Tonight in #flipclass chat, we'll be talking about how we use student blogging to promote life-long learning.  This developed out of several conversations between Andrew and me in regards to how students could build their own PLN as part of our Blank White Page project.  

If you're not familiar with BWP, it's modelled after the Google 20% project - students choose something that interests them, they find information on it, and build some sort of project from that knowledge.  The idea is to promote life-long learning and bring student passion into the curriculum.  It's been a huge success in many ways, but there is something missing.

Most of our great ideas involve breaking down our own process and trying to recreate that with our students.  And the big thing missing for our students was the thing that is most important for us personally: our PLN.  Now, I guess we always figured that the students in our classroom made a PLN together.  But that's not a PLN they are choosing, and rarely are there more than a few students in the room who share their passions.

So we are now thinking about ways to help our students build their own PLN.  We acknowledge that having students use social media is controversial, and requiring it involves the cooperation of the school, the parents, and the students themselves.  

But all of our students have their own blog this year, and what we CAN do, is invite them to build a PLN made up of other people from around the world who blog about whatever it is that interests them.  They can also connect with people using their YouTube accounts. 

This post isn't to announce that we have a great, finished idea right now.  It's to help promote the conversation in tonight's flipclass chat.  The hope is that, just like in our own classrooms, if we start the thinking BEFORE we all meet together, we can use our "face to face" time much more productively.

Karl reminded me of several posts that deal with student blogging on a thoughtful and deeply personal level.  I'm sharing them here because it will also help to drive our conversation tonight.


Student Blogging Do's and Don'ts by David Theriault
Why Blogging Isn't Transformational for Our Students (yet) by Will Chamberlain

If you have others that you think will help people make thoughtful contributions to tonight's chat, please add them in comments!  

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.

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.

I've been thinking about beginnings and endings a lot lately.  The nature of my current assignment is that I only get a semester with my students, then I hand them over to another teacher for the remainder of the year.  I do get to keep some, but they are shuffled into different periods and courses.  I also am teaching three brand new courses - one of which has never existed at Redwood, and perhaps has never been taught in any high school context.

I think about where my students started.  Where Andrew and I started.

We had so many ideas.  So much hope.

And we failed SO much.

When the semester started, we had TECHNOLOGY and MASTERY and CROSS-COUNTRY COLLABORATION...

...but we forgot to build a classroom community that could sustain those major changes.  We forgot that our students needed to know us, not just be in the room with us.  We forgot that our students needed a reason for the technology we were using, rather than just being told it was important.

When things didn't work according to our Master Plan, we had two choices: give up or fight back.

Well, really we had four choices: give up on everything, give up on each other and just go it alone in the classroom, fight back against each other and let that destroy our classroom along with our relationship, or to redouble our efforts and fight side-by-side to fix the problems.  

We chose side-by-side.  And after a lot of hard work - on ourselves, on our partnership, on our friendship, and on our practice in the classroom - we started to turn the corner.

Today I saw evidence of that.

3rd period has been my most challenging class in many ways.  I have 2 sets of identical twins, a 35% SPED rate, 6 girls out of 30 students, and a group who seemed to fight me every step of the way.  But today, we had a final seminar about the nature of humour, on the course and what they learned, and what I should do next semester so my students can get an even better teacher and classroom.

Here's some of what they said:

• You guided us in this course, but we were the ones who were driving the curriculum.  Whatever we needed, you helped us find.  Whatever we were interested in, you used it to help us get better.
• After our "Come to Jesus" talk in October (the one where we established the norms we needed for class to run successfully), we all started to feel like we were responsible for our learning.  We knew what we were supposed to do, but you didn't force us to change. We established the patterns of change for ourselves and you helped us take ownership of those changes.
• We've never had a course in English where we felt like it was relevant to our lives in the way this one was.  Everything we did in here was helpful in a way that we can translate to other classes, to college and to careers.
• We got to decipher what made something funny - and instead of killing the joke, it allowed us to understand it better.  And we got to produce funny stuff - including a pretty epic Socratic Seminar todaysmeet thread from this final discussion, that became a true work of humour in and of itself.
• The writing we did in this class was much more creative than the writing we've done before, but we also get the freedom to try out different styles and voices and see how they fit for us.  We got to take risks, and we didn't have to be afraid that our grades would suffer.
• All that being said, we expected this to be a joke of a class (pun intended, obviously).  We expected it to be sitting around, watching YouTube videos, and not doing much. But this class wasn't an easy A - you had to work really hard and learn a lot to get an A. The pace was really fast, but if you used class time well, you would never have to do any work out of class.

