This is part two in a series on my collaborative partnership with Andrew Thomasson.  Some of you are probably saying, "Um, what post here is NOT about your collaborative partnership with Andrew Thomasson?" and you would be right.  This partnership has defined my career for the last twelve months, and has changed just about everything that happens in my classroom, and even in my outside-of-school-life. 

He and I were discussing this series of posts this morning, and realised that there is no way to talk about our partnership without talking about our friendship.  Without going into too much detail, both of us have had a very difficult personal and academic year, and we both have years and years of bad patterns with friends and work situations.  Both of us have had close friends who tend towards seasonality; friendship with them is great while it lasts, but life moves one or both of us in a different direction and the friendship dissolves.

Given those factors, it makes our partnership and friendship even more remarkable.  As I wrote in the last post, it is pretty easy to avoid one another if and when we want to, unlike with people who are physically in your living room, rather than pixelly (is that a word? No? It is now).  But maybe the fact that we became friends through technology broke that pattern.  While it doesn't occur to me to have a Google Hangout with friends who live an hour away, Andrew and I have always hung out that way, so it doesn't seem weird at all.

The distance also allows us to spend time at lunch and at night together that would be more difficult if we were in the same place.  We can pretty easily wear pajamas and have dessert and work right up until bedtime without a problem.  If we were in the same place, that just wouldn't be possible.  And because there's so much work, that is a massive benefit.

If you've never had a teaching partner, you probably don't know how much extra work it can be over just teaching your own classes.  The first team-teaching situation I was in involved another English teacher who taught English 10 at the same time I did, and we combined for a project.  It was fantastic, but it only lasted for one project.  The planning burden was overwhelming and we couldn't sustain it.  

The second team-teaching situation was a nightmare.  She didn't respect my content knowledge (it was my first year teaching history, even though I have a history degree and had three years of experience teaching English), and I didn't respect her classroom management (it was her first year teaching in an inner-city Oakland school).  The mentor who worked with our principal told us that team-teaching was sort of like a marriage, and helped us through some marriage counselling.  He told us that we had to commit to each other and that we should have spent more time choosing carefully (we jumped in, based on a commitment made in my INTERVIEW for the position).  As it happened, we ended up "married" to someone who hated us and that subsequently made both of us (and our kids) miserable.  Thank goodness that it didn't last long, as I was able to switch to teaching physics instead about two months into school.  


So when Andrew and I met, I didn't expect it to be a team-teaching situation.  I thought we'd make some videos and work on some projects together and that'd be it.

Then we became friends.  The friends part actually preceded the decision to team-teach; we could only make that commitment once we were sure that we knew and liked the other person, and that it wouldn't make our kids miserable.  It took us about a month of working together to get to that point, and it was pretty obvious that we were well-matched by then.  We actually enjoyed spending time together, the work was better when we collaborated, and we compensated for each other's weaknesses.  All of those things were important in assessing whether or not we should dive into team-teaching together.

So if you're considering a collaborative partner, you need to assess those same things.  You also will need to decide how much control you're willing to give up, and how much you are willing to invest in them as a person, as a friend, and as a teacher.  Inevitably, team-teaching involves putting aside what you want and helping the other person get what they need.  This is really, really, really freaking hard.  It also involves mentoring and being mentored.  If you don't respect and value their opinion, it won't work; if they don't respect and value yours, you shouldn't choose them.

When it comes down to it, choose someone who makes your life better, and whom you would hate to live or teach without.  I can't emphasise that enough: you have to be willing to say, "As difficult as this is, I'm willing to persist because I believe in what we're doing, and you're worth it."

Believe me....that will be tested.  For us, that started about three months into our partnership.

Around October of last year, Andrew and I started having arguments for the first time.  We are pretty low-conflict people, and so tend towards resentment and unspoken bitterness...not the best thing when you're working as closely as we were.  There were two options, really:

1. Both of us had to change
2. We had to stop working together

There were a few times that we limited our work because one or both of us was angry or bitter about something.  The trouble was, that once we got used to having a shared brain and had seen how much better it was in our classroom when we did collaborative planning, it was really hard to go back to the Before Times.  


