Thoughts on Publishing and on Being an Academic

It's the end of the year, and I'm growing reflective. I'm thinking back over the past year, the things I've done, and the things I've left undone. I deliberately didn't set a lot of goals for this year (in my first post of this year I talked some about that), but informally, I figured I would do some writing, and try to publish a few things. I've become an academic...and that's a big part of what academics do, after all.

One of my proudest accomplishments--academically speaking--of the past academic year was getting an article I co-wrote with two of my professional colleagues and friends published in a highly regarded EdTech journal. Our piece is entitled "Assessing Digital Nativeness in Pre-Service Teachers: Analysis of the Digital Natives Assessment Scale and Implications for Practice," and we got it published in the Journal of Research on Technology in Education, which is a top-10 journal in the EdTech field (depending on the way the question is asked, anyway. I'm basing it on the research included in the chapter "Where Should Educational Technologists Publish Their Research?") Matt and Jake and I have been researching different aspects of the so-called "digital natives" and "digital immigrants" for several years, and have presented some of our research together at conferences, and now have published this piece. It was a lot of work, but gratifying to see our research in print. 

But I recently read this piece from John Hwang entitled "Christian Scholars have a Distribution Problem," and boy did this resonate with me. Hwang's basic argument is that academics are doing great work...but very few people wind up reading/viewing the work because it's often (primarily) done for others within our specific guilds. And this connected with me...because who is really going to read the article Matt and Jake and I published? Honest answer: probably only a handful of other EdTech researchers who are also interested in the digital natives/digital immigrants "construct," and the problems associated with the abject lack of empirical evidence for it.

In fact, I can check how many people have cited our work on Google Scholar...and after a year out in the world, it has been cited by...wait for it...ONE person so far. I hope that a few others have actually read the piece, but I don't really know if they have. And if they have read it, have they found it beneficial in any substantive way?

On the other hand, I write things here on the blog--infrequently as they come--and I regularly have 100+ people read the posts I'm putting out in this format. My most read posts have had 10,000+ reads, though there are precious few in that category; only 3 or 4 over the decade I've been writing on here. But I've had 440,000 views of things I've written on this little ol' blog in that decade, and that feels like something substantial. In contrast, I've had a total of 38 citations of things I've published formally as journal articles, book reviews, and chapters in edited books in that same 10 year period. While I'm quite sure I've had more than 38 people read those pieces that have gone through peer review...it's still a striking difference.

The numbers don't tell the whole story, of course. Certainly there is a difference in these two forms of writing, and the informality of publishing my thoughts-in-process on the blog is WILDLY DIFFERENT than the rigorously peer-reviewed approach to getting an article published in JRTE. Not to mention that I don't typically use my thickest educationese and academic writing style here--it's much more informal writing, and much more of "here's what I'm thinking about in the 30 minutes I had to write this thing" rather than the careful, painstaking, thoroughly-sourced writing in a journal.

But I do wonder about whether the things I write here on the blog have more practical value for the readers than the more academic writing I also do. Is this going to be more likely to spur a conversation between practicing educators than a journal article? I wonder about this, and it makes me think I should keep writing things and pushing my first-draft thinking here.

Or take podcasting as another experiment in informal publishing. Along with my Education department buddies, Abby and Matt, we started recording Hallway Conversations about a year ago. In that time, we have had just about 11,000 downloads over 44 episodes. This means we are averaging about 250 listens to each episode--which is a modest audience by some measures, but I'm incredibly grateful for the dedicated community of regular listeners we've developed over time. We get feedback, questions, and affirmations regularly from our listeners, and this gives us a fair confidence that what we are putting out into the world each week is fostering valuable reflection and discussion, at least for a small number of educators. 

Is there value in traditional, peer-reviewed academic publishing? Certainly. And I'm grateful that I get to do this, and that people have read and cited my work--this is affirmation that it is valued, at least by people in my weird little guild of EdTech researchers.

But is there also value in non-traditional, more informal publishing venues? I think so. And, when push comes to shove...are these going to be more impactful for practice for educators than peer-reviewed articles that are likely to end up behind a paywall or in an academic library on a university campus? I'm thinking that this is likely the case.

The real problem for me is time. I have lots of ideas of things I'd like to research and write about. I'm most limited by the amount of time I have to dedicate to this work that I find so enjoyable! So this prompts the question for me: where should I devote my limited time? Peer-reviewed writing for my guild that is more reputable and reliable, but less likely to be accessed? Or informally-published work that has less prestige, but might have more widespread impact? 

Regardless of the answer to this question, I hope I'll keep doing both for the foreseeable future. And I know I've got a couple of books in me too...it's just a matter of finding the time to start writing them!

Image by Mohammed Hassan via Pixabay

Giving Up on a Book

I have a stubborn streak. The folks who know me quite well will not be surprised at all to hear this. It plays out in lots of different ways in my professional and personal life. 

It even comes out in my reading habits. I am unlikely to give up on a book, partly out of sheer stubbornness. Even if it's a slow-mover, or not capturing my imagination, or just really, really dense...I'm usually tenacious enough to stick with it.

Stubborn, see?

But there have been a few notable exceptions.

