Cornell Notes: Beyond the Lecture

This post was inspired by collegial conversations with +April Holder and by watching the amazing Jessica Langdon.  

I love it and think it is great when a school adopts a way of doing something across grade levels, subjects and content.  When this is done, however, it is easy to get stuck with the one way it was taught, modeled or introduced.  Sometimes this happens with the popular and organizational way of taking notes. Cornell Notes, that is.

Cornell Notes is a way to divide a piece of paper and organize note-taking.  You can read the interesting history behind it HERE.  As we adopt technology in our schools and classrooms, we begin to substitute the paper with online versions.  You can use Google Doc Templates (Or Microsoft Template) or create your own to share.  You can even differentiate Cornell Notes for your students.

And I know having the students do the summary at the end can be... frustrating at first for both the teacher and the students, but stick with it and set high expectations.  They will meet you there.

But the point of this blog is not to introduce Cornell Notes.

This blog is an invitation to move outside of lecture when using/teaching Cornell Notes.  While lecture is a great way to learn and practice Cornell notes, and is an important skill to use when a teacher is lecturing, there are other ways students can practice Cornell Notes.

Note Taking: Using a Variety of Sources

Jessica Langdon asked her students to use a variety of sources to complete Cornell Notes during their unit on Native Americans.  Results?  100% engagement as students moved through their textbook and a Symabloo of resources.  No lecture required:

  

    Kid Example                                                    Kid Example

Note Taking: More than texts and lectures

Here's a great resource for using Cornell Notes for Discussions, Field Trips, Guest Speakers and more.

Note Taking: Videos

Cornell Notes can even be used for summarizing and comparing video! Try BlendSpace (New to BlendSpace? Watch next month for a blog post on the GCCS Teaching Through Technology page by Teacher Librarian +Jill Sceifers  and a Teaching Tuesday session by +Melissa Stewart!)

Have students take notes as they watch with VideoNot! It connects with your Google Drive.  Have a click and take a look. (I learned this from an awesome Demo Slam by the infamous +Kyle Pace at a GAFE Summit).

Cornell Notes are grand, but don't get stuck in a rut.  No one-trick ponies here.  Stretching is just as important for the mind as it is the body.  Happy Cornell Noting! 

What Hiking Taught Me About Education... But It's Not What You Think

This is not a blog about how I was inspired to write about motivation and accomplishment after hiking in the wilderness.  It is not about the hard work that allows you to persevere in times of difficultly.

Oh, no.

This is about lies, deceit, and manipulation.  And yes, education.

Follow me, if you will, for just a little background knowledge.  I met my husband in January of 2011.  He decided it would be fun if we went to Gatlinburg, TN for a weekend trip.  I was excited; there is massive shopping down there.  But when we got down there, he wanted to hike.

"That sounds like a fab idea!" I responded.  We did go shopping after the hike so all was not lost.  But this turned out to be a thing.  The hiking.  It was a thing.  Twice a year we did this.  Then we got married.

It was the fall after our wedding, we were 4.5 miles into a 9 mile hike when I confessed: "I hate hiking."

He froze. "What?"

"I hate hiking.  In fact, I hate the smell of the outdoors. I also hate sweating and walking to turn around and walk back.  When your back is turned, I shake the pedometer so we can end it quicker." (I actually wrote that last part after my husband read my blog, so he still doesn't know that...)

He was crushed.  I had lied to him this whole time (actually, he never really asked me if I enjoyed hiking).  I had manipulated him into thinking I was a bunny of the wilderness just so he would marry me!  That's dramatic, but he was still confused, "But why do you do it?"

It started off that I did it because I loved my husband.  I wanted to be excited about things he was excited about.  I wanted to support him in hopes that he would support me (for those of you that know me you know that, in itself, can be a full-time job).

Wait!  Here's where the education part comes in!  I realized that, having endured the horrible smell and the sweat and the not shopping, that I liked accomplishing things. When 1 mile became 3 and then 9 and last weekend we did a 16 mile hike, I loved it!  I, and this is really horrible, you might want to skip to the next paragraph, I like feeling like I'm better than other people.  My therapist would say it's a cover for the fact that I can't accept myself for my flaws, but she doesn't read my blog.  I like being able to say, "Yeah, we hiked 13.5 miles with an elevation change of over 3,000 feet."  I leave out the part about how I could barely walk the next day.  But this is my story so I can tell it like I want to.  I had found my motivation for hiking.  No matter how, uh, unique it was.

