Educon 2018: Part II

I've been to a few conferences, and they typically end with "WE'RE GONNA CHANGE THE WORLD!" And then we go home all fired up and go back to what we've always done, for better or worse.

Educon was different--the sessions  I attended were not hypothetical woo-woo love-fests. I saw what others were doing, what has been working, and what needs working on. The conversations focused on the possible, on the now, on the work being done.

No, Sir Ken did not keynote this year. 

I've been to a few conferences, and they typically feature education rock stars--personality often trumps pedagogy. Groupies vied for selfies with their favorite silver-haired snakes.

Educon was different--it's not that groupies were not welcome (seems anyone who doesn't mind a healthy dose of criticism is welcome), but there noticeably little fawning (if any). The Science Leadership Academy students ran the show, and not one of them had silver hair (though at least one had a strikingly green mohawk*).

Disclosure: I did get a traveler mug. (Photo from here.)

I've been to a few conferences, and they typically feature lots of swag. You toss goodies into a free bag, shove them into your luggage, and find them when you pack for your next trip.

I got very little swag, and what I got was because I was a presenter--a wonderful Educon traveling mug and a few pieces of Peanut Chews that nourished me on the train trip home.

Inside SLA, via Education Week

I've been to a few conferences and they typically herd folks like tourist in the White House--you see what the tour guides want you to see when they want you to see it. Nothing is askew, and everything is timed.

We had free rein at the Science Leadership Academy building. We could wander anywhere, and we did. The building looks like mine (and probably yours if you work in a public school). Yes, I saw a broken outlet, but in the same room I got to sit in on an impromptu get together with folks sharing thoughts as the sunlight streamed through the large southern window.

SLA Ultimate team and alumni, and a post well worth reading

I've been to a few conferences that had a few folks of color and, of course, the requisite panel member (might be gay, might be black, might be some wack-a-doodle with a British accent) who is supposed to cover up a lot of sins, but cannot cover up the original one.

SLA is an intentional community, and Educon reflects this.

I got called out a few times over the weekend, (mostly) gently, and always with reason--for some behaviors I am aware of, a couple of times for things I had not realized. I expected as much, and am grateful for it.

"Mohawk" is a word I use with trepidation-- but I know more about the Pawnee now than I did an hour ago.

Educon does not pay its presenters (besides the swag), and even Chris Lehman, the Principal and founder of SLA, pays to go.
The money goes back to the school to support its 1:1 program.

On the "R" word

toothpastefordinner.com

When I led teaching rounds at Children's Hospital of New Jersey, residents avoided certain words in my presence: "diabetic," "sickler," or "asthmatic" would hang in the air as I smoldered.

The residents learned quickly--they had survived medical school. I'm not sure I changed any behaviors, but language does make a difference. I did not want young doctors to see my patients as diabetics--I wanted them to see "a child with diabetes."

It's much harder to treat a child than it is to treat a disease--and I would not allow short cuts on my teams.

How we use language has profound effects on our world view.

***

Governor Christie signed a bill yesterday outlawing the "R" word in state rules--New Jersey will no longer use "mentally retarded" in its documents.

"Mentally retarded" will be replaced with "intellectual disability" or "developmental disability," neither of which means the same thing as mentally retarded. The law was pushed by many well-intentioned groups, including ARC, which used to stand for the Association for Retarded Citizens, but now stands for, well, "Arc."

Lots of words become poisonous because of our very human ability to dehumanize just about any human who is not "normal." "Dumb" meant simply only mute a long time ago.

"Moron" used to be a medical term, used by (you cannot make this stuff up) the American Association for the Study of the Feeble-Minded.

The American Association for the Study of the Feeble-Minded, 1910

"Cretin" comes from the French--it was originally used to remind folks that even developmentally delayed people are people.

[T]he original meaning of cretin was, literally, "Christian"....synonymous with "human being". Due to the lack of iodine in the medieval Alpine diet, certain regions of Switzerland were prone to severe thyroid problems, such as goiter and congenital idiocy. The local priests, moved by compassion for these poor imbeciles, encouraged the populace to treat them kindly. They deserved pity, it was said, because they were, at least, Christians (i.e. "human beings").

Melanie & Mike Take Our Word For It
Issue # 27, February 8, 1999

Today many families prefer "autistic" to "mentally retarded." The words (historically, anyway) were not synonymous, and fusing them diminishes the usefulness of either.

