CC Licensed photo shared by Flickr user MarkyBon Blogging is one of my main creative outlets. For the past 3-4 years, I’ve considered it as integral a part of my life as going for walks with the dog or cooking delicious and healthy family meals; seemingly mundane, but a must for my balanced lifestyle. The thing is, it’s not as though I have any more time than your average family man or professional. In fact, I would venture a guess that I have far less time than most individuals. But time is not a barrier to my blogging. If and when I stop or have breaks from posting, it will likely be more from a loss of commitment than a lack of minutes and hours. Although I have touched upon this in past posts, I again want to share with you the process I go through to blog because I’m hoping it helps a reader or two. You could almost call my method Writing in Snippets. Like a lot of people, I have thoughts. These range from lucid to muddled, and serious to ridiculous. These thoughts occur to me at any time in the day: while talking to a student in my classroom, over a bowl of ramen, while watching one of my kids at swimming class, as a result of listening to a podcast, reading a book, or singing along to my iPod. And like a lot of people, I am rarely without a mobile device in hand or pocket. My phone is an essential blogging tool for me because, on it, I have my blog apps and, most importantly, Evernote. Let me break down for you how I wrote this very post. On Sunday I had a friend message me a common refrain: "I don’t get how you find the time to blog!" Immediately, I said to myself, I should write a blogpost about this (an obnoxious response, I know). So as not to lose the thought, I pulled out my phone, opened up my Evernote app, and started a note called ‘How I Blog’. Inside my Evernote, I have a folder entitled ‘Blog’, which is where I put all of my blog drafts and ideas. At any given moment, I may have as little as zero notes in that folder, and as much as five or six. On Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday, I kept remembering the processes I go through from inspiration to ‘publish now’. These ideas came to me during my son’s piano lesson, while walking the dog, and even while buying a box of kimchi cabbage for my mother in the supermarket. Each time, I quickly jotted notes down in my Evernote. Some of these were sentences, and others were simple point form notes. Essentially, my entire outline for this post came about while walking around from this place to that, multitasking the entire time. On Thursday, I had time in the evening to sit down at my laptop and look over my notes. I deleted some sentences, added others, and did my customary search on Flickr’s CC licensed photos for an image to accompany this post (my idea of fun). I always try to find a photo which is provocative and beautiful. On Friday, while on the train home from a presentation, I spent 10 minutes scanning my post for spelling, punctuation, and grammar. On Saturday morning, I hit publish. I’m really curious - how do you blog?

CC licensed photo shared by Flickr user Lonics In the same way that it is not for everyone in our everyday lives, is it not entirely possible that Twitter and blogging legitimately doesn’t apply to all educators? There’s no question that social media spaces can provide small to large benefits to pedagogues, ranging from simple utility to deep transformation respectively. However, who’s to say ? I don’t know about you, but I have always felt comfortable and content with the idea that, while I myself cannot imagine doing this profession without my beloved learning network, perhaps it’s legitimately silly, if not irrelevant, for another educator. What do you think: is tweeting for everyone?

CC licensed photo shared by Flickr user pfüll There’s this thing my friend Andrea Haefele says which I love. My paraphrasing is as follows. We shouldn’t call it ‘gym’ because it implies the wrong paradigm of pedagogy. Would we call math class a ‘room’? Calling physical education ‘gym’ makes it hard to break free of old, tiresome connotations of mean, bellowing, whistle blowing teachers; period cramps; and getting picked last. Stuff that should be relegated to an 80s John Hughes movie. In my efforts to explain to my students why we again wouldn’t be playing full court games of basketball in phys. ed. this year (it is exclusionary, inequitable, and makes us focus on esoteric rules rather than physical play, development, and exertion), and would, instead, be using a games for understanding model of learning to dribble, shoot, and pass a basketball, I had that moment of lingering doubt which all teachers feel when they’re attempting to swim against the proverbial tide. Am I just ranting here, I sometimes wonder, imposing a pedagogical discussion on a bunch of kids that just wanna play a game of hoops? But then I had another moment which made my tummy feel all warm inside, as my son would say. I overheard the following conversation in my classroom: Student 1: What is it? Gym class? Student 2: Ya, but don’t call it gym class. It’s physical education. Student 1: Huh? Wha…? Student 2: Because, remember what Mr. Lee said? Calling it gym class is like calling science class ‘Room 118′. It doesn’t make any sense and it’s too old school. At that point, I couldn’t help looking at Student 2 and smiling. I cracked up laughing when she reciprocated by giving me a thumbs up and a wink, like ‘I got your back!’ OK, it’s pretty obvious I’m blogging right now about a child who complied with a dogmatic lecture I once told. It would most certainly be better if we attained the stage where simply doing it superseded saying it. But I admit it was awesome. Let’s not be afraid to concede that it’s sometimes nice to hear our students parrot some of our occasional diatribes. What about you? Are your students/staff swimming against the tide with you? Have you got any similar stories?