So we - both of us - had to change because that was less painful than walking away altogether.  


We don't talk about this aspect of our partnership all that much, because it felt too private, too sacred to share.  But what gave us the ability to resolve our differences and continue to forge ahead was our shared faith.  We are both generic non-denominational Christians, and that has given us not only a way to resolve conflict, but a community to help us keep going until we felt like it was worth it again.  There were a lot of weeks where Andrew practically joined my community group, and he's been introduced to almost all of them through Hangout.  Having people who know both of us allowed us to get perspective on how to serve the other person, rather than just caring about what we wanted.


We both believe that without that shared faith, we would have never made it through the last year.  Neither of us was good at friendship a year ago; now, I think we've learned a lot about what it means to sacrifice for the other person to get what they need, but also to advocate for ourselves and what we need.  A solid relationship has to balance both - if only one person cares about the other person's needs, then they will burn out on the other person's selfishness.  And if neither cares, the friendship will dissolve or explode fairly quickly.  


One of the reflections we had in the final FlipCon13 session was that in five years, we'd like to be even better friends to one another.  That is perhaps the most important goal we have for ourselves and our work.


We know that people see our partnership and the work we do and want to know how to duplicate it (it's the question we get asked most, actually).  And the most fundamental rule we can give you is this one: Friends First.  The work we do together is made possible by a really amazing friendship that strengthens us, energises us, and motivates us to keep going with the work and with each other.  


That's not to say that it's all rainbows and ponies.  It's not.  We have disagreements still, but we've learned how to actually practice the rules we set in place a year ago.  Here are some of them:

• Trust Best Intentions - I've heard this in every team situation I've ever been in, and it's been followed in just about zero of those cases.  Both of us find trust difficult, and learning to not jump to conclusions and see through the actions to the intentions has been really, really difficult.  There are still times where he won't text me back, or doesn't do something he says he'll do, and I have to stop myself from inventing negative motivations to his actions and trust that there's a reason and that it doesn't come from lack of care.
• Work is Secondary to Emotional Health - there are some nights that, instead of planning, we need to spend time just being friends.  Sometimes, that's hanging out and watching bad 80's movies.  Sometimes, that's talking about whatever is weighing us down.  Sometimes, it's watching Wheezy Waiter videos and crying with laughter.  We've learned that trying to push through and do ALL OF THE PLANNING first is nearly always a failure.  We need to value the friendship above having an amazing lesson plan.
• Talk About Whatever You're Angry About - we don't allow silent resentment to build up anymore.  Instead, we talk about it together - no matter how crappy the conversation is going to be.  We also don't call each other names, ever.  We do tell each other to shut up (or the more adult equivalent) sarcastically from time to time.  And then we laugh about it.  We have never had an argument where one of us resorts to name-calling because we always deal with issues before we get to the point where we are willing to assign a permanent negative label (jerk, asshole, etc.) to the other person.  I've never really been able to say what I'm thinking or what I'm angry about and not have the other person react badly.  I'm really proud to say that Andrew and I are getting good at this, and that it's changing the patterns in our other friendships as a result.

None of those are all that revolutionary.  Frankly, there are probably people who look at that list and wonder why two 30-ish year olds don't just do that naturally by now.  And to those people, we would say, "Shut it."

But only sarcastically. 

One of our friends on Twitter, Gary Strickland (@SciAggie), recently asked me to share the workflow and logistics of my collaborative partnership with Andrew Thomasson.  

If you're new to this blog, I'll start with a little context.  I flipped my high school English class for two semesters before looking to Twitter to find people to help me.  I talked to a few English teachers (there weren't many around then) and had some great conversations.  But none of them seemed like a match - either personality-wise, or with the classes they teach, or what they were looking for from their flipped class.  I still work with many of them, and have learned a lot through their sharing on Twitter and on their blogs.  Here's the blog post I wrote after our first conversation.  

