British Columbia is behind most every other province and state in North America in getting remote learning going for students. I don't mean we're behind as in we're lagging; the COVID-19 travel restrictions and face-to-face instruction suspensions came down to us in BC while most of us were enjoying our 2-week spring break in March. This gave our instructional leaders time to plan while other stakeholders were all encouraged to continue enjoying their break. (Thank goodness we have leadership and government who care enough about their educators and students not to revoke their spring break, like New York).

Our break meant that others were already forging ahead with remote instruction before we even began. It meant that BC would have the opportunity to learn from other people who were already knee-deep?... chest-deep?... over their heads?... in the reality of what remote learning might look like for their respective communities. Educators across Twitter and other social media feeds were already sharing their work and thinking widely. From shouts of problematic inequities for families to development of best-practice philosophies during crisis teaching, it was all already out there. While we had our own fish to fry in each of our BC districts and school communities, those problems would hypothetically be smaller in scope: we didn't have to reinvent the wheel, because that work was already out there in the open. But...

No amount of powerful philosophy, guiding documents, or support from leadership could strip away the complex emotions within the work we did this week. 

In my district, we have been given a broad runway to get things going with remote learning. With a brilliant focus on "connection," educators of all walks - teachers, educational assistants, youth care workers - were all tasked with phoning the families of their students to check in with them. Our goal was, first and foremost, to find out if everyone was doing okay, but also to identify any inequities that might be experienced in the home: parents who are essential service workers and who require childcare, families who lost income who may need basic support with groceries or bills, families who had a lack of devices or access to the internet, etc. The following week (this upcoming week), is intended as a week to plan, collaborate, and to get a framework up and running for your families to access. Then, after Easter, remote instruction officially begins. 

I had seen so many other educators share about these experiences we were about to go through. While I didn't think I was immune from the emotion, I was certainly prepared for it because of what I read from others... right? By the way, I'm probably not going to say anything new here that hasn't already been sad. However, it's important that our community in BC processes this experience together, just as others have been able to in other parts of the world.

People wanted something for their kids to do, but they were largely feeling patient about the amount of time that teachers needed in order to prepare. They wanted to know how my family was doing and to make sure that we were all right, too. I felt so happy to get this support but so sad that we never really got to say goodbye. 

​After I was done my calls, I wrote a thread on Twitter that I thought had captured some of my feelings, but it didn't fully do the trick. I was emotionally exhausted from the balancing the joy of community support we were receiving with the grief of losing this special time with my class. 

In the end, I took all day Saturday to decompress, thinking of nothing professionally, and my "breakdown" for the day consisted of a 4 hour midday nap.  I'm okay now, but I know another emotional workweek lies ahead and no matter what I read, hear, or see, I'm not going to be able to stop that. 

Let's feel through this. Bring it on.

Each new school year always brings a shift for me. Whether that shift is the challenge of a different grade level, moving to a new school, inspirational professional growth, or simply working with different colleagues, I am always moved to adopt new learning.

This year’s shift is different. Very different.

I’m not going to be teaching this year. This is the first year in 4 years that I am not a part of a classroom, a school, or a school district. This year, I’m taking a personal leave from teaching to pursue the remainder of my Masters degree full time. And I will be living between San Mateo, California and Langley, British Columbia while I complete it.

Yes, I will still be learning, but I will be learning in different ways. This shift is profusely more personal than any other one I’ve done before. I get to make a major investment in my personal life while also creating space to complete my education. I get to experience living in a different place and plant my feet firmly in my singular role of “student” instead of juggling the professional roles of “teacher”, “coach”, and “student”, and beyond.

Despite the exciting, wonderful, and mindful reasons for this change, taking a step back from where the real work gets done in the education feels like a major interruption to my professional life. And on August 15th, as I sat at EdCampSFBay, listening to the excitement of school startups, the passion of teachers returning to their beloved students, and working through professional problems collaboratively with peers, it was like an earthquake inside of my soul. 

Anxious, panicked Victoria took over (rather forcefully) and my mind wandered into overdrive: What am I doing? I’m not going to have any of my own students this year! What if I lose touch because I’m not in the classroom? Should I still even be in the classroom when I go back? What role am I supposed to play in education? Is it teaching? Coaching? Administration? Something that doesn’t even exist in my district? Ahhh!!!

As you can see, I wasn’t exactly dealing with things well. 

