If you don’t get the Simpson’s reference in the post title, chances are, you and I have a different kind of smartness, and that’s ok.
I have worked in Educational Technology for 7 years. I’m good at my job, I’m knowledgeable and creative, recognized on both those scores as an Apple Distinguished Educator. But I’m not like most techies… geeks… nerds. I also function at a high level of emotional intelligence– I facilitate learning, not dispense knowledge. I share information. And here is the thing about information. People who hoard it use it as power. People who share it use it to empower.
I have several post secondary degrees– I graduated with first class standing in both my BEd and my Masters. I’ve done associate faculty work in the graduate program I completed. I even created courses for the same institute.
I’ve been invited to do workshops and facilitate learning for teachers, Principals and admin in other districts (and in my own district, sometimes). I’m really good at what I do.
Wow. That was hard to write, and I feel slimy. Something I am not good at is Self Promotion. I was given the opportunity recently to learn a few lessons. Mainly around whether or not to consider yourself indispensable. It got me thinking about Intellect and Intelligence.
So, if you read my CV above, you would not be wrong in thinking I’m probably not a genius, but that I undoubtedly hover around a 125-130 IQ. You might think I’m very academically minded…but there you would be wrong. I can, and do, read academic papers and research…if I absolutely have to. Case Studies and anecdotal stories are much more palatable to me. Give me historical fiction and I’m in heaven. I can’t quote great academicians, I can’t recall the findings of this study over that study, I don’t really care to look at spread sheets and extrapolate the data. I can, but that’s not what my brain digs.
I was thinking about my thesis work the other day when I was primping my resume. That thesis was full on. Full on academic immersion– literature review, research, data collection–quantitative and qualitative. I did it all. Then edited and formatted and justified everything from margins to sources. And it met fully all the stringent academic requirements. And here’s what popped into my head. My thesis wasn’t about me being smart and imagining a bunch of brilliant stuff. My self-designed project was to create an online course for adult learners, new to the online environment (this is circa 2004). And that is where my smart is– it is in finding new and inventive ways to help people, to facilitate learning…to help find the best solution for a learner navigating the neural pathways that just don’t seem to want to fire.
I can use words like praxis, dichotomy, diaspora, hegemony, ethnography, epistemology. I know what they mean and can use them in a sentence. That’s not my kind of smart. My kind of smart is to help a learner find their smartness.
This past….2 months?… or so, I’ve been helping teachers transition from traditional models of instruction to a new breed of online delivery. I say “new breed”, because there has never before been a wholesale, large scale movement of all instruction, materials and presence to a digital realm. Teachers, like they always will, have gamely taken on the challenge in an effort to do what’s best for their students. That love and care and empathy is something I will miss being able to support when I leave this position.
One of the funniest shifts in communication I have noticed is in Zoom meetings. Despite always being face to face in a classroom, something about the digital interface brings new elements to the forefront. I particularly enjoy what happens when somebody’s child, pet or even another adult family member enters the frame. Excited shouting, waving and gesticulating…. and smiling. We, we humans, love to see and make connections. I didn’t, in the pre-COVIDIAN era, particularly need to see photos of your cat, say, but now when one pops its head into the Zoom window, or a small child crawls into a parents’ or grandparents’ lap, the energy shifts and all the participants light up.
The Pandemic of 2020 has been a very challenging endeavor. But I have to believe that we are doing good together, and good will come from this. There are lessons all around us (admittedly, some days I’d like to not learn more lessons….but…).
Stay well, my dear friends and gentle readers. We will meet again
I’m not particularly an animal person. I like pets fine, and I love seeing wildlife, should a deer/rabbit/squirrel pass outside my window. I’ve even had the exciting privilege of seeing a black bear right outside my kitchen door. I think animals are beautiful (well, not rats or hag fish) and know they can be smart, empathetic, protective and loyal, and more besides. But I’ve never really been a pet person, through all the years I’ve been a member of a family that had pets, in the form of cats, dogs and a horse. I get why people love their pets, but it’s not really me. The other reality of pets, with the possible exception of tortoises and some parrots, is the certain knowledge that you will have to say good bye to them. A friend commented to me the other day that one way to contemplate your life’s measure is by the dogs that have shared it. And so, despite the fact she wasn’t really my dog, today I’m saying goodbye to the puppy/dog who marked a 13 year or so section of my family’s life.
Her name was Bijoux.