There's more: and this is really educationally important.  On one hike there was a cemetery.  I LOVE cemeteries. We walked around and took pictures of the headstone.  When we got back to town, I noticed the names from the headstones were on business and streets around town.

Let me also confess that I HATE history.  I think it a horrible subject.  I am not doomed to repeat it as long as my mother is still alive.

BUT! here's the thing.  After seeing those names, I began to research.  Which turned into buying and reading books.  I was obsessed with deaths, disappearances, and feuds of the Smoky Mountains.  In all of my research I accidentally learned about immigration, emigration, prohibition, westward expansion, the industrial revolution, I could retell facts, dates, cause and effects, and not because I had to memorize anything.  It was because I was invested.

So, my point is this: We have to find out what inspires kids.  I love accomplishment and graveyards.  This has allowed me to love and be successful at hiking and history (ok, that's a stretch, but you get my point).  Some kids are easy and some are harder.  But find what they love.  In fact, I am so into this now I told my husband we could pretend to be homeless, er--I mean, we could go camping next time...

#NoExcuse, Tell Your Story, or Don't Cry About It

There has been a lot of talk about Twitter in Education.  Those of us who use it swear by it.  Those that don't can't understand why we do.

There are experts that will tell you why it's so awesome. Like Eric Sheninger and Steve Anderson.

But I had a conversation with my director about this topic.  For those who do not know him, @MrBrettClark is all atwitter about Twitter.  Someone had asked why.  There are the obvious reasons, as stated in the above links, that there are experts a mere little-blue-bird-click away.  Why reinvent the wheel when you can send a tweet and get back great resources?

But Clark brings up a great point.  Let's say that you are awesome teacher.  Chances are that you are not observed frequently by the administration.  I would often invite my admin in when my kids were about to do something spectacular, but they are very busy people and were not always able to make my awesomeness party.

Instead, they would step in when we were testing. Or worse.... HOUSEKEEPING.  There's nothing that makes your heart drop quicker than an administrator walking through your door while 30 students sit at desks silently putting pencil to paper taking a benchmark test.  You are behind your desk, frantically trying to update grades and parent contact logs.  When the door opens, you look up, make eye contact, and SPRING from your chair.  You walk around... to do what?  You whisper revision suggestions, remind students to put their names on their papers.  Admin questions a student, he shrugs, you face-palm.  Worst.  Observation.  Ever.

Or is it worse when they walk in while you are going over the calendar for next week, or reminding kids of missing assignments, or genuinely have a 5 minute lag in a week and a half of perfect transitions and lesson-planning?

Clark's point is this.  If these moments are what you count on, you only have yourself to blame.  If you are judged only on the walk-throughs that may or may not happen each semester, it's your own fault.  Why?!  Because Twitter, that's why.

If you are using Twitter, your awesomeness can be on display on the daily, yo.  Your administrators can follow what is happening in your class all the time.  Parents know that when their kids say "nothing", it's not nothing.

Your principal knows you make contact with awesome educators and network with peers.  He or she knows you collaborate because you tweeted that Google Hangout with that class from Nebraska.  The principal knows because parents say, "I love follow my student's class on twitter."

"But my principal's not on the Twitter."  Is that so?  Create a virtual Twitter outside your room where you print (yes, forgive me, I just said the P word) Tweets.  Embed tweets in newsletters.  Install a Twitter widget on your class webpage.  Twitter is a quick tool that says "I'm awesome, I'm connected, and I'm a life-long learner."  There are #NoExcuses.

Lastly, If I do not put a pic, Pinterest will automatically make my face the picture linked to this blog post.  So remember, balance your followers to those you follow.  Unless you are famous.

A Whale of a Thank You: A Short Reflection

I saw two of my kids yesterday, one at a gas station and one at a car parts store.  They both recognized me and asked how I was.  I returned the favor and asked about them and what they were doing.  