So here are Rules For Finding a Collaborative Partner.

1. The first rule of finding a collaborative partner is that they have to be the right person.  I had to meet and interact with lots of people before I felt like I found someone with whom I could work.  And with Andrew, from the very beginning, it just felt right.  That's almost impossible to quantify, I know.  But there was an ease to the conversation, and an obvious chemistry when we started recording videos (as cringe-y as I find watching them now, it's still there).  As we started working, it became clear that we also were a match in personality and classroom contexts that fit...and those things were just as important as the work we produced together.  We only completed a single video before we started talking about non-school stuff (first conversation: "What music do you like?".  Very important).

2. The second rule is to try to produce something and assess the way each of you work and approach the work.  At FlipCon, we observed that nearly all collaborative partnerships have the basic dynamic that Jon Bergmann and Aaron Sams do.  Jon is more type-A and organised, Aaron is more care-free and improvisational.  I'm Jon, and Andrew is Aaron.  Without me, we might not finish anything.  Without him, I would get bored and/or never take risks on things that might not work.  Now we're actually pretty similar in most ways, but that one difference means that we get a lot done that neither of us would ever do on our own.  We want the same things: intellectual engagement, new and exciting ideas, projects that become bigger than we would have committed to alone, and to have fun.  I know that I would eventually get frustrated if I was working with someone who was more driven than me.  And Andrew would be frustrated if he was working with someone who wasn't open to being flexible and changing products every now and then.

3. The third rule is to have your students and PLN assess the work you've done and listen to what they say about the success of the product and partnership.  We had Crystal Kirch and Karl Lindgren-Streicher help us pretty early on, and it made a difference that they were solidly supportive and thought our work was interesting.  We also got attention quickly from some of the people we most respected - Jon, Aaron, Brian - and they loved what we were doing.  Now, I have done enough collaboration to know that if people are uninterested in what you're doing, it's not always because you're uninteresting.  But if the collaboration chemistry isn't right, and other people sense it too, then it's probably not going to last.

4. The next rule is that you have to have time for the collaboration, and when you don't, that you make time for the collaboration.  At the beginning, we probably spent about 15 hours a week together.  And during the school year, we spent about 3 hours on school days talking, reflecting, and planning.  That doesn't include emails and other textual communication.  We planned for nine classes together, and wrote all new curriculum, so it took a lot of time.  Plus, there were lots of classroom issues and school issues and...well...issues.  We needed that much time, and whenever we had an article to write or other professional obligations, we needed more than that.  Most other years where we were teaching classes we'd taught before, or in schools where we were more established (both of us were at new schools), or with less insane workloads (6 new preps and 310 students for me), we would have needed far less time.

5. The final rule (for now) is to be the collaborative partner you want, and be prepared to compromise and discuss when that doesn't happen.  Like in any relationship, we have to put aside the things we want sometimes to do what's right for the other person.  Each of us sacrifices for the other, and if we weren't willing to do that, there's no way we could still be friends or collaborative partners.  There were times that we wanted to kill each other, so we developed a set of rules so that we wouldn't actually commit murder from across the country.  Seriously though, do you know how easy it is to hang up the phone, turn it off, and shut the laptop cover?  It's much easier than walking out of a room to avoid an argument.  I won't share our rules in their entirety because they don't make sense out of the context of our relationship, but here are a few, with explanations:

• Friends first - we put the friendship and the other person's emotional health above the work.
• No shutting down to avoid an argument - shutting down can be emotional or technological.  Even when it's uncomfortable, we stay and fix it instead of running.
• No self-criticism - we're both convinced the other person is smarter, better at everything, and that we are getting the better end of the deal in this partnership.  And we don't allow self-deprecation, even as humour.
• Cheryl always spells things correctly - this is mostly because Andrew uses too many z's (like in realize, instead of the right spelling - realise) or like missing the u in colour or humour.
  

