Ever since a bunch of us started the Flipped Learning Journal, I've been trying to figure out how to better explain what happens in my class.  Sometimes, I'm convinced that what I'm doing is not flipped.  After all, they're not going home and watching videos, and often, we're all doing the same thing, and sometimes, I'm talking in front of the class.  

And that's why there are so few flipped English teachers talking about what actually goes on in class.  I'm always thinking, "Well, this was an awesome lesson...but what was flipped about it?  If I share it, someone is going to finally see the Man Behind the Curtain and realise that I'm not as flipped as I claim to be."

So I don't share.

Oh, and I have three new preps, 155 students (70% of whom are new to me as of January 9th), a collaborative partner with three preps and all new students, a burgeoning new website and collaborative group that has taken time and attention (and has been SUPER AMAZING!), and and and and.

All of those things give me less time than I'd like to talk about what I'm doing in class.  Frankly, I'd happily give away literally everything I've done in the hopes that it's helpful to others (and I have at least twice here on this site).  But there's that little voice in my head that questions, challenges, raises insecurities...and so I don't share.  It also reminds me of the times that ideas I've given away on twitter and here on this blog have been taken by others and used without attribution, and often posted to blogs as if they thought it up.  And that bothers me a little.  I hate that it bothers me.  But damn it, Andrew and I work REALLY HARD to make these lesson plans and resources and come up with innovative ways of teaching books and grammar and writing and it'd be nice to have people recognise it by giving us some credit.  

Side note: We estimated recently that we spend about 15-20 hours a week planning, reflecting and discussing our classes together.  Then we probably spend between 5-7 hours individually prepping and grading every week.  Yes.  That's a lot.  But divided by six preps, that's about 3-4 hours per class per week that we spend together, and about one hour per class individually (or two hours if we're only dividing by the classes we physically teach).

Okay, back to sharing.

I've always had a hate-hate relationship with the term Project Based Learning, and have been irritated when people point out to me that I'm actually doing PBL at some level.  I guess I associate it more with the "make a mask that someone would have worn to the party in Romeo and Juliet" or "draw a map of the neighbourhood from the book and label it with significant events" type of thing.  And those two examples are well and good and are probably (on the surface) way more fun than doing close reading or analytical writing.  But those two examples are things that use A LOT of time, with limited returns on English reading, writing and critical thinking.  Are they memorable? Yes. Do students learn something from them? Yes.

Are the projects that should take centre-stage or be called "Project Based Learning"?

I say no.

Let me give you two case study comparisons.

1. Podcasting, San Francisco Stories (11th-12th English elective at Redwood)
My students are listening to a This American Life podcast, determining how telling a good story is different in an audio format than in a video or print format, then creating a podcast of their own that attempts to use those principles to tell their own story.  They have to choose a group and topic (the only guideline is that it has to be at least tangentially related to Redwood High School), then they have to write, record, edit, produce and publish it.  And then it will be assessed by their peers.

Skills that I'm teaching/assessing: using a controlling impression, using evidence to support a claim, good narrative technique, reflective and thoughtful analysis of an issue, comparing presentations of an idea or theme across genres, using irony, ambiguity and other sophisticated literary and rhetorical devices to enhance the telling of the story, using grammar and mechanics in such a way that the topic can be understood and engaging to a particular audience.

I'm also teaching my students about responsibility, collaboration, deadlines, audio and video editing, production techniques, and a whole lot of other stuff.

2. Character Video for Death of a Salesman, American Literature (11th-12th English elective at Redwood)
My students have watched John Green's excellent video about the first half of Catcher in the Rye and used that to determine how to tell a story and engage an audience about a book.  We talked about Green's approach to literature, and how he draws us in to the story by both summarising briefly and connecting us to the things we care about and how they are evidenced and reflected in Holden.  Then they chose a group and a character (either Happy or Biff) on whom to focus; we've covered characterisation in class for Willy and Linda, so they have a toolkit of analytical strategies already to pull apart the character to find out what makes them human.  They will make their own video that has a (very long) one-sentence summary of the first act of the play, and goes into detail about the character and why we should care about them.

Skills that I'm teaching/assessing: see the list above (both lists, actually) and add something about determining character traits and complex motivations as well.

**

I'm not sure that what we're doing is PBL the way that most people describe it.  