Their message was clear:

This class was successful because WE were successful.  Change a few things to streamline the process.  But we learned, we took ownership, we were inspired, and we wish we could keep going until June.

Me too.

**

I didn't have to stand up and lecture to teach them something of value.  I also didn't have to make them write 10 pages essays to get them to be analytical and critical thinkers.  I didn't have to push them to be creative either - I just had to remove the restrictions that kept them constrained.

I'm not saying that this semester was a complete success.  

There was one more thing that happened today that reminded me of why I teach this way.

It's a student that hadn't talked to me much.  He always did the work, but sometimes it felt like he was a little checked out.  He came in after school today and told me that he wanted to get the chance to tell me personally how much the class had meant to him.  He learned a lot, he appreciated me and the way the class was run, and he really hoped he would be in my class again next semester.  We looked up his schedule and both were pretty excited to see that he was staying with me in San Francisco Stories next semester. 

This all happened while I was on the customary afternoon G+ hangout with Andrew.  Andrew said that he wished he had been faster so he could have recorded it because it crystalised exactly what we wanted:

A student who had been transformed by our class.

And in a few weeks, we start over.  But we start with a few kids just like him, bought in, passionate, and skilled, we will get a pretty good head-start.

A lot of people, much smarter than I am, have been writing what it means to be flipped, and some other people (also smarter than me) have questioned whether or not what we're doing can even be called flipped.

Naming something, defining it, is a way of understanding.  We give things names so we can catagorise, analyse, interpret.  It's natural, and it's helpful.  

But what happens when something changes, expands, grows, and the definition no longer is quite right?  Do we come up with a new term?  Do we become more strict with the definition so as to be more clear?  

Or do we expand that term so that, rather than constricting our understanding, it widens it and allows for more people to come inside and be included.

That, more than anything, defines flipped learning for me: inclusive.

When I happened upon flipped learning at this time last year, I didn't see how I could fit in.  My students were poor, they lacked internet at home, and I had no way of recording video.  Oh yeah, and all the models out there were for math and science, and I taught English.

But there was something about flipped learning that caught my attention.  In a school where direct instruction was mandated and commonplace - almost part of the DNA - it seemed like something that would both please my administrators AND help my students learn.  I could do direct instruction but I could also spend more time helping my students get better at reading, writing, listening and speaking.

It seemed like the perfect solution in many ways.  

So I went looking for a way to make it work.  My district Ed Tech director got me an iPad so I could make my own videos.  I polled my students, and only three of them didn't have a smartphone or a computer with internet access at home (this was in a 90% SED school).  I arranged for those three students to use my devices during break, lunch or before/after school.  So I made some videos with the week's etymology lesson, assigned them as homework, and used the time we would have spent copying the notes practicing with the content, doing real-life examples, and playing memory games.  Test scores on the weekly quizzes went up, and I was confident I was on to something.

Then that same Ed Tech director pitched Twitter to us.  And I was Not Interested.  At all.

For a few days.  Finally, I just asked my students to teach me Twitter and help me get started.  They were happy to oblige.

Very quickly, I was hooked.  And that's also when I discovered that there was so much more to flipped learning than I had ever expected.  

I joined the #flipclass Monday chats (which now I help moderate semi-regularly).

I started blogging and sharing my posts on Twitter (which may be where you found this post).

I had conversations with some of the people I had read about - Brian Bennett, Crystal Kirch, Troy Cockrum, Jon Bergmann, Aaron Sams - and they all helped to push my thinking on various issues.  Many have now become my close friends.

