When It Rained In My Living Room

One time I remodeled my entire bathroom by myself.

I had no idea what I was doing, but ignorance was bliss.  For a while.

Two days into it, the bathtub and shower were installed and ready to go.  I filled the tub.

"Mom!  Is it supposed to be raining in the living room?!" my daughter called out.

[It was a non-rhetorical rhetorical question.]

Had I checked for leaks before filling the tub?  

No.

Had I any idea of what was getting myself into?

No.

Enter Make Cycle 3 and our Official Game of the Museum of Obscure Joys and Sorrows (O.G.M.O.J.S.).

It started out as a curiosity - the freshly created words of John Koenig were posted on Facebook, prompting Terry Elliott and I to think "That's really cool!" and ask CLmooc-ers to create words.

The words we created are here: Spreadsheet of everyone's ideas.

Terry's Hackpad Intro

No one wanted the words to languish in a spreadsheet. So when Make Cycle 3 came out, I innocently thought, "I will use the words to make a game!"

I played around with some gamification ideas - badges, an e-portfolio. I went against the competitive spirit by making all of the badges available to everyone, even if they didn't "earn" them. It was fun, which was the most important thing to me when I started.

But...
Like my bathroom remodel, I had no idea what I was getting myself into. Also like my bathroom remodel, I learned a ton throughout the painstaking process. And...like my bathroom remodel, it took WAY longer than I thought it would. 

Why?

• I had to figure out a few technical things. I tend to be pretty perfectionistic in these things, and would not settle for a mediocre attempt.
• I felt a huge responsibility to the folks who had contributed words.  I wanted to do them justice and honor them.
• Terry gave me some great feedback along the way, leading (amongst other revisions) to the escape hatch feature.  I wanted to add his soundtrack but just ran out of steam before I could figure it out.
• I didn't want to half-ass it.

I like the wormhole-ish nature of some of it.
I love the words people made.
I love the gifs and the badges.
I like the escape hatches.

I didn't like the tediousness of making sure all of the clicks and links do the correct things. And I am sure I missed some (let me know).
I had hoped to make it sillier and more fun, but (again) I am just too tuckered out to work on it any more.
I had hoped to use feedback from more game testers. And maybe I will get that chance.

The bottom line is that I really wanted to see what potential was there for my classroom, and in that regard I am really excited to try the template out next fall. The possibilities are tremendous.

In terms of strict game design, it wouldn't score very well.  It's not really replayable, it's not that interactive, and you can't really control much of the outcome.

But I am happy with it and excited that we got to use the Obscure Joys & Sorrows that CLmooc-ers came up with!

A great collaborative effort.

Special thanks to: 

Christina DiMicelli

Sheri Edwards

Sarah Honeychurch

Terry Elliott

Scott Glass

Susan Watson

Stephanie West-Puckett

Amy Cody Clancy

The game is here: GAME

Randomness of Video Apps

Some of the new video apps, like Magisto and Google photos, create videos and slide shows when you are not aware that it is happening.

I find it interesting to compare their random versions to the ones I spend hours on.  Somtimes it makes me wonder if my intentions are for naught.

Examples:

My Popcorn Maker version of Bluesy Remedy-Ation:

And the random one created by Magisto:

Does our desire for quick, easy & pretty override our desire for meaning?  Maybe, and sometimes that is OK.

No bourgeois bacon

This blog post sucks.

It is made to disappoint.

Interpret it as you will.

Willfully misinterpret it.

Tear it up, print it out and burn it.

Tell me what to do.

I am a medium.

I am medium.

Medium height, medium smart, medium rare, medium class.

Think about this, then blog about it:

Do as you are told.  No comic sans. No bourgeois bacon.  No hipster rouge.  No techie Captain Crunch.

Ready set go.

Writing From the Gut: A Response

Terry Elliott recently honored my Quicksand post with annotations on Genius. And when I say annotations, I mean annotations as only Terry can - GIFs, photos, technical grammar explications, questions, praise and all manner of goodness.

This is my relatively "quicks"-"and" response.

Quicks.
And.

• I write from the gut.  I had no idea that what I was doing in my first few lines had a name (aposiopesis).  My intentions were exactly as Terry posited, but my writing is more stream-of-consciousness than conscious.  

     [How in the world does Terry know all of these technical terms? His brain must be humongous; I would have to see it writ large to even begin to conceptualize how it can hold and organize so many details.]

• I do only two things very purposefully when I write.  The first is to write as succinctly as possible.  I hate to read belabored points, and I try hard not to impose them on anyone who honors me by reading my words.

      **I use as few words as possible.**

• The second thing I purposefully do is to try to say things--either...

In unexpected ways, or 
In a different way than they have been said before.

      [Years ago, when I taught my daughter to write poetry (she might have been 5 or 6), I told her that she should use words in ways that no one else has, and she still remembers that conversation to this day, at age 26.]

• I teach middle school. This leaves me little time to revel in writing and interact with my PLN online the way I would like to.  It's a bit like watching your friends play and laugh outside while you are inside doing homework - simultaneously frustrating and entertaining. 