I'm going to write some more posts in this vein, as there is a lot to say about collaborative partnerships, and I've learned from someone that it's better to have short posts with one main idea than one post covering a million ideas.

Psychologists talk about liminal space as being the gap within a ritual, where you have passed from the condition in which you entered, but you have not yet transformed into the finished product.  It is the caterpillar-in-the-cocoon phase.  Not quite a worm, but not quite a butterfly.  Liminal spaces exist in places that defy definition or explanation, and are transitory, but beautiful.  

My first real experience in a liminal space was the semester I spent abroad in South Africa.  It was a pivotal time in my life, where it felt like everything was uprooted and yet I was stuck fast.  Before I left, I started a livejournal to record my thoughts and experiences.  Reading back over those early entries, I see the person I was then reflected clearly, and often painfully, through the writing.  I see someone on the brink of her second decade alive, someone insecure, a little dissociated from emotions, as well as from experiences that elicited deep emotions, highly expositional and completely devoid of reflection or insight about life, adrift in a life that didn't feel comfortable or understandable.  Someone desperately wanting a life that was worth living, worth noticing, worth having.  

Someone who found a liminal space, and who was completely unsure about how to get out of it.

Those entries make me sad, because so much of who I was then was shaped by lack and distance.  I write about my long-distance boyfriend, and the first real love of my life, who was not only far away, but barely communicative.  I write about trying to reconcile the experience of being in South Africa, where everything was vibrant and alive, with my life back home, where everything was difficult and heavy.  And although I had never been to South Africa before, from the minute I stepped off the plane, there was a visceral and intense love that I had never felt for a place before.  By that point in my life, I had moved 18-20 times, or nearly one move per year of my life.  Each time I moved that meant leaving friends, finding new routines, and starting over.  But stepping onto the tarmac in Cape Town is seared into my fatigued retinas because it was the first time I had felt what rest, peace, and safety felt like.  I always thought that those feelings rose out of the physical geography, the social structure, and political reconciliation that are so unique to South Africa.  In fact, I believed that wholeheartedly...until now.

But that wasn't it. I loved, and still love, South Africa for all those reasons.  However, what I fell in love with was not the land, but the people.  And while I found the people of South Africa to be warm, friendly, and generally pretty amazing, that's not who I fell in love with.  The people I grew to love was the group who had travelled to South Africa to study with me: the nineteen other students, our professor, and her husband.

For the first time in my life, I wasn't alone.  Now, I'd had roommates before, but I had never spent 24 hours a day for six weeks with those roommates.  I had never been so surrounded by and dependent on people before in my life.  And yet, here were 22 other people, with whom I had little in common except for an address and the name on our diplomas,; here were 22 people who became my family.

That's not to say I loved them all, or that I loved them all the time.  Like any family, there are people with whom it's best (for the sake of your sanity) to limit contact.  My livejournal entries bear witness to the fact that I didn't find it easy to live with several of our group members.  But the thing that strikes me as well, is how much I came to depend on the two people with whom I became close - Traci and Murray.  We called ourselves The Collective because it seemed like we shared a single brain, along with our food, music, and possessions.

Here's my favourite picture of our time together.  It's one of my favourite pictures ever, actually.

Those two people became my brother and sister.  Sure, we fought some, but it was far less than anyone expected for three college students spending six weeks in close quarters.  We saw plays together, helped shop for gifts for our respective family members, pooled internet time and camera memory, and had more fun than I'd ever had in my life.

If the trip had been a vacation, we may have become this close.  But it wasn't.  It was a study abroad trip, and we made up a learning cohort.  We read the same books, visited the same museum, reflected and evaluated each other's writing and research, discussed politics, religion, culture, and our place in the world.  For the first time ever, I was learning alongside other people, and I found that they did not detract from my learning.  In fact, they were responsible for a lot of it.  The experience of being, as well as learning and seeing and doing, created a place in which I felt at home, and safe, and love for the first time in my adult (or nearly-adult) life.