Mike liked to argue.  He made bad decisions and tried to make my classroom a zoo.  He was asked to leave school that year, but he did come back.  We made some break-throughs.  Once he found out I like the same music as he did, he saw me in a different light.  Once he realized that each day was new, and he had a clean slate, his behavior was different.  It wasn't paradise; we still had bad days.  But he knew I loved him no matter what.  Like all my starfish.  We still fought (I know better than to argue, but some days... it just feels good), but things were so much better after awhile.  

"Ms. Hutchinson!" 

"Mike!" 

We were genuinely glad to see each other.  I was happy to see him looking well and out of trouble.  He told me he had dropped out of school and had gotten his GED.  He was working and like his job.  We chatted and it seemed he didn't want to leave.  I told him to come see me anytime.  "But, where?!" he almost squealed.  He wanted to make sure he could get to me, should he ever need me.

I want all of my students to feel that way.

I said I saw two kids.  The other was a kid who made good grades and was on the track team (I was a coach).  He remembered my face, but not my name.  He was working his way through college.  The conversation was forced.  It was clear I had not made as much of an impact.  He was a starfish that didn't need saving.  Mike was a starfish that... was he saved?  He was happy and productive.  

I think back to the teachers in my life.  I needed saving, but not the way Mike did.  My kindergarten teacher was one of my most memorable.  Her name was Ms. Ash.  And she was amazing.

But the one who really understood me was Ms. Whaley.  She was our librarian, back before they were called media specialists.  She never had me in class, but she made me feel like I mattered.  When she would sign my passes, she would remind me that she loved making the letter K.  She would decorate with whales.  Her library was always inviting and she spoke to me like I was a human. This was middle school. The time where kids don't even feel human.

I was so awkward then.  I remember wearing a pink sweatsuit to school, but the only shoes I owned were black tennis shoes.  I am caught between "I wish I had a picture of that" and "just the mental image is too much."

Ms. Whaley never made me feel like a middle-schooler, but like an avid reader who appreciated the fine art of the written word.  We talked about books and movies and such.

She was replaced my last year there by Ms. Pop.  My heart was broken.  Ms. Pop was fun and down to earth, but she was not Ms. Whaley.

Maybe I am that starfish that didn't need saving as much as the next one.  But maybe those that were special to me still need to hear thanks.  So as part of teacher appreciation week, I would like to say thank you to Ms. Whaley, for making a difference.  I hear now she is a principal and is still making a difference.  When I hear her name is makes me smile.

I know we don't teach for the thank-yous.  That would be like teaching for the salary.  But that a teacher, past or present.

A special thanks as well to:

Ms. Kovert (3rd grade Reading)

Ms. Krall (3/4 GT)

Ms. Berry (11/12 English)

Senor Rife (Spanish I-IV)

Save the Teacher, Save the World

Save the Starfish* (*some restrictions may apply)

I was having a conversation with a retired teacher and she was telling me how the last few years of her teaching career were wonderful because she had gifted and talented students.  I understand why teachers love them. I was one of them.  They are teacher-pleasers and grade grabbers and lovers of As.  But when those darlings reach high school, they are... different.  Entitled, argumentative, they lack as much motivation as the next student.

Source: The Last Degree

Give me the kids who need me.  Give me the struggling readers, the absentee problems, the students who hate school.  I know we can't save all the starfish, but give me a beach of washed up sea stars and I will spent every moment until I collapse tossing them back in to the Sea of Success (or at least the Bay of Makin' It).  To me, those students are the ones who make my job worth it, with the blood, sweat, tears...  Not a lot of sweat and hardly any blood, but there have been enough tears to fill an Olympic diving well.

Not that I didn't love my honors students; I did.  And do.

As I make my shift to teaching teachers, the idea of saving all the starfish... hasn't followed me.  This dawned on me the other day as I was collecting feedback on a PD I delivered.  There are teachers who are eager to learn, those who can and will learn and adapt with or without me.  I might accelerate their shift to technology integration or help them save time by doing the research for them, and may even contribute by collaborating with them, but they will be successful not because of me, but with me.

And then there are the other starfish.

Why do I not feel the same way about struggling teachers as I do about struggling students?  Do I feel they should know better?  Do I feel, as professionals, they should be responsible for staying current with pedagogy and best practices and standards just as every other profession is required?  At least, successful professionals.  There is the analogy of the doctor: would you want to visit a doctor who refuses to learn about new methods, machines or medicines?