She came to us as a puppy– a few months old and just separated from her litter mates. She was welcomed by our then-getting-on dog Brutus, and my two under-10-year-old kids. Brutus left us about 3 years after Bijoux joined the family, and that event of saying good-bye to him was a lesson in how dogs feel compassion, and grief. Bijoux wandered the yard and bayed mournfully for days looking for her pal. Her grief was as hard to bear as the kids’.
Throughout her life she was stubborn, willful and determined. She was almost impossible to keep penned, and she dispatched racoons, rats and squirrels with alacrity, but must have had some sort of secret agreement with rabbits, for they would hop right past her without concern.
Bijoux did have surprisingly good manners. She never licked or sniffed or climbed up on people without an invitation, and on the rare occasion she was inside during meal time, never begged at the table. She was mainly an outside dog, but had a bed in the kitchen, and if she wanted in, would tap at the kitchen door. It was the most elegant movement– not a scratch, but rather she would daintily lift her front paw and tap once to be let in. Just a gentle little dog-knock on the door.
She may have, like a lot of dogs who spend most of their time with humans, considered herself more person than pet. She would jump up onto a lawn chair, the couch or your beach towel with no qualms at all.
Blue-tick hound crossed with black-and-tan hound, Bijoux definitely had a hunter mind set, but could be gentle. Down at the river one day, she came across a duckling momentarily separated from its mama and clutch. She pounced and the duckling became one mouthful. “No! Bijoux!! SPIT IT OUT!!!” we yelled… and she did… and came away, and a few minutes later the probably-still-slightly dazed duckling paddled back to its relieved mother and they left the area.
There are a dozen or so years of funny stories, and stories of exasperation, too, where Bijoux’s selective deafness rendered her the source of profound frustration. And there were many heartwarming tales, as well, like how she was terrified by the sound of shooting or fireworks and one time ran away from the sound of a nearby goose hunt. She was found a few kilometres away, in the company of an elderly lady. Bijoux had joined her for her walk, and despite the fact that the lady was even less a dog person than I, commented what a gentle, well mannered dog Bijoux was, and how she waited for the lady to rest and catch up to her if she got too far ahead.
At the end, Bijoux became a little anxious, and lost her willfulness and insistence on independence. She needed to keep one of her humans in sight, and if there was physical contact, so much the better. We had the luxury, and the responsibility, of knowing we were saying good bye. And despite my protestations of not really being a pet person, I spent a few nights getting up to let her out, to wait at the door to make sure she came back, for I feared she might wander off, as dogs do, as part of that ancient mystery of knowing their time is done. I even cleaned and cooked some kidneys for her, when no other food tempted her. And I hate cooking offal.
On the last morning, she walked happily alongside me down the drive. It was a recent new routine, rather than locking her in her much-hated pen when I left for work, I would instead walk her next door to my daughter to care for. She wagged her tail, knowing she was going to spend the day with one of her kids, tucked up on a soft bed, on a softer rug, with almost constant petting. This time, I was the companion who had to stop every few feet for the elderly lady to rest and then catch up.
She was a good dog, and will be missed. Even by me.
The day she arrived and met her kids
Taking in her new home
Despite never being more than half the size of Brutus, she bossed him around for the rest of his life
Happily sprawled in her Kitchen bed
Enjoying a tasty bone sent home just for her from a friend’s restaurant
I’m glad I took this picture, despite it’s less-than-stellar-quality. I was feeling ill one day and curled up in the recliner, and Bijoux came in to check on me.
This past summer I attended a major Ed-Tech convention. I expected to– and did– learn a lot about current technology trends, and what was absolutely cutting edge in this field. And I was thrilled and delighted by what I saw, and the potential for the learners getting to use some of these tools. But then I attended a session hosted by a world leader not just in technology, hardware and software, but mostly in innovative thinking. Participants were invited to create a multi-media activity based on… The Fibonacci Poem.
Cue shocking and dramatic music and thunder bolts and lightning.
Taking a written piece, we would add background music and sounds and then record ourselves reading…The Fibonacci Poem… that we wrote.
Cue even more strident music and boomier thunder and more lightningy lightning.
We would begin by writing… A Fibonacci Poem.