That's how, within six weeks of flipping, I transitioned from "Flip 101" (assigning videos as HW and former homework as classwork) to something that I still saw as flipped, but wasn't the same as how many of my colleagues flipped their class.

My classroom quickly became mastery-based, paperless, self-paced and homework free.  I still made videos, I still used many of the same tools as my Flip 101 colleagues...

...and I still tweeted to the same hashtag.

Flipping my class no longer was my goal.  I was flipped.  Instead, my goal was to make my flipped class the best possible place for MY students, in MY context.  I started to view flipped learning as a place where students had ownership (responsibility was flipped to them from me) and where I used technology to help them learn best.   Later, I moved to defining flipped learning by the Flipped Mindset - a definition developed by several collaborators on Twitter.

Now, a year into my flipped journey, my classroom looks different than it did last fall, last spring, or even at the beginning of this school year.  

I have what I like to call my CoLab partner, Andrew Thomasson.  He helps me plan all of my instruction, prepares for and films video lessons with me, and encourages me to be a reflective practitioner, a good flipped teacher, and a better friend.  I'm at a new school and operate with a BYOD policy and open wifi network.  My students are much higher skilled, and require far less direct instruction (almost none).  I don't assign homework, and don't always use video.  I've stepped away from self-pacing and paperless (without 1:1 netbooks, that's a lot harder) and embraced a far more student-centred pedagogy that focuses on higher-order thinking skills and real-life application of concepts.

There are many people who would say I'm not flipped.

And I would argue, just as vehemently, that I am.

**

When Romeo asked himself, "what's in a name?" I doubt he was thinking about its application to the flipped class community.  Nevertheless, it's a good question.

So, flipped class community, what's in a name?

For me, this is what's in a name:

• a method by which I started to listen more to my students, and work to meet their individual needs.  I learned most of those things from my community on Twitter and Edmodo.
• a move to a more reflective practice - one I never imagined.  I didn't know that to be reflective, you need someone who will help you process.  That is what happens in the flipclass community on a daily basis.
• a return to my writing - something I had always thought of, but never had inspiration to sustain.  This blog is the most meaningful writing I've done since I graduated from college.  And I am now writing more than just blog entries, which has helped me work through a lot, personally and professionally.
• a transformational experience - one that not only changed me, but changed how my students experience me as their teacher.  That was only possible by moving over the bridge that flipclass built.
• a group of people - my Cheesebuckets - who listen to me, protect me, question me, challenge me, and keep insisting that I should not stay where I am, but keep moving forward, getting better.  These people would not be in my life without flipclass.  And my life would be far less rich without them.
• and most importantly: a collaborative partner, a new BFF, someone to listen to me, help me channel my crazy ideas (and sometimes, add more craziness until they actually start to make sense), doesn't let me stay frustrated or resentful, but insists that we work things out, and most importantly, someone I can trust and who I know cares about me, both as a teacher and as a person, and about my work in the classroom.

So what's in a name?  A change that has given my students a better teacher and a better education.  A community where I am inspired, engaged in conversation, and often, challenged so that I don't grow stagnant.  

And most importantly, I now have friends.  Friends who share the family name - flipped class - and unites us around a common goal: making our classroom the best possible place for our individual and corporate student body, and for us as teachers.  

And even though some of us may start to grow into more distant cousins, if we give up the family name, it would mean denying where we came from.  This is the kind of family that doesn't disown a brother who shies away from family gatherings; it's the kind of family that expands, becomes more inclusive as more and more distant relations show up on our doorstep, needing our help, our acceptance, our love.  It's also the kind of family that still welcomes you, even when you don't need it anymore.

This family name is where our roots are.  

This family name is who our people are.  

This family name - flipped class - is who WE are.  Together.

That is what's in THIS name.  

And I'm proud to be in this family.  No Matter What.

So in the comments of my Homework in a Culture of Fear entry, Kate Baker asked me to elaborate on how I teach a novel without punishing students for not having read it, but also making class meaningful for all students.

Here is how I've done it at the start of this new unit on Indian Country by Philip Caputo.

