The word “innovation” has been a word casually and sometimes inaccurately tossed around in education the last five years or so. We know innovative educators exist, and I have had the immeasurable pleasure to be in the presence of innovation--many times. As always, I am simultaneously humbled and amazed by educators who relinquish their grip on that trapeze bar, blindly but faithfully extending their arms towards the unknown--educators who practice innovative teaching methods, administrators who support such innovation, coaches who drive that innovation, and presenters who ideate more of the same. However, and upon much reflection, I’ve come to realize that it’s not the innovation that necessarily counts--It’s the inspiration that does. Inspiration leads to revolution; and those who inspire motivate change.

Brene Brown, an author and researcher with whom I’m sure you’re familiar, believes that “You can choose courage or you can choose comfort, but you can’t have both.” Innovation only goes so far; it’s the inspiration which sparks and maintains that innovation within us.  Simply put, I am inspired by all of you who continue to change, evolve, learn, fail, do, succeed, and then re-evolve. You might be scared, and sometimes even paralyzed, by the ever-present mandates to change, and yet you still do. You step out of your comfort zone; you allow yourselves to be vulnerable, and in that vulnerability, innovative practices are born. I am inspired by your courage and creativity.

Thank you for that. 

Thank you for having the courage to continue to innovate. But mostly, thank you for your continued inspiration. You can’t begin to imagine how far that stuff spreads. (For emphasis, I really, really wanted to use another word for "stuff," but I'm trying to keep it G-rated, here.)

I wish you all happy and productive learning. I can't wait to be further inspired.

Teacher, author, and innovator Holly Clark recently examined in her blog why some educators tend towards innovation more than others do. 

Same here.

I've been at this for four years now, and one of the things that I've found myself consistently pondering is why it's been such a struggle to find enthusiasm for the adoption of educational technology in the classroom.

Of course, it all comes down to fear (or neophobia, as Seth Godin terms it.) And in four years, here's what I've come to understand about neophobia:

We fear the unknown.
Technology is the realm of the “digital since diapers” crowd, and since we feel like we are strangers in a strange land, we tend to feel excluded. And thus, there are educators out there who reject or avoid technology all together, expelling it from their classrooms, and continuing to teach as if the technology doesn’t exist. But here's the thing, though: everything evolves. What makes education so special that it’s immune to evolution? And more importantly, why would a profession that prides itself on shaping the future be so reticent to change? We have to turn it around. We have to embrace change instead of fighting it. We owe the medical, transportation, communications, and technology industries major props for being willing to evolve. And education is the one profession that gives birth to all of those industries. It's time to change. If we fight it any longer, we'll become irrelevant. 

The inclusion (or intrusion, depending on how you look at it) of technology makes some of us feel as if we are losing control of our classrooms and students.
This makes sense when we consider how learning occurred in the pre-Internet days when the teacher held the keys to learning. However, we need to embrace a new model--that of facilitator, guide, coach--and we need to work collaboratively with our students. We can learn from them, they can learn from each other, they can learn on their own. There's no longer any need for us to be the gatekeepers to knowledge acquisition.

Technology makes some of us feel as if what we have to contribute is no longer relevant. 
Nothing could be further from the truth, in fact. The human element has been, is, and always will be a necessary part of learning. 

We feel attacked for not knowing.
We are expected to embrace the technology, and yet, very little in terms of support and structure is provided us. And so, change is painstakingly slow. “Sit and get” professional development is not conducive to long-lasting, organizational change. We need to change the model of digital learning to take into account our “digital immigrants.”

Fear sucks.

It prevents us from moving forward. Fear can paralyze us, and if we don't confront it--if we aren't willing to enter into a relationship and get to know it--then it will crush us. Ironically, the only way to banish the neophobe from our psyche is to be unafraid to confront it.

We should always remember that our goal as educators is to create lifelong learners. Let’s model what that looks like by being willing to confront our fears, to sometimes fail, but to ultimately succeed.

And isn’t that a totally awesome-sauce life lesson for our students?

Photo credit: Quotes Mixer

I’m giving you fair warning, buttercup: this is not going to be a warm and fuzzy post. So if you’re a sensitive soul, now’s the time to turn back.

I’ve been sitting on a draft of this post for six months now, hesitating to go public for fear of offending anyone. The content that follows--to borrow from the latest in adolescent vernacular--may ”trigger” you. Or it may inspire you. Maybe it will provoke you to stop following me. Or maybe (hopefully!) it will encourage you to think. Here goes...

Last week, I was working with a teacher during her planning period, brainstorming ways to integrate a specific instructional technology tool into her curriculum. As we collaborated, her veteran partner walked in, took one look at us, and responded, “Oh, no. No more technology for me! Absolutely not.” She promptly turned on her heel and exited.

Unfortunately, this is not an uncommon reaction to my presence in a classroom or a school. While I’m often welcomed with open arms, I’m equally as often treated like Frankenstein’s monster in the village.

I’ve tried to not take it personally. In my best Stuart Smalley voice, I’ve self-talked and mentally declared my worthiness to myself when I sense a reluctant adopter’s discomfort with my presence and with what I represent to her--which is change. 