CC licensed photo of Cesar Millan’s dog Daddy shared by Flickr user puck90 When puppy fever hit the Lee family in the Spring of 2012, one of the many obsessive activites we engaged in was to watch every episode of every season of Cesar Millan’s Dog Whisperer. We read all of his books, subscribed to the Cesar’s Way blog, listened to every interview, and, heck, there might even have been a man crush or two developed. Cesar, with all his charisma, captured our imagination. We loved his messages about being a calm influence on your dog, and could see a lot of parallels to the kind of parenting we espouse. We wanted our Harry to be that perfect dog Cesar always talked about: calm, obedient, submissive. Like so many over-confident new parents, we pretty much figured it would be easy. Hey, just follow Cesar’s recipe! We had it all under control. Nope. Somehow the reality of becoming a dog whispering family felt a little like opening a can of Coke after a prankster has left it shaken for you. That’s not to say we regret becoming dog owners. On the contrary, we now cannot imagine living on this planet without a pooch. Harry is the most active, fun, loyal creature in the world. He was relatively easy to potty train, has always loved playing with other dogs, and has had an enormously positive and powerful effect on our large family of four adults and three kids. These days, however, we don’t watch The Dog Whisperer episodes, and Harry is by no means the perfect dog. He barks like a mother bear protecting her cubs if anyone parks in our driveway or knocks on our door; he turns his nose up at gourmet dog food; and he is the most brilliant, extrinsically motivated command following pooch in the world (Alfie Kohn would not approve). It’s not that we don’t like Cesar any more, and it’s not necessarily that we don’t subscribe to his ‘Way’. In fact, we don’t blame Cesar at all. It was us and our approach that was problematic. It made me reflect on a few things which are pertinent to the education sphere I am immersed in. The Problem with Knowledge I feel our experience with dog whispering was the perfect illustration of the limitations of knowledge on its own. We knew what we were supposed to do, and we were extensive in our knowledge of everything to avoid when raising our little guy, but, in practice, it was so much more complex. I had that hand into the shape of a dog’s mouth to correct bad behaviour down pat! Every time I saw Cesar do it on TV, dogs would look at him like he was the second coming. Every time I did it, however, Harry would look at me like, ‘Why did you just do that horrendous thing to me, and when can I exact my revenge on you for it?’ This reminded me a bit of our collective forays into inquiry based learning in schools. We seem very enamoured by the theories underpinning it, as well as what it should look, feel, and sound like when it is realized, but our ability to apply these concepts in a meaningful way leaves many of us a tad wanting. The Problem with Gurus Self-appointed gurus are often criticized (and rightfully so) for being disingenuous, if not outright fraudulent. However, I don’t think Cesar attained his status with this kind of subterfuge. From knowing a bit about his life history, my guess is there was a lot of serendipity and authenticity involved in his ascent to dog stardom. Still, I know there are many critics of Cesar Millan and his ‘Way’. I won’t pretend to deconstruct his method as I simply don’t have enough experience with the paw set. I am still wet behind the ears when it comes to dog ownership. So my problem with him as a guru has very little to do with accusing him of being hypocritical or false in any way shape or form. Drinking the Dog Whisperer kool-aid, however, did remind me how important it is to avoid overly lionizing someone for their ideas or methods. In the education bubble, we are frequently guilty, if not pathological, when it comes to this propensity (my wife calls me Royan the Bandwagon Jumper). Do you remember the blue brain vs. pink brain craze that swept the education world approximately a decade ago? Well, you cannot be blamed if you missed it because Leonard Sax came along not long after, debunking all of it, then took over the gender guru helm with his theories on boys and girls. The education conference circuit may always need new second comings. Let’s always be wary of their bandwagons. The Problem with Perfection When you watch Cesar’s show, he frequently tames the wildest, most anxious canines. All the while, he proudly walks around with the most noble, calm looking animals under his own charge. Essentially, he is the perfect dog owner and has a wonderful disposition for communicating this perfection. In addition, the people he helps on the show frequently come across as having glaring imperfections in dog care, ones that seem so obvious to anyone on the other side of the LCD screen. When you juxtapose the two, you can’t help but tell yourself that you want to be perfect like Cesar, and not painfully imperfect like the people he visits. Seeking that perfection is usually our first mistake, dooming us to failure and, ironically, a lack of resilience. I worry about this sometimes when giving presentations about successes I’ve experienced in the classroom. Does this really help anyone if all it does is draw attention to the end results rather than the long, sometimes messy journey on the way? These days I’ve been trying to talk a lot more about failure and the importance of appreciating continuums of learning in my workshops. Have you ever been led astray following a guru or a ‘way’ and realized that you should have looked more within yourself? This is cross-posted at my dog blog Harry the Dawg.