This is meaningful, relevant, engaging, and exciting.  My students haven't asked about how it would be graded AT ALL.  A few asked when it was due, and if they had to all appear in the video/podcast.  But other than that, they've thrown themselves into this project with reckless abandon and I have caught their enthusiasm and now am legitimately excited to see what they come up with.

**

So, do you agree with me?  Is this PBL?  What does PBL mean to you?  Is a term like PBL even relevant to education?  Have you done projects like this successfully (or not successfully)?  I'd love to hear some thoughts about it.

I never realised just how much I took for granted about reading.  Every year, I vastly overestimate my students' ability to read on their own.  I assume that just because everyone in my department assigns reading regularly as homework that students are actually doing it and getting it.

This week has been the reality check for me: They aren't.  Even the "high achievers" either aren't doing the reading or they are doing it and not understanding it.  Even the AP students in some cases.  These are kids who get A's in everything, who can write and articulate intelligent arguments.  And they aren't reading what we assign.

These are the kids who are getting accepted left and right to Purdue and Brown and Cornell and UCLA and Cal.  These are the best kids from the best school in the best area.  

The real tragedy is that these are the exact kids who need the beauty and the breath of fresh air that comes with a good book.  The bookroom is filled with titles that I would have killed to teach at previous schools - Kite Runner, Me Talk Pretty One Day, Sula, The Things They Carried, Things Fall Apart, The Namesake, Their Eyes Were Watching God, Indian Country, Slaughterhouse Five, Pride and Prejudice, Man's Search For Meaning...our bookroom has hundreds of choices.

Hundreds of choices that our students pretend to read or understand for most of their four years here.

I'm not pointing fingers at my colleagues - I assigned reading homework last semester, and many of my students told me they didn't read all of those books either.  And some of them got A's from me too.  So we're taking kids who love reading, who read for pleasure, who will do homework, who are compliant, and churning out students addicted to Sparknotes, trained to jump into the point in the discussion where their failure to read or understand will be noticed least, and who think that literature is just an excuse for a treasure hunt for symbols that they can identify and spit back out on a test.

So what's going on?  And more importantly, how do we fix it?

If we believe that teaching through literature is the Right Way, and that the skills developed through beautiful literature can help students see their own life more clearly, analyse more carefully, and engage with the world more actively, then it's imperative we figure this out.  And I'm the least capable person to figure this out, because I did all the assigned reading in high school and college, loved it, and understood the vast majority of it.

So I asked my students.  In a previous post, I outlined the process we went through to ascertain what would be the best reading strategy for them.  I would encourage you to read that before continuing with this post.

So here's are some of the take-aways from that mini-unit.

First of all, it's different for every group of students.  That makes sense - any teacher can tell you that the climate of one section can be wildly different to another section of the same class.  But how often have we treated them the same in the method we use for reading?  I know I have.

Secondly, it will be a system of trial and error.  When we came up with the plan, I had a student ask, "What happens if we end up not liking this, or it doesn't work - are we stuck with it?"  NO!  The whole purpose in giving them voice and choice is to make it work for them.  Why would I force them to stick with something that wasn't working just because "they chose it"?

Thirdly, students are not used to being asked these questions.  They haven't thought about it either, on the whole.  They never think to question their teachers.  They said to me, when I asked why they don't question what we're doing, "But we just assume that either you have a reason or that it would be rude to ask.  So we don't ask why."  I died a little inside on that one.  Any student, regardless of age or ethnicity or grade level or ability, should be able to respectfully ask the teacher for rationale behind any assignment.  And if the teacher doesn't have one, it should prompt some serious reflection on the teacher's part.  I told my students that I would never ask them to do something for which I couldn't articulate a reason.

Finally, it's not enough just to have class discussions or to have students reflect on what they're learning and why.  Students need to be given far more voice and choice than they usually get in factory-style education.  I've found, over and over, that when I ask them for input, their ideas and cognitive process are amazing...often better than what Andrew and I came up with.  Most of the plans are a result of students advocating for what they need, and trying to take ownership over their education.  I'm confident that more students will be reading the assigned novels for these courses.  And it's not because they like me.  It's because they feel like it was their choice, and that if they have something to say about the process, the product, or the text itself, they have the freedom to say it.  They don't have to hide the fact that they hate the book - in fact, sometimes that's the start of the best discussions in my classroom.  And if they honestly aren't reading at home, how is it helpful to act out a farce in which we all pretend they ARE reading?  It's teaching them that education has shortcuts.  That they can get all of the answers off the internet.*  

Is that really what we want to be teaching them?