After college, we each went our separate ways.  Traci went to grad school in Hawaii, Murray got married and travelled the world taking photographs and exploring, and I became a teacher.  But my memories of that time are inextricable from the memory of being part of the collective.  From them, I learned how to find beauty in liminal spaces.  Everything we did in South Africa was temporary, and we always knew that it would end.  We travelled nearly constantly, but some of the best moments were the ones in which we weren't moving.  The morning on the beach in Plett Bay, where we watched dolphins play in the surf as the sun rose.  The afternoon on the wrap-around balcony overlooking Long Street, where we each read from the same book, comparing notes as we read.  The evening we walked down the street leading away from Table Mountain, arm-in-arm, leaning towards the rapidly approaching dusk. 

There was never a lack of great beauty on that trip...but it was always contrasted with extreme poverty.  We were not adults, but not children.  We were not students, but not tourists.  As far as the collective was concerned, we were three people, but also one person.

After the course was over, Traci and Murray went back home, and I stayed on for several weeks.  Watching them get on the bus that would take them to the airport reminded me that no liminal space lasts forever.  They went home to restart their real life, and I stayed to try and find a life where I could fit in, that made sense, that made me feel like I could answer the question "Who are you?" or even "Where are you from?"  I have spent the last fifteen years of my life trying to answer those questions.  And the only time that I had an answer to either question was the brief time I spent with Traci and Murray, travelling the length and breadth of a country I still don't understand, but love deeply.  

That is, it was the only time that I could answer those questions before a year ago, today.  

One year ago today, I met Andrew Thomasson.  And one week ago, I actually met Andrew Thomasson.  Here is my new favourite picture.

The picture marks the second time in my life that I found myself so obviously in a liminal space.  Here is someone I spent the last year getting to know, but had just met the day before.  We struggled to write or lesson plan without the other person, but hadn't even seen each other's handwriting.

Maybe the beauty of a liminal space is in its fragility.  Maybe the only reason liminal spaces resonate so much in our lives is that they, by definition, have to end.  Maybe it's our attempt to hold on to the limited time that makes the time more present, more meaningful.   The week in Minnesota had to end, because we both had to return to our real lives, where pixels replace true face-to-face time.

Small things, insignificant things, can change everything.  Responding to a tweet brought me the best friend and collaborative partner I've ever had.  Working with him has meant that a nearly impossible job - six new preps, 310 students, a hostile school culture, and a faculty that resisted collaboration and technology - and turned it into the best, most fun year of my nine year career.  

We have tried many times to explain or define our collaborative partnership, but it has proved impervious to labels.  The first rule we have for working together is not about work - it's about putting the friendship first.  Now that we've returned home, we find that it's harder to work together now that we're not in the same room...even though we built everything on cross-country collaboration.  It's hard work, but also pretty amazingly fun work.

But there is one thing I can say: responding to that tweet a year ago from some random teacher in North Carolina has changed my life.  And I am so grateful for not only the time we spent together in Minnesota, but the collaborative partnership and friendship that made it possible.

Here's to another year, and to the promise that this year will be better than the last.

Two years ago, I had the amazingly good fortune to have a cart full of netbooks in my classroom.  I was 1:1, and even if the netbook wasn't awesome (these broke, lost internet connection, lost files, wouldn't connect to any site with a large file size...etc.) it did allow me to push my course management to Edmodo.  I posted all assignments there, had discussions (and posted backchannels for other discussions), I assigned grades, and used the teacher forums for my own professional development.

Then, last fall, it became clear that occasional computer lab use and BYOD were the best I could do.  A large percentage of students had iPhones (85-90%) and a few had iPads or other kinds of smartphones, so there were often a critical mass of devices so students could send email, compose documents in Google Drive (although I wouldn't want to try that on a phone screen, my students seemed to be okay with it), take pictures of handouts, etc.  So while I wasn't 1:1, I had students using their own devices or borrowing one of the ones I had (I had four computers in my classroom, two laptops I own and two desktops from the school, as well as an iPad and an iPhone).