The challenge for me this week was to answer at least some of those questions by fighting back at them with logic! 
(Note: Logic doesn’t always come naturally when one is internally panicking at an edcamp.)

1. I’m taking this year off to be a student. One role. Full stop. No distractions.
   
2. Yes, no students. See logic point #1.
   
3. If I lose touch, I’m choosing to lose touch. I need to keep reading blog posts, connecting with educators, and attending conferences and professional development events. Losing touch is a choice.
   
4. Stay in the classroom…? Uhhhh… shoot.

This last question is very poignant to me. I have the space this year to figure out what role I wish to play in education moving forward. This isn’t as simple as writing pros and cons lists; this is figuring out my calling and understanding the path I need to navigate to get there, whatever that may be. There is happiness in knowing I could create larger changes in the educational sphere, but sadness in the fact that those roles are often farther away from kids.

The truth is, I’m not sure how this is all going to turn out. What I do know is that I have the space and time to focus on these questions, support present all around me, and room for new adventures as I live between my two homes over the next year. I’m learning to appreciate the hope, the wonder, and the excitement that the coming year has to offer. 

This shift is different. And I’m choosing to make the most of it. 

The most recent Google Teacher Academy was held in Austin, TX on Dec 2-3 and I was one of the lucky participants selected to attend. The badge that comes with this event - Google Certified Teacher - is highly sought after by many educators as they yearn to become a part of this exclusive community.

I have to preface this post with the fact that I am not an advocate for badge seeking. Educational badges do very little to tell about the skills that educators actually possess. In fact, becoming a GCT didn’t really require me to fulfill any particular abilities with Google tools at all. Did I know stuff on my own already? Sure, but I learned all of that from Twitter and from attending various conferences such as CUE, ISTE, and GAFE Summits. So why all the hype then?

For me, it was really about getting into that room with the other 50 or so participants that have also been selected for the event. Big thinkers in the educational world with diverse perspectives from all over North America? Yes, please. I could have spent both days just talking to the other attendees and I would have left happy as a clam.

The event consisted of a combination of design thinking, session-based learning, and group activities. Throughout the academy we were exposed to different people and groups depending on what we were doing. I didn’t get to connect with every member of the cohort - not even close - but I’d say I got to talk to about half of them.

On the  second day, we had an opportunity to actually brainstorm ideas, create “SMART” goals - those which were specific, measurable, attainable, relevant, and with a time limit. We got to interact with other attendees’ goals and give constructive feedback on how they could reach them. The room was plastered in colourful Post-It notes all emblazened with endless ideas about how to make positive impacts in education, free to adopt or adapt for our own needs. 

Sessions

The sessions were based around advanced Google tools and tips from our lead learners. The lead learners were an incredible group who had a lot to offer. In fact, I attended some of their sessions at the aforementioned conferences, making some of the sessions a repeat of something I’d already done. But that right there is a personal problem. Every one of the sessions had good things to offer and got us exposed to each of the lead learners and their strengths. I could honestly listen to Chris Aviles talk all day about storytelling and data and I stole an amazing amount of presentation tips from Katie Christie and Amy Mayer.

The issue I had was that the sessions were a bit disconnected from the design thinking process that we had been going through. Because of my previous personal experiences with some of the session content, I wish that we’d had the choice of continuing with our design thinking or attending the sessions. The plus was that we got exposed to different lead learners and their strength areas.

In the End…

The Google Teacher Academy is more than just a badge. I’m coming out from it having consolidated some existing relationships and igniting some new ones. I got to spend a bulk of time discussing some big educational issues with Karl, John, Matt, & Rachel. I got to have a great late-night chat with several others from the cohort, among them Stephanie, Richard, Suzie, James, and Alicia. And most importantly, our cohort finally defined how GAFE is really pronounced (I’m looking at you, short “a” people). For all of you non-believers out there, it’s now called GAFÉ. You will never look at it the same ever again. And you’re welcome.

More seriously, the goals that I set for myself and the design thinking process were the most important aspect of this experience. I can honestly say that these goals are going to be difficult to reach while being enrolled in my Masters program, but as Chris McGee would tell me, I should just say YES. On that note, if someone asked me if I would ever go again, I would say YES!

Thanks to all who supported me in getting to GTA - you know who you are!

