conference

My 7 Great Ideas and Themes Behind #TEDxNYED 2011

by Jose Vilson on March 6, 2011

Despite my expected candor about the state of education conferences like these, I also reserve the right to speak on the ideas without attacking the person (because, for some reason, using the name of anyone in the edu-tech pantheon makes you vulnerable to fan-boy snipers and gasping doubters clutching their jewels). My TEDxNYED experience started off well enough because a) I live in the city so b) it only took me 30 minutes to get there c) the views at the New York Academy of Sciences were tremendous and d) friends like Diana Laufenberg, Stephen Lazar, and Tara Conley all made the side conferences that much more interesting. Last year, I was a newbie seeking a map to the views and faces who congregated upon The Collegiate School.

This year, I knew the territory too well.

1. I noticed the general theme of making technology human. I appreciated the idea of humanizing technology. Staying connected is important, but it has to be in the context of making those human connections more real, not hiding behind a computer like a modern-day Wizard of Oz.

2. I liked the fact that kids got to read their poetry in front of adults, even if it was teleconferenced. The presenters actually involved kids. In a presentation. With adults! That’s important. Yes, I’m aware there’s a TEDxKids, but the presentations I’ve been to sound like a me-me-me fest. Speaking of which …

3. I fear whenever any presenter uses “I” and “me” a lot. It speaks volumes about their school environment and the possible facades they’re presenting about their “impact”on our future citizens.

4. We (and by “we”, I mean me and my fellow peanut gallery observers) couldn’t help but notice how powerful not having a PowerPoint at a presentation can be. It will either make you look severely under-prepared or supremely confidence and awesome. In both instances, the latter was true.

5. Never mistake popularity for inspiration or relevance. Ever.

6. For that matter, never mistake aloofness or obstinacy for fallacy. For instance, before the conference, I already held certain views about a few speakers. Most of them proved me right, but one in particular made me see my own failures in objectivity. The person can be a jerk or any other set of names I won’t mention on a Sunday, but if they share the same viewpoint or idea I share about the current state of education, then they too are an ally. Which brings me to …

7. Diversity talk is a litmus test … for their openness to new ideas. Yes, I was the first in the Twitter back-channel who brought up the lack of diversity in the audience (the speakers came from all walks of life). Yet, what ensued was two separate discussions: one about problems and one about solutions. I lean more towards the latter. I met others in the conference who knew how to market a typical edu-geek event to more colored people. I even found others with a similar mindset as me who weren’t colored, but understood the need to find different voices based on race, class, gender, and occupation.

Overall, the experience reminded me of the work people like me have to do in order to push the conversation to a more inclusive dialogue. I have to use my bit of influence to ensure that more people who want to open these conversations up come with me.

What did I miss?

Jose, who just wants to talk the ideas out …

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The Token’s Worth More Than You Bargained For

by Jose Vilson on August 12, 2010

Fuck That Shit

What About Our Dreams?

My favorite part about the GE Futures in Education Conference in Orlando wasn’t the wonderful 85+ degree weather, the beautiful accommodations (including free wi-fi), or even the wonderful speakers ranging from Jon Saphier and Robert Marzano to Ron Ferguson and David Jackson. It was my eclectic crew of math and science teachers who I broke bread with, hated on multiple people with, and had meaty debriefs about the daunting realities that our classrooms represent. In the midst of the edujargon we’re so quick to lean on like “professional learning communities,” “accountability,” and “curriculum integration” (sidenote: we’re likely to use that when we want to be comfortable or we don’t feel the need to explain ourselves to every and anyone), we forget about the real shit, the gangsta, or what some might call the pedagogy.

At the speed of education talk, it’s hard to escape using some of these terms, but more importantly, it’s hard to not clone oneself to sound like the others. When the most popular tweeters talk about ed-tech, then everyone’s going to talk about ed-tech. When the most popular bloggers talk about ed reform, then everyone else is going to talk about it. It’s similar to something I said about #edchat recently: when discussions about certain things get too hard, people go to that which they have an expertise on or that they can simply hypothesize on without making any critical dent into something.