Problem:  
Getting students to read a long text (419 pages) in a short-ish unit (3.5 weeks) and not punishing them for being behind in the reading.  Giving every student the ability to complete the classwork to some degree, even if they are behind.  Focusing on the things that are really important from the novel, and not on the minutia that is unimportant.

Context:
A mixed ability 11-12th grade English elective that lasts one semester.  The course is American Literature I, and is one of many options for how to fulfill English requirements at Redwood High School.  Most students report struggling with assigned books because they are either being asked to read something they don’t relate to at all, or they are being Close Read’ed to death in class.  They have read one novel and one play for this class, and this is the final unit.  Nearly all students completed the reading for the last two units, but many reported not finding it super-engaging at times.

My goals for this unit:

1. Analyse and trace a variety of themes through a long, complicated text
2. Engage students’ love for reading
3. Examine the way war changes Chris and what the long-term ramifications are on his psyche and on the relationships around him
4. Discuss ways in which loneliness can be dealt with and ameliorated
5. Respond critically to a variety of passages that illuminate the motivations and desires of a character, as well as how those push them to interact with others
6. Make them see that there are certain things that just make us human and that we all share

Here’s the way this looked in class:
Tuesday (11/20 - 50 minutes): Quiz 1, review/clarify misunderstandings, time to read
Monday (11/26- 50 minutes)): Quiz 2, review/clarify misunderstandings, time to read
Tuesday (11/27- 50 minutes)): Activity #1, #2 and #2.5 with discussion of responses
Wednesday (11/28 - 90 minute block): Activity #3 to accompany Vietnam: A Homecoming
Friday (11/30 - 50 minutes): Activity #4-#5 and time to read

If you want to see the actual assignments with rationale for why they were created and what the purpose was, you can see them after the break.

This wasn't planned.

In fact, I'm still not convinced it's an amazing idea.

But this week, I handed gave the reins to my 6th period class....for content, instruction and assessment.

I realise that I may be completely insane.

It started with some collaborative brainstorming on topics, questions, methods, and texts they wanted to study.  Then each student chose a group and topic and started planning their own content to teach their peers.

I didn't even constrain it to humourous topics. But they are so invested in the course themes that the topics they chose were nearly all comedic; they ranged from writing original comedy, stand-comedy techniques, political satire, musical comedy, and improvisation workshops.  Half the class will be producing comedy films and then having the class analyse it closely.

Here were the requirements:
1. Choose a topic/question to cover and choose a group
2. Research and/or create the content/text to be shared
3. Prepare to lead a class discussion (in any format that we've used or practiced)
4. Give students a writing assignment of some kind (in any format)
5. Assess learning
6. Reflect on the effectiveness of their lesson

These units start next Friday.  I can't call them presentations.  A presentation means a bad powerpoint, nervous students, lack of engagement.  These already have a hell of a lot of passion behind them. 

Today I couldn't get the computer lab, so I just said:

This class period is yours.  If you need something from me, I'll be here.  But you guys are in charge.

I expected an argument, or at least a wasted period.  But here's what happened:
They all looked at each other, silently. Then,
Cipriana: Let's watch Workaholics!  It's an hour before Thanksgiving break.
Alexander: No, that's not the best use of our time right now. We need group time to work some stuff out.
Pierre: Wait guys, can we go around and say what we're going to be covering so there's no repeats?  Okay, Chelsea, what are you guys doing, and who is in your group?

They then went around - while the rest of the room was silent - and talked about their concept.  After every group gave their idea, other students expressed how excited they were for the ideas. There was not one group that didn't get a "wow, that sounds cool!" at some point.  The two groups that were a little similar had a quick negotiation to figure out how close their proposals were.  Then they checked in with me about it.

There was one undecided group - they came up and talked to me about their ideas, and with VERY little prompting from me, they came up with a great (slightly scary) question: When it comes to humour about race, where is the line, and why is that the line?  

We talked about how to frame it so it would make the best possible discussion.  And they left really excited.

**

I gave them the keys to the car, then I got in the backseat.  And instead of crashing into a pole, they immediately navigated hairpin turns with dexterity.