Maybe I am scared.  With the struggling students was I scared?  Am I scared of the teachers who struggle?  It's easier working with teachers who want to learn and learn quickly, but I have never been the one to take the easy way out.

Working with struggling students, I was put down a lot and pushed away.  I just held on to them tighter.  They always came around.  Sometimes it was after they left my room for a new year and a new teacher, but in the end they always come around.  I think of Elizabeth.  She hated me.  She would move around the room to avoid me.  She would yell and cuss at me.  And every day I gave her a fresh start and a clean slate.  It was hard and sometimes I let it hurt my feelings.  She left that year ("I am GLAD I am leaving this school and this class!").  And you know what? I saw her the next year.  She was back.  She ran up and hugged me and said she missed me.  She didn't mention our previous relationship and neither did I.  It is water under the bridge and all that matters now is her happiness and her education (She will be graduating this year).

So why can't I do the same for teachers?  Or can I?  Is their behavior as excusable as students?  Why or why not?  These questions are not rhetorical.  They are reflective and need to be answered.  Sooner rather than later.

"Adulthood is Overrated" or "Easy is the New Hard"

I am completely over being a grown up.

I am not good at it.  I can barely manage to get myself ready in the morning.  My husband and my cat are pretty self-sufficient, blessedly.  And my bonus daughter is usually here on the weekends when getting ready for a day is optional.  It seemed so easy watching my mother do it.  Now, as a grown up, I still can't get my morning routine down.  There are so many things to remember.  Every time I do something like forget my deodorant, I feel like an Adult Failure.  So, you know, about two or three (or four) times a week.

Also, I do not enjoy it.  I have more responsibilities than hobbies.  I am not the boss of me.  Well, I am, if I want to be unemployed and single (although...).  When I was younger and had a dream it was fun and adorable and all "Go get 'em, kid!"  Now it's all "how old are you?" and weird looks and eye-rolls and heavy sighs and cough-talking.  You know, *cough* *crazy* *cough, cough*

Source: Cry for Help eCards

It's like the first part of my life was a lie. 

When you are little, the better you are at something the easier it is to do.  Examples: tying your shoe, doing a cartwheel, making a friendship bracelet.  These are things with which you struggle at first, but then, the better you get, the easier it is.  Now I can tie my shoe without even having to think about the bunny and the log (although I still say "to get her" every time I type "together", and righty-tighty, lefty-loosey, and--ok, never mind).

I thought when I graduated college, I would work really hard and become a great teacher and have fun and my job, and therefore my life, would get easier.  

It's was a lie.  It seems the better we get, the more we work.  I don't know. Maybe I am doing something wrong, but it appears that the teachers who are... not as good for kids, have it easier.  They teach the same lessons each year from a filing cabinet where the masters have a red dot on them (so when you copy it you can remember which one was the original).  They seem to always find time to grade papers during the school day and leave as soon as the students do, never taking home more than small satchel.  

It seems the deeper I get into education, the harder it is, the harder I work, the more stuff I transport.  My car is a mobile office crammed with tech, resources, to-do lists and my sanity.  At least I think that's where I left it.  I do feel like I get better each year, but each year I have more to learn.  The more time goes on, the worse I feel about my fallen starfish, the more I lament about those I am not reaching.  Right now I work more with teachers than students.  I try to celebrate the wins, but I am nagged by those who are falling through the cracks.  My head is full of what-ifs and if-onlys.

There are times I think about doing it the easy way.  I imagine what life would be like if I could knit when I wanted to and not have to pull out all of my stitches every third row because I had so much on my mind I couldn't count my pattern.  I dream of Chromebooks and updates and Flipcharts and Google an dam woken often with a feeling of dread--I could have done more

Source: Workplace eCards

Focusing on the "could-haves" does help me get better.  There are so many things I want to do differently next year.  I heard a teacher after a PD recently say "next year my kids will be so lucky!"  She had found something new and was already feeling bad for the kids she had this year. 

I heard a quote, "You can either change the world, or you can enjoy life, but you can't do both."  This is a concept of which I have become painfully aware in the last few years.  

I will change the world.  So that others may enjoy life.  Easy is the new hard.  Welcome to Adulthood.  Who's with me?!

