woman -- no offense to anyone out there."

Prejean later told Fox News that "God was testing my character and faith" by making her answer the controversial question in front of such a large audience. She reinforces her point by telling Fox that "I have nothing against gay people and I didn't mean to offend anyone in my answer."

Prejean also went on to state that she believes her comment on gay marriage "cost me my crown," but she "wouldn't have had it any other way. I said what I feel."

Following suit, Hilton appeared on MSNBC as well as CNN's 'Larry King Live,' arguing against Prejean's point of view. Following the show, he called her a "dumb b----" on his Twitter page, and though he apologized for it, later rescinded the apology.

My first thought after reading the article was to think that Hilton overreacted a bit. He asked a question, it was answered politely and respectfully (albeit in a manner he did not like) and that was that. He had the right to disagree with her answer, but to get personal, to attack the person, I thought was a bit out of bounds.

That's just my opinion.

And as I moved through the day, the more I thought about this young lady and her answer, and the more I thought...Right on, Miss California. NOT because I agreed with the substance of her answer (I'm not touching that issue here; wrong place, wrong time) but because she stuck to her convictions and said what she believed when she had to know, given who was asking the question, that her answer would not be well-received.

That took guts.

And I think there's a lesson in that for those of us in education technology.

**************

This is, by turns, an exciting and trying time. What we are trying to do in our respective spheres of influence; to integrate technology into our curriculum and classrooms, to change deep-seeded pedagogical practices, to usher in something new, is a very, very difficult thing to do in education. There have been times when I will readily admit that I find myself mired in frustration. I have never ever in my professional career encountered a system so mired in its traditions and so institutionally resistant to change.

Do you sometimes feel as though you’re baying into the wind? I do. Do you sometimes feel completely alone? I have. Do you sometimes feel as though your ideas are merely tolerated, but not embraced, by your peers and colleagues? I have often felt that way.

So what keeps me going?

I find comfort and inspiration in these words:

"It is not the critic who counts: not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles or where the doer of deeds could have done better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood, who strives valiantly, who errs and comes up short again and again, because there is no effort without error or shortcoming, but who knows the great enthusiasms, the great devotions, who spends himself for a worthy cause; who, at the best, knows, in the end, the triumph of high achievement, and who, at the worst, if he fails, at least he fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who knew neither victory nor defeat."

"Citizenship in a Republic,”
Speech at the Sorbonne, Paris, April 23, 1910
Theodore Roosevelt

What keeps me going is faith.

It is my fundamental and passionate belief, it is my faith, that we are on the right side of the educational equation. Modern interactive technologies, when used in a pedagogically sound manner, are the most powerful tools for teaching and learning ever invented. But more than that, technology is the great equalizer. It knows no bias. It does not discriminate; it takes no account of race, faith or gender. It simply allows the user to access, learn, and ultimately, to create. To that end, it renders the limitations imposed by time, space, scarcity and lack almost irrelevant. When fully integrated and equitably available, technology allows 21st century schools to be what they are ideally supposed to be—an avenue to the American Dream for all children.

So, yes, to that degree it is about the technology.

Let’s call it like it is.

Let’s stop apologizing for being advocates of technology integration and talking about technology by talking around technology. Let’s be clear about what we believe and why. Let's fight the fight that needs to be fought, head on, with courage, conviction and clarity of purpose.

Tell the world what you believe.

I'll go first.

I believe that every child in every school should have ubiquitous, one-to-one access to technology.

I believe that technology should be fully integrated into our curriculum and classrooms; not to replace but to augment and support current learning strategies.

I believe that there is a time, place and undeniable value to lecture-based instruction. But I also believe in student-driven, constructivist learning and believe that constructivist, project-based instruction should be integrated into our core curriculum and not relegated to special projects.

I believe that the "either/or" dichotomies that have plagued efforts at education reform are just silly. The presence of technology does not mean the end of books, art, talking or teachers and people who raise that red flag need to stop.

I believe that basic skill proficiency is critical, especially in high poverty and minority communities, because basic skills are the building blocks of all knowledge. But too narrow or singular a focus on basic skills, and assessments which merely reward the ability to ram, remember and regurgitate, do not prepare our children to compete and succeed in the world as it exists now.

I believe that public education has failed a generation of children, especially poor, black and inner-city children. The drop out rate in our 50 largest cities is stunning; tragic. I'm not faulting individuals. The problems are systemic.

I believe that teachers, on the whole, get a raw deal. We hand you chalk, recycled textbooks and maybe a functioning overhead projector and then expect you to engage a generation of "fast twitch" kids who live in a world "fueled by technology, knowledge and innovation." Then we blame you because our educational outcomes are not up to par. That strikes me as fundamentally unfair.

That said, I have not lost hope.

I believe that our strength and resiliency as a nation revolves around our extraordinary ability for change. As a nation, we have shown, time and time again, that we can change, that we can stop, that we can dig our heels in the metaphorical sand and say...

No more.

And so it will be with education.

It may take my lifetime, but we will reform our schools. I truly believe that. (How we get there is a topic for another day). But I also believe that ubiquitous access to technology should be an integral part of school reform. Technology should be as accessible to children inside of our schools as it is outside of our schools and in virtually ever other facet of our daily lives. So if asked, I am staunchly pro-technology, and my mission from now until the day I retire (or until I'm fired for writing blogs that link beauty pageants and education technology) is to help schools acquire the technology they need and then use that technology in a pedagogically sound manner. I know not everyone agrees with that, technology integration is a hot-button topic, but that's cool.

Because sometimes, you just have to step up, stand up, and let the world know what you believe.

Come what may.

So well done Carrie Prejean. Well done. You may have lost a crown. But in my book, you're a winner.