*side note: When I said that many of my PLN agree that "if you can google it, it's not a good question to include on a test" they just couldn't understand what a test would look like with information that wasn't googleable.  I gave some examples, such as: instead of memorising the dates of the Civil War (googleable), argue whether or not Lincoln did enough to prevent the war (not googleable).  Their words: "Yeah, that second option is way more interesting and useful."  Yes.  Yes, it is.

Below the fold are the specific plans that we worked out in each of my three classes that have started a novel. 

Steven Rosalez was one of Those Students.

The ones who drive us crazy because for as much time and energy and attention we pour into them, they can't or won't do anything to change their behaviour, their attitude, or their acceptance of the inevitable failure they will have. He was in two classes with me in the 2010-2011 school year; despite a higher than average ability, he was designated as needing remedial English in addition to English 9.

Him being in remedial English was a huge joke.  His 8th grade teacher had seen his chronic disorganisation, his resistance to authority, and his frustration at feeling like he was already in the "stupid class" and did what most of Steven's teachers had done - judge him, pass him on, with no hope that he could ever change.  He had failed every class for years.  Not due to lack of ability.  Mostly because it made him incredibly angry to be treated as if he were stupid.

That's the kid that walked into my room on the first day of school.  I can't recall exactly what he was wearing on that first day, but I picture him in the same baggy white shirt and black jeans he wore most days.  Same SF Giants cap.  Never a backpack, but always a phone in his pocket.  For being a gigantic flirt, he had stayed faithful to the same girlfriend for a year.  He would do anything I asked him to do, so long as he felt like it was worth it and I wasn't being disrespectful.  

A few weeks before school was over, he stopped coming to my class.  He had been testing limits with me for weeks, and the last straw was him taking a few of his more impressionable classmates with him in a mini-rebellion against me.  I don't remember what it was about, but just that he was angry.  At me, at the school, at the fact that he was failing every class except for mine...it was a lot of anger.  When he didn't show up for the third day in a row, I found his number and sent him a text telling him to come see me, because I cared.  That I didn't want him to think that I was giving up on him.  That he could push me away, but that was okay.  I was safe - my affection for him or approval of him wasn't going to change.  He knew that.  So in his frustration at everything else in his life that he could do nothing to change, he tried to make me hate him too.

I saw it because I do it.  He didn't want someone to care about him because he figured he would let me down eventually, or that I would leave, or that I would stop caring.  So he was ending it before I got a chance to.  Just like I do.  That reaction comes out of a place of utter brokenness.  Of seeing the standard you can never reach and giving up before you prove that you're the failure you know you are.  I saw him setting as impossible a standard as I set for myself.  I saw beneath the anger was fear.  Fear of failure, fear of abandonment, fear of loss.

So the only think I could do was text him and tell him just how much I cared.  That I wasn't going to be pushed away like he did with everyone else.  That I wouldn't accept his own view of himself - as a failure - that instead, I saw an inordinately talented kid, who loved to argue, but cared deeply.  Who saw his own flaws but could ignore the flaws in others.  Who thought he didn't deserve people to love him, but gave his heart away anyway.

That he was just like me.

A few hours after I sent those messages, he showed up at my door.  No hat, no friends with him, just his phone in his hand.

"Do you really mean what you said?" he asked.

"Yes," I said without hesitation.

"Then I'll see you in class tomorrow morning," he said.

He later told me that his girlfriend had gotten pregnant, and he couldn't tell anyone.  That he wasn't ready to be a father, but that he didn't want her to have an abortion.  That he was angry because he couldn't change it or fix it or make it go away.  And he was angry at me because he didn't know what else to do, or who else to be mad at who wouldn't send him to juvenile hall, or fail him, or break up with him, or kick him out of the house.

He hated me because it was the only thing he could do to make sense of what was happening.

His girlfriend lost the baby a month later, and the school year drew to a close.  He got an A in English Support, and a B in English 9.  Those were the only two passing grades of his 9th grade year.  Eventually, when he turned 16, he moved to independent studies.  He was doing really well, and seemed to finally believe what I believed about him from the start: that he was good enough, smart enough...that he was enough.