I do think they'll run into issues at some point, and will struggle to present their lesson effectively.  But they'll figure it out.  All of us need to make mistakes to learn how to be better.

**

And here's the meta part...or maybe just the uncomfortable part of all of this. 

This week has been overshadowed by a friend of mine being attacked for something she wrote on her blog.  In an entry devoted to asking for help to deal with a frustrating issue common to all of us who teach in a public school - unmotivated students - she was attacked with more logical fallacies than the cable news networks had during the election coverage.

The issue?  Her statement that her students don't know how to learn math.

They don't.  And I think the person most capable of making that judgement - their math teacher - is the one who should make that assessment.  Not some strangers on the internet.

Students DO, however, know how to learn in general, but learning academically and learning in general are different.  We are always learning.  But not everything we try to teach our students is something to which they will connect and in which they are interested.

There are lots of things that I didn't find interesting, but that I'm glad someone pushed me to learn at some point.  Here are a few of those things:

• How to solve for variables in Algebra
• Techniques for creating different effects in painting 
• French vocabulary
• Word derivations/roots/etymology
• Names and locations of every country (and its capital) in the world
• Hundreds of Bible verses 
• Medieval literature and how to analyse the sources that compose a text
• How to actively listen
• How to take notes and make note cards for an essay/presentation

And you know what?  I still know how to do those things.  Even though I wasn't passionate about any of them, because I had the academic ability to learn, I had the skills needed to transfer that knowledge into my memory.

I also have a freakish ability to find something interesting in ANYTHING I study.  My friends in college were absolutely shocked when I gave them the advice I used: Find an angle that is interesting and use that for your essay topics.  They looked at me like I was smoking crack.

That's when I realised that what I do naturally is not what everyone does naturally.

Learning is innate.  But academic learning?  That's acquired.  Some of us are lucky to have acquired it young.  I did.  And I am the exception, not the rule.

We don't go to school to learn how to love playing or eating or sleeping.  Those are things we all can find passion for or joy in.  We go to school to learn how to learn things we wouldn't normally choose to learn.

And we do that because there are some things that are valuable enough to ask everyone to learn them.  That's why the Common Core Standards movement is so important - it cannonises the knowledge we as a culture think is essential for all students to learn.

So what happens when the school system is broken?

You get students who are in 10th grade and have acquired the ability to learn in an academic context.  Students who may master video games, but struggle to write a coherent sentence.  And some people would say use the video game to teach sentence structure, or just don't teach the sentence structure and hope they'll just "get it" over time.

But is that really serving my students well to not teach sentence structure - at least holistically?  Is it a good use of my face-to-face time with my students to use video games to teach sentence structure?  Why would I spend time having them learn something with me that they could do on their own?  Why would I not give them individualised instruction that meets them where they are and them pushes them forward?  And I think that doing that kind of instruction well - where you infuse passion into subjects that aren't natural pairings - is time-consuming and rarely effective.  It just ends up being a little condescending to try and squeeze the names of Pokemon characters into paragraphs that have students practice sentence revision.

I also come from a pretty unique background.  I was homeschooled for 7 years, spanning the late 80's and early 90's, which was the Unit Study era in homeschooling.  We did one on the Pilgrims.  I remember planting a garden, making corn cakes, and creating a replica of the Mayflower.  

And that's it.  I didn't take out of that unit any more knowledge about gardening, cooking, or history than I brought into it.  And I fell years behind in math because math "never fit" with the unit studies, and I wasn't motivated to learn it on my own.  That is one of my biggest regrets.  

Am I saying that it's impossible to do that kind of curriculum well?

Obviously not.  The project my students have started would indicate otherwise.  I believe that student-driven content can be very powerful.

But there are reasons that my project will be successful.  And a lot of it has to do with what we've already learned (not all of which they found interesting), and a lot has to do with what they brought into the course from previous learning.  

This will be successful because my students:

• can research information and find reliable sources
• synthesise and analyse information with depth and clarity
• use technology to compile, organise and present information effectively
• have academic conversations that they run without my help
• can stay on task and focused on the end product

And most importantly, they:

• KNOW HOW TO LEARN

Now, because I have kids at the top of their educational game who are highly skilled and motivated, this wouldn't work with every class.  And it wouldn't even work in some of my other classes.  They don't have the skills they need.  And some of them don't want to build those skills.  They want the grade.  They want to just "get it over with" so they can move on.