I’m trying to express the gravity and impact of this moment. I love language and expressive and creative forms of writing, and I have studied a lot of different sorts of forms of writing. I had never heard of the Fibonacci Poem. Add to that I have only one crush on one ancient mathematician, and that is… that’s right… Leonardo Pisano Bigollo. son of Guglielmo Bonacci, considered to be the most talented western mathematician of the Middle Ages. Fibonacci. Who pointed out to the world that math is all around us, in the beauty of nature with unwavering predictability, a magic that is scientific, a science that is magic. This Fibonacci sequence: 1, 1, 2, 3, 5, 8, 13, 21, 34, 55, 89, 144, 233, 377 can be found in the pattern of sunflower seeds spiralling as they grow at the centre of the blossom; or in the population growth of a colony of rabbits; or in the golden ratio of a spiral.
How does all of this equate to poetry? (Not that I couldn’t write any number of poems about Fibonacci himself…). The facilitator began thus:
Think about what you know about Haikus.
Now, think of a single word you would like to write about.
Now another one.
And next is two words.
Then three.
And five. And now eight. And there was the magic of the Fibonacci sequence in a whole new format.
And so… I have invented a challenge for myself, because I think it will be a fun way to capture a thought or reflection, and I just don’t think there can be too much Fibonacci in the world.
Here are some things you should know off the hop (if you don’t know me already). I test well. I didn’t find school difficult (although I hated grade school– HATED it). Throughout my teaching career I have moved away from certain practices that I no longer feel have educational merit, such as Friday Spelling tests, Homework for the sake of assigning homework, and yes, the Winter Fun Sheet. I even gave the FSA (Foundational Skills Assessment) the old college try, but ultimately felt it was of little value to myself or my learners.
Two items came to me today, one the yearly report by the Fraser Institute ranking our district schools and two, this article: https://www.tes.com/news/pisa-meaningless-best-and-destructive-worst (Three education experts explore the negative side effects of Pisa’s reign over worldwide education.)
PISA, (Programme for International Students Assessment) has for many years provided world-wide information on Literacy and Numeracy scores. Much like the Fraser Institute, the OECD uses that information to rank geographic regions (countries, states, provinces) with regards to how their 15 year-old students score in reading and math. (That’s the brief info, there is more, but for my purposes, the abbreviated information is enough).
In the news article regarding my local schools, it was of absolutely no surprise that a nearby VERY affluent Private School had, yet again, been given the highest score in our area by the Fraser Institute, and without even having to read to the end, I knew which school would be there. Then I read the PISA article by Zhao, Harris and Jones and had an educational epiphany. This EE whispered in my ear: “Is this the way to ensure everyone is doing their best?”.
Let’s break this down. BC, the province I live in, has traditionally, since the beginning days of PISA scoring, appeared in the top 5 of all domains, usually 1st or 2nd. We’ve always been pretty chuffed about that, obviously, all the more since we have been on a trajectory for years that moves us further and further away from standardized anything–testing, curriculum, instruction.
Hearing that the “best” school was still the “best” didn’t make me think “Wow, they are doing something right! We should copy them!”. Instead, it made me think “Hm. I wonder how hard they really try– how innovative are they? How diverse is their population? How well do their learners do in areas that aren’t standardized and testable– like our core competencies, for instance: Communication, Critical and Creative Thinking and Personal and Social Identity”. And then I thought about the lowest ranking school, who I know to have incredible diversity, terrific innovative approaches and great unwieldy challenges.
These rankings make me ask this question: Does the top school shrug and say “Good job, boys, let’s stay the course.” and does the last school shrug and say “Well, we are never going to be first, we may as well not bother”. You might be irritated with my logic at the moment, dear reader, but play along a little longer, because I have some intel. Here is the thing about effort. That top-o-the-heap school puts in exponentially less effort than the any of the others. They have a formula that works for them and their population, which is hand selected, and as long as they sit at the top of those scores as calculated by that body, why on earth would they make drastic– or any– change? The bottom-ranked school, however, puts in a Herculean effort, on the daily, and while the publication of their ranking is no doubt demoralizing, I doubt very much it is that sort of feedback that makes them try harder.
I more equate it to Personal Bests in sports like marathon running. Why do people continue to run marathons they have no hope of winning, and even if they did win, it won’t change their lives? (I love the irony of a run-on sentence about marathons). They run because crossing the finish line is enough, and getting a better time than a previous run is just gravy. That’s what our schools are doing– getting kids across the finish line. The win is increasing the numbers of kids with more opportunities for success.
There is no standardized test for being a productive, decent human being with a good work ethic who treats others with kindness and compassion, and there is no government or industry think-tank who collects data on that.