In high school, I was assigned to read Moby Dick. I tried. I really, really tried. It's the only book I was assigned in high school that I did not finish reading. (Sorry, Mr. Sjoerdsma...I tried...) There was, of course, no googling in the days of yore of the early 1990s. I didn't even have the Cliffs Notes; I just muddled my way through, and tried to not get called on in discussions of the readings.

As a former science teacher, I tried reading Darwin's On the Origin of the Species. I made it through about 20 pages before the tyranny of the urgent crowded out the reading. So I'd like to say that it wasn't lack of interest, but rather the density of the text and the language that made it a challenge to devote the time. I really should come back and try this one again, but it hasn't been compelling enough for me to bring it to the top of the reading list for me again. (Yet?)

And then there is Ready Player One. I have this one on my bedside table right now. I checked it out from the library weeks ago. I have heard such great things about this book; it seems like everyone I've talked to who has read it loved it, and they just rave about it. It took me a week to even crack it open, and then I read a few chapters. I just didn't get into it. I've tried getting started with it again several times...and I'm just not into it. I even renewed the book from the library to give me a little more time, but I think it's going to go back to the library unread.

Why do I feel guilty about giving up on a book? I do feel guilty, somehow. I know that all of the reading specialists out there say that if kids aren't into a book, we should normalize letting them drop the book and find something else to read. But I am having a hard time with this, even after all these years.

Is it just stubbornness? That's probably 90% of it. But I think 10% of it is is that I wonder if "the part where it gets good" is just around the bend?

How about you? Do you give up on a book if you aren't feeling into it? Or do you keep slogging?

Photo by Karolina Grabowska via Pexels

On the Death of My Clicker: A Reflection on Technology and Pedagogy

At the risk of sounding ridiculous...I am grieving a small loss in my life. My faithful clicker that I believe I purchased during my last year teaching middle school science (in 2009) has died. It's a small grief, but I truly am sad about this.

Alas, dear Keyspan...we salute you.

Why grieve this ancient piece of technology? All right, grief might be too strong a word for it. But I did love this tool, and I used it well for a long, long time. The laser pointer still works, but everything else, from the forward and back buttons, to the volume controls, to the mouse buttons...all dead. I changed the batteries, just to be sure. No joy.

The clicker is kaput. A faithful tool that served me well for 13+ years...no more.

Why lament it's passing? Maybe it's just because it's so comfortable to use? Maybe it's just because it's so familiar to use? 

It's funny, the relationship we have with our tools. A quote often attributed to media theorist Marshall McLuhan (but I can't find a source for it?) gets at this: "We shape our tools, and thereafter our tools shape us." I find this to be true in so many ways. The old saying is that if the only tool you have is a hammer, every problem begins to look like a nail, and I think this is often the case with educational technologies as well--the tools we have at our disposal so often shape our thinking about what is pedagogically possible. 

With the death of my clicker, I have found myself much more closely tied to the podiums of the classrooms in which I teach. I don't like this much. I prefer to move around the room, getting a little closer to my students, teaching from the back of the classroom, or the side, or roaming around. The clicker represents some pedagogical freedom for me, I think. It shapes my behavior in the classroom, because it makes different things possible for my use of a slide deck. And without it, I feel more tethered--constrained, even. But notice that I didn't give up my slide decks, just because the tool that gives me more freedom in the classroom geography is finished. The technological ecosystem is disrupted, but not demolished by the removal of one tool from my toolbox. I think this is something worth thinking about.

Every tool has affordances (things it makes possible) and constraints (things it makes difficult.) Perhaps this is why I'm grieving the loss of the clicker a bit...it allowed me to expand the use of other technologies that I like to use when I'm teaching. The clicker's affordances expanded a few things for me, and made me, I hope, a bit more effective in my lecturing.

So, here's to the Keyspan, which served me well for so long! Rest in peace (or is that "rest in pieces?")

Ah, and...of course...I ordered a new clicker as a replacement. And this one has rechargeable batteries, and a green laser instead!

First Day Jitters and Joy

It's day one, again. 

It's my 10th first day teaching at Dordt.

It's my 24th first day of teaching, overall.

It's my 40th first day of school in my life(??!!)

I still get the first day jitters. The anxious excitement of meeting up with students is still real. It's still palpable. The anticipation of what is to come, the joy of meeting up with new students, and the fear of the yet-unknown things I will encounter all come together. I want it to be a great experience for my students. I want it to be a great experience for me too.

There are some things that have become "normal" for me as an instructor. I have some go-to moves that I use on the first day, and a lesson plan for the first class meeting in Intro to Education (always my first course of the semester!) that is dialed in, tightly planned, and gets students both actively involved and gives them a feel for who I am as their teacher and how the course "works." 

And yet...

...I feel the jitters.

Teaching is work full of anticipation and excitement and all the "maybes" that haven't yet found fulfillment, at least not for this time through the syllabus. It's meaningful work. It's joyful work.

Obligatory first day of school photo, yeah?

Class went great today, by the way. The first moments flew by, and I got the jitters out.

Students were responsive, and interactive, and seemed excited to be there too.

All good things...and their jitters seemed to be relieved as well.

Day 2 tomorrow...fewer jitters, probably. Just as much joy, almost certainly!

My Pseudo-Hiatus for Summer

Haven't written much on the ol' blog this summer.