So it makes me uncomfortable to, on one hand, turn over a class to a group of students capable of making it a success, and also to acknowledge that they are pretty unique.  For the past eight years, I've worked in schools where this never would have worked.  And yes, I tried.  And it's always been a massive failure.

This is what I think:

Passion + low skills = low effort and/or low quality

Passion + low skills + motivation = variable results (see: Freedom Writers Effect)

Passion + skill + motivation = high effort and high quality

The harsh reality of the state of public education is that not all students come to us prepared or motivated.  Can we help those students?  Absolutely.  That is what my friend wanted: help figuring out how.  And instead of help, she was bullied, harassed, and attacked.  So she is taking her passion and skill and hiding it so she can avoid being attacked further.

One of the meta-lessons of this issue is that passion doesn't make up for a total deficit of skill.  The people attacking her have no lack of passion.  But they also don't seem to understand how to have a respectful dialogue, nor engage in a discussion of the issues and avoid going after her personally.

I sincerely hope that, eventually, everyone will be taught the skills they need to be able to pursue their passion.  And I hope that eventually, every person could be like the students in my 6th period: skilled, motivated, self-directed, responsible, and extremely passionate.

If the world was filled with people like that, it would be a pretty amazing place to live.  It's certainly a pretty amazing place to learn.

I have developed a metaphor for what it's like to work at my current school.

We are all swimming, desperately trying to keep up with the pace of the water, until that crest is almost within reach...so we swim faster, try to keep our head up, barely a breath away from drowning.  Students, teachers, administrators, staff members...all of us, together.

But although it feels like the ocean, when we look up, we realise that we're in a wave pool, not the ocean.  And we're the ones controlling the waves.

So we complain about being exhausted, frantic, unable to keep up, while we dial up the intensity of the waves in the pool.  Worse yet, we look around at our colleagues and see them swimming faster than us, so we turn up the intensity a little bit more just so we don't fall behind them too.

But the end result is that we all drown.  Or we wish that we HAD drowned so we could stop grading papers, get a few more hours of sleep, just BE with our friends and family without thinking about all the prep left to do.

So, to ask my buddy's favourite question, who are we really serving here?

I had two kids burst into tears (unrelated to my class) on Tuesday.  Neither wanted to talk about it.  Neither wanted to ask for anything special - not even a pass to the restroom.  They wanted to tough it out, be strong, keep on going.  

Why?  Because they assume that THEY are the problem.  They assume that everyone else can just handle the load - everyone else can stay up until 4 AM doing homework every night for weeks, participate in sports and extracurriculars, stay awake and engaged in school, make it through the minefield that is high school social life.  

They assume that real life is what happens after high school.  They are there to "pay their dues" before they go on to do what they really love.  They've been told "Be Awesome in Everything OR YOU'RE NOT GOOD ENOUGH."

And when they can't be awesome in everything, the only thing left is the belief that they aren't good enough.  And when we don't replace that erroneous narrative, it only embeds itself more fully into their psyche.  When they believe that they are nothing more than a letter on a report card - a letter that is never, ever good enough - how can we possibly expect them to act as responsible, rational, creative, independent learners?

Because when students have always defined themselves based on what they do (and often, what they fail to do), they have no idea how to work in a class that asks them to somehow engage out of who they are.

All the things we flipclass'er believe in creating in our classroom: an emphasis on higher order thinking, self-directed learners who have a choice about content and product, students who value their education and work towards mastery of a concept instead of engaging the prevalent tendency towards point prostitution*...

...all those things are impossible when our students are fighting the pace of the waves that threaten to drown all of us.

And you know what?  We can't be the kind of teachers we want when we live at that pace either.  

Okay, here's my mea culpa: I am not the kind of teacher I want to be right now.  I got scared.  I bought into the culture of fear - when enough people tell you you're going to drown just like them, you eventually sigh in resignation, then try to push your tired arms into sprinting for just a few more lengths.