*(A special thanks to my editor, who wishes to remain anonymous...)

School is Not a Job or The Airplane Analogy

"School is like a job for kids"

Teachers say this.  Administrators say this.  I used to believe this.  Kids come to school, they have a job (to learn), they get paid (grades).  Wait, not grades.  That's horrible.  They get paid with the education they get! Um, no.  I still don't like it.

This is why: 70% of Americas hate their jobs...  Click here or Click here if you want to read more.

So kids see their parents come home hating jobs (not you of course), and then we tell kids school is their job. 

What is their job?  To learn?  What if they don't? Is that on them? What if their jobs were to be kids?  To experience?  Are our students experiencing at school?  Hmmmmmmmm.  

School is a job for teachers, though, right? Well... I do not consider it a job.  I would call it a career, a passion, a commitment.  Calling it a job puts it at risk for the 70%.  It puts it at risk for something you do from a start time to a finish time for which you get paid.  

If a teacher told you teaching was "just a job", what would you imagine that teacher's class is like?

My first year of teaching I took a group of freshman from an urban school on a field trip to see an updated Romeo and Juliet play.  They were horribly behaved and even threw things on the stage at the actors.  I was horrified.  I was embarrassed and disappointed.  All of the students weren't mine, but the field trip was.  By the time we got back to school I was sobbing.  An assistant principal called me in her office in an attempt to calm me down.  I explained how disappointed I was and laid before her all of my failed expectations.  "It's just a job," she said.  "There is no reason to get upset."

Just a job? I didn't talk to her again after that.  These were my children! I mean, is parenting just a job?  I counted on these kids like they counted on me.  Or I hoped they did.  I have learned a lot since then and have taken successful field trips with similar students.  But I will tell you one thing.  It has never been nor will it ever be "just a job."

"Stuck in a simulator"

Let us, for the sake of argument, pretend school is a job for students.  A job maybe like... an airplane pilot. We teach them theory and vocabulary and we even simulate flying experiences.  But are we stopping there?   Are we keeping our pilots in the simulator?  What are we scared of? Wasting time? Students crashing?  We learn from failure, but I believe we also learn from success.  At some point they have to fly a plane to be a pilot. Would you want to be on the plane who's pilot has never flown a plane? "Oh, but I have flown the simulator a hundred times!"

It's not the same... is it?

It's time we take risks.  At some point we have to pull the plug and let the students take the plane out for a drive.  Let them create.  Let them explore.  Let them do their own research.  Let them make their own rubrics.  Let them, *gasp*, make their own rules (she finished in a whisper).

There are a ton of apps and web tools students can use to create.  Here are some Pinterest boards to prove it:

• Web 2.0 Tools for Educators by Eric Sheninger
• Web 2.0 for Teachers by Nichole Carter
• Technology Tools for High School Students by Brandy Gerber
• Web 2.0 & Cool Tools by three different people (that's right, you can collaborate on Pinterest boards)

What are we waiting for? Why aren't our kids creating? You do not have to teach them how to work these apps and tools.  Trust me.  I have done lessons where I don't teach a thing.  Give them 3 minutes.  Student experts will emerge.  Use them.  Or lose them.

If you are ready to take risks, model that and ask your students to take risks.  Take the simulator away.  Have them fly.  If school is a job, you have to let them out on their own.  If it's not, let them out on their own anyway.

"Most of my airplanes fly"

If teachers built airplanes, would it be OK if some of the planes flew?  If only a few crashed?  People who design and build airplanes take precious lives into their hands.  As teachers, so do we.  I know we can't save all the starfish, but image if every student lost was felt by every teacher as a loss.  Imagine if every failure was taken as personally and with as much responsibility as crashed planes?

I hope it's more than a job, whatever you do.  I am one of those people that go head first into everything. I am not scared of breaking things or of failure.  Not because it doesn't happen.  I break things all the time and fail daily.  But I learn so much. Imagine what our students could learn and create if they were given the opportunity to fly.  Imagine what teachers could do.

Is Bossy-Bones Always Best? or What Gives Words Power?

