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Mapping a Network
Recently, I asked all of you a question, “What would you do as a Director of Blended Learning?”
Immediately after the first response came in, I realized that I would need some way to aggregate all of the answers. I didn’t want a list and I didn’t want to simply copy them all into a spreadsheet. These responses were coming in from all over, and I wanted a way to show just how vast a passionate learning network can become. So, I decided to figure out a way of mapping them. This post serves as both a way to see all of the responses and as a tutorial to visualize responses for other projects.
Step 1: Create a New Fusion table in Google Drive (Scroll down to where it says fusion table)
Step 2: Start adding all of the columns you will need. These are the ones I used:
- Name
- Job Title
- Quotation
- Location
- Avatar
- Profile Link
- Conversation Link
- Video Response
Step 3: Choose the field types from the drop down next to each column name (or from the add column menu). These are the modifications I made:
- Location should be a Location type
- Avatar should be an Eight Line Image within the Text Type
- Profile and Conversation Links should be a Link type within the Text Type
- Video Response should be Youtube, Vimeo, or Google Map type within the Text Type
Step 4: Start Aggregating all of the responses. If you want some help with this, just share the Fusion Table like you would any other Google Doc and get others to populate it.
Step 5: Style your HTML for the mapped locations from the “Map of Location” tab. Here is the format I made:
<div class=’googft-info-window’ style=’font-family: sans-serif; height: 12em; overflow-y: auto’>
<table border=”0″ cellspacing=”10″>
<tr>
<td><img src=’{Avatar}’ height=’90′ style=’vertical-align: top’/><br><br>
<b><a href=’{Profile Link}’ target=’_blank’>{Name}</a><br><br></b>
<i>{Job Title}<br><br></i>
{Location}<br>
<td>
{Quotation}{Video Response}
<a href=’{Conversation Link}’ target=’_blank’>Continue the conversation.</a>
</td>
</tr>
</table>
</div>
Step 6: Publish your Fusion Table
You can view the raw data here, or you can simply look at and explore the map below:
If you would like to see your response on this map, please go to this YouTube video and answer the question, “What would you do as a Director of Blended Learning?”
What we are capable of now.
I am constantly struck with an awareness of what is possible. That I am now capable of creating almost anything at any time: value, context, or insight. Art isn’t for isolated spaces anymore. It is democratized. It is in our hands. The creative class is us. The only thing stopping us from realizing it is that we are so good at moving the bar. Now that we can make movies or images from anywhere that would have astounded us 5 years ago, we are no longer impressed. Now that we have the capacity to incite revolution with a hash tag, we are simply expected to do so.
We move the bar, so that wonder is further and further from our reach. But, I want that to stop. I want to pause and marvel at the types of sharing and creation we can do at a moments notice. I want to be clear and passionate about the things that are now possible. These are amazing times we live in and we can’t treat them as anything but.
We are in need of a revolution of enthusiasm. A revolution free from snark and one-upsmanship. When we share something on Instagram, we shouldn’t simply like it, but rather we should react to it. We should share how it makes us feel. We should not let the fast pace of information drown us, but rather let it wash over us and become amazed anew by how it drips from our bodies and pools all around us.
We can wonder again. Not about every new thing, but about every human thing. We can see what connects us and embrace it.
This is something I made. It is now a part of me. Let it become a part of you too.
All Educational Twitter Chats in One Calendar
Update [05.20.2011]: Sarah Kaiser made one of these too, and it may be more up to date than the one below.
I few weeks back I recognized a need for all of the hashtags and twitter chats to have a single calendar that could be added to my own Google Calendar. I looked around for such a thing, but all I found was a really nice list of every chat with dates and times. I have compiled this list into a Google Calendar that I would like to share.
Here is what I would love to happen:
- Other folks would comment on this blog post and ask for me to share the calendar with them directly so that they can add their own educational chats and information (including links and documents that might be important) about the chats in the description section of each chat.
- Anyone who wants to, can add this calendar to their Google Calendars so that they can stay up on when these great educational events are happening each week.
- We share this calendar (with all of its contributions) to any new teacher, administrator, parent or student that gets interested in the educational conversations happening on twitter.
If all of those things happened, I believe the communities we are all trying to create will have a much better understanding of what the entire community is up to. We will be able to pay attention when it is time to do so, and learn from one another much more easily.