It's a combination of being busy with other things (teaching a couple of courses, recording and editing episodes of Hallway Conversations, working on two ongoing research projects) and--I think--exhaustion from the last year and a quarter of incredibly demanding teaching.

It's not that the blogging has become unimportant or anything like that. I still value this kind of reflective writing about my practice, for sure. But other things have crowded in, and this writing has sort have felt less important given everything else in my life.

I struggle sometimes with setting unrealistic expectations for myself, so this has been an exercise in noticing my thoughts (as in, "I really ought to write something on the blog!") and then letting them pass by so I can focus on other things. 

But...here I am, writing a short post, because..."Otherwise I will have a month go by with out a single post on the blog!" (As if that is so important? But in my mind it somehow is.)

I started this blog a little over nine years ago. It was when I started as a professor full-time, and I somehow thought people would care what I had to say about all kinds of things. That lasted about a year and a half, I think. :-) The first half-year, I had 60 posts. The second year, I had 127 posts. Somewhere in year 3 I realized that writing for myself (in general) here on the blog would be more valuable for me instead of trying to write for other audiences. And, since then, it's been a slow decline year by year, until last year when I posted a whole series of distance teaching tips, since that's in my wheelhouse, as they say. But this year...well, this is only post #12 for the whole year so far. That's not to say that I won't pick it back up in the fall and start writing more, because I just might.

But suffice to say I realize how I needed the break. And I am feeling okay about this pseudo-hiatus from blogging this summer, for the most part.

So here's to the end of July, and the beginning of August (tomorrow!) and the sudden rush to get everything ready for the new academic year to begin! 

Yeah...not my feet...and not my photo, unfortunately.
Thanks to Tabeajaichhalt on Pixabay for this one.

The Future of the Teaching Profession

A couple weeks ago I was at my kids' high school for a concert, and afterward, I ran into the principal in the courtyard of the building. We visited a bit about how the school year was wrapping up, and he mentioned just how hectic the end of the year is with so many things going on besides the normal academic parts of school. He was mentioning how many teachers were out as well, with coaching responsibilities or family responsibilities, and he suddenly said, "Hey...since classes are out for you...do you have a little time that you could substitute for us?"

As a matter of fact, the timing was very good for me to do that, as I was in my lovely in-between-time: I had wrapped up my grading for the spring semester, and I was just getting started with my preparations for the summer term. And so, I spent a couple of days subbing at my kids' high school. (Which they were fine with, since I didn't end up teaching any of the classes they were taking.) :-)

This was a fantastic experience for me! Honestly, there is a part of me that sometimes wonders if I could still do it--if I could still teach full time in K-12. Certainly subbing is certainly not the same thing as full time teaching. Someone else did the planning, and someone else would do the assessing--and these are the two biggest, mostly-invisible parts of teaching that most non-teachers sort of forget about. But spending a few days in K-12 was a good affirmation for me that I still love connecting with kids, and I still have enough management skills and pedagogical skills to make content come to life for kids.

It was interesting for me to sit with members of the faculty at lunch too. We had a lot of laughs, and I was glad that they just included me in the conversation. But one thing stood out to me: one teacher said something to me along the lines of, "I think this is really great that you are taking the time to do this. I think more Education professors should spend time subbing." I agreed with this teacher whole-heartedly. And actually, this is something our department has already put into place: we are expected to spend time working with "real kids" in "real schools," either as co-teachers or substitutes just like this. Most of the time when I work in K-12 these days, it's been co-teaching with classroom teachers. I come in as the "outside expert" in some curriculum topic; most often it's been teaching a middle school or elementary science lesson. And this certainly has been great for me as well, but being "in charge" of the classroom the way substitute teachers are is a little different thing, and I was so glad to have this experience.

There was one more thing I caught from my colleagues-for-a-few-days while I was with them during lunch: they are tired. This year has been really, really tough on teachers. This wasn't shocking for me, of course. I feel that, even in my work as a teacher educator at the university level--I wrote a while back about how I have felt so exhausted by all the extra emotional labor of this COVID year. But it had me thinking about just how many educators I've seen on Twitter suggesting that they might not continue teaching. For some of them, COVID-stuff seems to be the reason. But for others, COVID-stuff was just the straw that broke the camel's back, because it revealed so many things about Education that feel so, so broken. And there seems to be a growing number of educators who are just going to be opting out of what they see as a broken system.

All of this had me feeling very curious, so put a poll out on Twitter a week or so ago. My tweet was thus: "I feel like I'm seeing a ton of teachers either not planning to come back to teach again in the fall, or seriously considering leaving the profession. Unscientific poll here to satisfy my curiosity: If you are a teacher...where are you at on this?"

I included a follow-up tweet encouraging teachers to share more about their decision-making: what was keeping them teaching, or what was nudging them out?

Here were the results of the poll. I was so encouraged to see that out of the 128 folks who chimed in on this very unscientific survey, almost 80% said they are planning to keep teaching. Of the other 20+%, 8% said leaning towards staying, 9% said leaning towards leaving, and only 4% said definitely leaving. So maybe things aren't so dire for the future of my profession?