But what became clear quickly was that Edmodo just wasn't going to be helpful.  Outside of a 1:1 environment, it made much more sense to host everything on MentorMob playlists, and then embed those into a course-specific webpage at tmiclass.com.  

This is the course website for American Literature, first period.  You can see the last video we used, along with the playlist for the Gatsby unit, and the playlist of returned tests/essays.  I can also embed Google forms on these pages, such as the one I use for document creation from AutoCrat.

Students could access those easily on their phones, and even more easily from  home.  Just by using MentorMob with BYOD, we reduced the number of copies needed to almost zero.  I didn't even give paper copies of the syllabus and course description last semester.  Just the shortened link to the Google Doc version.

However, that didn't make up for every piece of paper - in fact, most of the paper used in my classroom was used by my students.  That's where this strategy comes in.


I hate collecting paper.  It gathers, especially when you have 155 students in a fast-paced college-prep school.  So I came up with a few ways to not ever collect paper from my students.

• Ask them to email it to you with a particular subject line.  I like using hashtags.  So if the assignment is the Gatsby Journal #1, I have them use the subject #GatsbyJournal1.  Then I can search and even auto-label emails in Gmail.  

• If they don't have a device or can't use it for some reason, I will walk around and take pictures of their papers with my iPad.  Then I can import them as a single event (this works best if you upload after every class period) in iPhoto.  And I have them forever, unless I decide to clean out my iPhoto albums.  It also takes less than two minutes to make it around to everyone who needs it.
  

Here is what it looks like in iPhoto.

So yes, technically it uses paper.  But it means you don't have to collect ANY of it, and the students don't need to worry about keeping or losing it.  In fact, I encourage them to recycle it as soon as they add it to their blog or email it or whatever.  

If I end up needing to comment on them, I can always upload the pictures to Google Drive and use comments or VoiceComments on them.  For the most part though, these are credit/no credit reading journals that don't require me to read them closely.  I can also have students collect and submit them at the end of the unit, making it easier to grade and enter.

Do you have paperless tricks?  If so, I'd love to hear them!

So much to say.

In the last few days of our time in Minnesota, Andrew and I talked a lot about what the next year will hold for us.  You can watch our 5-5-5-5 video reflection here, but that's really just the Big Picture Overview.

And the first thing you have to do when you look at changing your classroom is take stock of where you've been.  I haven't blogged much since early March, which is for lots of reasons (all of them, I assure you, are Very Good Reasons.  I know that Andrew will write me a note attesting to the veracity of that statement).  Practically, what that means is that all of the work we did in the last two units are completely and utterly unblogged.

So there are several major summer projects on the table for Thomasson Morris Instruction (TMI), but more than anything, we need to start by reflecting on the work we have been too busy working on to blog about.  Here are some of the blog topics/subjects we'll be covering in the near future, either as separate posts or combined in some way:

• Close reading
• Collaborative reading activities
• Student-designed novel unit(s)
• Use of student-made #coflip videos
• Integrating blogging into the 20% project (Blank White Page)
• Integrating blogging into a novel unit
• Going paperless without having 1:1
• The Really Hard (but No Rules) College Test
• Flipping feedback with VoiceComments
• Reading analytically as you go vs. reading entire novel, then analysing it
• Socratic Seminar as part of #CoFlipReads The Fault In Our Stars
• Student-selected literature circle unit (hint: Not A Success)
• Reading journals with a difference (and choice!)
• Student feedback and reflections
• Critical reading --> critical thinking --> critical writing?
• Using new media and YouTube Edutainment to engage students

That's a pretty good list.  And of course, that doesn't include any of our plans for next year, or our extended reflections on #FlipCon13.  We have about two hours of video with Andrew and me IN THE SAME ROOM AT THE SAME TIME and that will eventually be a series of short videos about what we learned and how we plan to use it in our classrooms.