Without further ado, here is how you can access the calendar:
Embed:
Here is the code for you in case you want to embed it too:
<iframe src=”https://www.google.com/calendar/b/0/embed?title=Educational%20Twitter%20Chats&mode=WEEK&height=500&wkst=1&bgcolor=%23FFFFFF&src=9k50j34spec6pailr59uo2becg%40group.calendar.google.com&color=%23060D5E&ctz=America%2FDenver” style=” border-width:0 ” width=”600″ height=”500″ frameborder=”0″ scrolling=”no”>
HTML Page:
Use this if you want to see only the calendar without adding it to your own Google Calendars.
Calendar ID:
Copy and Paste this into your Google Calendar to add the whole calendar: 9k50j34spec6pailr59uo2becg@group.calendar.google.com
iCal Address:
Use this one if you want to add the calendar to another program besides Google Calendar (iCal, Outlook, etc.)
Please let me know if I can provide this calendar in any other format. I’m looking forward to the conversation about the conversation.
Question 206 of 365: Where is the open book?
- Image via Wikipedia
Every time I put my son down for bed, he sees fit to be totally uninterested without a good amount of singing of songs and reapplying blankets. In between each one of these tries at sleep during which he may or may not actually close his eyes, I head over to the bookshelf with all of my old novels on it. As my son considers sleep for the twelfth time, I open up The Great Gatsby or if I’m feeling slightly more ambitious, Plato’s Republic. I read through all of the passages that I have highlighted or notated, which is quite a bit.
Each of the stars next to a given paragraph is enough for me to jump right back in to the person that I was when I first read the book. And as my son wakes up and goes back down with severe regularity, I keep on coming back to the fact that I have absolutely no way to retrieve those moments of insight without opening up each one of those volumes and reading that exact underlining, with scribbles that only I would understand.
Every time I stumble upon something that meant a great deal to me in a book I haven’t read for years, I feel this pang of regret that I didn’t read it on a digital device with syncable notes and sharable annotations. I look at a lot of the works that I read as an english major and how many of them are in the public domain. Each one of those I could have downloaded as an ePub file and opened up on an iPad or Kindle, had they only existed.
I know the intimacy of books is desirable, but sometimes I just wish that I could export those intimate moments and savor them more regularly. I don’t want to have the parts of me that I left on those pages get left behind. I want them at my fingertips.
And I know I could use Evernote to scan in or take pictures of those notes, but I really think that misses the point. If I am only copying over the pages that mattered then, there is almost no hope that I will read the entire work again and discover new things about the author and myself. I want the whole context of these notations. I want the whole story of why I starred entire sections. I want to search through and find the threads that bind together all of my braces hanging in the margins like unfinished picture frames ready to be hung in my digital memory.
I believe that this kind of work will happen when I am not responsible for digitizing the content itself, but only the annotations. I mean that all of the books I read as a student must be available in Google Books or some other easily searchable format. Then I want q scanner that only looks in the margins and maps it to a page number and a paragraph.
It would look something like the formula that a good friend of mine wrote in high school for knowing what page number he should be on in his very different version of Jude the Obscure. The class set was larger print, but my friend’s copy was an antique. He used his graphing calculator to concoct a formula for going back and forth between his book and ours. It worked flawlessly. I want the same thing for my notes. I want a way to map the words I wrote with the ones that my famous counterparts penned. Only then will I be able to look at the little diagrams I made up in the 9th grade with anything but nostalgia and regret.
If I want my past to live into my ore went I need a way to map it to something living. All of the books on that bookshelf are dead. Without commenting and liking or metadata, those words are not going to assemble themselves into something of value. And I want to find that value again, if for no other reason than to see exacltly who I was and how all of that has changed now that I am reading exerpts wle my son sits in his room, screaming because the door is stuck on the inside.
Because, it has changed, believe me.
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Question 205 of 365: Why don’t we clear the board more often?
- Image by MarkyBon via Flickr
I have been to a few emergency rooms, mostly for highly nervous new parent reasons. Near each one is a board with names on it. Ussually this board has ailments, procedures, and where patients are at any given time. It tells of upcoming surgeries that require a certain level of expertise. This type of board has been highly popularized by shows like Grey’s Anatomy and other hospital dramas. It always struck me as a very public way for everyone to know what was going on in the hospital on any given day. No one can hide from the responsibilities that the board requires. The board dictates your schedule. Every day, new patients arrive and old patients are erased from the board. More than once a day, the entire slate is wiped clean and the whole process starts anew.
I wish this board existed for more than just hospitals.