Of all the things I explored across my quarter-century (and counting) career, I can honestly say it is my morphing experience with Design Thinking that fascinates me the most. If asked to express that feeling in a word, I’d say “authentic”. There are countless strategies, methods and “programs” that burst onto the educational scene, gain notoriety (or infamy–Guided Imagery, anyone?), but as I think over the recent emergence of Design Thinking, I can see how it’s suddenly gained traction across not only K-12 education, but in many aspects of business, research, and of course product development. Here is a Brief History of my connection to Design Thinking.
But first… a definition:
Design Thinking comes to us from faculties of Engineering and industrial design. Originally the tool for rapid prototyping and the creation of new “things”, designers–and educators–began to recognise the value in the process, which is organized around what I call the Five Pillars.
1) Empathy– This, to me, is the critical piece for education. A human-centred approach is the launch of every challenge. Before ever considering solutions, strategies or plans, you must first deeply understand the “Who” at the heart of the issue.
2) Definition–This stage is actually, to me, a continuation of the Empathetic focus, where the end user is considered in relation to all the details– how does the challenge impact or influence the focus? How is the environment formed, moving, or is it? This is the “What” of the issue.
3) Ideation–The fast-paced, inventive and highly creative stage of ideation is where solutions are discussed for the first time. This is the vital difference between other “problem-solving” strategies and Design Thinking– the solutions are not even discussed until a deep look at the Empathetic focus, and the problem or challenge clearly defined. But that’s not all– the ideation stage encourages a variety of solutions and strategies, and, done authentically, provides a rich tapestry of possibilities– many paths, not just one.
4) Prototyping– this is were the “design” actually begins– prototyping allows participants to select one of their ideations, or a combination of several, and begin to craft a solution. By its definition, prototyping intends that the perfect version is not the first one….in fact, there may be many iterations until one is perfected.
5) Test/Reflect– the final stage, but seldom the end point. The beauty of this pillar is that you are encouraged to consider, try, receive feedback, try again, reflect again….etc. When I do round in a workshop, I try to include 2 Feedback rounds, so that participants can experience the benefit of other eyes and opinions on their design.
and Sometimes 6) Often there is a 6th stage–Implementation. This does suggest an endpoint, and makes sense in product development, where the goal is to perfect an item, to create the best version of a car, bird house, jacket, backpack, etc….. To me, when designing an approach to a challenge, I don’t necessarily see that as an endpoint– for example, Bullying, Poverty, Homelessness, Graffiti… unless the challenge is completely eradicated by the solution, you may remain in the Test/Reflect stage indefinitely.
Part 2: What have I learned?
This is where the rubber hits the road. There are two prongs to this question– what have I learned about the process, and what have I learned about facilitating the process. At the time of writing, I have edited, rearranged, re-imagined and redesigned my own template several times. I use elements from Susan Crichton’s work at UBCO, Stanford’s D-School, Future Design School and the iie (Institute for Innovation in Education). I have also started to layer in Liberating Structures and different Inquiry strategies.
Facilitation-wise, I have worked with groups as small as 6 and as large as 100+. The most successful sessions have been the largest ones, where I talk the least and the participants work collaboratively through my template. I have taken grade 6-12 students through the process, whole school districts (and their multi-partners), post secondary instructors and support staff, and recently a multi-employee group of senior admin, teacher union reps and custodial/support staff. In every case, I was facilitating both the use of Design Thinking and leveraging the opportunity to address a challenge in their culture or workplace.
Learning #1: Provide the participants the opportunity to address a challenge while learning about Design Thinking. Standing and talking about it is never going to give the full flavour of the strategy. However… ensure the challenge you offer is one that is relevant to the whole group. Which leads me to…
Learning #2: The most successful sessions I’ve had are the ones where participants come with, or quickly land on, a challenge they wish to address. The bigger the group, the more diverse the issues, and it’s a rich experience to all to see what their colleagues are considering vital at the moment. On a few occasions, I have designed a challenge based on conversations with the organizer. These are successful too, as the organizer generally has intimate knowledge of the organization. Participants are always, however, encouraged to tailor the challenge to address a situation they care about.
Learning #3: If the participants don’t have a challenge in mind, or can come up with one on the fly, have some standard challenges on hand to share. Recently I led a session that was scheduled at the end of a Friday Pro-D. The participants were interested, but not overly participatory. I ended up running the session as an overview, rather than working through the process. I left that session feeling like the participants hadn’t gotten the most out of the afternoon.