CC licensed photo shared by Flickr user colindunn It goes without saying that media representations of education, schools, and the people who work and attend them leave a lot to be desired. That’s why I’m grateful for This American Life and their stories. For your listening pleasure, I’ve listed some pertinent ones below ascending in chronological order (I’ve put my absolute favourites in bold). The Cruelty of Children: Stories of children being mean. The Kids are Alright: Stories of kids taking matters into their own hands. Prom: Stories of a right of passage. Special Ed.: Stories about people who were told they were different. Return to Childhood: Seventh grader Kayla Hernandez looks back on fifth grade. Party School: Stories of what it’s like to go to one of America’s ‘party’ colleges. Kid Politics: Stories of whether it would be better if kids ran the country. Middle School: Stories of what it’s like for middle schoolers. Back to School: Stories of those ominous first days of September. Harper High School Part 1: Stories of what it’s like to go to a high school where 29 recent and current students were shot in the past year. Harper High School Part 2: More stories from Harper. Have I missed any?

the internet speed I was getting in Iran I couldn’t get to the BBC’s website I couldn’t even get to our class blog! A student of mine wrote a blogpost reflection upon his return from a family trip to his homeland of Iran. With permission from the author and his parents, I’ve reposted it below. Imagine having a barrier around you, only allowing you to go forward a certain distance, but not expand. This, roughly, is describing a relatively new internet experience. A famous example, is the great firewall of China. Filters and Firewalls are political works, attempting to restrict a person of free internet surfing. I can talk with a little bit more experience on the matter, since I have felt the effects of this first hand. Now, my family and I recently went to Iran for a month to visit family. If you may have heard, Iran was recently suffering fights between the people and the government because of different reasons, and that’s why some things (such as internet censorship) have been strongly enforced. Of course, on a regular basis here at home, I take advantage of the internet to the fullest. This was not how it went in Iran. During a regular browsing, I noticed websites such as reddit.com, BBC, CNN, (and the list goes on) were restricted from access. What I assume is that anything that could give you access to foreign news was blocked. Now, looking through the government’s view, we may be able to find a couple of reasons for such actions, but by doing so, we’re forgetting the big picture. In our times, free internet access could be considered by some as a basic human right, therefore restricting internet access would be in some ways, a violation of this right. The ways that the internet is used by each person is different. I, for one, think of the internet as a beautiful tool, that allows you to expand. That may not be how everybody thinks about it. In the end though, I think the purpose of what I have told you, is to reduce how much a person like me could take our "basic human right" for granted. By Amir Pseudonym

Stormshadow from GI Joe, Lego Ninjago, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles; it’s all about ninjas in my house of four - uh, I mean - three children. I have absolutely no idea how this happened. Every now and again, I get a bit Sensei on the kids and impart some Familylee Ninja Wisdom. Do you do anything similar and fun in your house/school/organization? original CC licensed photo via Haiku Deck app

a tree that spoke to me In the northern hemisphere, where the winters are long, and our children attend school from September to June, February can be a cruel month. Students are lethargic, parents are weary, teachers visit the liquor store. I’ve been wondering why this is the case. What makes this time of year so debilitating? No doubt, the weather, vitamin D deficiencies, and general burnout that the September to January track meet can elicit has something to do with it. Still, does that really explain why? I think it’s because February is the month of Failure. It’s the time in the year when we really discover if something is working or not. If you tried something new, however minor or major, you’ll know if it is turning out as you had hoped, or if it’s a wounded animal who needs to be put out of its misery. February is the test of an educator’s mettle. That relationship you were trying to build? It’s getting there, or it’s worse than ever. The initiative you were trying to spearhead? People gently hopped on the train or never even came to the station. The Twitter trend that all the eduspeakers are raving about that you really wanted to bring to fruition? The reality is staring you in the face. On Wednesday, while walking to school with my daughter, I had the kind of personal epiphany that can only come about because of the wonders of our natural environment. I couldn’t remember the last time wet, heavy snow had fallen in such a way that every tree branch, all evergreen needles, and each whisker on your grandpa’s beard were coated in thick, wet, glistening snow. It resembled something only the White Witch from Narnia could have summoned. My daughter and I kept saying to one another, isn’t it funny how beautiful ‘bad weather’ can be? The unusual beauty that I saw as February was fading out like one of those Neil Young guitar solos that goes a bit too long reminded me to embrace the failure. Look at it as a positive, not a degradation of your worth and purpose. You tried some things and discovered they are very, very difficult. Maybe it’s time you abandoned this idea. Perhaps you need to change track with that project. Your recognition of this is a strength, not a weakness. Embrace, accept, and use February’s reminders of failure. March on with your head held high (I apologize profusely for that last pun; I tried with all my might to prevent it, but it overcame me).

