#Litlunch and the Essence of Sharing

"May I share something with you?" He asked.
"Of course," she replied.
--
Over the past year, I have been blessed to know people that embrace a culture of sharing. Sharing their time, their knowledge, their homes, and especially their hearts. When we share pieces of ourselves with others, when we give over something deep within that identifies us, we are not just sharing ourselves, we are building a shared space that begins to a create "us."

I have received a number of books in the last twelve months. Some have been gifts from family for obligatory gift-giving holidays, others have been surprises from friends, a few have appeared from near-strangers. I am always taken aback by the generosity of spirit that comes from receiving a small package, unexpected, containing the bound words from another. It feels intimate, yet so very public, all at once.
--

As an English major, and a general lover of the written word, I began to amass a great number of books during college. Some where required reading but most just works of interest that I devoured and placed on a shelf (built in my parents' basement) to be saved or referenced at some point in the future. After I moved out and started my career, the books stayed on that shelf, I having neither the strength nor room to relocation them to my current apartment-living lifestyle.

One day, my brother told me he started reading some of the books on the shelf. In high school at the time, he was just discovering the magic that can happen between two covers. He would read and return these pieces, having found a library that, probably unbeknownst to him, told a deep story of my own literary journey. As time passed, I would recommend, he would read, and we would share. Even the books not discussed held a type of sharing, one that runs deeper than analysis and questions and shapes hearts to fit together more easily.
--

So on my desk at work, I began to collect the books of all genres and forms that have arrived to be shared with me over the last year. Sometime in March, I realized that these books might as well be tossed away if they are to sit stationary for only one pair of eyes to admire. I yearned to share the phrases found and lines formed in these pieces.

I started to read one everyday at lunch. If someone else, a teacher or student, happened to be around, I would share a page or two, a poem, a recipe, a nugget of wisdom, from these beautiful works of arts. The speaking of these words and the sharing of these works brought extreme pleasure, questions, calmness, and much joy. So I figured why not share this space with a larger audience?

Everyday (as much as I can control), at 12:59pm, I read from one of these books. Sometimes just a line or two, sometimes rushing through a whole chapter or multiple poems, but always sharing these words and this time of meditation with the world. A moment of time is documented and tagged with #Litlunch.  These books are fine in the silence of my own head, but letting the world in to take a look is so more fulfilling.

Want to see what is being shared next? Or want to share your own findings? I welcome you to join me.

Art That Runs Away With Itself

"Art is so good for me," she said.

"Art is good for all of us," he replied. "Some of us just don't realize it."

--

For the past decade, street artist Banksy has been creating art that transcends ownership. Working in the dark hours of the night and in the secrets of personal anonymity, Banksy has created a following through art that challenges social norms and provide commentary that ranges from hilarious to loudly contentious. 

After leaving these masterpieces on the streets, they no longer belong to the artist. Tagged, stolen, and protected, these pieces are scattered into the fateful hands of the people who are the fastest and the richest. In the best scenarios, the art is preserved for people to experience. In the most desperate, the pieces are removed from the streets and sold for more money than is even healthy to think about spending on any one item.

The Luxury Spot

Andy Goldsworthy's art worked in a similar fashion, though his medium belonged to the natural world. Beautiful displays of creativity and soul were crafted from nature, only to be left to fade, migrate, and be returned to that which they originally belonged. The rocks, leaves, and water he used didn't belong to him, he just rearranged them in ways that complemented their beauty. And then he walked away, letting the fate of his art be that of the natural forces.

Art Formed in Nature

Over the last three weeks I have been purposely placing myself in and around as much art as possible. Beautiful, messy, weird, confusing, soulful art. Art that makes me uncomfortable. Art that makes my eyes squint and eyebrows fold forward. Art that is so stunning I can't breathe. Art that brings tears. Art that is screamed, sculpted, scripted, and scrawled across all mediums. Art that is unexpected.

Container Park, Fremont Las Vegas

In Houston, I was slapped by John Flower's 8 Ohms. I entered a room that held the most frightening and haunting display I have ever experienced. Eight cassette plays activated by a motion sensor. As I entered, each player clicked on, each  playing a different pitch. When I stood across the room, the pitches matched in harmony with one another. When a player was approached, the pitch warped to create a sound that competed, rather than complemented, the others. My body controlled the art -- more than that, it ruined the harmony that existed without my presence. Though without me there was no sound at all...