But that said...it was interesting to see the comments teachers made in their tweets in response about their decision-making. A few of the comments included these insights:

• "I'm staying in teaching because it's where my passions and hopes are, and I've got a vocational calling, but man, this year I am TIRED at the finish line. I blame insufficient rest last summer as we had to plan and strategize though the pandemic."
• "Leaving for now. May get back in it for the right school fit. Tired of being taken for granted, school not doing it's part to fix curriculum & update learning experience for Ss. 1 size/way of doing things won't work for all, so it was clear the company was all about the $$$$"
• "I can’t imagine doing anything else, but I also can’t imagine being able to do years like the last 3 for very much longer. It’s been...a lot."
• "I've had a number of conversations where I've talked teachers off the ledge this year. Also more and more I'm hearing teachers say that they'll teach for the next while but that they'll leave eventually. I don't know if that is a millennial thing or COVID or..."
• "I hear younger teachers say their reason for leaving is the lack of flexibility and input.
• "Definitely coming back next year! It’s the pay cut this year, the over-abundance of work teaching hybrid, and lack of communication and providing of good curriculum that make it hard, though..."

This wasn't every comment I heard tweeted back in response...but notice any trends here? The biggest thing I note is that it's mostly the non-teaching things that are driving people towards considering leaving the profession. Several folks here seem to be saying, "Yeah, I love teaching...but all the other stuff that comes alongside the teaching that makes me consider not sticking with the teaching."

Ooof.

This is my big wondering then: how do we keep the main thing for teachers the main thing? If teachers get into the profession because they love kids, and love subjects that they get to teach, and love the actual teaching...how can we make sure that this is the stuff they do? Yeah, I know...COVID stretched everyone. But as I say that...was it COVID that was the problem? Or was it shifts that have happened societally in the past few years that have made teachers feel differently-burdened...and COVID was just the lens that really brought it all into the light in a different way?

I don't have any easy answer, or any quick prescription for what would make Education a more appealing profession for more people again. But I'm thinking about that 20ish% of respondents to my poll: what would be the implications if 20% of the teachers in the United States quit teaching in short order? 

I think the future of the teaching profession is unclear at this point. Everyone wants excellent teachers for their own kids, right? No one wants a mediocre teacher, right? So how do we equip excellent educators...and how do we keep them in the field?

Weighing Our Words: The Impact of a Teacher

Last week I heard that a former professor of mine had passed away. Gloria Goris Stronks was a legend, and she influenced an entire generation of Christian teachers. Hearing about her death impacted me more than I would have expected. I'm not exaggerating at all when I say that I am a professor today because of her influence in my life.

Dr. Gloria Stronks

Gloria was one of my professors when I was studying for my Master's degree in curriculum and instruction in the early 2000's. She taught an advanced educational psychology course that helped me clarify and refine my understanding of who my middle school students were, and taking that course shaped my teaching practice (and me personally as well!) for ever after. I was more intentional about connecting with students, about getting to know them as unique individuals, and about tailoring my teaching towards both students needs as well as their strengths. 

But at a personal level, Gloria also influenced me in an incredible way. She kept me after class one day, and very seriously said, "Dave, have you ever thought about becoming a professor? You should!" This was the first time that this idea ever even crept into my mind. I was perfectly happy as a middle school science teacher, and sort of figured I would keep doing that for a long time. But Gloria saw something in me that I didn't see in myself, and her comment stuck with me. Later, when I had the opportunity to teach a course as an adjunct instructor, I gave it a whirl, largely because of this conversation with Gloria. And one thing led to another...and after six year of adjuncting, I took on a full-time position in higher ed...and here I am, nine years later. In that conversation with Gloria all those years ago, her comment to me was something along the lines of, "You are clearly making a difference in the lives of your students. But what if you were teaching teachers? Think of how that difference ripples out to so many more students!" That was a compelling vision for me, and one that expanded the way I pictured what was possible for me--and maybe a bigger view of the way I could use my talents to serve in Christ's kingdom.

I shared the news of Gloria's passing with my colleagues in the department, and (perhaps not surprisingly) two of them shared that Gloria had similar conversations with them at pivotal moments in our professional careers--she saw gifts in promising teachers, named them, and encouraged us to take bold steps that we might not have taken otherwise.

All of this has me thinking about the role teachers play in their students lives, and weight of teachers' words--for good, or for ill. If you're a teacher, and you're taking the time to read this, I hope that hearing this story has you reflecting on the way you speak into your students' lives. What gifts do you see in them? Do you name them? Do you encourage them to take bold steps? 

Teachers, let's not take our words lightly. Taking an example from Dr. Stronks, let's encourage students to use their gifts and talents, and challenge them with bigger visions of what is possible for them than they might currently imagine for themselves. Who knows what impact your words might have, teacher!

Finding Gratitude by Way of an Email from the Past

This morning I checked my gmail, which I do periodically...though not every day. Actually, it had been a few days since I'd last logged in. There was a surprising message waiting for me. The sender? Well, it was me. But I sent it to myself last year at this time.

The subject of the email? "A Letter from May 8, 2020." The sender? "FutureMe."

Now, I've used futureme.org before--it's a pretty nifty tool to send yourself a message in the future. You compose your message, choose a future date, and enter an email address that you'll have access to at the time the message should be delivered. The message stays on futureme.org's servers until then, and they send it out for you.

