BFTP: The secret power of secrets

The secret of a happy marriage remains a secret.
                                                               Henny Youngman

Just the word "secret" has tremendous power. I was reminded of that last week when helping my 7-year-old grandson learn to ride a bike.

I got Miles's attention by telling him "Grandpa's Secret to Riding a Bike." The big secret was that one does not start pedaling until moving and balanced. Miles also learned "Grandpa's Secret to Swimming All the Way Across the Swimming Pool Underwater on Only One Breath" - taking three deep breaths and pushing off hard from the side. And "Grandpa's Secret to Lighting a Fire with Only One Match." - balled up newspaper and dry kindling.

None of "Grandpa's Secrets" are particularly revolutionary - or even that helpful. So why do we tend to pay attention to information when it supposedly a "secret?" Judging by the number of books on Amazon with "secret" in their titles (193,000+), movies (15,600+), songs (10, 200+) and innumerable blog posts, I am not the first person to figure out that the very word "secret" has the power to get one's attention. I am probably not the only fool to succumb to "click bait" that has secret in the link.

Knowing a secret, of course, suggests having knowledge that is exclusionary or proprietary. Some of us know it, some of us don't. With the implication of course, that those with this knowledge have some advantage. Secrets give us power, and heaven knows, everyone would like to be more powerful.

I am always skeptical of anything that has "secret" in its name including secrets of success, secret sauce, and Victoria's Secret (What is her secret anyway?) These secrets are simply common understandings or information dressed up a little bit. But like adding a numbered list to make titles catchier, I am not above sharing a "secret" or two myself.

Hey, it worked with Miles!

Image source

Original post July 29, 2013

Tech directors, get out in the schools

As you might guess by the paucity of blog posts on the Blue Skunk lately, this has been a very, very busy start to the school year in my district.

Between rolling out 2500 elementary classroom student devices, changing the student information system host (and all the data integration processes connected to that system), changing out all copiers, upgrading telephone system software, moving online testing to the second week of school, planning for a change in our HR/Payroll/Finance system, reconfiguring our web content filter to fix login issues, adapting to a less expensive helpdesk ticketing system, changing bus companies requiring changing how our transportation system talks to our parent communication systems, and just getting classrooms ready, we've had just a few things on our plates.

Perhaps more than any position other than the superintendent, the tech director lives in two worlds - the district office world and the school building world. Directing tech staff efforts gets tricky and often a matter of personal values when the demands are overwhelming from both worlds. Do we focus on solving a login issue students are experiencing or diagnosing slow speeds being encountered by workers using the finance system? Do teachers need their classrostering problems fixed or do the early childhood secretaries need a file recovered from an antiquated backup system? Do I ask our building technicians to update a spreadsheet with copier and printer numbers so that accurate billing can be done or to help a teacher whose projector seems to be dim? Is it more important to make sure our parents can see bus routes on their cellphones or for students to be able to see their assignments on their cell phones? Fax machines or smartboards? Labs or security cameras? You get it.

There are no right or easy answers to these questions. Every tech problem is a big tech problem to the person experiencing it. 

In order to achieve a more balanced approach to technology time allocation, I do my best to get into every school building (and away from the district office) at least once a month. I try to talk to as many principals, media specialists, secretaries, and classroom teachers as possible  - without being an interruption. It is a huge psychological uplift for me to see the kids actually benefitting from the resources my department supports. Yes, I am always happy when on the 1st and 15th of each month the payroll system functions well. But watching excited 2nd graders coding or middle school students creating videos or high school students deeply engaged in virtual collaboration, reminds me again and again why balance is needed when it comes technology resources - especially support time.

Visiting buildings and talking to teachers, gives me a better chance of understanding how decisions made at a district level actually impact staff and, quite frankly, hear about problems that may have somehow gotten lost in the communication shuffle, remaining unsolved for an unacceptably long period of time. And if nothing else, I can be a sympathetic shoulder to cry on, a sounding board, a complaint magnet, or a co-conspirator. 

So my colleagues, find a reason to get out to your schools if you have a desk like mine that seems to entrap its occupant. It will improve your day - if not your year. Remember that a kindergartener is your client as much as the superintendent.

BFTP: When a picture is all you need

I spent a few minutes yesterday morning with grandson Miles successfully practicing our bicycle riding - learning to balance sans pedals. Rather than writing a description of the happy event, I took a short video with my phone and e-mailed it to his mom and dad. 

The incident made me think about this post making the rounds: Disruptions: Social Media Images Form a New Language Online. Nick Bilton. NYT's Bits June 30, 2013. The main argument of the piece is:

Photos, once slices of a moment in the past — sunsets, meetings with friends, the family vacation — are fast becoming an entirely new type of dialogue. The cutting-edge crowd is learning that communicating with a simple image, be it a picture of what’s for dinner or a street sign that slyly indicates to a friend, “Hey, I’m waiting for you,” is easier than bothering with words, even in a world of hyper-abbreviated Twitter posts and texts.

Another herald of the coming post-literate world? Another nail in my generation of educator's literacy coffin? 

I don't know. As the example above suggests, turning to the visual - especially when it is convenient, simple, and fast - seems like the natural way to communicate. On reflection, I find myself using my phone's camera rather than a pen a lot! 

• I snap a picture of hotel room number or parking garage space instead of writing them down when traveling.
• I take pictures of content heavy PPT slides during conference sessions.
• I Facetime with the grandsons rather relying on e-mails or even texts.
• I increasingly use graphics, diagrams and photos to convey messages when giving a presentation. (I am re-reading PresentationZen.
• I turn to YouTube instead of Google when looking for "how-to" instructions.
• I see teachers creating video tutorials for at home viewing, "flipping" their classrooms.

So, OK, I'd still prefer a novel to a graphic novel. I'd rather reflect using writing than video. And I still make a grocery list. So I haven't gone completely visual - yet.

But even given an unlimited word count, I am not sure that one could describe the joy of learning to ride bike in text as effectively as showing it in a 30 second clip.