in our class, we write short and long form pieces on many different devices Note: My thoughts below come mostly from an elementary homeroom teaching perspective. I would likely think differently if my vista came from teaching either a technical or specialty course. I asked one of my students the other day, "Hey, I’ve got a laptop here you can use to write your script. Would you like to use it instead of your iPod?" With a humble shrug of the shoulders he responded, "No thanks, Mr. Lee, I write better this way." "Really?!?! With your thumbs?" "Oh ya, I’m way faster, and I concentrate better." So I started asking everyone in the room what their preferred tool to write with was, and, believe it or not, it was pretty much 25% smart phone/ipod, 25% tablet, 25% laptop, and 25% paper and pencil. The common threads? Most students preferred writing with the tool they had most frequent access to, and boys in particular preferred writing with small devices. Even though I’ve been doing this technology thing for quite a while with students, they never cease to surprise me. This has me thinking about the semi-frequent Device Wars we engage in online. Netbooks vs. iPads, Ubuntu vs. OSX, etc. With the recent release of the ‘revolutionary’ and ‘game-changing’ Amplify tablet (spoiler: no game will be changed), these conversations are hot once again. I’ve yet to be a part of a 1:1 laptop, iPad, or similar initiative, and I’ve never been compelled to either pursue one or engage in the conversations surrounding them. It’s never really interested me. In my whole teaching career, I’ve only had a mish mash of tech. Currently, we don’t have a class set of anything, but we do have small sets of different tools. Nevertheless, at any given time, it’s possible to be 1:1 on the internet in our room. I prefer teaching with the limitations of no class sets, because it means we’re constantly reflecting on the merits of each tool for the given purpose. Students in my class frequently start sentences with: Here, you can use the <blank>, I don’t need it right now… and Can you let me use the <blank>? I need it to… Would any of my students turn down a 1:1 MacBook Pro? Of course not. Still, I believe there is great value in the limitations of resources. When we engage in Device Wars on twitter and the blogosphere, we all seem to exercise significant bias in equating the best classroom tool with the one that we find most productive in our personal or professional lives (I touched upon that in disagreeing with folks who contend that the iPad is not a creation tool). Do I have a vision of what technology I’d like in my class in the perfect scenario? Sure I do. Do my students and I really need that state of shiny utopia, especially when it is (in my view) impossible to achieve in an equitable fashion? I don’t think so. Which have you experienced is better: a lot of one device or small sets of multiple ones?

CC licensed photo shared by Flickr user mtsofan A sound you’ve been hearing for months, perhaps years now? One of them is the noise of hand wringing that all of us moms and dads are engaged in about what seems like the parenting question of the day: When should I get my child a cell phone? I dare you to find a parenting magazine or blog that doesn’t have a writer or editor assigned to this topic on an almost indefinite basis (see here and there for some recent ones). Morever, it’s hard to argue with the heat the issue generates, since cell phones are incredibly expensive and afford a child with the capability to do things you may have been put into a straight jacket for even suggesting just twenty years ago. I start to have a problem, however, with all of the articles, blogposts, and pronouncements parenting ‘experts’ and your next door neighbour are offering when the message is laced with arrogance: I believe this, and I do that, so it means I’m a better parent than you. It really reminds me of the lead up to our family’s first-born. As idealistic, alternative-minded, young parents, my wife and I succumbed easily to the philosophy of a ‘natural’ birth. This would have been fine were it not for the fact that we consumed pamphlets, books, and advice from our mid-wife more as proverbial kool-aid than objective information. We were actually duped into believing that having a natural birth made us, well, better people. Alas, this is what parenting entails, especially when you are privileged enough to have a whole host of #FirstWorldProblems as my family does. So, since I can’t beat ‘em, I may as well join ‘em. This post is partly out of hoping to fulfill a demand. As a parent and teacher whose family and professional lives are more intertwined than most (I teach in a school community in which I live; my own kids attend my school), and being a person (like it or not) whose image is inextricable from that of shiny gadgets ("Mr. Lee, did you invent the iPhone?"), I get asked the cell phone question a lot. It follows me like an echo through a corridor. I usually greet this question with a small dose of irritation, and a large dose of squirminess, and most of my responses begin with, "It depends…" I’m not here to tell you my answer; I don’t have one. I have, however, noticed that there are three things most parents consistently fail to consider. 1. It’s not a phone; it’s an internet-enabled mini-computer. This past year, I tried purchasing a non-smart phone for my mother who was tired of the iPhone she was carrying around because it could simply do too much. Finding one was a herculean task. We call these mini supercomputers ‘cell phones’ much in the same way we call Count Chocula ‘breakfast’. It is a misnomer. But language is a powerful thing (see point 3 in particular). 2. The cost doesn’t end after the purchase of the hardware. Most parents are still living in a time when getting your kid that desired item on the Christmas list is something you buy, wrap up, and present to the child: my work here is done. I’m not trying to say parents don’t understand that voice and data plans cost money, but many fail to even remind their children: "I didn’t just buy you a $500 toy for your birthday. I bought you, like, a $5000 toy." I feel like many are missing out on a fantastic financial literacy moment here. What’s more, especially as a teacher who invites students to bring their own devices to class, the number of times I see kids with shiny gadgets but no funds to purchase apps, music, etc. is a sight I’ve grown accustomed to. In this situation, why wouldn’t you jailbreak or find illegal means of accessing content? Don’t blame children for being the supposed generation that doesn’t want to pay for stuff. This is almost 100% an adult issue. 3. Most of what can be done on a smart phone can be done on an iPod Touch. I feel like this is one of the perfect examples of how fast technology is moving in our time. I meet many parents who demonize the capabilities of cell phones for children, while failing to notice that they bought their kid an iPod Touch or similar device years ago. I couldn’t believe my eyes recently when I listened to a parent haughtily declare how she would "never let my child have a cell phone like so-and-so" while simultaneously seeing her boy thumb away on a 4th generation iPod Touch. For crying out loud, many adults don’t even have a smartphone that powerful! You can forgive anyone for missing this exponential development in mobile technology, but you can’t give them a pass if they’re simultaneously pompous about it. What are your thoughts on the cell phone question?