But this email was truly a surprise. I do not recall sending this email to myself at all--probably the stress of that time of my life? It was a fascinating window into my past reading this one today. Here's what past me (of May 2020) wrote to future me (of May 2021):

Dear Future Dave,

Wow. We are in the thick of COVID-19 social distancing, and it's been about 7 weeks now. You are currently grading exams for EDUC 334 students--they are doing amazing at summing up their learning, even though it has been a crazy second half of the semester being distance learning. You did a fine job of pivoting Science Methods to an online format. Congratulations on putting your knowledge and skills into practice in a way that really benefited your students, by ensuring that the main thing remained the main thing.

You told several people recently that your big regret in all of this was not saying a better "goodbye" to your students before they left for Spring Break, because that was the last time you met up with them. You've been hard on yourself with your typically high expectations for your teaching practice. But you've also been gracious with your students, remembering that they are whole humans. Keep doing that, and keep focusing on *learning* over "grading."

You are a good teacher. You recently completed your 8-year interview process, and passed with flying colors. Your students value the work you are doing, and the way you model teaching for them. Don't be so hard on yourself, yeah?

Remember to be grateful for what you've got. You are healthy, you have meaningful work that seems stable, your kids--even though they drive you crazy sometimes--are pretty amazing, and your wife is incredible. You are blessed!

Don't forget to be awesome,

Past Dave

Is it weird if an email I sent myself--one that I don't even remember sending!--got me a little choked up? Because that happened.

This year...whew, what a year! But past me was right: I do have a lot to be grateful for, even in the midst of a whole lot of awful in the pandemic school year of 2020-2021. 

Image by Mark Rosemaker via Pixabay

Concluding a Course: "Sparkiness" in the Classroom

I'm having a bit of a hard time today as I'm working on my end-of-semester grading. It's not that the students have written poorly, or that they aren't showing evidence of their learning--quite the contrary, actually! But I'm having a hard time because I am wrapping up teaching Elementary Science Methods right now, and it's likely going to be the last time I teach this course, at least for a while.

Why is this so hard for me? Well...because I've taught the course 22 times. I started teaching this course as an adjunct instructor back in 2006, and I've taught it every time it's been offered at our institution since then. My quick math says almost 500 students have taken this course with me in that time, which is pretty ridiculous to imagine, now that I'm thinking about it! While I never feel like I have any course "in my back pocket," this is the one that I know inside-out, because I've taught it so many times. And while the course has obviously evolved over 22 iterations, and while I keep bringing in new ideas, and activities, and things to read and discuss...it's also one that feels very comfortable, because I've lived in it for so long.

At the same time, I recognize it's been more than a decade since I taught middle school science on a daily basis at this point. And I have many other hats I wear in our department, many other courses and projects that I'm part of or in charge of. And so, it's likely time for this one to get handed off to a colleague, and with a new member of our department joining us in the fall, it is time for someone else to take this one.

But there is a sense of grieving for me, recognizing that this is likely my last go at this course for awhile. I think it's because I identify quite strongly with this course in some ways, because it's been part of my life for such a long time. There have been times where this course has felt like work, to be sure. But it has been joyful work for me. I love studying creation, and teaching others about it, and teaching teachers how to foster a love of creation in their own students. 

And so, I'm struggling a bit as I grade these final summative projects from the semester, but realizing that this is more about how I feel than about my students' learning. Because you know what? They are taking away some really fantastic things! So many of them are sharing specific things that made a difference for them in the way they think about science as a subject, or about themselves as teachers, or their future teaching practices. Many of them are naming specific ideas or activities from class that they want to use with their own students. I love this! It's humbling to think about the 500-ish students I've had the pleasure of teaching over the years all taking things they learned from my class and using them with their own students. (Ooof. Gives a real sense of the responsibility we have as teacher educators!)

One student wrapped up her final paper with a personal note that just made me grin:

To finish off, the last thing I learned in this course that I want to take with me would be to get my students excited. Your attitude that you brought everyday got us excited. The questions that you would ask and the activities you would follow up with would make us excited. You always brought your all and that was evident when we were learning from you. Even maybe if you were not excited about the content, you “faked” it and you made us excited in return. Or maybe I was tired a day and the energy you brought defiantly helped keep my attention. I think that students need to have that sense of fun in their day and to not always be so serious. Your constant level of "sparkiness" and fun attitude is something that I want to carry with me. 

You know, I'll take that! If nothing else, I hope and trust that my own enthusiasm for teaching, and the way I model this craft for them rubs off on them a little bit. 

And I think I'll be okay not teaching this course anymore. I'll still be bringing my "sparkiness" to all of the classrooms where I have the opportunity to teach!

Image via pixabay.

On Being Seriously Silly

 I saw this one on Twitter today from the eminent Sir John Cleese:

Always be the silliest in any group. 😃 #tbt pic.twitter.com/oMJu876Wsz

— John Cleese (@JohnCleese) April 22, 2021

(Just in case you aren't familiar...John Cleese is one of the members of the ground-breaking British comedy troupe, Monty Python. This photo is of the group as they looked in the early days--maybe late 1960s or early 70s?--and Cleese is the one grinning like a fool. They may have had their heyday in the 70s and 80s, but this group has had a huge impact on media and culture far beyond the British Isles.)

