Yesterday in #flipclass chat, we did our #teacherconfessions.  But I didn't really get to the heart of mine in the chat.  I could claim that's because the pace was frenetic (and it was) but that would be a lie.

In truth, I am scared.

I am scared that I'm not doing a good enough job. 

I am scared that I've worked for ten years to teach high school students and it ultimately will be meaningless.

I am scared that all of my best ideas were stolen from others or jettisoned at some point along the way.

I am scared that my colleagues judge my class and think that I'm wasting students' time.

That fear is a terrible master.  It continually robs me of joy, of excitement, of passion for my job.  It pushes me to work harder, do better. be better, because I'm always just one step ahead of failure.

That fear causes me to keep back parts of what I do in my class, worried that if anyone sees them, I'll be exposed as the fraud I am.

That fear mocks me when I get up and tell students that what matters most is working hard and not innate talent.  It says that my best isn't good enough, and I just must be stupid.

That fear shuts down my blogging, my tweeting, and even my conversations.  It isolates me.  Whispers things that my harshest critics have said and reminded me that they really did know better than me, and I am kidding myself to think any differently.

I have spent ten years of my professional career trying to figure out how to make it stop.  At several points, I thought that it would be better just to leave the profession, but the fear reminded me that this is the only thing I have really ever done in a professional sense, except for working at Blockbuster Video...and that's hardly a career path.  But the fear controlled me for a long time.

But.  There is a way to start to drown out that fear-voice: by replacing it with people who really do see you and your practice, with all the rough edges and failures and not-good-enoughs, and love and support you anyway.  When those voices start to rise in concert, the fear-voice has less power.

THAT is the power a good PLN has.  I have found people to drown out the fear-voice, and who remind me that who I am matters more than what I do.  That success isn't measured in innate intelligence, but rather in hard work and determination.  It's something I never could have done for myself.  And the primary beneficiary? My students.

And while it's true to say that I am a much better teacher today because of my PLN, what is more true is that I am a better teacher because of my friends.  The people who pushed into my life and refused to accept my fear narrative.  The people who keep reminding me that it's worth it, and that the only failure is to not try.

What does your PLN do for you?

Over the summer, Sam Patterson and I started talking about puppets.

Now, we all know he's the Puppet Man, who actually does have Twitter accounts for all his puppets, and even features them on his YouTube channel.

So when I was selected to take over the Leadership class at EBA, I quickly found an application for puppets on campus: hosting the weekly video news broadcast.  Here is the playlist of all the Ninja News episodes so far.  Yes, our mascot is the Ninja.  Purple ninjas, actually.

Now, once other students saw the puppets, they wanted in on the sweet puppet-making action.  So I ran a few workshops on Choice Day teaching students how to make puppets, and we even had all the 9th graders make sock puppets one afternoon.

Here's what I've learned about puppets since starting this endeavour:

• Students come alive when they get to do, make, build, and design
• Students love challenge when it's presented in a way that makes it seem fun (like: build a sock puppet! No directions! No help!)
• Grades and points cease to matter when something is truly engaging.  I did have one student ask if his sock puppet would be graded, but other students told him to Just Stop before I had to.  That feels pretty awesome.
• Kids become kids when they have a puppet on their hand.  Suddenly, they are more playful, more funny, more animated, and more interesting.  Yes, I mean interestING - I think you have to be interestED to be interestING.  They also have started to think differently, and are much quicker to get to creative solutions to problems.
• Making puppets requires divergent thinking, storytelling, imagination, and creativity.  Many kids find that overwhelming, because they are being asked to do things that aren't quantifiable.  They get lost in the design phase because it cannot come from rote memorisation, or reliance on good academic habits.  It becomes scary for them to have to try something that might fail.  Those students need the most help and the least instruction.  I spend a lot of time listening, and then helping them glean their ideas from all of the rubble.  But if I give them an idea, it's no better than asking them to memorise the date Shakespeare was born.  The real work still came from me in organising, planning, and valuing the information.  
• Puppets are a great vehicle for teaching that it's okay to make mistakes.  My first puppets aren't great (in order of how I made them: Albert, Kiwi, Gypsy, New Unnamed Puppet), but I'm proud of them, and I learned a lot more from making them than I did from just using the puppets Sam let me borrow (EduFelon and Tina).  Figuring out how to do something like this required lots of YouTube videos, many hangouts with Sam, and a lot of trial and error.  And it was really, really fun.

L to R (& puppet maker):
Tina (Sam)

Gypsy (Me)

EduFelon (Sam's student)

Albert (Me)

Kiwi (Me)

This is my newest puppet.  He was built with a pattern Sam traced from Wokka.  

The kids absolutely love him.

The staff think I'm carrying a dog when I walk in with him.

Also, people can't agree on this puppet's gender.  I'd like to know your thoughts!


So TL;DR:
Puppets are amazing.  They are viable as an instructional strategy.  They help students be more comfortable in their own skin, and with taking risks and thinking differently.

Go make one.  Now.