In May of this year, I purchased a FitBit Flex - a device to wear around my wrist that would help me to track my daily steps taken, nightly rest cycles, and to give me daily silent reminders through a vibrating alarm. Some teachers use the FitBit or other health trackers to ensure that they are up and moving all day. While my FitBit has certainly reminded me to get up and get moving more, I have found another use for it while teaching.

So, confession time: I am a very forgetful person when it comes to timing, scheduling, and keeping track of items like my keys. I could probably lose my keys while my car is running... it's that bad. So, if a brilliant moment of learning is going on, I completely forget that I am supposed to remind Student X to go take her ADHD medication or for Student Y to go to his small group lesson for Learning Support.  As I have settled into my new class for the year, I have several students who need reminders throughout the day about specific things, whether to check in with me on a behaviour issue, check in at the office for medication, or just to be sent to the Learning Support room for extra assistance with academic or social skills.

I have begun setting my FitBit silent alarms to go off throughout the day to remind me to do those things. That way, when I feel the device buzzing on my wrist, no one else hears it, and I can gently remind the student about what they need to go do, even if it is in the middle of something else important for the rest of the class.

I know this is a tiny tip, but it has already helped me enormously with remembering all of the "little things" that we teachers do to accommodate student needs. I hope it helps you, too!

Each of the sketches, words, and quotes on this sketchnote have held some significance for me in the past two weeks. I fully and truthfully admit: my passionate fire for education is back. While I'm still aware of the deficiencies of our system, no one is stopping me from loving my job anyways.

I think it’s important to continue to have conversations about gratitude in education. In fact, these conversations have already been happening (check out the archive from #bcedchat’s discussion on Educational Gratitude). This has stuck out to me since things have gotten so busy again: if we don’t stop to be thankful and focus on the positive, we can very quickly lose ourselves in the negatives that we all know exist.

Please comment below with some of your moments of gratitude from your job, or better yet, a link to a blog post full of those moments!

This is a post I said I’d never write. I said I’d never include politics in my blog. Ever.

However, the fact stands that my blog is also a place for my reflection on my professional practice, and this is a situation in which I feel I cannot silently sit and merely internalize what is going on. I would actually define this post more as political impact on me as an individual than anything that would define my political views, though. So, here it goes:

This BC Teachers’ Strike defeated me. I say this as I look back on many months of consciously pulling away from social media, from blogging, from doing better work in my classroom. It has pulled me away from trying new lessons with engaging tools, from collaborating with other educators, and from personally feeling gratified with my choice of career. It has, in a phrase, temporarily deflated my passion toward teaching.

This job action experience, which has stretched back since early April of this year, began to highlight the ways in which our government devalued our profession. Now, don’t get me wrong, these were facts that I was already well aware of. So you don’t like teachers? Great, that’s your call... Moving right along.

But when those facts and opinions continue to get shoved in your face day in and day out, or it affects your job every day you start to feel pretty low. Oh, and the whole letting-down-kids, public ridicule, lock-out, not-getting-paid, piece? Yeah. Pretty low.

My biggest problems:

1. I had no control over anything that was happening to my students, my colleagues, or myself.
   
2. I was addicted to reading about it. 
   
   

I read everything I could get my hands on… about all of the things I couldn’t control. The latest move by the BCTF, the latest press conference by the government, opinion blogs, news articles, you name it. I would silently chastise media for focusing so much on wages and signing bonuses (which I could give a rip about) and their lack of focus on class size & composition issues, especially in the beginning. I would be glued to the #bced Twitter feed in all of its disgusting BCTF-vs.-Liberal-troll: Who’s-gonna-win-tonight glory. It was one of those things that you just shouldn’t look at.

But I couldn’t look away.

The things I read silenced me. Mean things. Nasty things. Lumping teachers all into the same, greedy, only-6-hour-workdays, only-work-9-months-per-year, lazy category. The worst part is… I  began to believe them.

Despite working on the professional development of others for much of the summer, I did very little to professionally develop myself. This was unusual for me. I started getting blocks in my thinking patterns every time I tried to imagine new lesson ideas in my head. My motivation for the program design work I had set up for myself at the end of last year began to evaporate, and quickly.

I started to quiet myself. Slow down. I did very little to add value to the online communities that I continue to hold in high regard. The social media outlets that I used to share prolifically to, I do no more. My blog archives became relatively empty when compared to the same time last year. I had nothing more to give, lest I be criticized. False hope pervaded every turn that we would be back again soon. I was hurt.