21st Century Skills-- Use it or lose it?

It's funny how an entire lifetime can boil down to a few seminal moments. Fleeting images, mental and emotional vignettes that flash through the recesses of our minds, little things...small things...but ultimately, the things that both shape and define our lives.

I clearly remember one such moment from my youth.

I was a chatty little lad. (Which I'm sure stuns those of you who know me). I liked learning new and fancy words and then impressing my friends and family by using these new and fancy words in new and fancy sentences. My mother once joked that I started talking fluently at 2, and over 40 years later, she's still waiting for a pregnant pause.

Rimshot, please.

Anyway, one day when I was in the 7th or 8th grade, I heard the word "gauche" for the first time. I think it was during an episode of Gilligan's Island; from the lips of one of the most iconic characters in broadcast television history--Mr. Thurston Howell, III of course. I remember thinking, what a cool sounding word. I liked the way it rolled off the tongue. Gauche, gauche, gauche. Saying it made me feel so grown up. Like a man.

The problem is I had no idea what it meant.

I thought it meant "sophisticated, proper, something classy." (After all, if Mr. Howell said it, it had to be something good). So I vividly remember the day when my father (a very, very large man), my mother, my brother and I were in our kitchen talking casually after dinner and as everyone was about to leave the room I had one of those "let-me-show-mommy-and-daddy-how-grown-I-really-am" moments.

I said, "Mom, Dad...."

All eyes turned to me. I had the floor.

"Our house is so gauche."

Silence.

Dead silence.

Then my Dad's upper lip did this thing where it quivered, got really thin and turned kind of blue.....which meant he was really mad. My mother, an even tempered person if ever there was one, looked at me without a hint of amusement and said, "What did you say?"

At this point, I began to suspect I had done something terribly, terribly wrong.

I got as far as "Um...." before my mother said:

"Don't ever say that again."

Now I was in full-blown retreat.

"But Mom, gauche is a good thing."

Her expression softened a bit but I could tell she was still not pleased. "No, it is not a good thing," she said.

"Michael," my mother looked me squarely in the eyes and spoke in a cool measured tone.

"Don't ever use a word unless you know what it means."

With that she left the room along with my father whose upper lip had thankfully returned to its normal size and color. I breathed a sigh of relief. But they never did tell me what "gauche" meant. Since I couldn't even spell the word, I was unable to look it up in the dictionary. I didn't find out what gauche meant until years later.

I remember that day too.

For years, I thought the word "gauche" was spelled "gosh" (which explained why I couldn't find it in the dictionary). But when I finally figured that out that the "o" was in fact an "au" and the "sh" an "che," I was able to pull out our twenty pound, eleven inch thick unabridged dictionary (remember those...I am such a digital immigrant) and look up the cool sounding word with the really funny spelling. As my finger worked its way down the page, I remember feeling what could best be described as an uncomfortable mix of intellectual curiosity and anxiety. Then I found it.

Gauche.

Awkward, clumsy, inept, unsophisticated, inelegant, graceless, unpolished, uncultured, ill-bread, ill-mannered.

Each word was like a punch in the stomach. I grew up at a time when there were certain things you simply did not say to your parents. Like calling your house gauche. My parents were hard working people. We did not have a lot, but whatever we had, they worked really hard to get. And even though my intentions were good, I'd insulted them.

I felt like a fool. Worse than that, I felt like an educated fool. I'd gleaned what I thought was a bit of knowledge that I thought would make me sound more intelligent, but I ended up sounding far less intelligent than had I said nothing at all. I have no idea if my parents remembered this incident (they certainly never mentioned it again) but it was a lesson I will never forget.

Never use a word unless you know what it means.

Which brings me to phrase "21st century skills."

I'm sure you know what they are.

But do you know what it means?

Because I don't.

***************

A few weeks ago on on plurk, a teacher posed the following question:

"What would you say if asked to give a one line description of 21st century skills?"

Now you can usually send out a "plurk" or a "tweet" on virtually any subject, including whether or not you should put pickles on a tuna sandwich (you most assuredly should not) and get a host of responses. Micro-blogging networks like twitter or plurk can be an enormous source of information, so I'm not being at all critical of the forum. I like the forum. But I was really curious about this particular plurk because I had yet to find a single, cogent definition of "21st century skills" myself.

So I waited.

And waited.

And waited.

Finally, a response:

"I can't think of anything at all."

About ten minutes later, a second response:

"Wow...that's hard...I'm thinking."

Then a third:

"I'm game. Here's my shot--it is the ability to use tools of technology to adapt your environment to create active responses."

That was it.

And I thought, if that's the best we can do we have got a REALLY big problem.

I recently read a "tweet" from Gary Stager that said, in part, "ed tech needs to get its act together...." I'm not sure what Mr. Stager was referring to on this particular occasion, but I think our use (or overuse) of the phrase "21st century skills" may be one such example.

The importance of developing what we term "21st century skills" is at the very core of our case for education technology. But have you found an actual definition? What I've found are "frameworks" (a grossly overused word), a matrix or lists itemizing and describing what "21st century skills" are. But as any good English teacher will tell you, there is a fundamental difference between a description and a definition. So while we're pounding the pavement, shaking our fists and baying into the wind about the need for pedagogical change, change, change...we're doing so predicated on a premise--the importance of developing "21st century skills"--that we struggle to define.

And that folks is a problem.

Remember, I want us to win this fight. But those of us "in" the ed tech camp; those of us who think that technology and other multimedia tools should be fully integrated into our curriculum and classrooms are still the minority. If I may put on my lawyer hat for a moment, we have the burden of proof. We have to convince the majority to move away from something, to something. So if we're going to succeed, and to date we have not succeeded, at least systemically, we had better be very, very clear about why.