I love it! I think this is a rule that I live by, and I didn't even realize it until I saw it written this way.

I revel in silliness. 

I play the ukulele.

I yo-yo as I walk across campus.

I get my Intro to Ed students to try juggling in class.

I exhibit a manic energy in teaching my Elementary Science Methods course.

At one of the summer camps I serve (shout-out to Royal Family Kids!) I dress up in a banana costume and sing ridiculous songs...and somehow get the whole group of campers and staff to play along and sing and dance with me.

Not atypical for me to look like this (at camp, at least...)

Something I've tried to embody--and to pass along to my students, future teachers that they are--is that I should take my WORK very seriously...but I try to not take MYSELF too seriously. 

Not that I want to be the butt of every joke, or anything like that. And I'm not just trying to be self-deprecating all the time. After all, I do want my students to have confidence in me as their teacher, and I want my colleagues to have confidence in me as someone who is reliable, and trustworthy, and an active contributor to important work.

But...I also want to be able to bring levity, positivity, and joy to my work! And I think I (generally) embody this quite well.

My big wondering right now: do people take me seriously even when I am silly?

I guess I'm thinking about this from a John Cleese sort of frame. He is one of the best in the world at what he does--he takes his comedy seriously, and has honed his craft over decades of work. Maybe my teaching practice isn't all that different?

Can I be seriously silly?

Exhaustion and Emotional Labor

What a year it's been! (Understatement much, Dave??) 

Seriously, this has been a demanding year for me as a teacher. I am not complaining. I'm so grateful that I've been able to be regularly meeting up with my students in person. I'm equally grateful for the technological support to make online and hybrid teaching realistic, if not easy. Several months ago I wrote a baleful post entitled "Teaching is Not for the Faint of Heart...and HyFlex Teaching in Particular." Looking back at this post...I don't disagree with anything I wrote then. But I'm grateful that I didn't have as many students shunted into quarantine during this spring semester (questions remain about why this is...) which has made managing the times I need to try and teach in multiple modalities simultaneously much more reasonable, at an emotional level at least.

That comment, "at an emotional level," is something I've been thinking a lot about lately. I am feeling exhausted as we reach the end of this year. I always feel a little tired at the close of an academic year. But this year it's more than "a little tired." I described it to a colleague today as "exhaustion." And I don't want to sound hyperbolic here; I think this is accurate. Teaching is demanding work under the best of circumstances. Teaching during COVID has not been the best of circumstances. And, self-indulgent as it sounds, not having a spring break this year has taken a real toll on me. I understand why we did it this way--and I DO think it was the right call--but I also think that this disruption to our normal rhythm of the semester has had a real impact. My students are tired, but hanging in there. My colleagues are tired, but hanging in there. I'm tired too...and hanging in there, I think.

But this comes back to the idea of "emotional labor" that I've been thinking about a fair amount over this year. Back in October I wrote an article entitled "How Can We Support Teachers?" that draws on this concept quite lot. On our podcast, my buddy Matt and I spent a whole episode thinking through Emotional Labor for teachers, and how demanding this is for educators. The main idea of emotional labor: some work is physical, some is mental, and some is emotional. Emotional labor means managing your own emotional state to elicit a particular emotional state in others--and teachers do this all the time. We aren't the only ones, of course; nurses, police officers, social workers, flight attendants, and so many "serving" professions demand a level of emotional labor. But I think this is ever more acute for teachers working in the age of COVID. We often check our own emotions as a normal part of the work, to ensure students will learn.

Physical labor can be (obviously) exhausting. Mental labor can be exhausting. And...emotional labor can be exhausting. 

This year, the emotional labor of teaching is putting more pressure than ever on teachers, I think. And while I'm pretty resilient, and I LOVE my work, I'm also finding myself looking forward to the weekends more than I think I ever have since I've been a professional educator.

Check in on the educators you know, friends. I suspect I'm not alone in this exhaustion about the emotional labor of teaching. 

And, how to manage this exhaustion? Well...what makes sense? 

When we are exhausted...we need to rest. 

And so, I'm working on resting more this year than I ever have before. This semester I've been trying to not work in the evenings more than two nights a week. (I'm certainly not always successful at this.) I'm trying to not check my email over the weekends. I'm trying to get to bed at a regular time and get up at a regular time. I'm trying to get at least some physical exercise every week. Isn't that crazy to say "I'm working on resting"--working on resting??? But it's true; this is where I'm at, emotionally.

I'm still feeling exhausted...but I'm (perhaps surprisingly?) still feeling deep joy in my work. But it ain't easy, folks.

Image via Pixabay

A Pandemic Year, and Counting Blessings

I am feeling reflective as I write this. I was grateful to have been able to get my first shot for the COVID vaccine this past Thursday, one year to the day after the WHO declared COVID-19 a global pandemic. 

I posted this on Instagram afterward getting the vaccine, feeling grateful:

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A post shared by Dave Mulder (@d_mulder)

What a year it has been! And yet, God is faithful. Despite all of the hardships, frustration, angst, anxiety, and depression of this past year--for me personally, and perhaps for you as well--I have learned to more faithfully rely on God as my refuge and strength (in a Psalm 46 kind of way) on a day-to-day basis than ever before. When I hear people talk about "going back" to the way things were before the pandemic, I long for some parts of that too. But I also realize how this past year has changed me, in both unhealthy ways (like stress eating as a coping strategy, and a lot more time scrolling on social media) and healthy ways (like more intentionally creating quiet times with God, and growing in being okay with being "just okay.") While I certainly hope to reset some of the unhealthy ones...but I don't want to too quickly "go back" to the way things were before, if it means I might forget and lose hold of some of the good things that have been happening in my life too.