You may have heard there is a campaign to ban the word "bossy".  You can read about it here. When I first heard about it, I gasped. Of course!  I have been using this horrible word to describe women!  I am a disgrace to my gender!  It made me rethink the way I viewed women in leadership.  I assumed that, like tom-boy and sissy, it was only women that were described as bossy and not men.  I am sure the same traits in men were described using wonderful power words that evoke thoughts of leadership and grandeur.

My best friend and I have a saying, "Bossy-Bones is Always Best."  I won't bore you with the story of how it was born.  Just know that if you are riding in a car with me and you are wondering if I am going to remember to turn, just know I am not.  It's better to be bossy and tell me my business than to wait while I find a place to turn around (which can be hazardous).  Which I do a lot when I drive by myself.  There's just so much to think about...

So then I asked my best friend in the whole world what she thought of the #BanBossy movement.

She did not gasp.  She merely tilted her head thoughtfully.  We decided to test my theory of inequality by listing men who we thought were bossy and then finding the adjectives that were used to describe them.

However, there was a problem.  We couldn't think of a man in our lives who were bossy.  Not our fathers, nor our husbands, nor our brothers.  There are bossy men I am sure, but we thought we would probably call them other negative words (which I will not type, but women are typically not called them.)

Then she said, "Well, look where it came from."  She pointed out Lucy from Peanuts and Margaret from Dennis the Menace and Beezus from the Ramona Books.  The comics are written by men but the books are not.  Why is it not Joey who exhibits Margaret's strong personality?  Why is it not Charlie Brown or Schroeder who is manipulative and judgmental? Why not Henry?

I brought up Jem from To Kill a Mockingbird.  Would he be described as bossy?  She said, "No, protective."  But why?  Why is he protective but Beezus bossy?

Then we have TV shows like The Cosby Show and Home Improvement.  My dad hated the way the guys were made out to look like... and the women in their lives were... (remember the shows and fill in your own interpretations)

When I brought it up to a colleague, she agreed it was much bigger than a word used to describe women in leadership. We have taught girls to stand up for themselves, she points out, that no one can tell them what to do.  It's their lives and their decisions and they shouldn't listen to anyone.  That may be hyperbolic... or is it?  What do we teach our young girls?  On the flip side, what do we teach our young boys?  How do we teach them to stand up for themselves?  Is it the same if they are standing up to another man as opposed to standing up to a women? Should it be?

Banning words gives them so much power.  When we don't know, they mean almost nothing.

For example.  There is a word that begins with a "B" and rhymes with Goldilocks.  It's British and I have heard it on movies and TV shows and have even heard my husband say it.  I didn't know what it meant.  Until I went to England to meet my in-laws for the first time.  We were playing cards and I was losing, "oh, bul*%$#&s" I said.  My mother-in-law gasped and my father-in-law coughed and looked away.  My husband leaned over to whisper that was a very bad word.  I was mortified.  I had no idea! Do I still say it?  Of course.   But now that I know what it means, well, it means so much more.

Think of banning books.  That gives them immediate popularity.  The same for movies.  Thing of other words that have been unofficially banned.  Saying them can get you fired.  Or "owning them" can make you legit.  How far are we going to go with "bossy".

Will there come a day when we get fired for calling a woman bossy?  Probably not.  Not all are supporters.  Is it a good venue for a great fight? I don't know.  I mean really what is the issue.  Do woman want equality but still expect a door held for them? Is bossy bones always best? Or do we give that word more power than it deserves?

The Problem with Gen Y, or The Theory of the Bumblebee

I read an article in the Huff Post about the problem with Gen Y.  Not to be a trader to my generation, (yes, I am Gen Y, check here and also here) but there are a lot of Gen Y-ers out there making the rest of us look bad.  The search for the article I found started when a friend of mine was complaining about a person she just hired.  My friend was just stupefied by the lack of respect the person had for authority and how it seemed everything was unfair and due the new employee.

You can read the article here.  Basically it explains that Gen Y has an unrealistic view of... reality.  The views of how success is achieved are clouded by rainbows and unicorns and look-alike medals.  It's a great article full of graphics.

So whose fault is it?  I am not placing blame, but I will say this:  Take the story of the Sneetches, by the wonderful Dr. Seuss.  It was meant to teach us a lesson about  not being taken advantage of and not being stuck up.  Stars were special but then stars were not.  But here's the thing: If everyone is unique, then being unique isn't unique.  It's just the way.  It's like the grading system.  If everyone is getting As is that really exceptional or is it average?  If everyone is above average... it makes a new average.  That's science.  Actually it's math.