(You can view a haunting video HERE)

When I stand in front of a piece of art it no longer belongs to artist or the highest bidder. In that moment it belongs to me and my heart. 

The most truthful art runs away with itself. The most powerful art allows us to hitch a ride for a minute.

What are you creating? Are you letting it run free? 

Maybe you should.

Hardest Thing ≠ Last Thing

There are so many situations that are difficult. Moments throughout of day that challenge us, pieces of our lives that become complex, sad situations that arise, an unexpected tragedy. Even when we think we are prepared for the hard moments, they are usually much different than we ever expected. So often we battle these moments with no body memory or knowledge on how to sort through the confusing pieces of life.

But the hardest thing doesn't have to be the last thing.

Keep moving forward. 
Keep evolving. 
Keep hoping. 
The light could be just around the bend, 
just waiting on you to change its color.

Lost and Found

Sometimes we lose things. Upon realization, panic usually sets in. We search, we try to retrace our steps and figure out where that thing could be. The more perplexing the loss, the higher the anxiety that it will never be recovered. The higher the anxiety, the more frantic we can become.

Eventually, we usually find that lost item. Sometimes there is a feeling of relief. Often we feel triumphant in our fate. Sometimes, though, stuff is meant to be lost. Sometimes, it is meant to stay lost.

In the cyclical process that is life, nothing can be important forever. Similarly, you won't miss that lost item with the same intensity the longer it remains hidden. You might be excited when it is found, but I am willing to bet you forget it was even important in the moments leading up to that reveal.

What is lost? What have you found? And what is not worth looking for anymore?

Learning From the Full Space

Discovery Green: Houston, TX

The last three days at the ASCD Annual Conference involved some of the best learning moments I have experienced all school year. In many ways, I was so excited about this conference. I presented with a colleague that I highly respect both personally and professionally. I knew I would see some friends. I was excited about visiting Houston for the first time. The conference Keynote, Sarah Lewis, is a woman I desperately wanted to hear and be inspired by. There was so much I was looking forward to as I boarded the plane on a snowy Friday night in Baltimore to travel to Houston.

Now that the conference is over, what I am starting to process is a little bigger than the learning that took place in a chair or through the words of some very brilliant and talented educators. I made a decision to learn differently during this trip. I made a decision to learn from full space in which I found myself. 

I learned how the sun changes as you fly above the clouds during sunset. I learned that striking up a conversation with a stranger could be the best sharing of ideas I have all week. I learned that Houston is beautiful in the afternoon sun. I learned that this city has a stunning vision for green space which many urban areas could learn from. I learned that in every space there is art - art that moves me. I watched a community come together to celebrate the power of dance. With sun shinning down, the crowd cheered as they watch kids of all ages in one of the bravest displays of talent - performing. I learned how deeply my heart needs creative spaces surrounded by new ideas. I learned to notice in new ways.

I learned that I have been doing this all wrong. In new spaces, with new people, with a new sunrises and different sculptures, learning is about seeking inspiration, seeing beauty, and recognizing how my heart feels to be full of connections and conversations.

So as I wrap up the last day of ASCD and I reflect on my learning, I realize that what was disrupted within me was very different than what I expected from this experience.

Let's learn. Fully.

Open

What happens when you are truly honest? Vulnerable in the face of fear? What happens when you let others see inside?

You allow others to find a thousand new reasons to love and support you. Sometimes, in magical ways you never imagined possible.

Be open, people.

The Sustainability Paradox

How often do we hear people question our practices or lifestyles in terms of sustainability? I feel like this topic is often paired with questions of what is scalable.

Can you sustain this? How does this scale?

These are important questions. The answers often feel staged but can equally hold a lot of weight for the decisions we make in moving towards a larger vision. These are bigger thinking questions. They take visionary leadership and processes that move beyond tomorrow and into forever. It isn't work that just anyone can do, and often the percentage of people that can do this work successful are even fewer.

Today I had the pleasure of thinking with someone new. A person I barely know on a personal level but whose work with which I am very familiar. A new friendship and partnership potentially. This is something I love to do. Reach out, make a connection, ask someone to take a risk with me. Whether that means just an hour meeting, a phone conversation, or joining a group of friends for an informal dinner. These spaces, causal and easy, are where my thinking is pushed the most. In a world that is fast at best, and heartbreaking at worst, new friendships are risky. These can blossom into our most meaningful connections, though, and that is always a risk worth taking.