They defeated me. And I let them do it.

This week, real hope showed its face in BC education. Naturally, things started to change as the need to be prepared for the school year kicked back in. I have started reworking my grand plans that I hatched at the end of last school year. I am becoming excited once again about designing new programs for my classroom. I am cautiously regaining my optimism toward my career choice. The future certainly looks brighter. The time to start healing is now.

As we wait for the results for the potential ratification of an agreement, I can say I have begun to do just that. I know so many teachers in BC are hurting right now and that I am not alone. 

If you are not yet feeling on the road to recovery, join this challenge with me: take note of that first moment this school year where you burst with absolute joy in your classroom, school, or district because of your job. Write down a gratitude list for those moments that remind you why you love your career. Even for just the first week. 

I am using this strategy to heal the wounds; as deep as they have become, they shall heal. I look forward to sharing my list very soon to continue healing with BC educators… together.

Happy "connected educator" anniversary to me!  It's been exactly a year since I stumbled into my first #edchat and #patue chats, which inspired me to start my own blog. 

That's where this journey of transformative career growth truly began for me. On this day last year, I think I was following 30 people and probably had the same amount of tweets. One year later, I find myself reflecting on the professional journey I've taken and I am considering some thoughts:

• I became seemingly unconnected to suddenly connected; what changed for me that day? 
  
• Why did I keep coming back for more?
  
• How did Twitter and blogging transform my practice?
• How do I feel now?

Unconnected To Connected: What Changed For Me That Day? 

Nothing really changed about me as a person that day. Or the next. Or the next. 

What changed was the tools I used to get the job done (the job being to find resources and ways to professionally develop myself and grow as an educator).  I came into that situation with a growth mindset and I learned about a place that would feed that motivation. Most social media users are motivated to be present, participate, help, and share. Some watch from afar (AKA lurking), and that's cool, too, but the general idea is that everyone there is trying to grow their pedagogy and practice.

Why Did I Keep Coming Back For More?

Twitter was easy, fun, and I could access what I wanted, whenever I wanted, through the power of a hashtag. I could connect with educators I didn't know, chat with ones that I did, and even make new connections in my own district through it. 

Because of the list of Twitter educational chats curated by Jerry Blumengarten, Chad Evans, and Thomas Murray, I had access to several topical areas in education that I may be interested in. This list guided me on many occasions so I knew which hashtags to use for specific questions I had.

How Did Twitter and Blogging Transform My Practice?

When I jumped into the Twitter world, I dove in head-first and prolifically tweeted for the first 4-6 months...

Twitter chats. Impromptu discussions. Questions to hashtags. Late night work crew. Google HangOuts. Online edcamps. 

The pedagogical ideas and philosophies that are offered through these networks of educators on social media only scratch the surface of what became a transformative change in my practice. Blogging helped me to reflect on how I designed learning opportunities with my students and how I approached specific situations. Discussions with educators from varying regions helped me to gain a huge appreciation for my own province, district, and school settings by being exposed to other educational climates and their respective challenges. Connecting with these peers at local and global levels also held me accountable to my word -- when I told someone that I was going to try something, I really had to try it -- I did say it on the Internet, after all!

Advice for newer edu-folks taking this road: The tools are aplenty and the ideas can be overwhelming. Take what you need and take a break when you need it. Social media and those motivated & sharing educators will still be there when you come back. Check out this post by David Truss that outlines (literally) everything you need to know about tapping into Twitter as a professional development tool.

How Do I Feel Now? 

My feelings, one year later? One word: grateful.

I'm grateful for my PLN and all that they've done for me. I'm grateful that they are better than Google or any educational database out there when I'm looking for that one thing that's going to make that lesson pop. I'm grateful that I have support locally and globally on my students' and school's initiatives. I'm grateful for the opportunity to travel, present, and share the stories of my students and to learn about the students of others. And most of all, more than anything, I am grateful for the connections that have blossomed into incredible friendships. 

So, PLN, thank you. We all stand on the shoulders of giants, and you're mine. 

I know my blog is named "Tech Teacher on a Mission", but every once in awhile I like to post other classroom ideas that have not very much to do with technology.  Consider this as your forewarning that this post is one of the "non-techy" ones, but it is by and large one of the coolest things that happens in my classroom. This idea has been adopted from my practicum experience in a multi-aged (Grades 1, 2, & 3) classroom and is now used weekly with my Grade 3/4s.