And then.

Two days ago, Steven was shot in the back and died a few hours later in the hospital.

I don't know how to make sense of that.  I don't know if anyone knows how to make sense of it.

I won't pretend that it was easy to be his teacher.  It was tough.  He always had something to be angry about, to argue about, to push back against.  He always saw the injustice and wanted everyone to hear about it.

But he's also the kid who cried when George shot Lennie.  Who loved Derren Brown and wanted to study psychology to understand why he could do the things he did.  Who would stay after class to talk to me about the problems he was having with his mom, his other teachers, his girlfriend.  Who was beautifully broken, and willing to be vulnerable about that brokenness in the midst of other beautifully broken people.

Steven Rosalez may not have changed the world, but he did change me.  And although I mourn his death, I am thankful for the life he did have.  The impact he did make.  I don't understand why he was killed, and I probably never will.  But I am thankful that I got the chance to know him, to care about him, and to see something in him that he never saw in himself: that he was good enough, strong enough, smart enough.

That who he was is more important than what he did.

That in the end, it's only who we are that matters.


**

Edit: I thought I was done with this post.  But as I was grabbing my bag out of my car today, I found a stack of papers.  It was the evaluations from the last day of class in Steven's English support class.  


I asked them four questions:
  1. What did you learn about yourself in this class?
  2. What was the most important thing you learned about English in this class?
  3. What will you remember most about this class?
  4. If you could start this year over, what would you do differently?


Here's what Steven wrote:

1. I learned that I am smarter than I think and that I can accomplish anything I put my mind to.
2. The most important thing I've learned as a result of your class is to take my time on essays, because I can actually write a really good one if I don't give up.  I used to just give up because I assumed I was going to fail no matter what.  Now I know I won't.
3. I will remember that you are way more reasonable and understanding than any other teacher I've had.
4. I would have done even better than I did, cause if I got to do it again, I would not be going for the bare minimum.

#RIPSteven

On Saturday, I had the great honour to co-present with about flipped English at the Michigan Flipped Learning Conference.  Obviously Andrew presented with me (we really don't tend to do things separately, if you haven't figured that out by now), but we were joined by April Gudenrath - the most experienced English flipped teacher there is - as well.  The hangout was broadcast and can be seen in its entirety here, and you can view our presentation through Google Drive here, and you can fill out the Flipped English Teacher Community form here so we can get a good list of as many flipped ELA teachers as possible.

Anyway, most of the questions we got this weekend at #MIFlip (and on Twitter afterward) were around how you get started with flipping.  The school year has already started, so that ship has already sailed for this year, right?

I would argue that mid-year is actually a BETTER time to flip than the beginning of the year.  The kids know you.  They trust you.  They believe that you are out for their best interests and care about you.  You get to start ahead.  As many of us found out this year, jumping into the flip with new students is really, really difficult.

So you're convinced you want to try something.  But you're not sure if it'll take, or if you'll have enough time, or how you should start.  Let me see if I can help.

There are a few main models:

1. Flip 101 - take your direct instruction and put it on video. Have the kids watch the video at home. Use class time to help them get more in-depth with reading, writing, projects, or discussion.
2. Asynchronous Flip - use video in class or as a supplement to what you would normally do. Put your novel reading on video and use todaysmeet.com to have a live discussion. Let kids work through curriculum at their own pace, where students can work ahead but can't get behind. Video is one way of accessing the content, and students can choose others, so long as they can demonstrate learning.
3. Flipped Mastery - using either of the two models with the integration of mastery or Standards Based Grading (SBG) to assess student learning.  
4. Co-Flip - short for Collaborative Flip.  This model is student-centred, where instruction takes place if/when needed, and may or may not be on video.  It could be asynchronous or synchronous.  It could be self-paced or with everyone at the same pace.  It could use mastery or SBG or neither.  But the most important elements are 1) student-centred pedagogy, 2) use of higher order thinking, and 3) deep value in and use of collaboration, between teacher and student, student and student, and teacher with other teachers. 

Most of us start at Flip 101 - I did.  And if you use a lot of direct instruction, that's where I think you SHOULD start.  Take those lectures you always give (as April calls them, "points of pain") or instructions you have to repeat over and over, and put them on video.  If you have an iPad, use ShowMe.  If you have a Mac, open PhotoBooth (so your face is on screen) and capture your screen with QuickTime (every newish Mac comes with it, and it's free).  If you don't have either, use one of the free services online - ExplainEverything, Jing, Screen-Cast-O-Matic, etc.  I've used them all, but I prefer ShowMe for quick stuff, and Camtasia for everything else.