Never believe you have too many thought partners. But never believe you don't need to dive deeper with each partner you develop.

In this discussion, my thoughts about sustainability were challenged. What if sustainability is more about the present than the future? This seems like a paradox, and maybe it is in a lot of ways. What if sustainability is knowing about what you can maintain and grow for the foreseeable future? What if we were all self-aware enough to know that what is sustainability today might change next year? What if sustainability is more about adaptability rather than a long flat-line? It seems that maybe we should be asking how long can we sustain this until we have to readjust.

We need to be constantly evolving. The pats on the back are great and we want the great movements to last forever, but that allows the greatness to dull. The pats on the back are only good for today, they grow stale tomorrow and they die if we aren't constantly getting better. And the failures, those don't determine our future either. What we do in the moments of failure are a better indicator of success than our most praised moments.

So let's adapt. Let's partner. Let's grow. Let's fail. And then let's evolve and be better tomorrow.

Maybe sustainability is overrated in the end.

New View

 

In a life full of routines and schedules, it can be easy to let the common and expected scenes around us start to blur together. Most days we see and experience the same things. Our commute, our walk to and from our classrooms or offices, our routine when we arrive home each evening. This predictability is good for us; it breathes stability and safety into our lives.

But how often are we really forced to change our views, to move our eyes to refocus on something different? What happens when different stands in front of us and demands to become our new normal? Are we scared? Do we fight it? Do we turn our backs and refuse to accept what is in front of us?

Or do we take a step forward and let our soul adjust to a new view? There is a lot of new out there. Lots we haven't experienced yet. A ton of stuff we have no idea how we will react to.

The thing about new is that we can take in a stunning new scene or sink into a new place easier when we know it isn't permanent. Knowing the newness in front of us is temporary allows us to be completely immersed because we know it will all slip away soon. It is harder to allow that kind of deep immersion when the new that is presented in front of us is rooted in a sustained reality. When we know we can't escape, then it can be much more difficult to accept the unexpected that travels alongside the new and unknown.

As spring rolls in, take a moment to adjust to the new views in your life. Look around. Notice the world in new ways. Even if the view is temporary, be bold enough to step forward, not bow away, from what is unfolding before your eyes. Let the beauty and excitement of that which is unknown and new in front of you give you core energy and courage to walk forward.

If you close your eyes and turn your back, you might miss something spectacular.

Too Great to Stand Still

"What will you do next?" He asked.
"I will chase the sun," she said. "There is no other option."

--

It isn't that difficult to pick out someone's strengths. Whether in professional work, personal life, or passions, the things we are really good at are usually obvious. This is what makes it easy for us to enjoy the activities in which we are successful. These are our assets. This is what we bring to the table in collaborative efforts. This is how we contribute to our teams and tribes.

Our assets are obvious, and it is easy to get comfortable in that space. Sometimes, we even fight to stay rooted in the places where we know it will be safe and easy to push out success.

What happens when you pull out further, though? When you expand the picture beyond the frame? Or, even better, when we extrapolate ourselves?

This is where potential lives.

In the inertia of our lives, it is easy to fight for sameness. To stay in that job or relationship that allows us to have known success. Even with all the unknowns in life, this is the safest space to be. It is easy to think I will stay here, nurture my assets and strengths, and remain comfortably and predictably successful.

So what happens when we decide to move outside that? To tap into our potential? To see the potential in others and offer them a chance to expand?

This is where growth lives.

The trouble is that potential isn't as obvious as our current strengths. It takes vision, strength, and faith to make decisions that push us to take risks and develop our true selves outside the boundaries of what we currently know. Growth takes searching and it takes depth. Often, it feels uncomfortable and even painful. 

Many times, others don't see potential. We aren't offered the opportunities or support we need to chase the better versions of ourselves. We get tricked into thinking that comfort or longevity should be valued over the pain to transform our potential into reality. The fear of change can be paralyzing. So sometimes, we stand still.

This life is long. We need to make choices that are hard, choices that are bigger than our current selves. If you can see the potential in yourself, you need to chase it. If you see potential in others, you need to push them to see it too. When this happens, we realize we are too great to stand still.

Why I'm Not Scared of PARCC Testing

I am convinced I teach the hardest working kids. I am confident they are stronger, braver, and have way more heart than I have ever exhibited. Their lives, their struggles, and their ache reaches limits I could never imagine experiencing. They are kind and beautiful in so many ways. They are funny. They are creative. They are fighters.