Like every other story I write on this blog, part of the answer is having someone to stand on the shore, waving a giant handmade sign that both encourages me to keep swimming, and reminds me that the power to turn down the wave is in my control.  

Someone who reminds me that who I am is good enough, even when I feel like I'm barely mustering a C.  Someone who burns my report card because what we're trying to do is not something that is measured in letters.  

No.  What we're doing is measured more in the number of students for whom an hour a day in my room is more of a refuge than a deluge.  It's measured in visible improvement in writing.  It's measured in academic conversations that take on a life of their own.  It's measured in the students who stop asking about their grade, and stop defining themselves by the letter that appears on their report card.

It's measured in transformation.  

And there's not a standardised test in transformation.

But nothing and no one can be transformed when the wave pool is drowning us all.

So for now, I'm turning down the speed and inviting my students to do the same.  Some people probably think they'll start floating and take advantage of it, or without me to push them, they'll just abdicate responsibility for swimming and they'll drown.  

But you know what?  I think that who they are is good enough.  

And I hope that who I am, and who we are, is good enough to help them when they forget that they are not defined by a letters: the ones that appear on a report card or ones that arrive in the mail from their dream school, their safety school, their last chance school.  

And maybe someday, we will all finally decide to leave the false safety of the wave pool for good, and head to the Real Ocean.  

The Real Ocean is where Real Life happens, and the waves can't be controlled.  

It's where our students will try to swim on their own, probably for the first time.   Where letters don't matter.  

And where Who They Are is all there is.

I'm ready.  

Who is with me?


*thanks to my flipclass friend, GS Arnold, who coined the term in a recent #flipclass chat 

Here's what they don't tell you when you're flipping in a highly-student centred environment:

It doesn't feel like you're teaching them anything.

For me, that's incredibly off-putting.

Even when I was doing video more often (the very short-lived Flip 101 days), I felt like I was teaching something.  But changing over to a classroom where I do very little "sit up front and talk" or even very little "watch this video and take notes" means that I often go for days without delivering information.

For the last few weeks, I've been doing the following things:

--helping students curate their work (14 writing assignments in Essay Exposition, 10 in Language of Humour) on playlists on MentorMob.  I wish we had thought of this early.

--individual writing conferences with my Essay Exposition (SAX) students, where they choose one assignment from their portfolios and we discuss what their purpose, audience, tone, and intended effect.  It's been great to work with them so individually and really talk in-depth about their writing.  I think my Language of Humour class will be next.  I just wish they didn't take quite so long...

--analysing a text (The Crucible) through a variety of lenses: psychological, historical, and thematic, through Socratic Seminar, and essay and a project (recreating the Crucible in the modern day)

--evaluating texts that are not typically thought of as narratives (like Derren Brown's amazing work) through discussion and essay

--working on a project that will not only teach my SAX students how to do research and write persuasively, but will help them take action to fix a problem in their own community.  Pretty excited about how it'll turn out.

None of that really involves direct instruction.  Other than giving tasks and having conversations, I'm not "teaching."

I guess it's time to re-define what we mean by teaching.

An exchange on Twitter with another teacher facing an impending observation reminded me that at some schools, the list of activities above is actually much more what they're looking for than the old definition of teaching. 

While I have so many amazing things happening in my classroom, my evaluation still includes a piece on direct instruction; in that, I feel like I'm taking a small step backwards.

And maybe that's why I still don't feel like I'm teaching: my school (and students) still define teaching as "what teachers do at the front of the room, talking constantly, as students take notes."

So how do we redefine teaching in the post-flipped world?

How many of us put conscious thought into our teaching persona?  

Last year, when I had a student teacher for the first time, I had to seriously reflect on who I am as a teacher and what influences have forged that persona over the last nine years.  

Some are good influences:

--team teaching with my (at the time) best-friend who taught the same course in the adjoining classroom for the same period.  Stealing her mannerisms for comedic effect, then never un-stealing them.