The concept is simple: a class meeting. That's it. Seemingly, it's nothing groundbreaking. But, like anything, it's all about how you frame the learning that makes it so powerful.

As an aside, I purposefully set up a lot of unfair and unstructured environments in my classroom that allow students to design the rulings within the space. For example, the job chart is a hot mess of disorganization in September, there is no set regulations on turn-taking in our classroom comfortable reading space, and there is certainly no order as to who gets the high honour of turning off the lights when we leave the classroom. These are things that are very important in the eyes of my students as they can cause social duress... Small people, small fights.

So I use Class Meeting as a place for my students to govern their own school experience. The activity is designed to allow them to make rules within the classroom to help it run more effectively.  These can include regulations that may positively impact their safety, learning, or social experience. My students run the Class Meeting session completely from start to finish. I model this at the beginning of the school year by using a loose framework of Robert's Rules of Order. 

1) Set-Up & Orientation

I always begin Class Meeting by setting my students up in some type of circular format so that everyone can see the person who is speaking. We do this on an open mat area on the floor, but if space is limited, moving desks into a circle works just fine, too. It is most important that the Chairperson and Secretary sit in a space where they can make eye contact with each person attending the meeting.

The meeting runs once every week, and is used to create new rules, amend or abolish old ones (the kids use this language!), or to re-visit unsettled business from a previous meeting.

2) Selecting a Chairperson

When modelling this, I highly emphasize that the chairperson is a responsible student who has the ability to manage the meeting. There are many speaking and listening challenges integrated within this role, as well as social expectations surrounding leadership.

The Chairperson is the student whom the meeting centres around, as they will be the one who keeps the entirety of the meeting on track, setting the agenda, and moving through that agenda within half an hour of time.

The Chairperson lets the class know that business has officially begun. Several students raise their hands to suggest topics:

• "Daily 5"
• "Using technology"
• "Line ups"
• "Math Centres"

These are among several topics that are brought up in my classroom. Each student's name and topic is recorded by the secretary (typically me, but I have had students do this job in the past) before any are discussed formally. We usually can get through 5-6 topics in half an hour.

4) Carrying out the Agenda

The Chairperson calls upon the first order of business recorded and that student will present their rule to the class. The Chairperson then paraphrases their rule back to the student to clarify what the follow-up discussion will be. Once the presenting student consents with the rule description...

Student hands fly up to ask questions of the presenter and to vocalize their support or rebuttal for the rule itself, stating evidence that backs up their opinions. By pushing for the "why", students will begin to see alternate viewpoints and consider how the rule may impact others, ultimately helping them to develop empathy and to exercise social problem-solving skills. Typically, the Chairperson limits the question and support/rebuttal commentary to three students, but if it is a hot topic or more discussion is required, they will allow for additional dialogue.

Votes are carried out after each rule is proposed, summarized, questioned, and defended. Sometimes rules will change on the fly depending on the line of questioning. In these cases, the Chairperson is responsible for clarifying the rule being voted upon before the vote occurs. Students are taught the difference between 'Yes', 'No', or what it means to 'Abstain' one's vote in the first few meetings and are encouraged to use their own voice to vote for what they believe in, not just to follow their friends.

In the event of a tie, the chairperson (who does not vote in the original rule election) must vote to break the tie. Remember, rules can always be amended or abolished at later meetings if they're a point of contention. As a teacher, I will often re-propose these topics at later meetings to see how opinions have shifted on topics in the classroom.

The students repeat going through each rule proposal, summary, questioning, and defense until the entirety of the agenda is carried out.

5) Closing

My students close the Class Meeting with what I like to call the Self-Esteem Circle, but it can really be any variation of speaking and listening activity with a talking piece. With a mirror in hand, they state one thing they like about themselves, and pass the mirror along to their neighbour telling one thing they like about them. This continues around the circle until it has been passed to every set of hands in our classroom, making sure that each person is included in the activity. We've also done this as a Gratitude Circle. This small, but effective activity has built up a ton of friendly community in the room, and the kids are adamant that the adults are included, too!

I am also intending on creating a how-to video on Class Meeting this year so that other classes can see how self-regulated and powerful this activity is for us. Engaging students in critically thinking about the social governance of their learning space is a powerful way to put the importance of community into their hands.

