Question 62 of 365: Why does waiting matter?

In so much of what I write and think about, I am interested in what is instant and what I can will into being. I am so interested in creating what I can’t yet see. I want to be a part of the conversations that create change and I want to be with people who are passionate and have purpose behind their actions.

And yet, there is the waiting.

I wait because other people make me wait. I wait because I want to know what they have to say. I wait because that is the only way that listening can occur. I wait because being told no should always be an option on the table.

So, today I waited for a response. I waited to hear a judgement being handed down. And while I waited, I wracked my brain for what I could do better. I wrestled with every conceivable question that could have come up, every roadblock that someone else thinks I have. I sat nervously trying to iterate without a concrete direction. I wanted to speak, but knew that it wasn’t yet my turn.

And in the end, I wanted so badly just to be able to reach inside of someone else’s head and change their mind. I wanted to write the e-mail that told me I was doing a good job and that all of my hard work had paid off. And yet, that isn’t what makes waiting important.

I am not going to Techstars for a Day, but I will be continuing to iterate on my ideas and see if I can make it into the big show. This news wasn’t what was important either.

The waiting was the best part. It was the not knowing that provided the most freedom to have hope and hopelessness. It let me see two diametrically opposed futures: one in which everything goes exactly according to plan and I have an easy time convincing others that my ideas are valid and the other in which I have to fight for every conversation and every user. The reality is somewhere in the middle, but it is important to be in limbo sometimes and weigh both sides as equally possible.

Only waiting can let me get comfortable with ambiguity. Through waiting, I am able to doubt everything and come out on the other side. I can challenge my assumptions and figure out just why those assumptions were stupid. Flat out rejection is too harsh because you end up throwing out everything. Pure success is equally damaging. It can make almost anything seem like a good idea.

Waiting is what makes us vulnerable enough to let others make us better. And that is what I did today. I got better.

The Case for Purpose, The Case for Better

The purpose in putting pen to paper, making those marks across the page. The purpose in pressing keys and moving the mouse. The purpose in proposing change, in newly minted hope. Are they the right ones? Are they the ones that we will be most proud of tomorrow, or in ten years.

The reason why I ask is because of all of the things that our skeptics have challenged us with, the charge of purpose is the one that weighs the heaviest upon me. Even the would-be advocates and the late-adopers, these people matter because they cause us to push ourselves into the areas of purpose. Why would we use Google Docsrather than Word? Why should we push for open standards? Why should we create learning drastically different learning environments using tools that require a lot of professional and personal investment?

The purpose matters in what we do.

We should be able to articulate it clearly and readily. In speaking to the Math teacher on my team, she asked me what the purpose of a scribe post was in the face of other, more simple techniques for getting kids to collect what they have done in the classroom from day to day. It took me aback after we had watched the wonderful K12 presentation on the subject (Release the Hounds). My breath was caught in my throat for just one second. Am I a charlatan? Do I, in fact, have a reason for working so hard to implement blogging in the classroom other than the fact that it is my natural instinct as a connected teacher to want to connect my kids to one another and the world.

For too long I have shied away from questions about whether or not blogging will help teachers do things quicker, more efficiently, or better. I have made the argument that blogging and other environment influencing tools help to create a different system, a different type of classroom, so how can you possibly compare the two. But that is not giving a purpose. That is shifting the target. That is saying to all of the potential stakeholders that your goals are no longer valid; these are the new and improved measurements of success.I’m not sure that we can win with that argument because it dodges the whole concept of purpose.

‘Why should we change’ is a fundamental question that cannot be answered by a hypothetical appeal to a 21st century economy that may or may not exist in the near or distant future. That cannot be our main avenue to get change accomplished. To a certain extent, we must be able to explain how the collaborative tools and the pedagogy of creation and authenticity will help to get kids and teachers to someplace better, not just someplace different.

We have to make the case for “better.”

So, my question to everyone who reads this is how have you made the case that the way you do things is not just different, but better? How have you taken your learning network and been able to show that it isn’t just a bunch of educational nerds in a vacuum? How have you shown someone purpose behind what you do?