All of this has me thinking about this lovely song, from one of my favorite bands, Rend Collective. The song is "Counting Every Blessing," and it was released some time before the pandemic year (in 2018, I think?) I invite you to listen, and I hope it gives you a lift in the way it buoys my spirits every time I listen to it. It's not a panacea song of, "See, everything is great!" but more of a, "Even when things are hard, or unclear, I can still see that God is in control of all things. 

A Case of the Blahs (And Teaching Anyway)

By nature, I'm a pretty upbeat person. I can usually look on the bright-side, find something lovely to celebrate, and bring some joy to pretty much any situation. Positivity is one of my superpowers!

But today, I have a case of the blahs. Nothing is terrible, but I'm just feeling that sense of tired irritability where small things bug me, and nip at me, and consume more of my cognitive space than I might like to admit.

Image by Krithika Parthasarathay via Pixabay

I headed into class at noon today, and in those last couple of minutes just before we began, I decided to change up my lesson plan for today. The future teachers I serve are amazing people, and I'm so grateful for the opportunities I have on a daily basis to help them see the varied aspects of the work we do as educators. And today? Today that meant a little meta-lesson about the emotional labor that is assumed for teachers.

I started by just naming it: "I'm feeling uncharacteristically blah today, folks." A few seemed surprised, but most kind of nodded--I mean, I am a pretty bouncy presence most of the time, and I just wasn't at the beginning of class today. And I explained how this is part of the work we do as teachers: we often have to check our own feelings, suck it up, and just teach anyway. This probably wasn't earth-shattering news to anyone in the room, but I thought it could be illuminating for them to notice this, and see if they could tell a difference in the way class unfolded. In another course, I have a lesson I teach about the difference between "acting like a teacher" and "being a teacher." Today's class meeting was an example in practice of "acting like a teacher."

So, after this odd preamble, I headed into the lesson as planed. We spent some time in discussion about a chapter I asked them to read in preparation, and they had lots of thoughtful reflections and deliberate questions, as they normally do. Then a very brief lecture from me, followed by a series of activities and demonstrations. They participated well, interacted well, shared their thinking well.

And you know what? By the end of class, I realized I wasn't "acting like a teacher" anymore. Somehow, starting off with that "acting" morphed back into my more normal embodiment of my own teaching practice. And honestly, the playfulness of the activities I had planned to do with the students--and seeing their joy in discovery--has buoyed my spirits in a way I wasn't expecting.

Somewhere in one of his writings, master educator Parker J. Palmer says something along the lines of, "Technique is what you use until the teacher shows up." Maybe this is the lesson for me that I needed to be reminded of and practice today. And my hope is that, for the future teachers I serve, I got to model some sense of this today.

Learning Targets

 I've been thinking a lot about learning targets lately. In the two methods courses I'm teaching right now (Science Methods for Elementary and Middle School, and Methods of Teaching STEM K-12) we are getting started with developing unit plans, and we're thinking about goals and objectives. And a recent episode of the podcast my buddy Matt and I started was all about learning targets too. (You can listen to the episode here, if you're interested: Hallway Conversations with Matt and Dave: Goals)

The main idea I'm hoping to convey to my students about learning targets is just how valuable they are for keeping both the teacher and the students on track for what we're working towards. Imagine yourself as an archer--having a clear target makes taking aim so much more obvious. A clear target helps you measure (assess) learning: did students hit the bullseye? And, I would suggest, a clear target even helps you focus your teaching on ensuring students will be able to hit that target.

Image by mickrh via Pixabay

Is it possible to over-emphasize learning targets? Probably...like almost anything else in the world of Education today. But I have found targets so helpful in my own teaching practice, perhaps because I'm likely to go off the rails and get distracted pretty easily.

So what is a learning target? Here's my current thinking...

Learning targets are often framed as "I can..." statements, but the old school format for writing objectives that I learned in my own undergraduate teacher preparation works just as well: "Students will be able to..." Thinking this through, I think that "Students will be able to..." (SWBAT) is more framed for the teacher, while "I can..." is more framed for the student. 

And then, the key is following up this introduction with a solid action-oriented verb: what will students be able to do? Describe? Analyze? Illustrate? Explain? List? Develop? Construct? Argue? Contrast? Hypothesize? Write? Model? Debate? There are so many possibilities, but I like the idea of connecting them to different levels of thinking, such as what is described in Bloom's Taxonomy. Aiming for at least some learning targets that get at higher-order thinking skills seems like a really wise strategy to me. (If all we're asking students to do is remember and regurgitate information...that feels like a "thin" education to me!)