remixed from the original CC licensed photo shared by Flickr user US Mission Canada If you’re a reader who is unfamiliar with the current labour strife between public school teachers and the Ontario provincial government, click here for a great breakdown from People for Education. I appeared alongside Zoe Branigan-Pipe, Stephen Hurley, Earl Manners, Misha Abarbanel, and George Thomas on TVO’s The Agenda last night to talk about "The Role of the Teacher" (aka Are Teachers Gonna Start Extra Curriculars in Ontario Again Or What?). It was an honour to be a part of and I enjoyed myself. But there’s one thing I wish we had discussed in greater depth. Why has the loss of extra-curricular activities left this supposed chasm in our schools? Why do so many students, educators, parents, and other stakeholders see the loss of ECs as a reason to cry foul with deep, passionate tones? Correct me if I am wrong, but ECs seem to be beloved for the following reasons: Students and teachers can pursue personal passions. They tend to be growth-oriented. They are often project-based. Collaboration is valued highly. Losses and failure are celebrated as learning opportunities. There are often concrete goals to pursue. They tend to include mixed age/grade groups. There is much more movement, less sedentary work. Paper-pen tasks are rarely seen. There is very little rote memorization. The process is seen as more important than the destination. There are no standardized, high stakes evaluations. No one gets graded. Assessment is feedback and improvement based. The development of mastery is understood to be a long process. Students and teachers have autonomy for the direction of the activity. So is this a conversation about our beloved ECs or a discussion about what’s missing from learning in curriculum proper?

CC licensed photo shared by Flickr user JonathanCohen I Googled the following for fun. The flipped classroom can be interesting, cool, and useful. But transformative? A high yield instructional tool, tactic, or strategy? Come on. What if we turned that video camera on ourselves for a different reason? How about, on occasion, we video ourselves teaching and our students learning so we can focus not on the content of what is being explained, but to deconstruct our own teaching? One of the most important moments I ever experienced as a classroom teacher was the first time I really saw myself teaching a full lesson in front of a class. It was around five years ago. I was fortunate enough to be asked to participate in a series of workshops Barrie Bennett was running for school administrators on how best to give feedback during/after walkthroughs. I still have the video, but cannot post it here because: a) there are students in the video whose parental and personal consent I do not have to do so; and b) it horrifies me to the core. The voice, the hair, the constant pacing, that weird thing I do with my hands! Ghastly would be the word. A few days after the filmographer completed her afternoon in my class, Barrie Bennett did something to me which blew my mind. In front of an audience of a couple of dozen principals, we collectively watched the video as he gave me amazingly helpful feedback on everything I was doing during the lesson. It was like a colour commentator breaking down the 3rd down play on ESPN. Really, it blew my mind. If there was a photo or video of me during that moment, it probably would have looked like this. You know how all of us who are kinda OK at this teaching thing can cite a few seminal moments or people that influenced us or transformed our thinking and practice? That day is in my top 5. Since that day, I have always found it almost too easy to step out of my own shoes and watch myself teach as though I were a fly on the wall. It taught me that one of the most important things about being a transparent, growth-oriented educator is to be not only figuratively, but literally reflective to one person in particular. Yourself. Have you ever filmed yourself teaching, or contemplating doing so? If yes, tell me about your experience. If no, what’s stopping you?

