The End of a Season

Ecclesiastes 3:1 says: 

There is a time for everything,
and a season for every activity under heaven.

The Teacher then goes on to list a series of pairs that illustrate these seasons: 

• a time to be born and a time to die
• a time to plant and a time to uproot
• a time to weep and a time to laugh
• a time to search and a time to give up
• a time to be silent and a time to speak
• etc., etc., etc.

I've always appreciated the reminder of this passage, that seasons come and go, but God is faithful and sovereign over it all.

It's been a good season for me of blogging. But I think I'm reaching the end of that season. 

I started this blog in May of 2012, when I was first moving into my office at Dordt University as a shiny and new Instructor of Education. I thought--naively, and at least a little narcissistically--that because I was now a professor, I would have important things to say, and people would care to read them. It's funny to remember that season now, and to go back and re-read some of those early posts. It's not that they are so bad, or anything like that. But as I read them, I can call to mind the earnest attitude I had when I was writing them. And, because Blogger is so good at serving statistics about readership, I also can call to mind the deflated feeling I had when I didn't get the kind of readership I was hoping for right away. Silly, isn't it?

And yet, when I look at those statics today, 10 years later, it's sort of surprising. As of right now, as I write this post, iTeach and iLearn has had 446,401 views--not too shabby, if I do say so myself. I'm still getting about 1000 views per month, more or less. I've published 590 posts (this one makes 591) and had hundreds of comments in response to the things I've shared here. Some of my posts have had over ten thousand reads. My most-read ever was cheekily entitled "No More Crappy Homework;" it has had about 18,500 views. Another with lots of views--and the first post I ever had that went viral (for me, anyway)--was one entitled "It's not 1989" which had 1000 views in the first 24 hours. That was a bit of a rush for me, truth be told! Another one that took off almost immediately was "An Analogy to Help Teachers Understand Homework." This had nearly 3000 views in the first week...and still gets about 30-40 visits each week today. So it's not that I've not had some "successful" posts on the blog.

For the most part though, I shifted focus from those kinds of swinging-for-the-fences posts that would get thousands of eyeballs. Over time, the blog shifted to my own reflections about my practice as a professor: the things I was trying in my own teaching, the things I was researching, resources I was finding interesting or valuable, and my thoughts about all of this. Some folks seemed to faithfully read these as well; most posts on the blog have had between 100 and 200 views. (And, of course, the older posts have more views, as they've been around longer.) 

Many of the posts I have written on this blog were dashed off in 30 minutes or less, and published almost immediately. A few were more deliberately-written, thoughtful pieces that were slower in coming (like this piece from 2018, which feels incredibly relevant again this week: Schools and Guns and Brokenness) that took multiple drafts before I felt like I could release them into the wild. That shift from the earnest writing back at the beginning to more reflective writing that documented my own practice was what made this blogging more valuable for me. And the fact I would often get feedback from readers only helped; it often pushed my thinking into new directions, or gave me some sense of affirmation that I wasn't loony.

But over the past two years, I have had less time to write--or at least I haven't prioritized blogging in comparison to other scholarship I've been doing. I think there were two reasons for this, primarily. First, pandemic teaching took a lot out of me, and sucked up a lot of the time and attention I used to devote to reflective writing here. At the same time, I started podcasting with my friends, Matt and Abby, and the sort of reflection that I used to write here often now ends up spoken in our Hallway Conversations instead. That combination has meant fewer and fewer posts here. And, when I think about it honestly, I have felt guilty about not writing here more often lately.

And that is what's led me to this point of feeling like this season is coming to a close. I've been working on giving myself permission to let things go. That might sound silly, but I do feel a strong sense of responsibility for sticking with the things I've started, and I have a hard time letting go of good things, even to make space for other good things. But, as the Teacher of Ecclesiastes so helpfully reminds me, there are different seasons in life. And I think my blogging season is coming to a close, for now at least.