If you feel like adding in direct instruction would be taking a step backwards pedagogically, then start by starting the shift to asynchronous or mastery.  Use video where and when you can, but focus on getting students to be responsible for themselves and their learning - that's the first flip.

The way you do that depends on your students and what they need.  You need to use class time in the best possible way, with the intention of creating opportunities in the classroom for collaboration between students, and the availability of the teacher and peers to help.  For Andrew and me, that means using class time to let our students compose in class, do close-reading, work on collaborative projects, and having discussions as a class.  The way you use class time is FAR more important than what you put on video.  Video, like all technology, is just a tool to help your students learn best.  Don't make video the point; make it the process.

**

When you've gotten your feet a little wet under one or more of those models, you pretty much have to move on to Co-Flip.  Flipped learning is WAY too hard to do it on your own.  I don't have any colleagues flipping (or interested in flipping) in my department or school.  But less than an hour away, there are dozens of flipped teachers - even a few who flip English.  And when I broaden the search a little, I find people who not only want to do what I'm doing, but they can push me to get better at what I'm doing.

I know I'm kind of a one-trick pony in this regard, but my classroom didn't really get to the point I knew it could until I met Andrew.  Then came Karl, and Carolyn, and Crystal, and Brian.  Then came the other Co-Flippers: Delia, Lindsay, and Audrey...and the rest of the Flipped ELA gang (see many of us discussing flipped writing here): Kate B, Kate P, Dave, Troy, Shari, Katie R, April, Sam, Natalee...and more I'm probably forgetting.  All of those people have helped me shape the way I think about flipping, and the experience of flipping in my classroom.

There is no way I would be the teacher I am now without them, and I'm lucky to have a PLN that not only supports me and gives me ideas, but will discuss tattoo design until ridiculous o'clock, or run up my tweet total to 5k (special thanks to Sam for that one!) or just be silly and join the #HashtagRevolution.  I'm lucky to have Andrew as a #CoLab partner (get it? Lab partner, only COlLABorative? Yeah, I know I'm #EduAwesome at wordplay).  I'm lucky to have a #CoLab partner who will be as pissed off about the things that I'm pissed off about, but will help me calm down and reason through it.  I'm lucky to have a #CoLab partner who will spend a whole day building a website that we can't actually use, and then will throw it out and start again without looking back.  I'm lucky to have a #CoLab partner who understands my strengths and weaknesses better than I do.

Andrew makes me better.

Don't believe us?  Ask Katie Regan and Shari Sloane (and now Dave Constant, who has joined them as the #ladygeeksanddave) why #coflip is better than any other flip.  Ask Carolyn Durley and Graham Johnson why #coflip has kept them sane.  It's not just the intellectual and practical support.  It's the personal support.  We care about each other, We care for each other.  We're friends first, collaborative partners second.

So once you've decided what kind of flipped model will fit your classroom best, find someone who will help you do it even better.  Ask questions.  Jump in on conversations on Twitter.  Join the Flipped English group on Twitter.  Get on the Ning for Flipped Learning.  Post here.  

Start a conversation.  And don't wait for a "more convenient time" - start now, where you can.  Don't make yourself crazy trying to do everything - but find people who have already done it.  Listen and take whatever they offer.  You don't have to use it for it to be worthwhile for you.  And if you annoy someone by asking too many questions, they probably aren't the person you want to work with anyway.  We're all adults, and personality does make a big difference.  Find people you genuinely like and then see what you can get, and what you can give.

Without Andrew, I would have given up a long time ago.  I never would be presenting at conferences, or writing a few chapters for an upcoming book about flipped learning, or reaching my students in the most effective ways.  No matter how crazy I make him, or he makes me, our collaboration is worth it.  Neither of us could do this alone.

And neither should you.

It's time to talk about reading.  Why we read.  How we read.  And of course, what we read.

Reading has always been the forgotten younger cousin in flipped learning; there are more tangible ways of doing flipped grammar, writing, and vocabulary instruction, but reading is much more difficult to conceptualise and implement.  There are a lot of flipped educators who see the "traditional" English model, where students read at home and discuss in class, but that just never sat right with me.  It doesn't move the responsibility from teacher to student - in fact, it almost demands a teacher-centred classroom, which is the exact opposite goal we have in our flipped classroom.