[Right now, I am stealing moments at work, a tiny rebellion but also a sweet breeze through my (cinder block) metaphorical window.]

To perfect this...

...there's no time.

~~I am humbled by the fact that anyone reads what I write.  I try to honor that by writing to the best of my ability, not wasting my readers' time, and attempting to make people think or laugh or question.

Terry has helped me become a better thinker and writer. And all of you make me better.

Thank you for reading.

400 Screaming Hawks at a Squirrel Convention

This has been an insane two weeks at my day job.  Let me first clarify that I truly love what I do.  And we have fantastic, forward-thinking leadership  in my building.

I am charged with facilitating our middle school PBL program and a variety of "other duties as assigned" (although to be truthful, I volunteer for most of the duties).

Our staff is small (20 certificated staff, 12 Instructional Assistants) and our classes are small (right now the largest is 9 students).


Like in "dog years," though, there is a calculation for our students that is a simple multiplier that I just now made up in my head: 

• one boy at my alternative school = 5 boys at a comprehensive school

• one girl at my alternative school = 400 screaming hawks at a squirrel convention 9 girls at a comprehensive school

So, yeah, I have been working some crazy hours since school started, and yesterday I was feeling an overriding exhaustion the cumulative impact.  We are off today, a day

Historic Grandstand at the Fair

designated as "Fair Day" due to a local humongous agricultural fair that seems to have existed since the dawn of time.  Last night, I also I worked at our nightschool program (AKA Twilight, believe it or not), so my day started at 7 and ended at 7.

What does this have to do with Connected Courses?

In the midst of all of this at school, I checked my phone and saw that Terry Elliott had posted Iconoclasty 101.  I told myself, "You have no time to read that," and immediately found myself reading it.  "Damn you, Terry."  I did not have time to write a comment.  Yet I did.

You #Connectedcourses people are making me a little bit crazy. 

Aside from Terry, the piratical iconoclastic modular-home blower-upper:

I have Simon Ensor, with his open, vulnerable, humble writing that I see alternately as beautiful sushi rolls or foaming steins of beer.  Maha Bali making me think about Twitter as half eggs, and online trustworthiness.  Howard Rheingold, self-professed online instigator, keeping us all connected. Kevin Hodgson, fellow non-higher-ed-ucator, making comics that intrigue and entertain. Mia Zamora declaring #ccourses a guilt-free zone.  Alan Levine teaching us to be bona fide smartasses online.  Helen Keegan, fellow #ccourses addict enabling my addiction.  The list goes on and on. If you are not listed, it is only because I am trying to avoid over-wordiness.

My name is Susan and I am a #ccourses addict.

Hacking My Kid's Process (And What is Hacking, Really??)

#CLMOOC

My daughter Jessi has always been a creative person, in all of the best senses of the word. One of her biggest strengths is her willingness to show vulnerability in her work, whether the medium is painting, writing, performing, or making videos.  

When I took the National Writing Project grad class, that was one of the biggest lessons I learned - good writing is like "opening a vein" (original source in dispute).  You have to be willing to share your authentic self.  

About 5 years ago, at age 19, my daughter made this "People Project" video.  I loved it then and have loved it since.  It inspires me. It makes me proud.  It makes me think, and it makes me want to be better at "making."  And it is her, authentically.

In the spirit of #CLMOOC, I wanted to use Jessi's video as the basis for my Hacking Your Writing project.  This was daunting.  I was confident that I could not come anywhere near her creativity re-create the depth or the artistry that she had been able to demonstrate, nor could I do it with the raw intensity of a 19-year old.  But I wanted the challenge!

"Hack #1"
For my first attempt to hack her work, I used WeVideo.  I approached it with the intent that I would not obsess over trying to make it look perfect.  In the past, I would have made myself LOONY over it spent several days on such a project.  This time, I gave myself three hours, and this was the result.  CLMOOC-ers Kim Douillard and Shannon Falkner have both mentioned how putting constraints on our work can help our creative process, and it definitely helped me to actually get something accomplished move forward.  I was happy with the end product.

But:  
+Terry Elliot and his #flailer ideas made me really wonder - had I really hacked her video? Or just made a crappy version? Granted, I put my own spin on it, and added a silliness that fits who I am and changed the emotional content.  But hacking?  More like a remix, I think.

So - I hacked my hack.  And this time, it felt like it was actually worthwhile more authentically a hack - "Ahhhh, so this is what hacking feels like."  Rather than just making a crappy different version of what my daughter had done, this felt like I had hacked my own work, which had been inspired by her version.  

"Hack #2"

Why, for me, did version 2 feel more like hacking?  It was nonlinear, and I had less control over the content (which for me, as a perfectionist,  is subversive), and there was a randomness about it which I loved but would never have come up with on my own.  The message and intent were even more unclear.  I liked that.  Granted, it took an app to make this happen, but I learned from it.

Which version did you like better?  Was either one a "hack"?  What do you think?

Through this, I rediscovered the beauty of hacking: that your end product is something that could never have existed without its original source.  SO - the better the source, the better the potential hack?  Another question to think about!

Thanks to everyone for the inspiration!   #butstillflailing