And today we started what will be a month of on-and-off PARCC testing.

This begins the start of hours I will have to watch my kids. Not teaching. Not helping. Just observing. In all honesty, I love watching these kids. It helps me learn about who they are, how they learn, when they struggle, and their tiniest idiocynsytocies. So without much resistance, I settled in to observe them testing.

I did not learn about their writing skills today. I didn't read their writing or answer their amazingly honest questions today. I surely didn't ask any questions (that is strictly prohibited during testing- like all other good teaching practices). 

Today, I saw the most incredible display of character within my students. Today I saw:

• determination
• pride
• perseverance
• drive
• positivity
• focus
• care
• concern
• anxiety
• confidence

On this rainy, gray Baltimore day, we sat down and I watched these kids plow through a test they have no experience taking. Truthfully, I have no idea what they demonstrated as it relates to content or standards, and while that data is important, the character that rose up today was more telling of these students' future successes than whatever this data might reveal.

In this group, students that have historically struggled to read and write on grade-level, none of that mattered because they achieved character traits that allow them to tackle even the most difficult, confusing, or unclear tasks. Above even these traits, I watched students enter this stressful test with more grace than most adults are capable of in any given situation. As the morning jitters subsided, these kids dove in with a focus that took me off guard. Not that I would have expected them to be defeatist, but this level of dedication was astounding. 

Why were they so dedicated? Why do they even care about this? We didn't hype this test up, though we did encourage and support them leading up to today. As I watched, I thought about all the people that have such strong options around testing, myself included. But as I continued to watch, trying to pick out the moments I would offer soft words of support or a gentle pat on the back, I realized this is all our kids know. This system of testing is their educational experience. We can rant and rave all we want about what is nurturing vs. damaging for students, but as I watched my kids, I wondered if they will leave our system knowing that success isn't a score.

In general, public education has an unsustainable vision on how we ask students and teachers to showcase success. PARCC is just one example where teachers, schools, and students are asked to gauge their success on a metric that is unclear and, at best, still in its infancy. That is not to say there aren't points of achievement and growth that can't be gained from PARCC, but the true growth measurement and data use of this test has yet to be clearly communicated in a way that the general public can understand in a meaningful way.

To take this test, which is in its first year of implementation, and not without major flaws, and allow that to determine the success of students and teachers, we will probably be deeply disappointed. Additionally, Maryland will be using these results as a driving piece of teacher evaluations. Without any experience or knowledge of the test, this seems deeply unfair for teachers. Allowing time for growing pains and nurturing an environment of growth and reflection are stifled by the resentment and stress that could be the ultimate outcome of aligning these scores to teacher effectiveness. As an educational system, we must decide if success on this test is a true measure of what teachers and students are capable of achieving. 

Hold this test against some of the magnificent instruction and genuine achievement and I believe we will start to see the true disconnect between our system of standardized testing and authentic, creative, and important work that our people are showcasing everyday in their classrooms.

After the test, we celebrated. We celebrated the amazing effort and beautiful display of care my students showed. And we celebrated one another. We laughed. We talked-- loudly! We moved around. We drew pictures and made a mess. We did all the things I love to watch my kids do everyday. The things they love to do but we so rarely give them space to do inside our schools.

And today I deeply admired my students. I did not imagine on the first morning of PARCC I would feel so proud or determined, but I did. It was a feeling, in my heart, that my kids are resilient and can conquer anything we put in front of them. So really, we have nothing to worry about. These kids, they have nothing to be scared of. What they need- they already have it.

Creative Adventures

Photo by Wilsonapxe

Over the last few months, this blog space hasn't seen much action. There are a millions reason for this. Mainly, I have been focusing my energy elsewhere. I have been reflecting in different ways, spending more time talking with others about my work rather than writing and blogging. Like all things in my life, writing seems to be a cyclical process for me.

As the new year began, I started thinking about how I was using this space. I like writing and reflecting about my work with kids and my messy dive into leadership, but recently I have been seeking something different. The true discovery of a need for something different came from a short exploration activity to decide on my One Word for 2015. Sam Davidson, one of most inspiring people I know, challenged me to pick a word that would drive me this year. We have pledged to stay true to this word in order to improve, achieve, and change in exciting ways this year.

I landed on the word adventure, quest, find, presence...

I actually ran through nine words before landing on the right one. The chosen word rattled around in my head for a while. Then, a friend read me a poem and this word slid off the page and into my heart.