I've been having an immense struggle this year. It's a real case of FOMO, pedagogy-style.

I've been stopping, observing, and listening in awe of what my colleagues are doing with their students.  I've been watching, sometimes helplessly, as opportunities to do more amazing things with my kids pass me by. Or even more than that, seeing strategies that could make my current practice better. As I see all of the incredible demonstrations of learning going on in the classrooms on Twitter, I can't help but feel like I'm not performing to my full potentials as a classroom teacher... But I simply cannot take on any more commitments this year.

I know I'm hard on myself. I know that we are our own worst critics. I know it's a marathon, not a sprint. I'm only a third-year teacher, after all; I have a lot of career ahead! So I'm going to say from the outset of this post that I know it needs to stop. But I think that the idea behind this is worth sharing.

When this feeling of FOMO is happening, I become increasingly aware of the things, both big and little, that are not working in my classroom. I've become so acutely observant of this fact that it sometimes feels torturous to deliver any semblance of poor pedagogy. However, I cannot address every one of those "things" because it's just not feasible to do so at this very moment. Maybe it will happen by the end of the year, but I cannot address it with the immediacy that I wish to. 

For example, I still deliver math drills in my Grade 3/4 room... Guilty as charged. In fact, I delivered one today. Here's my thinking:

• Is this the best way for students to showcase their learning in a student-centred way? No. 
  
• Does this method lend itself to some, if any, formative assessment on procedural numeracy strategies? Not likely.
• Is my students' thinking visible? No. 
  
• Is it helping them to reinforce some form of immediacy and procedural knowledge for their future in education as far as numeracy skills are concerned? Kind of. 
  
• But if I think it's so wrong, why am I doing it in the first place? In our math lessons, there is immense difficulty with fact computation for several students. Some need a lot of extra practice with the basics. The drills only take up 5 minutes of the week.
• Can I fix this all RIGHT NOW? ... No. 
  
• Why can't I fix it right now? Because I'm trying to fix other things in my classroom that take priority over this issue.
  

Welcome to the hyper-analytical cycle that occurs in my brain. This is a problem. And I've been reflecting on this... A lot. I'm not looking for an answer to fix that example I just provided. I just can't say "yes" to accommodating that right now. It's not a priority over other things that I can effect and make change on in bigger ways.

I used to think that people were weak if they didn't say "Yes" to cool opportunities for their classroom that crossed their path. I'm now learning that prioritization and balance are one of the most important skill sets that an educator can possess. I am highly considerate of the things that I say "yes" or "no" to now because I have to be. But it shouldn't take a forced hand to consider that balance for oneself. 

This post is intended as a confession that my personal skills in this area are weak. You just cannot do it all. I'm building those prioritization skills up as I balance work, grad school, extracurricular commitments like the EdTech Mentorship Network, presentations, #bcedchat, and sharing my classroom. Oh, and that little thing called a personal life. :)

In closing, I'm sure this is something everyone already knows, but it never hurts to be reminded of:

It's okay to say "No". It's just not always easy to.

Virtually every member of our society today has an experience with public education in some form. Whether you’ve worked in education, worked alongside it, or received your education in a public system, you are very likely to hold an opinion of what that experience did (or didn’t) do for you.

I’ve been reflecting on this concept after several conversations with Shawn, my administrator (he’s actually the one who planted this bug in my brain, as he usually does). The fact that we all have different opinions of what education is and what it can be creates an extremely convoluted mess of politics, preferences, beliefs, and leanings for each individual in the system itself. It seems that even in the world of educational professionals, there are a million and one reasons to disagree on every aspect of education: pedagogy, assessment practices, evaluation, communication… may the list go on. Then you add in educational stakeholders, students, parents, and support staff and BOOM: you have one hot mess of an institution right there.

Based on my experiences, I have come to the conclusion that there is somewhat of a continuum in the communication of these opinions. There are aspects of our beliefs that may sit in one camp or the other, occasionally swinging based on our current realities. I know that I have both static and dynamic opinions about particular issues in my own classroom. I challenge you to reflect as you read on where you are most rigid and where you are most flexible in your own approach to educational issues.

Static opinion-holders are the types of folks who hold onto their educational experiences hard and fast. On one hand, it allows us to develop philosophies and practices based on solid foundations of our opinions and beliefs. On the other hand, it may cause us to be inflexible, rigid, and not open to new practices, beliefs, or ideas.