Some people will tell us we coddle our kids.  We tell them how wonderful they are.  And I know some are thinking, well they are!  Yes.  They are.  To us.  But if we teach kids everyone is a winner, we really are setting them up for failure.  Everyone doesn't win.  Now I am not saying start keeping score and explain to kindergarten students the actual statistical chances of their success given the data and situation.

Let me ask you: do you let a student believe that he can be anything he wants?  Or do you go around pointing to every bumblebee, explaining why what he is doing is impossible.  My dad used to tell me not to tell a bumblebee he cannot fly, because he doesn't know it.  If you tell him, he will drop to the ground and never be able to get up. He never told me I couldn't, because that would seal my fate.  (That is actually a myth. About bumblebees. Not because I went around whispering horrible truths to bumblebees, but because I read this.)

It is not up to us to tell them they cannot.  Because really, in today's world, anyone probably can.  Look at Susan Boyle, Rudy, Justin Bieber. There are Cinderella stories everyday.  No longer are you confined by your looks, background or lack of natural talent.

So if we don't tell them they can't, and we don't tell them they are wonderful butterflies, as unique and important as the day is long, what do we tell them?  How do we create a culture of hard-workers and over-comers without crushing the dreams of our young?  How do we choose what to celebrate?

(and stop telling people (and yourself) you can't when what you really mean is you don't want to.  Because you can.  It might be hard and it might not even be worth it, but it turns out the bumblebee can fly.  So pick up your bootstraps and do/learn that thing you said you couldn't.  Or just admit you don't want to.  I don't want to clip coupons.  I say I do.  I even clip them.  And then I forget them until they expire.  I say I can't, I don't have time.  What I mean is: I would rather be doing a million other things like Pinterest or Twitter or knitting or Netflixing or crafting a hyperbole than organizing and remembering coupons.  There.  I said it. You can too.)

If I Had a Dollar, or Permission to Fail

If I had a dollar for every time I started this blog, I could quit my job and almost-blog for a living.  Sadly, I have found no one who sponsors almost-writers. (If you know of one, you could pass that info along).

But today I bite the proverbial bullet (which is an idiom that comes from pre-anesthesia times when the wounded were given a bullet to bite on while surgery was performed.  Chew on that...)  Today I publish!

I have actually blogged before.  My first was a personal blog site.  I even used a pseudonym because if I was famous for it, I didn't want me mother to be ashamed of me.  Alas, it lasted 3 posts before I grew tired of it (actually I think it was learning to knit that took its place in the "extra-curricular things I have time for" area).   I also blogged for the 15 day challenge, a series of tech tips, and for the IDOE Digital Learning Month (my post coming Feb 28th!).  But if we are in honesty town (population me), I didn't quit blogging because I didn't have time (although I really don't).  I quit because I was afraid I was the only one who thought I was funny (really, though, I think I'm funny enough for everyone).  I was afraid that I wouldn't have enough cool things to say to sustain an entire website devoted to my rantings, educational or not.

Today it's a different reason.  I fear I will blog angry.  Or blog hurt.  Or blog myself out of a job.  And since we established in the first paragraph that I am unlikely to get funding, getting fired would create a vacuum.  Plus, I love my job.

But as Eleanor Roosevelt said, we gotta do what we are scared will crash and burn.  I paraphrase, of course.

So today I publish and give myself permission.  I give myself permission to fail.  I will allow myself to be ok when I do not blog and when my blogs are... breathe... boring.  I will blog a little and I may blog a lot.  I will blog with patience, but not blog of snot... starting now (My tribute to Read Across America, Sign up and Pledge Here).

Yes I am frantic and yes I am... not really sure.  I wanted to continue rhyming and got distracted.  My first blog is dedicated to +JT Cox for blogging first.  And admitting it.  He was also the one that named my blog.

The moral of this story is get out there and try something new.  And share it.  And accept feedback (comments are off... Just kidding... actually they might be, but I will figure out how to turn them on...probably).  And give yourself permission to fail.  And a dollar.