So let's try and break this down. What exactly is the problem here? Why has the phrase "21st century skills" become such a lightening rod of confusion and controversy?

The problem, and I will try to tread lightly here because I respect and admire the work of organizations like the Partnership for 21st Century Skills, is that the phrase "21st century skills" is problematic. It is, at best, misleading and, at worse, offensive to a large segment of our audience. If nothing else, it creates an unnecessary and counterproductive distraction that potentially leads us away from more substantive discussions on the merit of education reform through meaningful technology integration.

Vision if you will a conversation with the most truculent and technology-resistant teacher in your school. We'll call him Don. Don's been teaching without computers for about 25 years and you're trying to make your case for technology integration. You're really passionate, your arms are flailing about, you've got charts, graphs, stats and a really cool power point presentation. Don is not moved. You show him "Shift Happens." Don is still not budging. You show him "Pay Attention." Still nothing. Then you give him this:

"Don, in order for our kids to compete and succeed in the 21st century, they have to have 21st century skills and they're not developing those with the way we're teaching now."

Now Don perks up. "Excuse me?"

Don folds his arms, a wry smile forming on his face, and he asks, "What do you mean, 21st century skills? What exactly are 21st century skills? Give me one such skill.

You say:

"Creativity!"

Don starts to laugh. "Excuse me? Creativity? That's a 21st century skill? I'd take Mark Twain over most of the drivel that we spew out today as art, literature or music. Are you suggesting that we didn't need to be creative in the 20th century? I know a few hundred highly successful people, all former students of mine, who might take some umbrage at that. Try again. Give me another 21st century skill."

"Communication skills!"

At this point, Don looks visibly annoyed. "Communication skills? What have I been doing for the past 25 years? What have my students been doing for the past 25 years? Writing on scrolls? Communication is not a 21st century skill. It is a basic human necessity. Please explain to me how something as fundamental to our existence as communication is a 21st century skill? Have you ever read Plato? He was as skilled a communicator as has ever existed in the course of human history and he lived over 2000 years ago. Barack Obama was a product of 20th century education and I'd say he was a pretty skilled communicator. Communication is most assuredly not a 21st century skill. Unless of course you're referring to communicating via text message, a practice that I think is compromising our student's ability to read, write or speak effectively. Give me something else."

Now you're starting to sweat a bit. This time your voice is a bit more sheepish. "Critical thinking?"

Don rolls his eyes. "Yeah, and I guess those of us unfortunate enough to have been born in the 20th century are just plain stupid. Oh however have we managed to survive, develop a vaccine for polio, send a man to the moon and build your beloved supercomputers without the ability to think critically."

Don looks you squarely in the eyes.

"What you're giving me are important life skills. I'll certainly concede that. But these are not skills that are unique to the 21st century or the 20th century for that matter. So help me out here. Explain this to me as though I was one of your students. Can you give me a simple, one sentence definition of what a 21st century skills is?

You pause. Reflect. Then say: "Don, 21st century skills are the skills our kids need to compete and succeed in the 21st century."

Don sighs and says, now almost sympathetically, "Isn't that where we started?"

And you've lost. Don's gone and no matter how many times you show him "Shift Happens" or thrust PISA results under his nose, you probably won't get him back.

*************

In the law there is something called a "red herring." A red herring is defined as "a diversion intended to distract attention from the main issue." By basing our case, in whole or in part, on the importance of "21st century skills," we may be handing those predisposed against technology integration the perfect red herring. We find ourselves so busy defending what is and what is not a 21st century skill that the main point about pedagogical change gets lost.

So let's try to get down to the heart of the matter.

What are we really trying to say when we refer to the importance of 21st century skills? What is the point? Can we offer up something simple, something straight-forward, something that fully, but succinctly, embodies the essence of what we're trying to say?

I've come up with this:

Rather than talk about the importance of "21st century skills," I point out that our first job as educators is to help our children survive and thrive in the world as it exists now.

That's it.

John Dewey, whose views on “progressive education” provided the theoretical foundation for constructivism, once wrote: “If we teach today as we taught yesterday, we rob our children of tomorrow.” Dewey did not say that our kids needed "20th century skills" because he did not need to. His premise, as true now as it was then, is that as our world changes the way we teach must reflect these changes. When most of our children left school after the 8th grade to work on farms, we taught one way. When industrialization changed our means of production, our economy and our world, our schools adjusted accordingly. (Perhaps not for the better, but they changed). Now the personal computer, wireless technology and the global reach of the internet have changed every facet of our world. And to paraphrase Thomas Friedman, "we ain't going back."

So what do we do?

Our job, as educators, is to adapt and adjust to that change and to prepare our children for that world. For their future. And a part of that challenge is to make sure that our kids are familiar and fluid with the tools of the 21st century and can use those tools to be and create something of value to the world as it exists now. If we fail to do that, then we fail them. There's no better or worse here. It's not about 21st century skills versus 20th century skills and no, kids today don't have to be smarter than we were.

But they do need to be different.

Because our world is different.

Now we can explain what some of those differences are. Now we can discuss some of the cognitive and practical skills that students need to have mastered before entering the workforce in order to compete on this new, flattened global stage. But note, I present it this way to avoid throwing up the red herring of so-called "21st century skills." The "Don's" of the world might object to the idea of technology, they might balk at the concept of "21t century skills," but no good educator should balk at the idea that our common challenge is to prepare our children for the world as it exists now. How you define and characterize that world is up to you. But going forward, I will shy away from the catch-all phrase "21st century skills" whenever possible because I don't think it helps our case.