That said, I want to continue to engage with people around ideas related to education and keep doing some form of "public scholarship." So I'm shifting my focus a little, and starting a newsletter. If you're the sort who has regularly read this blog over the past 10 years (thank you SO MUCH, by the way!) you might be interested in subscribing to the Positivity. Passion. Purpose. newsletter. I'm planning on a bi-weekly publishing schedule at this point, and I hope that this will give me the discipline to write positive, passionate, purposeful pieces that will encourage, equip, and inspire educators (and non-educators for that matter.) It's a new adventure, and one that has me feeling a little more of that earnest, excited energy that I had when I started this blog in 2012.

I'm not planning on deleting iTeach and iLearn, at least not now. So if you have found anything here helpful, it will still be around. But I also don't anticipate posting new things here either, but I guess I've learned to never say never. 

It's been a good 10 years. Thanks for reading. Blessings to you in whatever season you find yourself in at the moment, and God's grace to you on the journey.

That Academic Rhythm

The end of the semester is upon us!

I feel like every conversation I have with a colleague lately eventually settles on this topic in some way, shape, or form. The semester is nearly complete. Oh, there is so much to do! Exams are being written. final projects and paper work is being completed. Grading...or correcting...or marking...or feedbacking (your preference on what to call it, I guess) is underway. Commencement is coming.

With the ending of this term, I had steady stream of students stopping by today. One to drop off that paper to document his field experience. One to check in with a question about our final paper that is due so-very-soon. One to drop off a thank-you note and a wish me a lovely summer break. One to ask advice about a tech tool for a presentation she is going to give in lieu of an exam for another course. One to give me a high five and say "thanks" for welcoming him into the world of teaching through Intro to Education.

It's enough to swell the soul a little, to take delight in the work I get to do in working with future teachers. And because of the rhythm of the school year, with the end so clearly before us, it seems right for students to stop in. And it feel right for me to drop what I'm doing, welcome them in, and take that time to visit a bit with each one.

The academic rhythm is something I just love about my work. Clear patterns that roll on and on: beginnings, middles, endings, times to rest. Lather, rinse, repeat? Hardly! I love that we have these sorts of seasons that show up so clearly, year after year. The change of pace of summer is always welcome, but would it feel like a change of pace without the rhythm of the semester?

I've never not been in school, either as a student or as an instructor, since I began kindergarten over 40 years ago now. I know there are plenty of people who don't live their lives based on a school calendar. But it is soothing to me...maybe because it is so familiar?

Soon the students will be packing up their belongings and heading out to their summer adventures. Campus will become quieter. Colleagues will be transitioning into research mode, or summer teaching mode, or rest mode. (Mine will be a combination of all three, actually.) 

But I'm confident it will happen again, because of that rhythm that I love...three or four weeks from now I'll start thinking that campus is too quiet...and I'll start looking ahead to August, when the students will start to return like the swallows of Capistrano, coming to roost for another beginning.

Image of a swallow by Hans Veth via Unsplash

Gratitude at the End of the Semester

I have written less this semester than any time since I started this blog.

In 2012, when I began teaching in higher education full-time, I started this blog. At that time--foolishly--I thought that people would suddenly care what I had to say. I was a professor, after all!

Very quickly I realized that very few people much cared about what I had to say. My early pontifications are pretty funny to read from this vantage point, seven and a half years later. This blog quickly pivoted to my personal reflection space, a place to think out loud about what I am reading, what I am exploring, what I am trying in my classroom, what I am researching.

And it's funny...when I made that switch, a few more people started reading along, and sharing their stories with me as well.

So I'm actually feeling a little sad that I haven't had much time to write this semester. I've just been playing keep-up all the time. And I've had to carve off some of the non-essentials to keep on keeping-on, and the blogging was often a casualty.

But here I am, at the end of my 15th semester of full-time teaching in higher education. I recently shared with a colleague just how much I enjoy everything I get to do serving here. It's the truth too: I am reaching a point where I'm spread too thin, and I'm going to have to give some things up, and that's really hard for me to do...because I just love it all so much.