Learning #4: Don’t make them solve a fake problem. Because this is an exercise all about empathy, I feel strongly that there is disrespect in not making that authentic. Human beings have infinite capacity to empathize, but we also have innate “BS” meters. Choosing an activity that focuses on a marginalized or disadvantaged segment of the population may seem like an easy entry, but unless it’s relevant to the group, it can come off as a bit of a cheap ploy. Likewise, a “global challenge” can by it’s very nature not spark the creativity that a personal connection to an issue can. As one colleague expressed it to me one day, “I don’t care about the (x). I wanted to make something else for that user.” That’s not to say you can’t (and I certainly have) offer a generic challenge, especially when the goal is to more deeply understand Design Thinking, but I’ve learned to always offer that extra layer of authenticity. It’s a simple sentence: “Of course, if you have a similar challenge in your situation, please feel free to tailor this experience to your needs.”
Learning #5- Make sure you understand what empathy is. There is always a “who” at the heart of every issue. Usually there are multiple Whos. Sometimes it’s all the Whos down in Whoville, but the empathetic focus needs to be human, even if the most elegant and well designed solution presents itself, if it doesn’t meet the needs of the humans, it’s destined to be a beautifully designed and elegant failure.
Fortunately, all failures are welcome in the Design Thinking realm. In fact, it’s failing that moves forward thinking. DT helps you fail faster to learn quicker. To learn better. To learn more better. Hmm… I think I need to run that motto through the process again.
This is the template I used with secondary students– I provided sample empathetic focus to kickstart the process.
Hello from the vortex…This autumn seems to have been even busier, more hectic and altogether much more a whirlwind than many in recent memory. My days have been long, and varied and utterly chaotic.
Did that sound like I was complaining, dear reader? Not my intention at all…. in fact, as I said in a meeting the other day: “Chaos is my candy.”
Part of what contributes to the chaos is an overwhelming shortage (wait… can a deficit situation be “overwhelming”? In any event, you get my meaning) of TOCs– Teachers On Call, or substitute teachers, supply teachers… depending on where you live, you may have different names for them. But our shortage is so drastic, we’re almost at the “Do you you have a criminal records check and a heartbeat?” set of filters. The situation will soon be eased, however, as I passed through the board office the other day, the foyer was filled with fresh-faced, excited young teacher candidates awaiting entry interviews. What a time to be alive! The decades-long-anticipated teacher shortage has manifested itself– in spades.
In my part of the organization, there are a few of us in positions of special responsibility, and there are also other specialists, like speech and language pathologists, or ELL teachers… but in any event, there we are, experienced and licensed teachers who travel to classrooms on a daily basis to support specialty programs, suddenly called back in to Active Duty because of this extreme shortage. In my case, because a big part of my job is side-by-side teaching, this hasn’t been too daunting to step into the breech on occasion. However, even with 25+ years’ experience and deep knowledge of the district, it is different to stand in front of a room full of little (or even big) faces and know you are responsible for them during your time together.
I have been called out a few times this year, and it has given me a good glimpse into what teachers are doing, strategies they are employing and maybe challenges they are experiencing. A good reminder. An opportunity to reflect on my career, and still learn new things. And also re-learn old things. Such as “Cut of Jib“. I’ve used this expression for years to describe that unmeasurable, intangible, non-provable but absolutely dead-accurate and innate ability teachers have to size up a kid at first glance. Now, please don’t misunderstand, I do not mean the “scan the room and instantly pick out the trouble-makers”, although we can do that too. I mean much more importantly, much more authentically being able to sense an important truth about the child standing in front of you. When I had my own classes (which, as I break down the math looks like this: 15years X 25 kids per class + 6years X 120 kids + a few summer jobs and community groups, and raising 2 kids of my own = a few thousand kids in my head) I maybe wasn’t always an exemplary PE teacher, and sometimes lacked discipline (both self and outwards) but I know kids.