Now having trudged through all this you might think: "Mike, this is all about semantics. All this who-shot-John about a phrase. It doesn't really matter. We shouldn't get tripped up over words."

Oh really?

Teachers.....front and center here. How many times have you heard your students plead to you in their most long-suffering voice when unhappy with a grade or your assessment of their work....but [Mr./Ms.______________], you're not being fair. You know what I mean."

And how do you respond?

No, I don't know what you mean.

I know what you said.

We're making a case for change. Right now that case has not been terribly successful. So I ask you to reconsider one element of our case. I ask you to consider this.

21st century skills.

Yes, we know what they are.

Yes, we know what we mean.

But does our constant reference to "21st century skills" help or hurt our cause?

Should we use it?

Or lose it?

You are who you choose to be...(It's about the choices we make, Part II)

I thought, "This cannot be happening."

I am a GUY.

I eat food off of the floor.

I think bacon should be a food group.

I think tofu is just wrong.

During football season, I am in front of my big screen television, butt firmly on couch, remote firmly ensconced in hand, from the Thursday night ESPN game through the Monday night ESPN game.

I am a GUY.

A GUY does not CRY.

Especially at some flippin' cartoon featuring the voices of, who, Jennifer Aniston and Harry Conncick, Jr?

**********

I use to channel surf a lot, especially on lazy Saturday afternoons. (This was loooooong before I had children; since then I have not used the word "lazy" and "Saturday" in the same paragraph, much less the same sentence). Remote in hand, day old pizza by my side, I would shift aimlessly from channel to channel. Click. TNT. Click. ESPN. Click. TBS. Click. The Oxygen Channel. Shudders and convulsions. Click. Quickly back to ESPN.

Anyway, while channel surfing some time ago I literally stumbled upon a movie, a cartoon of all things, called "The Iron Giant." I vaguely remembered that this movie was given two thumbs up by Siskel & Ebert, and I had absolutely nothing better to do, so I thought, "What the heck. Let's waste a few hours and a few hundred thousand brain cells watching a cartoon."

I didn't expect much. After all, I am a GUY. A GUY does not watch cartoons.

I won't provide a recap of the entire movie other than to say it is one of the best movies EVER made. I mean EVER, EVER, EVER. It's that's good. But what really killed was the end. (Spoiler alert).

The year is 1958. The location, a small town in Maine. An atomic missile has been fired and is descending on the town in a misguided effort to destroy the Iron Giant, a giant metal machine that becomes a gun when confronted with a gun. The Iron Giant, who is feared by the townspeople and relentlessly pursued by army, is told by nine-year old Hogarth, his only friend, that when the missile comes down "everyone will die." The Iron Giant understands. He places a large metallic finger under Hogarth's chin, raises it gently, and says, "You stay. I go. No following."

The Iron Giant takes off, flying towards the missile. The missile reaches its apex, starts down. The score by Michael Kamen begins to swell. The Iron Giant can see the missile. Hogarth's words to the Iron Giant, spoken earlier in the movie, voice over the scene:

"You are who you choose to be."

The missile, now very close, is bearing in on the Giant.

The Giant utters only one word:

"Superman."

The score reaches a crescendo. The Iron Giant and the missile collide. The Giant is destroyed. But the town is saved.

I sat there is stunned disbelief. First chills. Then, my eyes narrowed. I blinked involuntarily. I thought, no way. No FREAKING way. This is NOT happening. But I could not stop. My eyes misted over.

I cried. At a stupid, moronic cartoon of all things. I was absolutely dumbfounded. This is just not what I do. But something about this scene, something I couldn't quite fathom, really moved me.

Click. I changed the channel. I needed to get back. Back to football. Back to blood and bruises. After all, I'm GUY.

And a GUY does not cry.

But I would mentally revisit that moment many times during the ensuing years.

***********

While writing a series of new blogs yesterday, and weighed down by various pressures, I stumbled across the following post on You Tube. It is the ending to the Iron Giant. Just the ending. If you have the time, you should watch it.

I did. And it still gave me chills.

So what is it about this scene? And why do I share it with you?

Two reasons.

Sometimes I get tired. I never imagined that convincing educators about the educational value of technology would be so difficult. I knew education had its traditions, I understood some of the financial constraints, but I never imagined it would be so hard. Thank God I work for a great company and great people. For visionaries. Smaller minds probably would have fired me a long time ago.

Sometimes I think, screw it. Sometimes I think we should just incorporate a charter school or establish a school within a school, write some grants, raise some money and do it ourselves. It couldn't be any harder than having to convince truculent board members or "on-the-8th-day-God-made-me" administrators about anything that smacks of pedagogical change. Sometimes I want to say: You keep on trumping up those 50% graduation rates. In the meantime, we'll keep fighting the good fight to prepare our kids for something more than a career flipping Whoppers.

But then I'm reminded why we're here. The kids. That's why we fight. Because we should be able to say to every child in every school, and really mean it, "You are who you choose to be."

What a beautiful thing to say. What a powerful thing to say. And we have the power, we have the means, to make this true, or certainly more true than it is now, for millions of children who depend on our schools and the decisions we make today.

Change begins with choice.

And with who you choose to be.

So with the Michael Kamen score swelling through the recesses of my mind, my resolve, though tested, remains firm. Launch the missiles. Slam your doors. Hold on to your industrial-age traditions. I understand.

I'm ready.

Progress can be slow. Change can be painful. But I'm going to keep moving forward.

Because that's who I choose to be.

Web 2.0--What exactly is it?

(Sung to the music of Simon and Garfunkel's "Mrs. Robinson")

Where did you go
Web 1.0?
A nation turns its longing eyes to you,
What will we do?

What's that you say
Mr. IT guy
Web 1.0 has left and gone away
Well, boo, hoo, hoo...