***

The "R" word is verboten in my classroom. The kids learn this in a hurry. I also will not tolerate "gay" or any version of "homosexual" used as a weapon, nor the "B" word. The "C" and "N" words get you bounced.

I have a bit more tolerance for the "A" word if used to describe mulish behavior instead of an orifice, and I barely hear the "F" word unless it's aimed at someone specific.

How we, as teachers, use words in a classroom can make a huge difference in how students see words. We have a wonderful chance to develop some asolescent meta-cognition as we dissect why some words have so much more force than others.

***

"We’d like New Jersey to get to a place where you can’t use the ‘R’ word with it being inflammatory.’’

Elizabeth Shea
Assistant Executive Director for The Arc
Today's Star Ledger

Read that carefully.
Sounds like Ms. Shea wants to demonize the "R" word.

I think she meant to say The Arc would like New Jersey to get to a place where "mentally retarded" is not used as an inflammatory term. Or maybe she meant what she said. Turns out words matter.

I'd be willing to bet a pound of lima beans that "autism" will face the same exorcism rites in a couple of generations, and we'll see the word the way we see "idiot" and "cretin" now.

Or maybe I'm just a dodo schmendrick human being.

My mother and uncle grew up with Georgie Carlin, literally.
My views on language may be skewed.

Dr. Robert Rapaport, a mensch, and one of the best teachers I ever had,
just about slaughtered me the first time I uttered "diabetic" in his presence.

Are you too edu-conventional?

I've been spending too much time eavesdropping on edutech conversations--I'm having oral surgery in less than a week, and Twitter provides a diversion that allows me to pretend I'm actually doing something.

"Every child MUST tweet! Blog! Skype! Wiki! Ning!"

While much of it involves bleating and breast-beating tweeting, some gems break through. Bud Hunt and the EC Ning Webstitute are both gems.

Bud Hunt opened up a Google doc to the world today, and posted the following questions:

• Who is in your circle? Your network?
• Who's listening in?
• What's worth talking about? What's worth sharing?
• How are you purposefully and transparently modeling learning in your work?
• How are you being purposeful about the behaviors and habits you model?
• What "productive eavesdropping" are you engaged in, or helping to foster?

Guess which two questions jumped out at me.

What's worth talking about?
What's worth sharing?

This is the heart of learning, of teaching, in both PD and in the classroom. We create a lot of noise when we fail to address these questions first.

These are scary questions--not so much because of where they lead us, but because they expose what we have not been doing. If we cannot answer these questions faithfully (and I use that word deliberately), we are stealing time from our students.

They're should be a place in Dante's Circles of Hell for those of us who mindlessly teach.

These are the essential questions of education, and require a level of intimacy that leaves us exposed. Works great with the right partners, disastrous otherwise.

What's worth talking about?--For all the chatter we generate on Twitter, Delicious, Ning, Facebook, or whatever else passes for community these days, not a whole lot gets said.

What's worth sharing?--We are all pretty good at bookmarking. Oooh! Look here!!!! We're all pretty good at sharing (and borrowing) ideas. We're too quick to get lost in all the shiny objects without asking whether its worth our time.

Collaboration between folks responsible for educating children will require an intimacy that should make us blush. We are exposed, splayed open for others to see. This is hard enough even in the best of circumstances. Even a good marriage leaves behind a road of hurt and repair.

And we're expected to do this with strangers, in 2 night stands in far-away cities, sleeping in strange beds. We drink too much coffee in the day, too much alcohol at night. We leave with the rush of early love, lusting to get back to the classrooms with our new ideas. We live in a fantasy world for 3 days, where everyone believes everything is good and possible.

And then we wonder why our evangelism falls short. We return to our districts, where good people have worked hard for a long time, gray-haired and tired, leery of change.

Don't tell them everything, don't share everything--just share what is worth talking about. What happens at EduMashTechCon 2.43a stays at EduMashTechCon 2.43a, most of it anyway. As frustrating as that is as the techno-pioneers ride back home into their districts, most of what you think is valuable might not be.

If the only thing you share are things worth sharing, you will always have an audience.

Painting is the Great Orator, 1944 by Irving Norman, via Poor Leonard's Almanack.