This year, the student complaints about reading novels have been valid: 

• Reading books the way you do in school kills the joy of the story 
• Reading homework is always left for the end, so it's hard to focus on it
• Reading with a purpose becomes "treasure hunting for symbols" where they are so focused on finding Every Little Detail the teacher tells them to that they lose the flow of the story and start to lose interest
• Reading quizzes focus on tiny details and just become ways to lose points
• Class discussions about symbols, themes and interpretation assume that whatever the teacher says is "right" and any other answer is "wrong"
• Chapters are assigned so that there are multiple chapters due every night, regardless of how much homework they have, sports or family schedules, etc.

Now, those are mostly pretty valid reasons to struggle with reading.  So instead of trying to come up with ways of flipping reading on our own, we built an Explore-Flip-Apply unit on why and how we read.  Here's what we're doing in class.  We'll update when the first novel unit is finished to see if students are understanding, enjoying and critically analysing literature in a deeper way.

So, with the guiding questions as how and why we read, here's what we've spent the last week doing in 11th-12th grade American Literature 2.

Explore:

• Day 1: Class discussion - What books have been memorable for you?  What books have you loved or hated?  Why should we read literature in English class?  What's the purpose of reading for class?
• Days 2-3: Students set up technology for the semester.  Then, they worked on two major things: the reading timeline and 5 Books That Changed My Life.  First, they read this article and then wrote their own list in the same style.   Here's one that I wrote as a model.
• Day 4: Students played Things That Suck, a game from EdCamp.  I gave them topic statements and they had to move to either the "it sucks" side or the "it's awesome" side.  Here's a video of my 4th period class playing Things That Suck.  Special thanks to Bill Selak for sharing his presentation with me.

The idea of Things That Suck is that students argue for the side they believe in (or for which they're playing Devil's Advocate) and try to sway other students into moving their direction.  The topics we used were all relating to how literature is traditionally taught in high school.  My students asked if we could play this all the time. They really seemed to enjoy the chance to argue and be heard about things that matter

Flip

• Day 4: we watched two videos by Crash Course Literature: How and Why We Read and Catcher In the Rye.  Then we discussed what he does in those videos that helped us enjoy Catcher more (most of my students hated it the first time around, but really loved his presentation of it).  

Apply

• Day 5 (block day): we looked over the My History as a Reader document to find the reasons why we loved the books we loved. We decided on five main categories: Entertainment, Escape, Empathy, Education and Equality (Equality being the fact that any reader has the same opportunity to talk about the Big Important Ideas).  Then we wrote which categories fit each of our five "life-changing" books.  Finally, we started a new document called "How We Read Novels" and we answered these questions:

• Given that we “have to” read at least two novels that are on the book list, how do we make those novels hit all of the 5 E’s (escape, entertainment, equality, empathy and education)?
• How should we read books - like, how is reading assigned? Do you read at home? Do we read it all in class? Do we read half or all of the novel before having an analytical discussion? What kind of “educational” reading will keep you enjoying the book and not “treasure hunting for symbols”?
• What happens when you aren’t entertained by the book? Assuming we can’t change books, how do we deal with that? Can people be reading different books at the same time? how would that work?
• What are the Big Ideas About Life you’re most interested in talking about?  Growing up? Surviving pain? the “American Dream”? How to fit in or feel like you do? What it means to be human? What is love? How can I know what to do with my life? How do I not kill my parents/siblings?

The next step is to actually set out a plan for the first unit, Death of a Salesman, and then set it in motion.  I will ask them what things they need from me, what they will commit to doing, and how we will know if it's working.

And if it doesn't work, we'll try something else.  The key is that my students are now responsible for every detail, and they have enough schema to go beyond "I hated that book" and figure out what we could do differently to change the experience of reading.  They don't have to like all the books they read.  But I think this might make a huge difference.

More on this later.

There are some days where you just don't feel quite so alone - that was today.  

For most of my colleagues, the first day back to class meant hiding out, staying isolated all day, learning new names, handing out syllabi, just surviving.

And even though I had five brand new classes that started today, it was a day of really meaningful connection.  I intentionally got out of my classroom to talk to a few colleagues and had some great (short) conversations with them.  