What will I do?
With Web Version 2?
Oh, what will I do?


One of the primary uses for this blog is to inform. But not just inform, but to make information accessible and easy to understand. Technospeak for many of us is like Latin; it's absolutely unfathomable. And even though I am fairly technically literate (but I am by no means a "tech guy"), I find that the sheer volume of material available on the web to be overwhelming. Millions of blogs, hundreds of educational websites and web-based applications, twitter, plurk, facebook, myspace, and now the ever-growing phenomenon of the "professional learning network." It can be too much. I can remember when I started bookmarking helpful websites and informative web pages. After about two weeks, my bookmarks drop down menu started to look like the Dead Sea Scrolls. Even worse, by the end of Week 2, I couldn't remember why I had bookmarked half of the items I'd bookmarked during Week 1.

Folks, there's a lot of stuff out there.

But if this vast wealth of information and knowledge isn't trickling out of cyberspace and into our classrooms more effectively, what's the point? Despite rapid advances in hardware and software, for many teachers email is still exotic. And blogging, wikis, podcasting, social networks, things like that? Well, you may as well be speaking in Latin because that conversation is going nowhere.

So I will try and do some of the heavy lifting for you. In future posts I will try and explain, in clear, concise and simple terms, what a lot of this "stuff" is, how it works and its value in the classroom. Yes, I will still wax philosophical on policy issues (because policy and yes, politics, ultimately dictate and define the future of our schools) but when talking about technology, I will steadfastly avoid techospeak.

I will break it down.

I will, with a nod to Don Henley, get down to the heart of the matter.

So let's start.

Let's start with the phrase "Web 2.0." You hear it all the time. I hear it all the time. We tell teachers how to teach using "Web 2.0" tools. We talk about learning in the age of "Web 2.0." But what exactly is Web 2.0? Did the internet change? Do you need to run out to Best Buy and buy some new widget or gadget? Did you somehow miss something?

Nope, not really and no.

Web 2.0 does not refer to a new internet. The technology (at least relative to those of us who simply use the internet) hasn't really changed. You still type www. (fill in the blank) and viola, you go somewhere. But the big difference, in plain and simple terms, between Web 1.0 and Web 2.0 is this.....

Web 1.0.....you went there to read stuff.

Web 2.0...you go there to do stuff.

A classic "Web 1.0" activity would be going to the online version of your local newspaper to read a news story because you forgot to pick up a newspaper that morning or because you wanted to reread story that was published a few days or a few weeks ago. Going to the internet to read news, sports, weather and entertainment updates posted onto your web browser's home page are other examples. These are all fairly static activities. You read, you get what you want and you click the little red "x" to sign off.

Wikipedia is a classic example of "Web 2.0." You don't just go there to read; you can add, edit or correct information. In fact, the information you read was created and is continually updated by people just like you. Web 2.0 is an interactive web. You use it to buy stuff (eBay), advertise stuff (craigslist), hear stuff (iTunes), share stuff (blogs, podcasts, twitter, plurk ) and learn stuff (online professional networks). In the wonderful world of Web 2.0, we don't just use the web to get content, but we also create content we use. We are producers and consumers at the same time. We are prosumers in a cycle of ever-changing, ever-evolving data and information.

So teachers, when you hear the phrase "Web 2.0," don't fret. Don't feel as though you've missed the boat. You haven't. If you've ever downloaded an mp3, posted a comment on a blog, written a blog, used eBay, posted a picture on Flickr, or God-forbid, done something really high-tech like created a myspace or facebook page, you are already a part of the Web 2.0 revolution. Or as we like to say, "webolution." The only difference is that this webolution will be televised and available to every living soul on the planet with access to a computer and the internet.

That's power. And that power is yours. If you choose to seize it.

Web 2.0.

Simply stated, it's all about using the web to do stuff.

So you see, it's not so complicated. My challenge, our challenge, is to harness the extraordinary power of Web 2.0 to help our teachers better teach, reach and engage our students.

If you have ideas or examples of how you've used Web 2.0 tools to reach your students, please share them. You never know who might be reading, watching and learning.

I visited an elementary school today...

I visited an elementary school today.

An elementary school that will go unnamed in a community that I will not identify other than to say it is in one of the most economically challenged communities in the country.

I was at the school to meet with a kindergarten teacher. A beautiful human being this teacher; a living, walking testament to all that is good and noble about public education. Her classroom is overcrowded and yet she starts every day by addressing each student by name, looking them in the eyes and cheerfully saying "good morning." She ties shoes, wipes noses and tucks in shirts. Although many of her students come from families that are poor, some almost destitute, she refuses to compromise her standards; she expects her students to pay attention, to be polite, to remain on task and to complete their homework (yes, homework!) each and every day. She expects her classroom to be a place of learning. She pushes, but with kindness. She encourages, without ever, to my knowledge, being condescending.

But more than that, she treats her children as though they are someone. In a place of so much despair and so few role models, in a place where so much says to these children, both explicitly and implicitly, you're nothing...you'll never amount to anything, she regards each and every child as precious.

And that means something.

Her name is Ms. "G."

Ms. G has, on more than one occasion, gone into her own pocket to buy resources for her classroom. Books on tape, tape recorders, used books, pencils and pens, posters for the wall, decorations for her classroom....basic things, simple things. Things she should not have to buy. But she does. She wants to make her classroom as personal and as appealing as possible. She wants to make school fun and engaging for these children. For her, this isn't just a job; its almost a moral imperative. "If we don't get to these kids now, we'll lose them," she once told me. "Mike, when a lot of these kids start school, they can't write their own names. They don't recognize letters or colors. They're loved but they're just not prepared. They need so much but often get so little."