Instead, we lower the stakes. We move the boards into more private areas like meeting spaces and classrooms. We let notices stay there for weeks or months with large “do not erase” signs around them. Or, we digitize the process and make it even more secretive in our email inbox or content management systems. There is no feeling that we must clear the board or people will die. There is no feeling that everyone will know exactly what we have been up to because our names are tied to the procedure to which we were assigned. In essence, the board is inconsequential in our working lives. It doesn’t dictqte order or urgency and we don’t feel the need to clear it nearly as often.
But what if we did put up such a board in our schools and workplaces? What if we put the things that we were doing up for everyone to see and then cleared them away with a medical efficiency? I would like to see the progress and the stories that get told then.
If I had to guess, most people wouldn’t spend their time on menial work. If their tasks were going up on the board, everything we did would become important. If we had to write up there what we were learning about or what we were about to tackle on any given day, we would see just how urgent our procedures can be.
And when we needed help for a given procedure, we could elicit help from one another simply by adding one another’s names to the board. We could focus on the collaborative spirit that is required in a hospital in order to keep patients alive. There would stop being a competition between who has harder or more important work because the task for each day is not to complete your own work, but to help clear the board. If you have a free moment, help someone else clear the board. If you have something that needs doing, write it up.
I don’t clear my email inbox as often as I should because there is nothing making me do it. It isn’t life or death and there isn’t any help if I get stuck. But if every one fo my job requirements were up on the board, waiting to be cleared by a team of highly skilled people, you had better believe that I wouldn’t still have an unreturned email from last December just with a draft that has been saved 5 different times and then abandoned because something more interesting came up.
I get that I am not saving lives by creating learning objects or by talking about social media or asking better questions through video. But hqt doesn’t mean that the ambition and pride that doctors feel for clearing the board is unavailable to me. I just have to make my system more open to people walking through my emergency room. I need to allow others to help me, too.
If I simply keep my work as public as possible and not try to own everything, I believe that more will get done and I will feel better about it as well. Or maybe I will jut better be able to put myself in the shoes of someone in ER or House.
Question 204 of 365: When do we almost die?
- Image by jef safi via Flickr
It strikes me that we almost die far more often than we actually do.
Most of the days that I drive to work I think about what it would be like if I made an enormous right turn into oncoming traffic or into the highway median. I don’t think that this is morbid or abnormal, rather I believe that it is a healthy part of me staying alive. If I can envision the crumpled minivan on the side of the road, I can avoid it . If I can see exactly how it would flip and wrap around a tree, I know that my family is safe. I can almost die in my head hundreds of times.
I live in a place that feels safe. The only people I see outside in the neighborhood are kids and parents, playing with toys and basketballs and bicycles. I see people walking and running, too. I see tended yards, except for mine. I see people wave. I’m sure that all of this seeming safety is an illusion, but I take it because it keeps me almost dead, rather than entirely dead much more often.
I am passive when it comes to confrontation. I would take pretty much any route there is to avoid a fight. I stay alive tyhrough this process. To put it another way: I almost die in every conversation, but somehow I manage to avoid it. It’s not to say that I deal with a lot of violent people, but anything can become a fight. Anything.
Whether by accident or intentional behavior, I have managed to stay alive since I was born. It is a streak that is unmatched by anyone younger than me. There are so many things that could kill me, but so far I have managed to escape each one. Sickness hasn’t done it, nor has being impaled on anything overly sharp. I don’t intend on being beaten to death or splattering to the grown after a wrongly orchestrated bungee jump. All of these things will be almost deaths for me and I will treasure them. For as long as they remain as such, I don’t have anything to worry about.
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Question 201 of 365: How hard and how fast should we jump on the ice?
- Image via Wikipedia
The Chagrin river never froze over completely. At least, not in my memory anyway. It was always halfway frozen in the winter, allowing for a few ducks to sit on the frigid water as it took them closer and closer to the falls beneath the Popcorn Shop in my hometown. Halfway out onto the river, the ice was thick enough to stand on. Or so I thought.
Two of my closest friends decided to venture out onto the river as far as they would dare. I followed with a lot of apprehension, but eventually I was able to join them a few feet away from the bank. At first they were only interested in stomping around in circles and hearing the faint cracking underfoot. Then as they saw the ice hold more and more of their weight, they began to jump . Up and down they went and I did my best to be uninterested. I knew what was coming next. I knew that it was only hubris that was standing between us and the freezing cold water. But I couldn’t help from joining in. I knew that at any moment we would become enormous popsicles, but right then we were dry and warming up from all of our jumping.