When I was talking this through with my students in STEM methods this week, we were debating the pros and cons of writing learning targets for students vs. framing them for teachers. One of my students expressed some concern about "I can..." statements, even as a university student: it puts a lot of pressure on the students to really be able to do these things! Another student responded with a wondering: why not use both SWBAT and I can? Here was his reasoning: even if you are sharing learning targets with students at the beginning of a unit or lesson, using "students will be able to..." as the frame puts this in a future-tense: "Maybe you can't do this now...but you will be able to do this later on." And then, using "I can" as a frame at the end of the unit or lesson gives students an opportunity to self-assess: "Can I now do this, after I've had the opportunity to learn it? Or do I need more practice?"

I LOVE this approach, honestly. And this makes me feel grateful for the opportunity to keep learning, right along with my students.

Are you using learning targets? How do you feel about them? Do you find them valuable for guiding your students learning, or for your own teaching?

Happy PodDay!

My buddy and co-conspirator, Matt, texted me first thing this morning: "Happy PodDay, brother!"

Today is the day...after weeks of dreaming, scheming, recording, and a whole lot of laughing have come together into this thing: we are launching our podcast today.

"Hallway Conversations with Matt and Dave" is what we decided to call it. The whole thing grew out of the way our relationship came together: we often wound up having conversations in the hallway outside of our offices. Matt is my newest colleague in our Education department, but we've known each other--or maybe known of each other?--for years. We have many mutual friends in education, so I felt like I knew Matt even before he moved to town. But it's been so, so good to get to know him in a more personal and personable way.

And after so many hallway conversations...one time one of us said, "We should really record these and turn them into a podcast."

And so we did.

Our basic plan is that each episode will be a 20-minute unscripted conversation around a theme. (20 minutes because teachers' time is precious, and we certainly don't want them to feel like they are wasting it with us!) While we have agreed on some topics ahead of time, each conversation will be driven by a question related to the theme of the episode that one of us will bring without telling the other ahead of time, and then we will think on our feet as we try to come to an answer to that question--just like we do in our "real" hallway conversations.

It's a little terrifying to step up to the microphone and record an episode this way, but it's also been a lot of fun, and some really good professional development for both of us, I think.

And, honestly, it's a little terrifying, launching this out into the world.

Will anyone listen? Will anyone care?

Early on in the recording process we joked that if the only people who listen are our wives (you know, to keep an eye on us...) we will be fine with that. The real intent for us was to further develop our own reflective practices, and build up our friendship at the same time.

But now, now that we're launching it out into the open...I'd be lying if I said that I don't care if people listen. I hope that people listen, and that the things we are talking about in our "hallway conversations" will spark some more hallway conversations among the Christian educators who might listen in, that they might start having these same kinds of professional discussions with thoughtful colleagues in their own school hallways.

Anyway, if you're up for giving us a listen, you can find our podcast on Apple Podcasts, Google Podcasts, and Spotify. Just search for "hallway conversations with Matt and Dave" and you'll find us. Or, you can access the show via the web right here: http://hallwayconvos.podbean.com/ We would love for you to listen in, and to share your thoughts in response.

(So...if I'm not writing as often here on the blog...it's probably because we're recording and editing some new episodes. That was definitely the case in January!)

Happy PodDay!

Welcome to 2021: Let's Go!

Welcome to 2021!

I know, I know...I'm a few days late. But here we are. It feels like everyone I know has taken a collective sigh of relief that the madness of 2020 is now in the rearview mirror. Really, though, how different has the new year been from the old? I'm not sure there is something magical in closing the old calendar and opening up a new one. And yet, I find myself feeling hopeful for the new year, perhaps more hopeful than I've felt in sometime.

This past year I continued my practice of capturing one second of video every day using the 1 Second Everyday app. I smashed all of those seconds together again into a six and a half minute video recap of my year. As I watched it, I'm struck by how clearly I can remember so many of these one-second slices of life, both the highs and the lows. You're welcome to watch it here, if you like:

That last second of my 2020 is my niece leaping off of a chair in our living room. Her shout got cut off just a bit to squeeze the whole leap into one second. It was actually a, "Let's go!" And I can't think of a more fitting way to think about leaping into the new year: "Let's go!"

This is often the time of year where I--like many people--reflect on setting goals for myself. There is something about the milestone of the new year beginning that makes this seem right. Last year, about this time, I wrote a post wondering about the value of "resolutions" and whether goals need to be measurable to be attainable. I'm still wondering about this, I guess. I'm not really making any resolutions this year, and I'm not sure I'll set any measurable goals either.

Oh, yes...I could stand to lose a bunch of the pounds I packed on through stress-eating my way through 2020. And, yes...I'm planning to be out pedaling as soon as the snow and ice are done for this winter...and I'll probably shoot for 2000 miles on my bike again, since that has been about what I've been pedaling for the past couple of years. And I do intend to keep up the blogging, at least a few times each month. And, gratefully, I'm getting more intentional about spending time in prayer and reading scripture again, with the support of a new devotional I got for Christmas. And professionally, I have broad ambitions of both starting a podcast with a colleague this year, and drafting a book, as well as teaching to the best of my ability in our ongoing pandemic world.

That looks like a lot of goal-setting, doesn't it?

But I think my actual "goal" for 2021 is to be fully present in the things I'm doing. I want to take a cue from my niece's joy in jumping in with both feet, with a "Let's Go!" attitude.

Welcome to 2021, friends. Let's do this!

"Let's Go!"