But when we talk, she's never downbeat. I can sometimes tell she's a bit tired, and I can certainly see the impact of time; of a lifetime spent in the service of children other than her own. Her face is deeply lined and wrinkled, she looks older than her years and her hair almost completely gray. But her eyes shine. Her spirit seems undiminished. She remains hopeful.

She still believes, as much now than ever before, in the value of education.

But she also knows that something must change. She knows that we can't teach children today the same way she was taught. She doesn't claim to understand exactly what I'm doing, or how technology should be used in the classroom, but she supports my efforts.

"It's a new day," she said. "A new time."

Yes it is.

A new time that requires new tools.

But as I feel my way through this new life--my life as an education technology advocate--I find that this journey is taking unexpected twists and turns. It has certainly, if nothing else, been an organic process. When I started down this road just over two years ago, I was so impassioned about the transformative power of technology that I titled my first white paper "1-to-1." I didn't think that technology should simply be present in our classrooms, I thought that every student in every school should have 1-to-1 access to technology.

I so clearly remember attending NECC for the first time. It was stunning. I remember being astounded by the dizzying array of educational applications for laptops and whiteboards, document cameras and interactive educational software. I was inspired by a speech by Bruce Dixon. I was touched by Tim Tyson's stories about the incredible movies produced by his 6th grade students. I got to shake Gary Stager's hand! It was as though I'd stumbled upon a whole new universe, a universe existing within the shadows of my existing reality; a universe of infinite possibility powered by these extraordinary tools.

It was as though a veil had been lifted and I saw Oz in technicolor for the first time.

Two years later, I still believe in that universe of infinite possibility. I still believe in the transformative power of technology. I still believe that every child in every school in every school district, whether large or small, rich or poor, should have ubiquitous access to these extraordinary learning tools. Technology is to the 21st century what books were to the 20th century and the printing press was to the 19th century. But I find, as I move forward, my focus has shifted, perhaps softened, a bit. It is now a journey tempered between embracing the transformative power of technology and recognizing the transformative power of people.

Because that's where it all begins.

With people.

With teachers.

And with the simple act of caring.

School should be the great equalizer. Irrespective of where you live, who you are, your background, religion, race or culture, you should, in America, be able to attend the school of your choice and know that you will receive an education that will equip you to compete and succeed in the world as it exists now.

That, as so eloquently written by Thomas Wolfe, "is the promise of America."

And that, I think, is the ultimate power of technology.

The technology that we have at our disposal right now, technology that anyone can purchase or lease at virtually any electronics store, has the power to render time and space irrelevant. It allows children from every part of the globe to rise above everything they know and to access the sum of all human knowledge anywhere, anyplace, anytime. It makes direct and unobstructed access to facts and information, once the province of the few, the right of the many. That has power. So forget about whether you're tech savvy or not. Forget about whether you like technology or not. Forget about whether you're old school or new school, democrat or republican, mac or pc. No other learning tool in the course of human history, not books, not the printing press, not radio, not television, can make the same claim.

So what should we be debating?

We can certainly debate how technology should be used in our schools. We can certainly debate when technology should be used in our schools. What we should not be debating at this point in our nation's history is if technology should used in our schools. The world has changed, we're not going back, and as fondly as I remember pounding out term papers on my old IBM select typewriter and fax machines that used thermal paper, I wouldn't try and open a business with one.

So to everyone, and I do mean everyone, debating the need for 21st century tools in 21st century schools, I once again extend a challenge. Quit your job. Open a business. And try to pay your mortgage for one full year using only the tools found in most inner city public school classrooms. I'm not trying to sound harsh or unfair, but I think if you're being intellectually honest, many of us, including me, would have to say, "I can't do it. I don't have the tools."

Exactly.

Neither do they.

The difference is that our students can't do anything it.

But we can.

In School That Learn, MIT educator and best-selling author Peter Senge writes:

Schools may be the starkest example in modern society of an entire institution modeled after n assembly line. Like any assembly line, the system was organized into discrete stages. Called grades, they segregated children by age. Everyone was supposed to move from stage to stage together. Each stage had local supervisors–the teachers responsible for it. Classes of twenty to forty students met for specified periods in a scheduled day to drill for tests. The whole school was designed to run at a uniform speed, complete with bells and rigid daily time schedules.

Those who did not learn at the speed of the assembly line either fell off or were forced to struggle continually to keep pace. It established uniformity of product and process as norms, thereby naively assuming that all children learn in the same way. It made educators into controllers and inspectors, thereby transforming the traditional mentor-mentee relationship and establishing teacher-centered rather than learner-centered learning. Motivation became the teacher’s responsibility rather than the learner’s. Discipline became adherence to rules set by the teacher rather than self-discipline. Assessment centered on gaining the teacher’s approval rather than objectively gauging one’s own capabilities.

This industrial age model sounds pretty grim, but it is, with minor modification, the blueprint for most schools today. And it is, without question, a model that is hopelessly out of sync with our present day needs and reality. Nothing else in our society, not our businesses, hospitals, factories or farms operate essentially the same they did almost 150 years ago. Nothing, except for our schools.

So why are we here? Why do we fight this fight? Why do we make the case for technology? For change? For School 2.0?

The point of technology integration isn't about technology any more than investing in textbooks is about books. It's not about the product, it's about the purpose. It's about pushing away from a pedagogy that focuses on "knowing" and the rote repetition and regurgitation of facts to a thinking pedagogy that focuses on understanding, comprehension, communication and the ability to apply information and data in real world contexts. Knowing "what" electricity is, for example, or being able to identify its elements for a standardized test, is one thing. Understanding how it works has led to advances and innovations in science, medicine and technology that have forever reshaped and redefined every facet of our world.