Searching.

This year, I will not be afraid to search the darker corners. I will be bold enough to discover the pieces of myself that have been hidden for too long (forever?). I will find comfort in noticing the beauty around me, even when I am lost. In this searching, I will practice grace and presence. I might not always be satisfied with everything I find, but I vow to keep my heart as open as my eyes.

So from this, I will embark on my first adventure, which is creative in nature. For the next 30 days I will write and post one poem every day. These daily poems will probably be messy. That's okay with me, this is an experience in seeing how far I can stretch my creative-self, matched with my disciplined-self.

This is me, searching, through words. For the next 30 days, you can find my posts HERE.

Don't Forget to Dance

I think the tough conversations are important. I want to talk about the big issues. I like to plan for the future. Vision and mission drive me. I could talk about these things all day long.

Today, though, I was reminded that none of this stuff matters if you don't take time to dance. Laughing really hard is important too.

When was the last time you took a dance break? Might be time, huh?

Let's Make Something Beautiful Together

What is beauty? Where does it live and how is it created? At one time in my life, I would have rattled off a list of commercial ideas that I believed constituted the idea of what made something beautiful. Now, I know better. Now, I understand something far greater about beauty. This is a beauty grounded in collaboration and connection.

In the last month, I have grown to understand yet a new definition of community. This is a space where people hold your hand and jump into the unknown with you. This is a group of people that are willing to take your own passion and energy and make it their own. The community I have experienced is one that I have felt in other parts of my life, but recently this drive for a common mission is stronger and more focused on students.

Great connections are born from simple ideas. That's My Cube is no exception. A passing idea turned challenge, turned discussion, turned passion. This is where possibly lives.

That's My Cube is a project that allows educators and students to share their collective stories. By designing a cube and crafting a story, this 3D printed cube can be added to a ever changing art structure. This fluid structure changes as cubes and stories are added. This art piece is owned by no one and belongs to everyone. This piece of art is ours.

That's My Cube is about building beautiful things together. It is a project based on the foundation that when we are connecting and creating in a collaborative space we embrace the beautiful possibilities of our collective selves.

So, please, join us. We want to welcome you into this community. We want this project to include your stories and belong to your students.


Want to read more about That's My Cube and the impact it is having on learning? You got it.

Krissy Venosdale (@venspired)- Don’t Just Think Outside the Box, Recreate ItBrad Gustafson (@GustafsonBrad)- Sharing Your Story in 3D
Billy Spicer (@MrBillySpicer)- 3D PRINTING + STORYTELLING + COLLABORATION=#THATSMYCUBE

October

It was a dark morning. Cold and wet outside. Probably the darkest morning so far that school year.

"Good morning, Paul. How are you feeling this morning?" she said in a tone that juxtaposed the weather.

"I am tired," he answered.

"Yeah, where do you feel tired?" 

"In all of my bones," he solemnly replied.

There was a pause. Then there was the honesty. "Me too, Paul. Me too."

She turned away. She knew the truth about October had just been spoken.

Noticing is Not Enough

Everyday, we are bombarded with information. Emails, texts, articles, images, tweets. If this isn't enough, we are exposed to many splintered conversations, interruptions, and distractions. Our lives move quickly, and we are pushed along when we aren't moving fast enough. Rare are the moments we take time to notice deeply and engage in a way that allows the humanity of our space to seep in below the surface.

Do not underestimate the power this space.

Today,  colleague of mine stopped in my room after school. He approached my desk and I greet him without pausing my furiously rushed email responding. He began to speak and I looked up from my computer screen, but the typing continued.

"I just wanted to stop in and ask you how you are doing. Recently, I have noticed you seem really sad."

Typing stops. Time stops. Focus narrows.

The fact of the matter is that noticing is not enough. In one of the fastest shifts that has ever taken place for me, I realized that noticing means very little unless we are brave enough to address our observations head-on with honesty, care, and grace. My colleague could have continued to notice with great detail some of the struggles I am experiencing this year; no action required. In a beautiful display of compassion, he decided that what he noticed was worth addressing. A simple conversation. Some kind words. A few pieces of advice. A ton of care.

Reminding people why we need them to be great is never a bad idea.