This photo of me appeared in our municipal newspaper. In my neighbourhood I’m affectionately known as crazy because my family and I ride our bikes everywhere - so insane that I get into the local paper just for riding to work:) A few questions to begin. You would agree that people, especially children, should wear helmets when riding a bike, yes? Why am I even asking? If your eyes are on this blog, you’re likely an educator, parent, or both; it’s kind of our thing to be in favour of this stuff. Now be honest: do you hate the way bike helmets mess up your hair? What about the way they look and feel? Could be designed better, you say? Well, guess what, researchers have discovered something counter intuitive but logical. In most Western nations, bike helmets are mandated by law. Statistically, we have seen an overall decrease in bike-related head injuries that can directly be correlated to these trends. This data should support the rationale behind bike helmet legislation. Except for the fact that there are other correlations: Many people admit they dislike biking because wearing a helmet is uncomfortable, inconvenient, and unattractive. The type of injuries bike helmets are designed to prevent rarely occur. The fervour with which bike helmets have been mandated is not matched in any way with similar infrastructure (safer lanes, reduced speeds in urban areas etc.) that makes cycling significantly safer than helmets do. People ride their bikes (an incredibly healthy activity) far less than ever. What does this mean, and what analogies can we make to other initiatives in education?

Lucy pretending to sleep A quick post about juicy, chubby cheeks that stomp around the house all haughty. Toddlers are funny. Lucy’s been our third one now, and you could say we notice a pattern in behaviour. The smugness, the desire to be pantless, the hilariously melodic turn of phrase. They are priceless alright. I honestly wouldn’t be surprised if toddlers think they are actually running the world. Delusions of grandeur. They have no doubt on anything. They are passionate about everything. Lucy exhausts and delights us in equal measures. Just for fun I call her Kim Jong Il. Since she’ll be our last, I’m really savouring how unique and special it is to have a toddler. Perhaps the most amusing thing about them is the way they are so emotional. Their outrage is as adorable as their gregariousness is irresistible. Our middle boy Jackson was quite chilled out as a tike, but the two girls have been assertive. One of my favourite things about them is the way they play with words, as though they are notes on a xylophone. You say it like this? Well, I say it like that! ¡Viva el espíritu del niño! It rests in all of us.

Well, it’s a little bit hot, a little bit cool, a little bit warm, and a little bit cold.

CC licensed photo shared by Flickr user thaths There are few things as important as establishing and nurturing a culture of feedback in our schools. I don’t know about you, but I would say it’s also the most challenging thing I attempt as a classroom teacher. This is not necessarily because embedded feedback is difficult in and of itself. Rather, the struggle often lies in the barriers we either have constructed or are inevitable in this thing we call schooling. Still, were it easy, it likely wouldn’t be so important to accomplish. Today I want to touch upon one problematic aspect of feedback for which there may be no solution, but perhaps constant vigilance. Feedback is culturally specific. This is partly because the ways in which we use verbal and non-verbal language varies, in some cases drastically. In our multicultural, mixed socioeconomic classrooms, providing feedback in a differentiated, equitable manner becomes something akin to a mutant superpower. The language and dispositions we approach the assessment process with, and employ to give feedback, unsurprisingly descends from our own culture and schema. Let me give you a personal example. As part of a mixed ethnic/cultural/socioeconomic marriage, my wife and I learned very early on in our marriage about the sometimes hilarious dichotomies in meaning that exist in our respective families. In her house, it took me a long time to pick up on the subtle, implicit ways people communicated. Requests were often framed as questions, and feedback was usually given indirectly. In my house, my wife wondered why every conversation sounded like a case of domestic violence. She found communication under our roof to be alarmingly blunt and even callous. "Ohmigod, are you guys fighting?" "Huh? No. We were just talking about where the cheapest rice to buy is." Lisa Delpit wrote about this kind of phenomena in her seminal work, The Skin That We Speak: Thoughts on Language and Culture in the Classroom. In describing the experience of many African-American students in schools staffed with predominantly white teachers, she noted how the former often had difficulty comprehending instructions and feedback provided by the latter because it was laden with culturally specific, indirect language, often framed in the form of the question. Chia Suan Chong, a fantastic educator and blogger on english language teaching, describes a similar scenario seen in German and American business dealings, something she describes in a great post as a misinterpreted illocutionary force: When examining the language used in meetings between the Germans and the Americans, she found that whenever the Americans proposed something, the Germans would say, ‘Yes, but the problem is…’ After hearing the Germans list out the problems with their proposals, the American perceived the illocutionary force to be, ‘We don’t like your proposal. Give us another option.’ So the Americans went on to suggest different things. But each time, they were met with the same ‘Yes, but the problem is…’ by the Germans. Exasperated, the Americans gave up and felt that the meeting was a failure. Meanwhile, the Germans were confounded by the Americans’ fickle behaviour. They couldn’t understand why the Americans would move on to a different proposition just when they were about the sink their teeth into a good one. To the Germans, the illocutionary force behind ‘Yes, but the problem is…’ was one that meant ‘This sounds good. Let’s explore it thoroughly and examine it from all sides.’ All of these factors really hit home for me this year when I had a fantastic conversation with a parent of a student. He told me that he thought his child was having difficulty in my class because he didn’t know exactly what he should be doing to improve his achievement. As a point of comparison, he continued to say that his child flourished in environments like his competitive swimming class, where feedback was very direct and didactic. After responding to him with what likely sounded like a bunch of eduspeak, I realized that he was right. The type of feedback I was giving and attempting to create the conditions for was not (always) suited to this student’s learning. It was likely too indirect and wrapped up in passive language. He had no idea what he needed to do to improve. Whether it’s oral, written, modelled, or woven inextricably into the learning and conversations that happen in the room, feedback continues to be an imperfect endeavour. This might be because we cannot look at this aspect of learning and assessment in a vacuum. If our schools are hegemonic, then surely even our best practices can bespeak it. Have you experienced the impact of culture and language on feedback in your learning environment?