In A Whole New Mind, author Dank Pink writes: “The last few decades have belonged to a certain kind of person with a certain kind of mind–computer programmers who could crank code, lawyers who could craft contracts, MBA's who could crunch numbers. But the keys to the kingdom are changing hands. The future belongs to a very different kind of person with a very different kind of mind–creators and empathizers, pattern recognizers and meaning makers. These people—artists, inventors, designers, storytellers, caregivers, consolers, big picture thinkers—will now reap society’s richest rewards and share its greatest joys.”

Now I know there are some who debunk the importance of Dan Pink's "soft" right brain skills. I am also away of pedagogues who dismiss the idea that critical thinking and analytical skills can be developed independent of specific course content. I say let the pedagogues debate. But it's 2009 and long past time that we got beyond the second level of Bloom Taxomony. Because in the age of information technology, the "Digital Age," it doesn't really matter what you know. Memorizing facts is not a terribly marketable skill. What's needed is the ability to find, make sense of, and use relevant information for specific purposes. What's needed is the capacity for lifelong learning. What's needed is a 21st century pedagogy for 21st century schools and, like it or not, technology is a critical component of that pedagogy.

So, to quote the Morgan Freeman character from the Shawshank Redemption, "We can get busy living or get busy dying." I choose life. I choose hope.

I choose change.

But I promise, I won't forget you Ms. G. Because the educational foundation upon which we all stand was built by people like you.

No computer, no matter how fast, will ever replace you.

But maybe, just maybe, 21st century tools in the hands of 21st century teachers will help the next generation of Ms. G's do their jobs, and reach their students, just a little bit better.

So I dedicate my efforts to you.

To Ms. G and to Ms. G's everywhere who are fighting the good fight for the hearts and minds of our children.

How do you do it?

I feel like the kid in the back of the classroom who's spent the entire semester watching, listening, not saying anything and then on the last day of class finally, slowly, raises his hand.

Everyone looks back.

I have a question, directed to our teachers.

How do you do it?

How do you reconcile the back-to-basics mandates of NCLB with the goals of technology integration? How do you juggle a curriculum that, by design, must focus on basic skills while at the same time using technology to promote improved problem-solving and critical thinking skills, higher-order thinking, differentiated instruction, greater communication, collaboration and creativity and other so-called "21st century skills?"

Will you share?

Because it seems to me that this goes to the heart of the ongoing debate about the meaning and merit to continued investments in technology and technology integration.

Looking at technology through a different lens...

When you know something, or think you know something, it's just implicit to you, it's sometimes difficult to explain it when challenged. Young children are particularly good at producing vexing moments like this. A few days ago, my son asked, "Dad why does the water look blue when you're far away, but it's clear when you're close up?"

Uh..........

"Dad, if the earth is round, how come the people on the bottom don't fall off?"

Well......

"Dad, if God is in bigger than the WHOLE WORLD (arms spread wide), how can He fit into my heart?"

Um..........

The point here is that we sometimes take for granted what we know and don't stop to understand and think that someone else may be looking at the same facts, but through an entirely different lens. This is critically important for those of us "in" education technology. We feel so passionately about the transformative power of technology that we are sometimes vexed by what we perceive to be ongoing, illogical and inexplicable resistance to meaningful technology integration. But it sometimes helps to step back and look at this through a different lens.

My six year old son spent the weekend with cousins. They own x-box, I don't. I received a text message late last night about how much "family fun" he was having. I responded "That's great!" replete with smiley face, but I was inwardly thinking "Oh no." My mind flashed to my son sitting in front of a flickering television, eyes glazed, expression blank, a half consumed pop can sitting ignored by his side, his thumbs flailing away in a rapid staccato succession of click, click, click, click, hour after hour, day after wasted day, playing video games in a nonsensical, make believe virtual world. I thought, I don't want him playing with this awful machine. Will he still want to go outside? Read books? Play with other kids? Play with me? Or will he be consumed?

Will he lose the simple joys and pleasures of being a boy?

I had a strong, vivid and visceral reaction to what I'm sure was an innocuous event. I reacted that way and I'm an advocate for education technology integration.

Wow.

I had a bit of an epiphany. I realized that my reaction to my son playing with an x-box (and the inevitable looming request to buy one) was eerily similar to the concerns voiced by many stakeholders, both internal and external to education, about computers in our classrooms. They fear, I think, at some visceral level, the loss of human connections. They fear a classroom of multimedia zombies living in a virtual world, disconnected from people, each other and authentic experiences.

And you know what? That's totally fair. We need to understand that. Understand it, respect it, acknowledge it and talk openly about it.

We need to look at technology integration through a different lens.

In a comment to my post "My Fear? A feeding frenzy..." Rob writes:

I'm not an educator, but have been a technology worker for more than two decades. And I'm a new parent to a toddler.

I'm really uncomfortable with the way we're shoehorning computers into education and barraging children with technology. We seem to have been lulled into thinking that any exposure to technology is a good, educational thing so we're recklessly immersing kids into a high-tech, media-saturated environment that, I believe, could be undermining every other effort we make to raise & nurture healthy children.

He continued:

I don't pretend for a moment to know how to do it, but I'd much rather we focus on teaching children how to solve problems, think rationally, and express their creativity. The people I've come to respect & admire the most in the I.T. field are those who can reason - people who plan ahead and act with intent and focus. In almost every instance, these people are not the most technologically proficient nor have they had extensive computer education. Some of them were lucky to have had calculators in college. But they are problem-solvers - thinkers - able to consider outcomes and adjust plans accordingly. That's what I want to foster in my child. The technology stuff will fall easily into place after that.