That’s usually when I come in and stomp my foot like I interrupted a fine game of Hokey Pokey.

For some, they appreciate my eloquent, scrupulous thoughts on things because it’s not the same perspective (and the majority of those who appreciate it are White people). For others, though, they’re quick to change topic and become wonky or derisive. But Vilson don’t play that. Often, what this kind of talk does is shut out young voices, Black voices, female voices, gay voices, Asian voices, non-comformist voices … or any voice that doesn’t fit into this frame that’s got a Post-Note label with the word “teacher” on it. Those in the conversation that want real change, even when they may fit into the mold, notice when voices are ostensibly reticent.

When I see pictures of educators clamored together and none of them look like me or have my experience, I don’t think to run away from that crowd. I think: “What could I bring to that dialogue?” When I see a concentration of a certain type of blog, I don’t think: “Well, if everyone else is doing it this way, then I should write that way too. I need the comments.” I think: “What isn’t being talked about here?” I’m not here to agitate for agitation’s sake either; I’m here because conversations about equity, pedagogy, and the voiceless. Those of us with a voice need to speak up, be courageous, and find integrity and passion with our message. We’re not all going to agree, but that’s the part about being uncomfortable that’s going to need more than a bathroom break and a paper towel.

This is also why I have no problem being the only Black / Latino person in the crowd. Sometimes, the token is worth more than the collective bargains for.

Jose, who may be a token in certain settings but never settles for tokenism …

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Karma Police (Jealousy Is A Crime)

by Jose Vilson on July 19, 2010

Radiohead's Thom Yorke

Today, I’m at the beautiful Portofino Hotel for the second year in a row for the GE Conference, where I just heard Robert Marzano (The Art and Science of Teaching) speaking to us about the marrow of this skeleton we call “teaching.” I read his work and wasn’t particularly interested since I’ve heard much of what he says throughout my school and in education blogs. Yet, hearing him speak actually made me think better of his work. Imagine someone who actually goes into classrooms to observe AND absorb the environment, trying his or her best to get this evasive idea of good teaching, not just nitpick the negatives. That’s barely evident with many of the voices in the grand conversation.

Then again, that’s what we risk when we go to conference: we have experts and we have “experts.”

While Marzano spoke, we had lots of people nodding and saying, “We understand.” Others still said, “We have that, but we may need more of this.” Also acceptable. However, you’ll always those one or two people who’ll say “Shut up and let us discuss,” which translates into “Shut up and let me speak.” That’s when you have no choice but laugh out loud to their faces, regardless of whether they’re your peer or your superior. Listening takes so much skill, from opening our ears to opening our minds. If we’re not able to pay full attention to someone whose intentions are genuine, and feel like we’ve learned it all, then we’ve already lost sight of the big picture.

Oftentimes, these “experts” are genuinely jealous of the attention the presenter has attained, or doesn’t see that they don’t have the skill to present the ideas behind the work better. I think it’s important for listeners to be critical of whatever the presenter shows, especially if the presenter doesn’t know what they’re talking about, but if the track record’s strong and the presenter’s actually personable enough to engage the audience in serious dialogue, then the expert who isn’t presenting would be wise to show a little class.

A big part of being a Marzano, a Delpit, or these other luminaries isn’t just about your content knowledge; it’s about being able to present it in such a way where the people feel like they’re part of it, and that’s where “experts” miss the boat. These days, people have started to learn how to filter out the plastic and commercial when they’re in need of substance. There’s an honesty about Marzano’s work that I see now that I’ve heard him talk about it that I can’t speak for when I read others. And if I know the person producing the work and they’re dishonest, I’m much more likely to discard their work, even in the unlikely event that they’re more intelligent.

Because let’s be real: the person behind the work counts just as much as the work itself these days. And when the person behind the work comes in with a quasi-omniscient attitude, we’re turned off by that. Virtue reigns.

Fortunately, I never have to worry about that. The karma police usually takes care of people like that.

Jose, who’s on a Radiohead kick lately.

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