CC licensed photo shared by Flickr user steve caddy Since coding is the new black, and we’ve already read some great critiques about the fervour, I wanted to get a student coder’s perspective. Below is another guest post from Amir (see here for his intriguing reflections on visiting his home country of Iran). He is an amazing students in my class who has been coding as a hobby for years. Again, with permission from his parents, here’s what he has to say. Coding. It’s a new language that opens many windows. Coding is the ability to manipulate electronic and invisible things to do what you want them to do. It is the equivalent to communication with a friend. Well, it’s a little bit different, but it’s more or less the same thing. I code to relax, really. It frustrates me when I’m stuck upon an error, but the rush of relief and pride I feel when I am able to pass by that problem, and go forward, is why I enjoy programming so much. The first time I became really familiar with programming is when I made my first Windows binary text line. Is was extremely simple, yet I could not hide my excitement. When the command line said "Hello Amir," I was amazed that for once I was the person on the other side, making the computer do what I want. I quickly became attracted to coding. When programming, there are many different languages, each with a different purpose and job than the other. I became relaxed with the language C#, and settled myself to expand upon this programming language. This was not a quick process. During the length of summer, I had dedicated myself to spend as much time as I could reading about C# and experimenting with it. As soon as I felt prepared, I started coding. Instead of quickly hopping to programs with a graphical interface, I did my first few C# coding experiments in binary. The real first major thing I accomplished was when I created a calculator. You could put in any number, and any basic operation, and you would receive a rounded result. I continued onto this by making a math game, where there would be a randomly generated math equation from the few equations I had previously put in. If you succeed in your answer, the program would congratulate you, if not it would tell you you had failed. The first time I decided to make a program with a graphical interface was when I created my very basic web browser. If I can tell you anything about coding, it is that once you start you can’t stop. I kept expanding my original browser, adding more capabilities such as tabs, a basic history system, and so on. It was an amazing experience. Now I won’t bore you on this topic, but I’ve went on to work on some more complex things such as a password box, graphical calculator, and many smaller yet important coding jobs. Now this might be just me, but I think everyone should definitely learn some basic knowledge on programming. I mean, I’m no professional either, but if it is ever needed, I have the experience to read code, or create a program to do a certain job. I think learning to code is one of the best decisions I’ve made, and I believe it will help me greatly in the future. It has greatly effected me as a learner. It taught me how to persevere with a problem until you solve it. Thank you for listening. - Amir

