I decided to do something I haven't done in a LONG time.  I gave myself a #MakerSunday day of building and learning.  It has been a while since I put things together and wrote out some code.  And I wanted today to be a challenge, so I took out a #RaspberryPi and started downloading the Operating System.  

I am working on a project outlined in the Instructables Raspberry Pi class.  I knew I wanted to build today with some guidance, and I knew the end product was a photo booth.  It sounded fun, and I had all the parts - no more excuses, get to building!

The biggest part of the day was spent exploring and learning about the Raspberry Pi.  The instructions allowed me to learn about what the code meant that I was typing in, something I never got from some of the "gaming" code learning in my Pi-Top.  I learn by doing things that happen in the real world, not on a game screen.  I'm sure there are others that learn through gaming, but it's not my thing.  (To be clear, I do love the Pi-Top, just wasn't the right tool for me.)

​I did learn the basics of Raspberry Pi set up, including a few screw ups with formatting the disc and uploading the Pixel OS.  I worked through them, fixed my formatting, uploaded, and got into setting up.  In minutes I was online thanks to the Raspberry Pi 3's built-in WiFi.  I quickly learned basic command lines, file making, and getting program packages for operating the camera module.  

Next thing I know, not only am I able to capture screenshots of my work, but I'm capturing selfies!  By the end of my Raspberry Pi time for the day, I had merged 5 pictures into an animated GIF of myself (appears at the end of the post).  Oh the time I'm going to waste with this new function.

Like many students, I learn by doing.  I need to interact with new information, make something with it, and play a little, to make the learning stick.  I will continue my work on this project, and then try to create my own program once it is all done.  I have a goal for the completion of the project, and a goal to make something new using what I've learned.  

I also have been anxious to share this experience.  I caught myself HUGELY smiling as I executed the program that caught my image.  Even more after moving the program to a new file, and then typing the correct command to find and execute in the new directory.  I feel accomplished, and more than a little geeky happy today.  

This experience must translate to schools.  Students, like I did today, find instructions online for anything new they really want to learn.  They are adept at sharing their learning through video posts and now even Live Video.  Having the space and time to make something from scratch, program it to do what you want, and then share with others - it is immensely empowering.  How do we set the stage for more experiences like these?  It doesn't take a programmable piece of hardware to make something new and with purpose.  Embrace the curiosity and creativity inherent in our little humans and let them make.

Some mornings just don't go the way you anticipate.  No matter how prepared you are to face the day, sometimes life just gets in the way.  Friday morning, my barrier to starting the day was the Windsor tie knot.

Since high school, I have always used a basic tie knot - the Four-in-Hand.  It was simple, fast, and it was easy to adapt to my tall body length.  Recently, I have been experimenting with new knots.  I see wider knots and bow ties in a variety of media, coupled with really good-looking suits.  Makes me want to change up the wardrobe.  In order for this to happen, I knew I would need to learn some new knots.  

I began with the bow tie.  Thanks to great sites like Gentleman's Gazette, I quickly conquered the bow tie.  It still takes a few tries, but I've pretty much got the basic bow tie down.  Recently I decided it was time to move beyond my high school tie knot and learn a new one.  I chose the Windsor knot.  It gave a nice, wide V-shape to the knot.  But, unlike the bow tie, it is taking me some time to discover the right starting length for this knot so that I can end with a tie length appropriate for my gigantic frame.

Friday morning, I must have tied my tie at least 7 times.  With each failed length or ill-shaped knot, my face reddened and my frustration grew.  I nearly gave up and almost opted for my go-to Four-in-Hand.  But I pushed through the frustration, and kept trying.  Eventually, I landed on a complete Windsor with a length that was almost right, and decided that I just needed to leave (at this point I was starting to run late to work, making me even more frustrated).

As the day progressed, I began thinking about how easy it would have been to give up and just go with the old knot.  I was surprised at how frustrated I was trying to accomplish a task that less than 24 hours earlier was as easy as pie.  I reminded myself that you don't practice something until you get it right, you have to practice until you can't get it wrong.  Frustration is part of learning something new.  I was also reminded of some lessons from Seth Godin's Linchpin:

1. If my lizard brain is telling me to stop doing something because it's too hard, I must tell myself to push through and try again anyway.
2. Sometimes you just have to get moving.  It doesn't have to be perfect - you just have to "ship."