I also got to speak to every one of my new students (all 152 of them!) at least twice, and often five to six times in the class period.  I don't know their names yet, but I have seating charts with preferred names filled out and group pictures so I can try to learn them faster than last semester (I'm pretty sure I was still guessing on names in the 6th week...remembering that many new names in 50 minute periods just doesn't work for me I guess).  I ha former students drop in to say hi.  The best ones were when 6th period was about to start, and a whole group of my former 6th period students walked by - they wouldn't stop telling the newbies how lucky they were, and how they wished they could switch with them.

But the amazing thing was tonight.  For about 90 minutes, Andrew and I had the pleasure of being a part of the largest gathering of English flipped learning teachers that we know about.  Here's the line-up:

• Me, 11-12th grade, California
• Andrew Thomasson, 10th grade, North Carolina
• April Gudenrath, 9-12 IB, Colorado
• Kate Baker, 9th/12th grade, New Jersey
• Katie Regan, 10th grade, New York
• Shari Sloane, Alternative school environment, New York
• Sam Patterson, 9th grade, California
• Dave Constant, HS, Connecticut 
• Troy Cockrum, 7th-8th, Indiana

The amount of knowledge in that room is just absolutely incredible.  I learned so much just from being there and listening.  It reminds me of just how much we really need each other and how important it is to work with each other, but also just to connect and be friends.  We need both.

The most amazing thing is that all this time, there has been another collaborative partnership - Katie and Shari - in the English Flipped world.  It seems that Katie and I play a similar role, and Andrew and Shari play a similar role in the way we work together.  

As Andrew and I debriefed the conversation, we were struck by just how much we know, but how much we don't know.  None of our flipped classes look the same.  We all flip writing to some degree, but it looks different in every context, every classroom, every video.  Reading is a much more open field with far fewer answers.

We recorded the conversation and will be posting it soon.  I hope more people can learn with us.  As Andrew says, we may know stuff and may be "defacto experts" but we are learning as we go.  

If you're interested in joining us for one of these conversations, let us know either here on the blog or by finding us on twitter.  Maybe we can fill the room a little bit more next time.

There is a brilliant movie about the music of the resistance during apartheid in South Africa.  And in that brilliant movie, there is a clip where Hugh Masekela receives a letter from Nelson Mandela.  At the time - around 1985 - Masekela was in exile in Botswana. Mandela was in prison, and had been for two decades.  In the letter, Mandela told Masekela that he was proud of him, and that he prayed that the gods of Africa would protect him, and he asked about his wife, his children, his cousins, his extended family.  

As he read the letter, Masekela recalled thinking, "Here is a man in jail, forever.  And HE was writing to ME, encouraging me, comforting me.  And a song had to come up - I did not write it - it just came out: 'Bring back Nelson Mandela. Bring him back home to Sowetho'."

**

That one moment, in a movie I saw for the first time in college, shaped the way I think about collaboration.  I just didn't see it until I saw it.

Most of us view collaboration no differently than the group work we assign our students.  We divide and conquer.  We try to make sure everyone does what is fair so that the job gets done.  Maybe we like each other.  Maybe we're friends.  Maybe we even enjoy our time together, or get a lot accomplished.

But that's as far as we're willing to go.

You can do that much without being vulnerable.  Without risking anything.  Without changing, or being willing to change.

At the PD we had today with Mike Mattos, he gave us a way of describing that: a 5 team.  If all teams are ranked from 1-10, then a 5 team is the kind of team you settle for.  The kind of team of which I've been a part for most of my career - group work, collegial, friendly.

There's also a 1 team - where every day is a soap opera.  We argue for a while, then eventually agree to disagree because our meeting is over and we want to be out of that room as fast as possible.  I've also been on those teams, although thankfully, not nearly as often as 5 teams.

Finally, there is a 10 team.  The kind of team about which you can say, "I can't imagine doing my job without them.  We achieve more together than we do alone.  The collaboration we do has changed who I am and how I teach."  

My team will support me, no matter what.  When I'm struggling, they will pull me along.  When I am excelling, I help those who are struggling.  We are interdependent and recognise that if one of us has failed, we ALL have failed.  