Now, because I believe in adding value, I'll write about one thing in this blog post that's not on the list, but is relevant nonetheless.

Andrew and I are approaching summer much like we would the regular year.  We have a schedule that includes several important projects: short and long-form writing, making and editing instructional videos, planning our courses for next year, etc.  My first administrator told me that if you ever take a summer off from work (he was talking about summer school particularly) that you'll never go back to it because you will be forever spoiled by luxury.  Well, that turns out to not be true in this case.  I took the large majority of last summer off, and this summer, I'm actually MORE excited to work than I have been in a while.  I know the tasks won't all be "fun" but honestly, there have been very few times in the last year (of intense collaboration) where it hasn't been enjoyable.  It feels less like work and more like hanging out with my best friend and co-teacher.

I know inspiration is fleeting, but the excitement I have for our summer work is founded on a few reasons.  First, FlipCon helped to light a fire in me.  I have been so drained and worn down and exhausted that I really limped over the finish line of spring semester.  But now, I have had so many ideas, and feel much more energised and ready to work.  I know it will be difficult, and there will be times we don't feel like continuing on.  But this is more excited than I've been about summer....maybe ever.  And it's not because I get to sleep in until 10 AM every day and watch a lot of Dexter and Wheezy Waiter all day; it's because of work.


Well, it's sort of about work.  Like EVERYTHING we do, it's more about collaboration.  Andrew has made even the most mundane of tasks much more fun.  There is a rumour that we are indeed one person, and sometimes, that doesn't feel so incorrect.  It's pretty difficult to write anything substantial without his #SpecialSkillz in writing and editing and thinking now that I've gotten used to having his help.


But more importantly than a shared brain, is the real reason behind "Better Together": that we know we would have burnt out alone.  Yes, the collaboration gives us new ideas, and it gives us a second brain to help when ours isn't finding the right words.  But more than anything, I have someone invested in my success.  I have someone who believes in me far more than I believe in myself.  I have someone to filter my thoughts and writing so I don't say something stupid on the internet...where NOTHING EVER DIES.  Andrew pushes me to be a better teacher, a better writer, and a better learner.  I know not everyone needs that, but I do.  He knows when I'm doing something half-assedly, and isn't afraid to call me on it, but then also will help me fix it.  I trust his opinion more than my own.

It is totally possible to flip your class on your own, but we sure don't recommend it.  I think the reason our story resonates with people is because most teachers, and nearly all #flipclass teachers, want someone who will help them do a better job for their students.  But the reality for most of us is that there are few colleagues willing to help us do that, or if some are willing, many are pedagogically opposed, or over-scheduled to the point of uselessness.  That's why Andrew and I needed each other - neither of us had colleagues willing to experiment with flipped learning.  Neither of us had the knowledge, the tools, or the experience to know how to flip our class.

So we embarked on this journey together, just three days short of one year ago.  I would not still be blogging, I would not have attended #FlipCon13, I would not have several Very Exciting Offers to consider, and I would not be as happy as I am now.  I don't need Andrew to be a good teacher.  But this way, even with the many, many challenges we face, is So Much Better than anything I ever did on my own.  And I am grateful - ridiculously so - to have a teaching partner and friend like Andrew.

So I'm really looking forward to this summer - there is much to be done, and I am excited to see what crazy ideas we hatch as we dive into our projects. I would love to hear which of the topics you'd like us to write up first, so leave that in comments if you have a preference.  And if you are part of (or starting) a collaborative partnership, please let us know!  Andrew and I love to talk to people who are starting this same journey.  We were lucky enough to meet half a dozen collaborative partnerships at #FlipCon13, and we'd love to add to that list.

Happy start of summer, everyone, and we'll see you all at #flipclass chat Monday night!  All are welcome, 8 EST, to talk about #FlipCon13, #CanFlip, and all other #flipclass summer work and reflections.

Lots of other things happened at FlipCon13. 

And those things are important, and I will eventually reflect on them here.

But the most important part of this past week was not the sessions we attended, or the new ideas and their application to our classrooms.