CC licensed photo shared by Flickr user greeno777 We’ve spent the past couple of weeks transitioning from the first home we’ve ever owned to what we imagine could be the last one we ever reside in. It’s not a dream home like the ones you see on TV, yet it’s our own little piece of royalty. The move has gone as well as anyone can expect, but I wanted to mention something spicy and educationally pertinent here. A house is almost too ripe for metaphor exploitation, so I’ll try to keep it at a minimum. We are discovering that the previous owners of our house, a dour and fiery couple of empty nesters, were fairly infamous for their cartoonish grumpiness. Our new neighbours looked relieved to see a new, naive looking young family move in. We weren’t surprised at the former owners’ reputation as we encountered it first hand on our visits to the house before moving in (they almost beat up our home inspector). Basically, it seems you could call them a lot of things, but lacking in pride was not one of them. The man of the house was so proud of his DIY ability. He installed the garage door opener, new hardwood flooring, and even an old school intercom system, among other things. "See? Much better, cheaper than contractor," he asserted with his thick European accent, his chest literally and figuratively puffed out. Indeed, much of his handiwork was acceptable if not impressive. Except for a few things. Well, one in particular. We discovered that Mr. I Don’t Need Nobody just happened to have an electrician’s license. And, by ‘license’, I mean the kind my daughter makes using Crayolas and paper. One hack job in particular nearly floored the legitimate electrician we brought in. ‘Fire hazard’ doesn’t cover it. So it got me thinking about myself and other educators I know. Although I would classify myself as a fool when it comes to home DIY, I simultaneously define my educator self as DIY to the max. When I first entered the profession, I was constantly befuddled by some colleagues who asserted to me things like: I can’t do x because ‘they’ didn’t provide me with the y; or it’s not possible to do blank because of this, that, and the other. Why not? I would and still always wonder. There’s always a way to get the resources, tools, or permission needed to do great things in our schools. If no one’s going to help or provide the necessary ingredients, then I’ll just do it myself! Someone’s gotta blaze that trail, right? In actuality, I believe the majority of teachers and administrators are of this mindset, and it’s a bloody good thing indeed. Most of our schools and classrooms accomplish extraordinary things (often off the radar) solely because of innovative DIY dispositions. Nevertheless, when I saw that clump of wires in the basement ceiling of our new home, I had a stark reminder that there is a point where a Do It Yourself mentality jumps the shark. At some point, you cross over the line which separates problem solving to prideful arrogance. You can’t always do it yourself, and if you do, you’re going to end up clumping a bunch of electrical circuits together in a manner which is terrifying, if not fire starting (and I don’t mean the good flame). Some time ago I asked the question of whether tweeting and blogging was for everyone, and I still believe that we need to think critically and contextually about evangelizing ed spaces like Twitter. Still, seeing some of the handy work by Mr. Just Me And My Toolbox On A Deserted Island, I’m ever more firm in my feeling that I can’t do this teaching thing without my face-to-face and avatar-to-avatar crew of education ninjas. Keep Doing It Yourself… with a network of Do It Yourselfers.

Hi all, I’ve loved wordpress.com, but have decided to make the jump to a self-hosted wordpress.org site. I did this mostly for the plugins and increased customizability. I hope you follow me down the digital road to royanlee.com. If you are a subscriber/follower, you can re-subscribe/follow by clicking the button on my new blog as follows: SUBSCRIBE TO MY NEW BLOG! Thanks for providing me the privilege of readership. Love, Royan:) The Spicy Learning Blog is now at royanlee.com.

Hi all, I’ve loved wordpress.com, but have decided to make the jump to a self-hosted wordpress.org site. I did this mostly for the plugins and increased customizability. I hope you follow me down the digital road to royanlee.com. If you are a subscriber/follower, you can re-subscribe/follow by clicking the button on my new blog as follows: SUBSCRIBE TO MY NEW BLOG! Thanks for providing me the privilege of readership. Love, Royan:) The Spicy Learning Blog is now at royanlee.com.

If you'd rather learn by doing instead of poring over weighty textbooks, you will like what we do with SimBLs™. We take one or more learning objectives, throw real life problems at you, and ask you to apply conceptual knowledge to solve them. Feedback on your performance is immediate, and connects your actions with their consequences. Involvement and interest is enhanced through interactive treatment coupled with rich contextual content. We have developed over 120 SimBLs™ developed over the past few years on topics as diverse as Negotiations in Healthcare to Operating in the Derivatives Market, we are confident that if you have a learning need we have a simulation for it. Enough said! if you want to be sure, check out our comprehensive catalog here, or if you first want to experience the real thing, click here.

We hope to see you at Training Fall 2005 which is being held at The Long Beach Convention Center (Long Beach, CA) between Oct 17 - 19! We are having a "Product Demo" at the "Simulations and E-Games Pavilion" on Oct 17th between 2:50 PM to 3:20 PM. This is at the special Simulations Pavilion in the main EXPO hall. We have an interesting session on Oct 18, from 4 pm - 5pm titled ""Taking Stock of Decentralized Training Content, Are You Teaching The Right Stuff? ". During this session we will explore how a major US airline partnered with Tata Interactive Systems to build a methodology and database that supports decision making and helps strategize the design and development of training.