--sharing a room with a beautiful, wise, collected veteren teacher my first year.  Watching the way she pushed her students and yet communicated how much she valued them as human beings.  Taking her way of fielding questions - "hmm", thoughtful pause, eyes to the ceiling, rock back onto the other foot, finger to mouth, gather thoughts, smile, respond (usually with a question, instead of an answer).

--being young, inexperienced, and scared because I had no training and little classroom experience.  Seeking help from everyone who would listen so I could do better for my students, and stealing their best ideas.

Some were not so good:
--moving from a school where students loved me and valued what I had to offer, to a school where students were suspicious of me because of my colour and vocabulary.  Shutting part of myself down so they wouldn't hurt me any more than they already had.

--finding wonderful teachers who were talented and far more structured than I ever had wanted to be...and stealing their structures to hide behind when I couldn't make my students care, either about me or the curriculum.

--adopting a brand new mindset where I wouldn't have to show them who I was or of what I was capable, intellectually or pedagogically.  Hiding behind "every student every day" because if I did little whole class instruction, I wouldn't have to prove myself publicly.

**

As I write out that list, I see that all the things about my teaching persona that I see as positive, were in my first three years.  And all the negatives are in the last six.

And the last six years have all but obliterated the gains from my first three years.

And therein lies the central narrative, the central problem, the central struggle of this year, and in fact in my whole life:  I don't know who I am.

I'm struck by the fact that in the first three years, arguably my most successful years, I was just stealing pieces of other teachers' personas (EXCELLENT teachers though they are).  And yet, that was more me than what I showed in the following six years. 

Frankly, these last six years have been about adding artifice.  Creating layers to make sure that there was always a strong public persona.  I spent six years forgetting that what is important is who I really am, as well as the dignity, value, and worth I have to contribute to my students as their teacher.

That is even why Flipped Class appealed to me.  Video is the perfect medium for me to hide behind.  Hell, collaborating with my new BFF** is a way of hiding - we teach together, so there is less attention on either of us individually.  I find comfort in being part of a team - less risk, less pressure on me individually, and someone to steal from full-time.
 
And yet, paradoxically, it is only as a member of that amazing team that I finally saw myself as I really am.  Part of that is down to having someone there, in the middle of all your mess, stripping away the layers of BS, until what is left is just...you.

And here's the most revolutionary idea yet:

What if the point of collaboration and friendship was NOT to fix each other, but rather to move to the place where nothing needed to be hidden?

Hiding never made me a better teacher, a better collaborator, or a better friend.  And by flipping my class, I was hiding.  So now, all of those problems and that artifice is being purged - the intense pressure we've been under in the past few weeks has burned away everything unnecessary, leaving only what is actually me.  That is a scary place to be, and it has been an extraordinarily painful and revealing process.

And through that process, the alchemy continued: my individuality, once revealed, did not drive Andrew's personality out; instead, finding what it means to be myself leaves much more room for him, both to find what it means to be himself, and for what it means for us as a collaborative partnership.  

So I may not use the Zunin Reflective Pause, or the Genevieve Voice, or the I'm Drowning Please Save Me Colleague! mannerisms, but I've found the part of me contained in each of those positive thefts.  Even the negatives were redeemed through this crucible: I've embraced the structure I learned at San Lorenzo without losing my vulnerability.  I've accepted my own racial and educational background and the ways in which I am shaped by factors within and out of my control.

And I've continued down the flipped path with Andrew.  And I still occasionally steal his quirks and phrasing, and I still regularly defer to him (because he's smarter than me!), and I enjoy being part of the team, rather than standing alone.

But there is a way to be a flipped teacher AND be myself.  There is a way to be a Andrew's collaborative partner AND be myself.  There is a way to embrace the things, both positive and negative, that I've experienced and yet move forward.

Because those things may explain me.  

But I refuse to let them define me.

What defines me is deeper than what I do.  What defines me is deeper than how I teach.  

I am defined not by the experiences, the mistakes, the failures, the successes, the things I've done, the things done to me.  

I am defined by the choices I make.  By the person I am underneath all the artifice.  By the communities and people I love and who love me.

And that is incredibly freeing.





***see tweets below for context.