The most important part of FlipCon13 for us was the face-to-face time.  

In a shocking turn of events, Andrew and I get along just as well in person as we do over Google Hangout.  And all the people we admire because they are intelligent, innovative, and creative are just as intelligent, innovative and creative in person.  

It was an amazing week.  And when I've processed it a little better, I promise I will make up for the last four months of radio silence.  Processing has been at a premium since early March, and there are dozens of blog posts from the work we did for the last quarter of the year, and also tons of video series and projects that Andrew and I are undertaking together over the summer....and it's all just waiting for me to have some space to write it all down.

I will say this though, I am more convinced than ever that Better Together is absolutely, 100% perfectly true.  And I am incredibly grateful that a year ago, I met someone who has made my classroom work and my life better.

When I was in 7th grade, I was homeschooled.  I had a cousin who was a few years older and had just started coding in Basic and wanted to show off to his younger (pretty shy) cousin.  He taught me how to make graphics, write text-based adventure games, and even program in midi sound.  I built an X-Files graphic sequence (complete with something sort of resembling the theme) and a Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy game that let you choose from the menu of the Restaurant at the End of the Universe.  I also loved playing the game with the two gorillas throwing bananas at each other (anyone else remember that?!).

I didn't realise just how unusual it was for girls to enjoy coding, because my best friend was eagre to learn all the things my cousin taught me, and together we created several text-based games.  She went on to learn some C++ and now teaches math to high school students in Colorado.  We loved coding because it felt like a secret club that only we had access to.  Our other friends just thought it was weird, and wondered why we'd rather write code than go swimming or ride our bikes or hang out at the mall (or whatever 7th graders do normally).

Anyway, fast forward 18 years and my coding knowledge has not progressed all that much.  After turning down a full scholarship to go to a technical university and studying computer engineering, and then becoming an English and History major, and eventually a teacher of the humanities, I just didn't keep going with coding.  I really regret that choice.  

But coding taught me something that I wouldn't have learned otherwise - it taught me how to think.  I learned the if...then statements before I knew that was a way of making logical arguments.  I learned that patterns were incredibly important when creating complex code long before I saw the way patterns shape every sort of text and the way in which we understand the world.  I learned not only how to solve my own problems, but how to find them.  I learned that failure just meant that I hadn't mastered it...yet.

Those understandings have shaped the person I've become profoundly.  I wonder what would have happened if one of my high school teachers had offered me the chance to learn how to code.  There weren't classes in coding at my high school, and none of my teachers knew how much I was able to do just from self-study.  And in a way, that has sort of defined the kind of learner I've become - I learn socially, but not in a way that is monitored or directed by the people in charge of me.  I collaborate and share ideas freely, because I know that giving my ideas to someone means that part of me changed part of them forever, and that is the only real way to change anything in this world.  I love finding problems, and I love solving problems.  And I love having a community around me to support me when I need it, to kick my ass when I need it, and to remind me that my worth is not in what I do, but who I am.

I am extremely blessed to now have a best friend who reminds me of that daily, and a community at school and on Twitter who play a significant supporting role.

So I wanted my students to have that.  To feel the thrill of not knowing how to do something, and the excitement when they figure it out.  I saw that today.  There were students betting each other they could figure it out first.  There were tons of celebrations and shouts of "I MADE IT TO THE ZOMBIES!" (which is lesson 12 out of 20 in the code.org tutorial) constantly.  There were students who finished walking around the room offering help, but never just doing it for the person.

I heard things like, "These make my brain hurt. But I really like it!" and "This is hard, but it's really fun" from students ranging from A students to students who have never done any work in any class all year.  I only had one student refuse to do it, but even he capitulated when he saw that everyone else was having way more fun than he was.  And nearly all students, even the one I had to walk through sending his first email about a month ago, completed the entire 20 lesson sequence.  Many finished in 10-15 minutes.  Some skipped it entirely and went on to the advanced Javascript tutorials instead.