Right on Rob. I couldn't agree with you more.

Kids need rich and varied learning experiences. They need to run. They need to paint. They need music and art and books. They need to crash into each other and the freedom to roll around in the mud. All of these have value; all of these are learning experiences and all of these should be an integral part of how we should educate our children now and in the future. Technology can't be there to replace those things, but to augment those things, and to allow for deeper, richer, more personal and interactive learning experience than would be possible in its absence.

Because in the end, what is a pc? What does it do? For most of us, the primary purpose of a computer is not data processing. For most of us—and for most of our students—the computer is used primarily for email, social networking and to transmit or receive information. In other words, for most of us, the personal computer is a personal communicator. Personal communicators allow us to connect with more people, in different ways, at more times and in more places than all the other forms of communication invented in the course of human history.

That is the ultimate power of technology.

It takes a world of billions of people, separated by language, culture and distance, and brings us closer together. It allows us—and our students—to transcend beyond our immediate physical space and connect to the thoughts, ideas, views and passions of people from across the globe. When we understand how others feel, what they think, and why, issues of “us” and “them” become blurred. We may agree. We may agree to disagree. But suddenly the phrase “the human race” takes on a whole new meaning.

Could the horrors of the holocaust have occurred in the age of information technology? What about the idea that one race is superior to another race? That “manifest destiny” was God’s will? That Native Americans are “savage”? That women are not the equal of men?

Ignorance thrives in a vacuum. Technology connects us to the world.

So we need to be careful when making our case. I think we need to focus less on applications and more on connections. Because that's what counts. Don't just explain how the presence of computers in our classrooms will make our young people better students. Explain how it will make them better, more compassionate, more concerned and more connected people. Show them how technology, when used properly, allows our students a more meaningful chance to interact with content, data and each other.

Help them to understand that we won't lose each other by integrating technology into our classrooms any more than the presence of textbooks in the classroom meant we stopped talking to each other.

And when defining what a pc is, think about using these words.....

Personal communicator.

Personal connector.

Personal creativity.

Whatever the words you use, help our parents and board members, our teachers and administrators, and everyone who cares deeply about the well-being of our children but may or may not support our cause, to look at technology through a different lens.

Too many notes...

One of the criticisms (or concerns might be a better word) most often raised about my written work is that it’s just too long. I’m constantly reminded that we are living in a “fast twitch” society, that people have short attention spans, and that no one will actually take actually the time to read something if, well, it has too many words. My response to that is to keep producing works of unacceptable length and to keep using no fewer words than I think necessary to make the point.

When thinking about this, the quagmire of too many words, I am sometimes reminded of one of my favorite scenes from the movie Amadeus. Joseph II, the Emperor of Austria (who, by the way, was not nearly as idiotic in real life) has commissioned a young Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart to write an opera. Mozart eagerly accepts the commission and composes the opera Seraglio.

The scene occurs on the stage of the opera house, just after the first performance is over.

JOSEPH

Well, Herr Mozart! A good effort.
Decidedly that. An excellent effort!
You've shown us something quite new today.

Mozart bows frantically: he is over-excited.

MOZART
It is new, it is, isn't it, Sire?

JOSEPH

Yes, indeed.

MOZART
And German?

JOSEPH
Oh, yes. Absolutely. German.
Unquestionably!

MOZART
So then you like it? You really like it, Your Majesty?

JOSEPH
Of course I do. It's very good. Of course now and then - just now and then - it gets a touch elaborate.
MOZART
What do you mean, Sire?

JOSEPH
Well, I mean occasionally it seems to have, how shall one say (he stops in difficulty; to Orsini- Ronberg) How shall one say, Director?

ORSINI-ROSENBERG
Too many notes, Your Majesty?

JOSEPH
Exactly. Very well put. Too many notes.

MOZART
I don't understand. There are just as many notes, Majesty, as are required. Neither more nor less.

JOSEPH
My dear fellow, there are in fact only so many notes the ear can hear in the course of an evening. I think I'm right in saying that, aren't I, Court Composer?

SALIERI
Yes! yes! er, on the whole, yes, Majesty

MOZART
(to Salieri)
But this is absurd!

JOSEPH
My dear, young man, don't take it too hard. Your work is ingenious. It's quality work. And there are simply too many notes, that's all. Cut a few and it will be perfect.

MOZART
Which few did you have in mind, Majesty?

I LOVE this scene!

Now don’t get me wrong, I certainly think there is a time and a place to be quick and concise. We have a marketing department, for example, and their job is to try and say a lot as quickly and as viscerally as they can. Not an easy job. To successfully convey any sort of message with a punch line and a few images is pretty tricky. It takes skill. And for what it's worth, I think some of the best and most compelling "art" in media today can be found in television commercials. (Think about it, a good commercial really is a mini 30-second film). And is it just me or are movie trailers often far better the movies themselves?

So I certainly respect the ability to convey a compelling message in sound bite sized chunks.

But—

Maybe I’m just being old school here, maybe I’m just thinking like a crusty, out-of-date pc loving, VCR owning Digital Immigrant, but I still think there is no more compelling and powerful a method of communication than the written word—even in our fast paced, multimedia age. Talk is cheap. When you say something, it can too often be lost, forgotten or misinterpreted. But when you take the time to write it down, it elevates the discourse; it facilitates thought, it has deeper meaning, it shows that you’ve taken the time to actually think about what you have to say and that you have the courage and depth of conviction to throw it out there.

In his blog, “Web 2.0 is the Future of Education” Steve Hargadon wrote: “The answer to information overload is to produce more information.”

Yes Steve, it is.

So go ahead---write it down.

Throw it out there.

Produce more content—just produce better content.

And if you have to, use too many words.