I also started thinking about education.  Do we give space and time to allow students and staff to feel frustration with something new?  And then be there to support them and keep them moving forward?  Do we allow imperfect products from students and staff to get shipped so that we can offer feedback for a better version?  How can these ideas become part of our everyday?  Can we embrace frustration as part of learning and imperfect products as a step to something better?

I'm gonna keep up with the Windsor until it becomes second nature.  But maybe tomorrow, I'll try and get one started a little earlier in the morning, just in case I don't get it right, again.  

I have been reflecting a lot lately on relationships that I have developed with students over the years.  I think about those that I have inspired to be better students and better people.  Today, though, I'm thinking about how students have changed me.

Students have inspired me to be a Maker.  Coaching a high school FIRST Robotics team made me realize how inept I was when it came to even basic skills like connecting two pieces of wood together.  These kids built a monster of a 'bot.  But more than that, they brought me back to a love of learning that had been missing in my life for some time.  I taught myself new skills, and I realized that they could do the same.  I created a middle school robotics program where we learned to build things together.  Heck, those middle schoolers taught me how to solder!

But it went beyond skills.  Students made me want to be a better teacher, a better leader, and a better man.  One of my toughest groups of kids had a particularly defiant young man, MH, in their class.  He challenged me daily.  But he was part of my Advisory group, and I never gave up trying to get through to him.  Years spent together moving from arguing to laughing together.  From calling home to explain again the horrible things he said to a call home about his dedication to a better high school life.  I grew as a teacher because he pushed me.  I grew into a leader to create a space for students like him and AJ (see earlier post here) to show different paths of learning.  I became more empathetic and more caring of their stories.  

I see MH as often as I can in the old neighborhood where I used to teach.  I like to hear his stories of high school life.  He and a friend will join me for weekend adventures to Maker Faire NYC, or he will ask for a meeting at the library to learn to build circuits or to help with his first resume.  Sometimes, we just hang out and catch up.  Every now and then, we get to talking about old times, and we both share how important the other was in making us who we are today.  I'll be happy to continue sharing that with him for as long as I can.  

Can you find a young person that deserves to hear something good, and tell them how they made you a better teacher, a better leader, and a better person?

I reached out recently to students, and parents of students, to answer questions about their school experience.  Student voice is a critical part of the conversation about innovation and it's place in school.  How are we trying to listen to the young people we serve?  Are we challenging our assumptions of what they want and need in their learning experiences?

I have been following the work of my niece through her high school and college years on social media.  She is an accomplished artist, and she even talked about wanting to learn Astronomy (a science-teacher uncle's dream).  Particularly, I was proud of the work she did as part of her school's GSA (Gender & Sexualities Alliance) Club to promote acceptance for all students.  Then I asked her some questions about her experience, and I was taken by surprise:

From the mouths of babes, folks.  We just have to ask.  Thankfully the news from her and others isn't always bad.

All of the students that have responded to my survey have all shared a story or thought that speaks to the impact of relationships on their learning - for good or for bad.  As a leader, I am going to listen to their stories, hear what they have to say, and use that to ground my learning and innovation for the schools I serve.  I will listen to young people to show them that I trust them to help guide my work.  

​I hear you.  And I want to hear more.  

"If we want meaningful change, we have to make a connection to the heart before we make a connection to the mind."  #InnovatorsMindset

Every year I taught, the staff assigned a kid (or sometimes a few kids) as my "son" for the year.  These were typically young men who were disruptive, used harsh intonation and language, and were frequent-flyers in the Discipline system.  I dubbed them as my "knuckleheads", often realizing they were just twitchy and hyperactive, but more than willing to work.  When I took the time to get to know their stories, each young man grew on me, like a tumor.  I grew to love many of them.