However, like Frankenstein’s monster, I believe I am (or at least my role is) frequently misunderstood. So please allow me this opportunity to clarify:  Teachers, I was not put on this earth (or in this job) to torture you, but to instead make learning more engaging and productive for your students.  

And  promise you: This is not about you. And it’s not about me, either. It’s really, really about the kiddos. My misson is to act as a translator and tour guide into the digital domain--a world in which our students already exist.  And a world in which they’d be really, really thrilled to have us join.

So when you get angry at me, or snub me, or tell me things like the following, I tend to take it, well, personally:

• “How am I expected to know this? Nobody ever taught me!”
•  “I don’t ever use my Chromebook. I hate it.”
• “Google Classroom? No, thanks. I’ve been getting along just fine without it.” 
• “I’m retiring in three years anyway, so I’m not going to learn this.”
• “Technology just isn’t my thing.”

I take it personally on behalf of our students. I'm not working against you. I hope to work with you. We’re on the same team. Just like you, I strive to challenge students, to push them, and to inspire them.

Imagine how you might react if students said the following to you:

• “I’m just going to sit here until someone teaches me how to do something.”
•  “I don’t ever use my textbook. I hate it.”
• “My class notes? No. I’ve been getting along just fine without them.” 
• “I’m graduating in three years anyway, so I’m not going to learn this.”
• “Reading just isn’t my thing.”

Listen, I get it. Change is scary. But it’s inevitable. Everything evolves. It’s that simple: every industry, every profession, every thing changes.  
When an educator summarily rejects the notion that technology is a necessary part of educating our students, when an educator absolutely refuses to improve his or her own understanding of it, and when educators treat as the enemy the people whose job it is to assist them in making the shift, I have to say--and it pains me to do so--then you’re making it about you. 

Again, I’m so very sorry if this post makes anyone uncomfortable. But maybe discomfort isn’t such a bad thing, because it’s only when we step outside our comfort zone that true change occurs. As author and speaker Brene Brown so sagely advises us, “You can choose courage or you can choose comfort, but you cannot choose both.” Of course it’s comfortable to stick with what we know and to do things the way we’ve always done them; however, it’s also incredibly courageous to venture into the unknown.

Yet, in spite of it all, I’m very grateful I get to do the work I do. Because even on my bad days, even when the villagers have chased me into the depths of the forest, I have to remind myself:

It’s not about me. It’s not about you. It’s about them.

I missed my own birthday.

This blog--a true labor of love--turned one year old on February 20th.

When I thought about starting this venture last January, I was--in a word--miserable. I was in a school that was closing, in a job that wasn't professionally satisfying, and facing a very grim financial future. I had spent the good part of the previous year relentlessly pursuing every job lead I could find (100+ of them), even those barely remotely related to education. 

I was frightened, anxious, depressed, worried, hopeless, and angry. When you have no idea what the next step is and when you're approaching rock bottom at lightning speed, the world seems like a pretty bleak and cruel place. 

But when you're on your knees, it's time to look up. And so I did.

I'm not one of those people who turns to my faith only in times of crisis, but I do spend an inordinate amount of time trying not to rely on it too much. I like being in charge and being in control. Putting my fate in another's hands is difficult for me.  

However, I'd spent so much time trying to prevent everything from spiraling out of control--trying to stave off fear--that I needed to be reminded I wasn't in charge. To be reminded of the beauty of fear.

Yes, that's right. The beauty of fear. At the intersection of despondency and abject panic, my higher power directed me to embrace fear. 

I'd always thought that fear was something to be avoided. Naturally, we all do. It's painful and yucky and uncomfortable. Why would I welcome it into my life, set a place for it at my dinner table, and give it the guest room? 

Because fear can paralyze you, and if you don't confront it--if you aren't willing to enter into a relationship and get to know it--then it will crush you. So, at the exact moment I was at my most fearful, divine intervention brought this to my attention:

Has it really been two months since my last post???

Yep.  It has been. New job, new district, new responsibilities. That's my excuse and I'm sticking to it.

If it means anything, in my head I was drafting all sorts of posts that just didn't quite make it here.

Anyway, one of those many drafts being telepathically composed had to do with fear. Or, more specifically, the fear of failing.

When friends and family ask me how I like the new job, my response is usually an enthusiastic one. The absolute and undeniably best part of my job is meeting teachers, listening to the ways they want to engage their students, and helping them integrate those new and innovative methods of teaching into their curriculum. 

Committing to a new technology feels like standing on the edge of a precipice: you either experience an adrenaline rush that'll empower you to sprout wings and soar, or you endure a crushing panic that's going to catapult you to your death.

Hyperbole aside. . . either option is frightening. Crash and burn? Or take a flying leap into the unknown?

That's what stepping out of your comfort zone feels like. And the biggest question I hear (both verbalized and tacit) is "What if it fails?"

I work with a number of teachers who want to step out of their comfort zone; who want to trade in worksheets for Google docs; who want to exchange exit slips for Socrative; who want to dump stale end-of-the-term assessments for project-based learning and Genius Hour. 

But. . .

Look at the image below. Do you see that tiny little space between the circle that says "Your comfort zone" and the circle that says "Where the magic happens?" It might as well be a murky chasm for some educators. A daunting abyss. A bottomless and black lacuna (More hyperbole, but I'm trying to make a point.)