As part of team, we must be willing to notice one another at our absolute best and brilliant, and to have the insight to know each person's potential. In moments of struggle, regression, or change, noticing is not enough. When we are able to remind people in these moments of their most raw passion and ability, and the great importance they play in our tribe, we call them back to their best selves. We each fall from our best. It is when those around us coax us back to our full potential by reminding us of how much our community needs us, that is when the true shifts can take place. Allowing people to find their way back is easier when they know the arms are openly awaiting their greatness to return.

Slow. Notice. Stop. Act. Love. Repeat.

Going...

(Photo shared by Tuan Anh T)

Over the past week, I have been immersed in real, deep, and meaningful connections. I have spent time with some of the smartest and most talented leaders in education at the BrightBytes Summit. We got to host Sam Davidson at our school and got the pleasure of hearing him talk about leadership with our kids.  Most intensely, I worked with my staff to help continue developing our curriculum. Along the way, I had a few great dinners and a lot of heart-felt conversations.

In all of these interactions and experiences, I have felt, for maybe the first time in my career, a consistent confidence that is not rooted in a situation or a conversational topic but that rests in my core being. An assurance in myself that I can only describe as something deeply felt in sternum. I wondered, as I felt this, how many other people feel this way about their experience and what efforts are made to cultivate this sense of self.

"I am so curious to see where you end up next. Maybe you're not done here, but this won't be your last stop," a gentle comment was mused in my direction. For the first time in a long time, I can honestly say that I don't know what is next. I know what is unfinished in front of me, but I can also see the expiration date and conclusion of that work.

Interestingly enough, I am just as curious about where I am going as the others, and if I am to be honest, my only real hope is that wherever I end up next allows for a complete disruption of everything I currently know.

Falling Into Place

In just twenty-five days of this school year it is becoming extremely obvious that the idea of transformation is starting to take shape as a very real theme in my life. Transformation of curriculum and pedagogy are in full swing as our humanities teachers enter new territory with a learning plan that we invested all summer in crafting. Transformation of practice has begun as we learn how to shift learning in a technology-rich environment, having more 1:1 learning environments than ever in our school's history. Our staff is navigating changes, personally and professionally, that bend us in new ways and require different levels of support and guidance. Things are different this year, and I can only hope that this foundation of change allows us to have enough energy and grace to sustain each other in transformational ways.

This week I took some time to listen to the TED Radio Hour on NPR. The topic? Transformation. If you haven't listened to this installment of the show, I would suggest you stop reading this and spend the rest of that time listening. Each story is chilling. Each is also truly beautiful. They made me pause and reflect upon my own story of change and struggle, but really on the magnificence that is allowed to take place when we embrace the new and the unknown. There is great depth when we are determined to turn tragedy in triumph.

In this moment of listening bliss, I could not help but also think to the kids I know every day. These kids, as adolescents, are going through one of the largest natural transformations we experience as human beings. This time is heartbreaking, confusing, and filled with excitement. Too often I forget the triumph that comes from the pain of growing, as our kids leave before the developmental shifts really start to level.

In this wandering of thoughts, I wondered if my journey this year is that much different from my own students' personal transformation. In more ways than ever before I am searching for a true happiness and purpose in my daily life. I'll explain this not as a search for something new, but for a deeper understanding of that which currently exists. With this search has come a flood of emotions, sadness, joy, and lots of confusion. With this search has come some of the most painful questions I have ever asked, and the budding acceptance around how fuzzy the answers are.

There are tons of smaller opportunities for transformations to happen every single day. Take time this month, as you connect and are hopefully connected to by others, to reflect on how these relationships and perspectives push your thinking, make you kinder, or allow for greater happiness. Take a minute to transform the facial expression of a student, making them smile with eyes instead of lips. Allow your behavior to surprise someone with your unexpected love or thoughtfulness.

In transforming others, we truly change our own self.

Connected Responsibility

(Photo shared by Phil Armstrong)

For much of my blogging life this has been a public place that has served a private need. I write, I reflect, I post. That is that. Sometimes people comment (not often), and once in a while someone will mention my blog in a tweet. It always makes me feel good and connected to my PLN, but it is usually just a fleeting moment. I move on to the next blog post whenever the mood strikes and all is well in my blogging life.

Today, a colleague of mine passed me in the hallway. We exchanged good mornings and pleasantries. As we parted, he said, "You know, you haven't blogged in a while..."

I was speechless. In my real-life world, I talk a lot about social media and connecting, but I don't share the social media space and digital connections with very many people in my school. The fact that a person that shares my daily space was actually aware of my blogging habits really made me stop and think about my responsibility of being a connected educator.