The Bad

This, unfortunately, is a very typical place for folks to be who do not involve themselves in getting to know the educational system beyond what they have experienced. They often don’t communicate enough to grasp a firm understanding of what works and doesn’t within the existing system. They don’t have a solid understanding of what kind of conversations need to take place in order to fix the brokenness that exists.

Bad static opinion-holders tend to be unyielding. I have run into these folks in the form of colleagues and parents particularly. (I’m sure I would run into them as students if my students were old enough to be so - something to ask my high school colleagues for sure!) I find that the problem is that they do not carry and possess a growth mindset as far as educational awareness is concerned. And it doesn’t mean that the opinion they carry of education is necessarily negative; it just means that they hold it in the same regard with whatever experience they may have had in their past.

The saddest part of this for me? I know for a fact that most of these opinion-holders still place a high value on education. The fact that they may get involved just to speak in conversations, but not to listen, breaks my heart. Taking the initiative to get in the know and to model learning is so very important for education to find its progressive stride within our society.

The Good

Now that we have an idea of the negative side of holding static opinions, let’s bring in some good news! Here it is: That which is static is grounded, solid, and stable. It is a foundation for all of our firmest and fondest beliefs on what education can and should be. Static opinions allow us to make progress in our passion areas because we believe so strongly in it. They also allow us to make calls on what belongs in classrooms and how it is delivered. We can then better decide what is best for kids - the whole child, not just strictly academically.

I firmly believe that static opinions are the reason that I found my passion for education in the first place. As I shaped my philosophies and saw what personalized learning could do for students, I knew right away that this belief would be a fixture in my pedagogy moving forward. Even today, 3 years later (and I hope far into the future as well), I can say that meeting a student where they are at is something that I will not stop working towards. This static opinion is the roots to a solid philosophical foundation for me.

Dynamic opinion-holders are just that: dynamic. They change and morph their opinions on education based on their latest experiences with it and/or reflections on it. They may approach each situation differently based on the needs of the people within it, whether those people be their own child, a student in their class, or a colleague they’re working with.

The Bad

If one is dynamic at all times, they are arguably inconsistent. In my opinion, being too dynamic can hurt kids because then they never know what to expect from you. If you’re always flexing to a need, you can never “put up the wall” that the child (or teacher, parent, administrator, etc.) may need to run into. Lessons are supposed to be difficult sometimes. Without a certain amount of rigidity, or staticness, there is no difficulty presented to a person and arguably, then, no authentic learning.

From another perspective, you may never actually advocate for what you need in a given situation if you are always going with the flow. Advocacy for self and others in education comes from a place of static beliefs, those which are both necessary and good. Being dynamic in all areas does not lend itself to progressive change.

The Good

Dynamic opinion-holders are, above all else, open-minded. They possess a growth mindset and understand that there is learning in every given human situation. This understanding often comes with an increased ability to empathize, relate, and move conversations forward. To progress. And that’s what education needs, right?

I’ve worked with a lot of educators, both offline and online, who possess this mindset. I’ve worked with administrators and parents who give teachers the space to practice this dynamic approach with their students/children. Understanding that both adults and children will make mistakes SAFELY in educational settings is important to help change the system. I think that a lot of static opinion-holders cringe when we say the words “fail” or “risks” because they imagine the absolute negative value of those terms. The dynamic opinion-holder is not so quick to judge the meaning behind “failure” or “risks”; instead, they look at it as an opportunity to grow. After all, isn’t every experience in life an opportunity to grow? Why should education be any different?

I think I am most dynamic in my ability to assess students' learning. I am open to new and different interpretations of assessment practices, data (preferably qualitative), and subsequent changes to my teaching as a result of that data. This has been an area of growth and change for me since I began teaching and is, again, one I hope to continue solidifying in years to come.

It is important to keep in mind that while we all approach education with individual biases, beliefs, and opinions, we must be open to learning, shifts, and changes in the system. Education cannot and will not progress without that openness. That does not mean we have to sacrifice what we believe in, but rather that we need to listen, learn, and share for the sake of ourselves and others as we work together to progress effective practices.

As I’ve written this, I have been trying to keep in mind ALL perspectives of my words. But alas, I am human, and I do hold the perspective and bias of a classroom teacher and technology coach, so that may be present within this piece. Please leave a comment to add in your perspectives where you see fit.