I can’t believe it took us more than 5 minutes to break through, but we spent the better part of half an hour trying to prove that we were as dumb as the people watching from the park were beginning to suspect. And as we fell through the ice, I remember thinking that we deserved it. We had tempted the gods of the river, and we were right to freeze to death.
Luckily, one of my friends lived just a few blocks away. So, we ran as fast as we could, the water freezing against our skin. Our clothes were stiff by the time we made it. As we dried off with some of the warmest and most comforting towels I have ever known, I knew that no amount of explaining would ever allow others to see why we had to jump on the ice together and feel it crack under our weight. I knew that it wouldn’t be possible for my parents or my friend’s parents to see why jumping was our only chance to make sure that we were alive in all of the ways we wanted to be.
And I put it to you that I still cannot explain it. I still cannot decipher our total lack of understanding for what it was we were attempting. What I can say is this: Every risk I have ever taken is some version of that day.
Every risk, so long as it is worthy of consideration, but be two things: a collective act and have the possibility of catastrophe. Solitary risk isn’t of interest to me. It doesn’t hold my imagination at all. Without friends around to watch me fail, there is little hope that I will ever be able to learn or have any kind of humor about that failure in the future. I also believe in total catastrophe as a kind of performance art. I often tell my wife that taking two trips from the car to the refrigerator to put away the produce is much more fulfilling than taking one. I say this because there is a much higher likelihood that I will stumble my way into something interesting if I can take my time with each bag. I am just clumsy enough that the practice of taking two trips doubles the possibility of me falling headlong into the refrigerator, or better yet, a good idea.
I am not interested in advocating for jumping on thin ice, however. What I am advocating for is a kind of free will that doesn’t disallow jumping on thin ice because it is a monumentally bad idea in the eyes of pretty much everyone. I am recommending that we all, from time to time, embark on some hideously bad ideas in the hopes that we can gain insight. Oh, and we should write about them and share stories, too. That way, anything so absurd as to cause each of us to thank our lucky stars that we weren’t involved will be the push we need to go out and try something truly insane, and perhaps spectacular.
Question 199 of 365: When do we stop asking for medicine and band-aids?
- Image via Wikipedia
I had a favorite medicine growing up called Triaminic. It was the wonder cure-all. Pretty much anything that was wrong could be fixed with a little Triaminic. It had this syrupy sweet cherry flavor that wasn’t overly thick. It didn’t have the aftertaste of a Robitussin or the fleeting quality of a Tylenol. It was what I asked for by name whenever I stayed home from school. It was an elixir, a special potion which could give me back both health and confidence with a single spoonful.
I eschewed band-aids, though. They were for kids that couldn’t handle the wonderful sensation of picking at a scab. I don’t know if my kids will ever know how much I loved to pick at the places on my elbows and knees that the sidewalk had found and rubbed up against only days before. They won’t know because they love band-aids. Every time they get hurt (and many times when they do not), they ask for a new band-aid. Many times we go through several for every cut. It is almost as if they continue to get hurt just so that they can get me to put the sticker with medicine on them. Almost.
They too are magic. Band-aids for my kids instantly turn crying into thanks. They instantly cause the world to once again be in its right place. My children find the littlest wound or oldest scab and find it detrimental to their continued play, but as soon as the Band-Aid enters the equation, there is silence. The smiles return and off they are, bounding through to the play room. They are ready for the next adventure because they got patched up.
At some point I stopped asking for Triaminic and my parents stopped offering. At some point, my children will too stop begging for hello kitty Band-Aids. These wonderful fixes will lose their luster. They will no longer be good enough. But, what is that point? How long can I keep the quick fixes in circulation. How long can I keep the illusion going that anything can be solved with a simple capful of medicine or a few easily removed adhesive tabs?
And once that simple trust in these remedies is broken, it is all we can do to try and get it back. I think that our entire lives are spent in figuring out ways to make Band-Aids and Triaminic work again. We search for quick results and a simple answer to the most complex professional and personal problems. We try the same things over and over in the hopes that some of the magic will return. We “sleep on” our biggest decisions as if the mere act of sleeping will somehow provide insight. We have recurring meetings as if the fact that getting the same people together will produce innovation. We make budgets as if the fictional numbers will somehow keep our wants in check.
I know that there is no cure-all. That it is all snake water and workarounds. I know that time and working toward a better life is the only medicine at all for the present. I’ll take them, but they taste much more bitter than my Triaminic ever did.