One thing I could never come to terms with is how easily they were labeled as a bad kid.  Their behaviors blamed on things like, "He's [insert cultural reference here], so he doesn't like women," or "His [insert family member] can't control him, either," or "He obviously has [insert psychological diagnosis, usually ODD]."  Never did they say things like, "Maybe my 30 minute monologue on the appropriate use of commas wasn't very engaging today," or "Maybe I'll just talk to him and find out what might spark a little interest in learning to improve his writing/reading/math/art/music skills."  Blame uncontrollable aspects of life outside the classroom for behaviors that prevented learning in the classroom.

The most successful work from AJ typically involved a separate project he worked on instead of the work everyone else pursued in class.  One in particular sticks out in my mind where I gave him the task of building a bridge from one desk to another that would support the weight and movement of an R/C Monster Truck crossing it.  I watched this young man research different types of bridges on his own.  He documented his research in his notebook without being asked.  He tested various materials to use to create the bridge.  He had a specific time frame to complete his project, and it was not done on time, so he had no final product.  But he did have student-driven content, multiple iterations, experience doing research about a topic he was interested in, and memories of learning he would not easily forget.

He just needed a chance to do things differently.  His other teachers allowed him to work on my projects during their class time, so he wouldn't "bother" them.  AHHH!!!  This kid began writing his Memoirs, designing his own investigations, iterating fan blades for a windmill to generate electricity, making metaphorical connections to new learning, among many other tasks he completed for me.  

And now, he is suspended, after being absent from many of his classes for much of the year because he is bored with the class, and no one seems to notice or care when he is gone.  I know there is another side to the story.  But I have heard it before.  I know him.  I know what he is capable of doing. 

I told him about my experience visiting a unique learning space in Boston, NuVu Innovation Studio.  I shared a studio project I observed where students were tasked with creating empathy in people for animals that were endangered.  AJ began talking about how if we don't stop eating bacon, pigs will go extinct.  While that is not likely to happen, it did steer the conversation to pig farming, and how I have read articles about people having to wear bio-hazard suits to avoid the spread of disease on pig farms.  This sparked conversation about visiting a pig farm to see them first-hand.  How are the pigs treated on these farms?  Why is there a problem with spreading disease?  In 2 minutes, this young man created a project line different from my original line of questioning, and had begun to direct his own content and research on a topic.  Over a hamburger.

And now, I'm frustrated.  I'm frustrated with a system that let this young man down.  A young man perfectly capable of learning.  A young man perfectly capable of leading his own learning.  Where are learning spaces like NuVu in NYC for kids like AJ that whose families can't afford tuition?  How do we reach out to our most disenfranchised students, not give up on them, and find new ways to reach them and reconnect them to learning?  

Aj plans to drop high school.  AJ plans to join JobCorps, move to Florida, and learn a trade.  He wants to build things and work with his hands.  Our system of "school" taught him he couldn't be part of the system as it stands.  

I'm thinking about Immortal Technique's words right now, "...when you try to change the system from within, it's not you who changes the system; it's the system that will eventually change you."  Do we need a new system for learning?  A different system all together?  Or do we continue to try and innovate inside the box?  I innovated inside the box for him, but my pocket of innovation wasn't enough for AJ.  Could I have done more?  Big questions to ponder.

Innovation is all around us.  I'm a former science teacher, and I love to run pseudo-scientific investigations on myself.  This week, I decided to try an "innovative" product - Active Charcoal Toothpaste.  It is definitely new; I've never seen it on the market before.  So, if nothing else, it's new to me.  It claims to be better by both reducing bad breath and removing stains.  I drink a TON of coffee, so I thought, what the heck.  Let's not take their word for it - Try It!

Claims of better remain to be seen.  But early results are promising.  And I never would have learned any of this had I not taken a chance to try something new.  In schools, there are definitely ideas that claim to be innovative.  As leaders, we have to ask ourselves a few questions:

• Is this "thing" really newer and better for students and staff?
• Have I set a stage that allows for teachers and students to take a risk and try something new without fear of evaluative consequences?
• Have I considered, really thought about, how this new thing will affect the students and best teachers?  Who might be made uncomfortable with the change?  (From my other current read, Todd Whitaker's What Great Principals Do Differently)
• What is the anticipated impact on student and teacher learning?  What is the anticipated impact on the school?
• How am I going to share the journey of trying this new thing?