On a 10 team, you can't always point out which ideas are yours and which ideas came from another person - it's all as a result of the collaboration.  What you can see is that you now can only envision your life with those people in it.  If you take them out, your practice - and maybe even your life - just doesn't work.  You need them, but there's more to it than that; you feel like half your brain is missing when you have to plan without them, or can't talk about your day with them, or can't get their help on a problem.

In that kind of team, it's not just that you need each other, and believe that you're better with them...it's that you fundamentally are different because of them.  

Not only do I have the best collaborative partner in the world, but I also have a small community on twitter who help me, encourage me, support me, challenge me.  They are part of my 10 team.  Crazy things happen - like eight of us start working on an idea over Google+ Hangout and Google Drive, and it ends up being something amazing (more on that later).  Or a bunch of English flipped learning teachers get together over G+ to talk about what it's like to do something none of us really knows how to do.

I have people who have changed me and my practice forever.  I can't imagine what my life or teaching looks like without them.  All of them - Karl, Carolyn, Lindsay, Audrey, Crystal, Kate, Delia - have changed me.  

And none more than Andrew.

I've written a lot about how Andrew and I work together.  You'll also notice that I generally use the pronoun "we" or "us" to talk about what's happening in "my" classroom.  Here's the thing: I can't say that anything I do belongs to me.  Everything has been shaped by Andrew and the work we do together.  Remove him, and nothing works.

Now, as amazing as that is, it's also really scary.  This kind of collaboration demands vulnerability, risk, reciprocity.  It is the purest form of ubuntu: we are all made more human by each other's humanity.  

We need each other.  

What happens in our classroom is a song that has to come up.  Neither of us writes it.  It just emerges, and changes both of us in the process.  It shows our students what it means to be collaborative, but that's not why we do it.

It keeps us sane through our own time spent in exile - in a classroom by ourselves, with too many students and too much to do.

We do it because we need each other.  But more than that, because we get to.  

That is why we're using the hashtag #coflip - there is no way to describe what it is that we're doing.  Collaborative Flipped Learning is the best we can do.

And the best we can do is, as it turns out, pretty amazing.

A year ago, I was desperately trying to sleep after a long New Year's Eve alone.

I had just left a bad marriage, with the support of my best friend, who would end our friendship just a few weeks later.  I was alone.  I worked at a good school where I was respected and appreciated, but I was bored and my students weren't getting everything they needed.  I was emotionally exhausted and at breaking point.

2012 had a pretty inauspicious start.

Now, I am again alone in my apartment, but this year, I'm marvelling at just how much has changed.  I just left a small get-together with members of my community group, all from the church I started attending on Christmas day 2011.  I spent the evening texting and tweeting with Andrew, Karl, Crystal, Kate and Carolyn - all of whom I met through the #flipclass community on twitter.  

A year ago, I wasn't on twitter.  I had never heard of flipped learning. I didn't have this blog.  Professionally, I was alone.  

This year, while being the most challenging year of my life, has also been the year where I've seen the most grace - in my own life, and in the lives of people around me.

My classroom is transformed.  I am a better teacher.  My students are better learners too.  I'm at a school where I have the freedom to try out crazy ideas, like team-teaching with a guy I've never met 2,500 miles away.

My community is transformed.  I have my church, which has been an amazing source of strength and support.  My pastors have poured their help, support, affection and wisdom into me, and I am incredibly blessed to have them.  My community group has been there, through the deep valleys, and on the mountaintops.  

I also have my flipped learning community - the Cheesebuckets - many of whom I am lucky to not just call colleagues, but also friends.

More specifically, I've found a friend who has walked with me through some pretty horrific stuff, and allowed me to walk with him on similar paths.  Andrew's friendship has changed me - made me more attentive, more focused, more joyful, more thankful.

When I think back to what my life was like that final day of 2011, I get a little choked up.  This year has been a year of grace in so many ways.

Most of all, 2012 showed me that I'm not alone.  That no problem is too great that community can't overcome it.  That the moments I thought were great before are shadows of the joy in this past year.  That there are people who will not only love you for who you are, but will help you change and still love who you become.

As difficult as this year was, I wouldn't change it.  I hope 2013 is easier, but I see the fruit that has been bourne out of pain and hard labour in 2012.  And I also see the grace that has kept me from bearing that all on my own.

Here's to an even more grace-filled 2013.  Thank you all for being part of my community.  I have learned so much from you all.

Happy New Year, everyone.