As a connected educator, I try to weave my daily teaching experience with that of like-minded people around the world. In thinking locally and acting globally, I am able to bring the story of our learning, my school, and Baltimore to so many that would otherwise never know what exists in our classrooms. In return, my students gain perspectives and ideas that greatly outweigh the single-focus I provide them.

This comment today made me reflect on a different responsibility of connected leaders. There are people that rely on us to tell the story of our kids and our learning. We must remain a constant force in empowering others to be voices in this story, but we have made that commitment to share. If we stop sharing, people notice. In some cases, pieces of their own voice get lost.

So for me, I must begin to realize that the story I tell is not singular, but a collective story we all own. It is selfish to only share when it feels good or when I want to. If I am to truly be connected to others, it must be a consistent effort that rises above some of the individual difficulties I experience with inspiration, time, and effort, in order to ensure that the community I am helping to connect is able to share their voice.

Share big. Share freely. Share now. You never know who is missing your voice.

We Can't Do This Alone

(Photo shared by Yasin Hassan)

We all have ideas. Most of us have some really great ideas. I am constantly running through scenarios and plans in my head and I would be foolish to think that this wasn't the norm for most people. Recently, I have been reflecting upon why collaboration is so important. Important for both adults and students.

What happens when we are vulnerable enough to share our ideas with another person, or even scarier, a group of people? What happens for you during this collaborative process of laying all these messy, unfinished, half ideas out for others to view and mold? For me, the emotions range from frustration to enlightenment. There is a delicate balance of flushing out ideas and protecting things that I have grown inside my soul. This process is both exhilarating and infuriating.

While I have an ego that tells me to protect ownership of ideas and plans, I know I am only one voice. My thinking is but a small fraction of what is amazing in this world. When paired with the magnitude of thinkers and dreamers around me, that is when the magic happens. This process can be hard for me because I am a know-it-all. I want to have greatest thoughts and be the biggest thinker. The truth is that I would never be where I am or have accomplished what I have without the collaborative power of those brilliant minds that surround me everyday.

I am reminded by my colleagues, my friends, and my husband that I am better when I open myself up to critique and new ideas. This is scary. This requires vulnerability. This demands humility. This is was is beautiful about being part of a community.

As the new year rolls out in front of me, I am reminded that not only must a share openly, but I must also create safe spacing for vulnerability. These spaces must pillow others in the care necessary to be free with their mind and feelings. We must value one another, respect the craziness of big visions, and be willing to ask for clarity. Maybe most importantly, we must remember to thank those that push our thinking and dream alongside us.

Collaboration is built on a foundation of trust. If we can get to this point, anything is possible.

Just Start

This week has been one of the most emotional weeks I have experienced in a very long time. I have cried in my car on the way to work every day this week. I have sobbed as I travelled home in each day. It has been a week of watching events unfold that I have no idea how to process. Often, I have to tap into where I feel, not necessarily what I feel. This week, my emotions have settled in my throat and behind my eyes. There is not one emotion, but instead more like a handful of them have been put in a blender and pureed.

Every time I have engaged in conversations about Michael Brown and the events unfolding in Ferguson, MO I have wept. Today, I reached to ask for help with this. Tonight, I was honest about my comfort level in having these conversations. I want to be courageous. I want to embrace the confusion and fear my kids are experiencing and I want to be a pillar of strength for them. I want to feel like my humanity, my love, and my care are enough to carry that conversation. But I have doubts of my own. I have fears that my experience limits my perspective. I am worried that my own story is so drastically different that I am grossly under qualified to lead such a conversation.

In my classroom, I want to forever honor the human spirit. I want my students to feel safe in learning, in listening, in talking, in crying, in laughing, and in being honest. I want our space to be one where students know we can have the tough conversations that we don't know how to have. I have been watching as teachers have stepped up to make sure we do what is right with our kids by not ignoring what is happening here and providing space to explore what is happening and a space to process.

I am lucky because even with an overwhelming sense of fear, I am driven further by the courage of those around me. Sometimes, we don't have to be the loudest voice, but we can start with a whisper. This year, I make a commitment to start with a whisper. I will not be silent, and I will not be embarrassed to reveal the honesty of my emotions to my students and peers. I will, however, be embarrassed if I don't engage. So I urge you, I plead with you, to not be silent about the issue of injustice, the importance of our humanity, or right we have to be fearful in tough situations. Sometimes, all you can do is just start.