When a decision is made to make a change, we should also be sure to give that change enough time so we can observe and really determine it's effectiveness, and not brush it off as a flavor of the month.  This requires resilience on the part of the school leader, the teachers, and the students.  We have to have resilience in the face of early stumbles, and be reflective enough to try different iterations until we find one that works.  Or find that we have enough data to decide it doesn't work, and cut it loose.

I also get cautious when I find myself calling for resilience or grit.  We should promote resilience in the face of tough problems that need attention.  Real stuck points.  Not because of poor planning or poor tasks assigned.  We need students and teachers that embrace the mindset that allows them to create their content together and learn together.  I want a school where, as the leader, I would want to be both a teacher AND a student. 

When I think about the purpose of education and why it's important to innovate, I think about the behemoth of an educational institution that I am part of in New York City.  This system has been in place for a LONG time, and without educators trying to innovate their classrooms and schools, we would be left with the long-standing problem of perpetuating the status quo.  If we aren't working to help kids learn how to embrace their creativity, how to become Problem Seekers, not just Problem Solvers, how to network for better answers than they can come up with alone, and how to share those answers with a global audience, we are selling them short and denying them their future.

In the Youtube Live video from Week 1, there was talk about how student-directed learning can take students from a problem-solving "recipe" to being Problem Seekers.  Teachers can take steps, however small in the beginning, toward this end.  Begin with PBL, and move toward student-found problems.  Create curriculum maps that are used to show destinations for learning, and even a potential path to get there.  But, as Seth Godin talks about in Linchpin, we need students that can see multiple paths and are confident in choosing one that makes sense for them to reach that learning destination.  Even better, find a path beyond the expected destination.  This goes for teachers and leaders, as well.  "What does it take to lead?  The key distinction is the ability to forge your own path." (Godin, 2010)

I find myself trying to embrace and share the message of innovation through my work in my school district and in my city-wide meetings and connections.  Just talking about innovation can spark change in someone's view of their own work.  In a recent meeting for professional learning of science teachers, there was a big discussion about how science and literacy are connected.  And, of course, there were the typical connections to lab reports and science notebooks, reading non-fiction articles, and responding to test questions with claims and evidence.  But we have to speak out for more than this.  There are Modern Literacy Skills that need to be expressed by students (I don't like calling these 21st Century skills anymore - it's 2017, 16 years in the 21st century, and it's about more than technology being incorporated).  I love the summary of these "21st Century" skills from NCTE.  In particular, I like to help teachers think more about the need to work with multiple streams of media simultaneously, presenting to a global audience (which we are all learning to do with our #IMMOOC blogs), and how to evaluate multimedia sources of information.

In a Utopian setting, I could create a school with open learning spaces filled with tools for digesting information, for investigating problems, and creating solutions.  The spaces would be flexible and open to learn from each other, including teachers as learners.  Families could also be part of the learning environment, and would be invited to do so.  It would be a Constructionist environment (thank you Seymour Papert).  This is a big vision, and one that would take time to establish in an existing system like mine.  Through small steps - newer and better steps - a new learning environment can begin to take shape and unfold over time.  It has to start somewhere.  

Building off of these thoughts, I keep thinking back to an idea about an open space for kids to pursue their learning.  I see in my mind a room with couches and tables, rolling chairs, and rugs.  Movable furniture in a dynamic space.  Just one space like this in a school where kids can go to pursue their own ideas, or to take a mental break and let ideas percolate, to change the setting, would be a nice step to take.  Benedict Carey talks about the importance of percolation time and distraction in his book How We Learn:  When, Where, and Why It Happens.  In the Live video, someone mentioned how important it can be to watch a "cat video."  I take these mental breaks all the time (thank you @EmergencyKittens on Twitter).  I'm about to take a break now before we meet online later for the Twitter chat just to let these ideas stew for a bit.

I look forward to learning with everyone in #IMMOOC and sharing much more in the weeks to follow.