So I'm left with a sense of deep gratitude--gratitude born out of real joy in the work I get to do.

Gratitude toward my undergrad students, the amazing future teachers I get to serve as they prepare to join this demanding profession.

Gratitude toward my grad students, the incredible practicing educators I get to walk beside as they continue to grow and learn and develop their own teaching practices.

Gratitude toward the high-functioning team I am a part of in the Education department, for colleagues who challenge me to keep getting better, and who are also encouraging me to right-size my work and not bite off more than I can chew.

Gratitude toward the administration, staff, faculty from across the institution, and the broader community of support that makes Dordt University such an incredible place to serve.

Gratitude that I feel like I have truly found my calling.

Here's hoping that I will have a little more margin and a little more time to keep writing here in the new semester!

Image via Pixabay

Calling Final Exams into Question

Oh. Snap.

A tweet from one of the people I've been following on Twitter since almost the beginning, Dan Meyer:

For real, tho: what are we gaining from final exams?

❌New insights into student learning.
✅Crazy amounts of student stress.

— Dan Meyer (@ddmeyer) May 22, 2018

Calling the grand tradition of final exams into question seems...almost heretical.

But does he have a point?

I guess I'm now thinking about what the real point of final exams might actually be. Are they intended to provide new insights into student learning? Or are they a way to help students summarize and synthesize everything they had the opportunity to learn over the term? Or...maybe...they are a mechanism for compliance, a way to keep the kids (fearfully, stressfully) "engaged" (not sure that this is the right word for it...) until the end?

Is there value in in continuing the practice of final examinations?

Or is this an outdated vestige of educational practice from days of yore?

What do you think?

Image by Shannan Muskopf [CC BY-NC 2.0]

Breaking Out at the End of the Semester

I had to check my math because I could hardly believe it myself, but this spring was the NINETEENTH TIME I've taught science methods! This course is officially titled "Teaching Science Pre-K through Middle School"--which is pretty audacious--and it is, as they say, in my wheelhouse. I started adjuncting this course in 2007, and have basically taught it 3 semesters out of four since that time. That's a crazy thought!

I've found that when you teach a course that many times, there are three dangers to watch for, and keep in mind:

1. It's easy to assume that students know what you are talking about, because YOU (as the instructor) definitely know what you are talking about.
2. It's easy to accidentally tell the same stories over and over...or to think you've already told a story, because it can be hard to keep track.
3. It's easy to feel like you've got this one in your back pocket, since you've practiced it so much.

I'm continually working against these. It happened a few semesters ago in this course...I was a little too complacent, and because I had other, newer courses I was giving more focus, time, and attention, I fell into all three of these dangers all at the same time. Since then, I've tried to prioritize keeping science methods fresh, because--obviously--while it might be old hat to me, it is new for this group of students.

But one of the fun things about having a course that you feel very confident in teaching is that keeping it fresh means you can continuously tinker and experiment with things that you've never done before. Through out this semester, I tinkered with several lessons, trying new activities or different approaches to my lecturing/storytelling. I reworked parts of several lessons dedicated to teaching controversial topics in science, and invited colleagues to sit in--that keeps you on your toes! And, I decided I really wanted to try something completely new (for me) for a summative lesson at the end of the semester.

Learning to Teach Again: Ending Well

It's been an exciting challenge for me to teach this Geography course for the first time this semester. My students have been fantastic, honestly. As I was welcoming them into our last class meeting today, I was handing out candy canes to wish them a Merry Christmas--a small token of my gratitude for their willingness to play along with all of my "crazy ideas" throughout the semester.

(Funny: a colleague who has also taught many of the same students paused at the door, seeing me with the candy canes. She looked in at the group of students who were getting settled for class, and said something like, "Wow, this is an amazing group of students!" So it's not just my bias here, right? She has taught them too, and can vouch for the fantastic-ness of this crew.)

Last-day-of-class group selfie, of course!