It was a happy–and a bit surprising– reminder that this skill is not lost, just because I’m no longer standing in front of a class on a daily basis. A couple of examples from a recent call-out: I was in a grade 6 class for an afternoon, and their little grade 1 buddies arrived to do some reading. I glanced over the grade ones as they arrived, like so many tumbling puppies, and saw one little face, still calm on the surface, but, to borrow another maritime phrase, I could see a storm a’brewin’. I stretched out my arm in the universal sign of welcome/shelter, and sure enough this tiny human glued herself to my side and began to sob… all because she could not find her big buddy. Well, in short order the crisis was averted and the tears soon stopped, but I grinned inwardly at the finely honed radar that allows mommy / teacher to spot tears even before they sprout. On my way out at the end of the day, I stopped and chatted to the vice principal for a moment. I wanted to share an observation about one of the older students, something that was a little flicker of concern, even though the student had neither done nor said anything inappropriate, there was something about about their demeanour that made me want to ask a question. The vice principal looked at me with something I would say akin to “agog”, and expressed shock that of all the kids I had seen in little more than 2 hours, this was the one that stood out. This child that, after several months’ observation, they, too, wanted to get to know more about, to see their learning style and engagement be more successful. The only answer I had as to Why was: “Cut of jib”.
My favourite COJ story, however, came from a classroom visit to the school I had done my final teaching practicum in decades earlier. By coincidence and happenstance, the young teacher who invited me in happened to also have been a student at that school, and was there as a learner when I was a student teacher. In fact, her older brother was in my practicum class and I remembered him and his friends very well. As we chatted about the fun of the coincidence and she caught me up on all that had happened with her brother since grade 5 (well, the highlights, anyway), she ended by saying “Well, I guess you might not be surprised to know he is a lawyer.” (PS: not just any lawyer, a well suited and booted highly respected lawyer in a prestigious big-city law firm– also a mommy / teacher thing, we brag on our kids). I smiled and said I wasn’t surprised at all that he would have chosen law, or even accountancy, but I also wouldn’t have been surprised to learn he was a successful writer. Again, eyes bug / agog is deployed and she says “I can’t believe you said that. He was headed for a masters degree in literature and when he couldn’t get into the program he wanted, he went into law instead. How do you even remember that much about him, almost 30 years later?”. I smiled and shrugged and said “Cut of Jib”, of course.
The other thing that makes me smile in thinking about all of this today is remembering my own daughter, before she started school, looking at something I was doing (I’ve long since forgotten what it was– marking papers? Putting together Christmas treats? Sorting class photos?) and she said “Is that for one of your kids?” And she didn’t mean herself or her little brother, she knew that I had other kids, too, that I cared for, was proud of, thought and worried about, and could tell a lot about, just by Cut of Jib.
So….hello, gentle reader….guess what I did today! For the first time in about 25 years, I walked into a class and said “Hi! I’m your substitute teacher today!”. When I was a kid, it was called being a Substitute Teacher, at the start of my career, we were known as TOCs (Teachers on Call), and then THAT morphed into TTOCs (Teachers Teaching On Call) and along with the name change, so too has the call-out system, pay and benefits changed, but I digress. Today I was called back into active duty because of the desperate shortage of TTOCs we are experiencing. Now, don’t get me wrong, I was happy to do it, and had a great day. But for the last 4 years, while I have been a number of classrooms, and have done a not-insignificant amount of teaching, there is a huge difference between showing up cold as “The Sub” and walking in with an armload of iPads and with the classroom teacher riding herd. Now, me being the perverse creature I am, that wasn’t enough of a challenge. I took a look at the classroom teacher’s beautifully prepared day plan (and I mean, this was a thing of beauty– typed, highlighted, times and activities mapped out, aligning with the neat stacks of photo-copied work sheets), glanced around at the orderly desks and pristine white boards, and thought “Well, I could be in for a easy day!” And then I thought…… “Nah”.
Because here is the thing. I love what I do– I mean I LOVE it. It’s chaotic and messy and diverse and something different everyday, and I am ever so grateful for the opportunity to help other teachers, to encourage them and help them integrate elements into their practice that I think are valuable. Ah… there it is…. In other words, I can talk the talk… (you know the rest). So, despite the well -organized and orderly path presented me, I instead chose, as is my wont, Chaos. I have been facilitating sessions on Design Thinking, in particular, using Design Thinking Mindframe activities that pull in elements from a variety of sources (see my posts here and here). Although I had seen great success taking adults through the process, I had yet to try it with kids. And so… that was the background that led me to spending the day fully immersed in the an activity that had a group of sixth graders developing emergency safety responses for natural disasters using the Design Thinking Mindframe process. In full disclosure, I definitely see areas where this process can be refined and fine tuned, and there is a risk trying something so unfamiliar to a roomful of kids you’ve not met before, who don’t necessarily have a lot of buy-in to the process.
theUncoordinatedCoordinator 