A venture for your consideration: The Left Brain Right Brain Retreat

[Editor’s Note: As promised earlier, this is the first in a series of Ventures being put forward by some of you. Steve and Scott’s venture is a good beginning, since it is so tangible and since it calls on the community for response and possible participation. We’re looking forward to the other, widely varied contributions you’d like to propose.]

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by Steven Fletcher

As stated in the Crossroads town hall session in September, I have a venture that started a few years back as a beer-to-beer chat with Scott McDonald. There were three things that came up during our conversation. They all related to a healthy and balanced existence – something that we seemed to be missing in our careers.

First, we felt stymied in our academic writing and wanted to build a time to focus on getting a product completed (article for submission, proposal for grant, etc). We both tend to work well when there is a dedicated time and space for writing, and if there are others who are also engaged in this at the same time.

Second, I was curious about integrating creative personal work with professional academic work as a way to balance the intellectual aspect of my life. I used to build and work on boats. I started to think of boat building as a metaphor for personal and professional growth and wanted to pilot a community boat-building workshop to see if others took as much joy from building an organic shape from flat sheets of wood as I did. Scott was intrigued and asked if it was possible to create a boat in a few days. I assured him that it was; I once built a rowboat in 7 hours with a colleague.

Finally, we both agreed that shared cooking and/or exercise were great ways to connect with others and that having pairs or teams of folks responsible for kitchen duty was a good way to both build strong friendships and save some typical costs. Shared exercise also does this.

A rented house for 8-12 people, in an inspiring natural place, with sleeping, cooking and exercise options, that allows for creative outlets seemed like a logical solution to these three intersecting themes.

This vision has evolved to include: A) An opportunity to work for some time each day on academic writing. B) An opportunity to work on some creative project each day (like building a small boat, but could also be poetry or painting or dance) and C) An opportunity to spend time preparing and sharing meals together.

A very rough itinerary might include:

Before 800am – exercise/ breakfast/ etc. alone or with others.
800-12pm – Left side of Brain exercise. Personal writing time with a focused product due at the end of the camp.
12-1 lunch – make your own from groceries purchased by leaders before retreat or go sample local foods.
1-4 – Creative hands-on time – Right side of brain exercise. Cutting, nailing, gluing, shaping. Painting, etc
4-430 – clean up
430-6pm – Free time (except for dinner team)
7pm – dinner together
830pm- clean up and hang out.

Before renting the house and setting the date we are asking for some crossroads community feedback to see if this is something you would commit to. Perhaps you could respond to the following questions:

What value would you place on an experience like this? How much value would your University place on an experience like this?
What is the best time of year for you in terms of attending a 3-4 day experience like this? Would the summer work?
How many days could you attend? What days of the week are easiest for you to get away?
Are there ways you can think of to make it more feasible for you either academically or personally (much like Crossroads is a conference and therefore allows institutional support for attending)?
Would you be interested in building your own wooden canoe as a part of the experience? Are there other creative pursuits that you’d rather try? Carving? Painting? Poetry? Welding? Would you be willing to share the cost of an expert to help guide the creative work?
Would you be willing to travel to Central Texas for a pilot run of this project?
Would you be willing to organize a local edition of this idea in your geographical region? I can see these camps occurring in different areas with different creative themes for each region.

You can address any feedback / comments to me at stevenf@stedwards.edu and I’ll share with Scott (still in Ireland). We’ll use your feedback to set up the first of these experiences within the year.

Thanks and miss everyone! Hope your semesters/quarters are going swimmingly.

Steve (and Scott).

a [dis]organization and a new initiative

by Adam

I don’t say it in this way often, but here’s the truth: I’m blessed. Besides all those other things (job, family, health), I get to read the work and co-host ideas and collaborations of insightful, dedicated, and creative science educators across the country (and beyond).

So, it gave me pause when at our closing Town Hall meeting, one attendee thanked “the organization” for the support they have provided her in the past and continue to give. I couldn’t help it; I had to interrupt this very genuine and complimentary sentiment with a correction. “There is nothing about us that is an organization.” We may be just the opposite. We’re better described as a disorganization. Only the most trite parts of me (which, admittedly, can be substantial) were trying to be funny. There are sharp contrasts between what John and I do versus what an “organization” looks like. We don’t carry over any money or charge membership. Just look at us. We’re not in this to be figureheads, and we’re certainly not organized. We make this up as we go along. The invitations of and subsequent presentations by Fred Lynch or Naomi Shihab Nye are a couple of good examples of whimsy and gumption that, with almost no thanks to us, gave good results. The best parts of Crossroads — your incubator discussions — are all due to us simply getting out of the way.

We created the space called Crossroads in an effort to generate a level of conversation we were not receiving in other formal settings. We sought to bring people together and discovered the common need to bridge emptiness and reduce isolation. Our goal has been to re-create a mission in science education which is collaborative and effective. And not just within research or in teaching, but in the initiatives that effect change at the local and global levels. Ambitious? Yes, and maybe I’m overstating it. But over the years since this disorganization has been in existence, we repeatedly witness others who reach the end of a year of Crossroads, give us a hug, and then undertake grand projects. They run community centers, link local teachers with resources, revamp research initiatives, and take their 4th graders to local ponds. Like I said, I’m blessed to get to work with you all. You inspire me to do more myself.

John and I glimpse these initiatives from a distance and develop better understandings about what it is you’re all doing. But, because we’re a disorganization, a scattering of folks with local ambitions, we don’t really have a way of representing the overall impacts. Too often, once people depart from Crossroads, we’re not completely sure what comes next, what’s happening across the span of timezones. Where is John’s research looking at multiple nodes of community headed? Has Adam figured out what ‘models’ are good for and how to study them? How well is Allison navigating the fine line between rigor and rapport in her classroom? Is Janet restrategizing how she couches curriculum development? Will Francis take that step into a classroom that he left years ago? Has Lara found a way for her students to investigate connections of “trust” in community networks? For each paper and discussion, I wonder what’s happening next. I’m not really looking for accountability; I really want to know how things are going, what next adjacent possibilities have tantalized you. Sometimes we get to hear about these things somewhere up the road, but these follow-ups are, well, disorganized, just like us.

We should change this. Although I think it’s right that we should be keeping to a certain tradition of the disorganization, I know that there’s a community of folks out there that wants to know what next steps are taking place. Or, maybe we just need to occasionally feed off of one another’s ventures, even (especially?) the ones that make strange left turns and leave us with new questions and trials.

So here’s our challenge to you: We want to hear more and more consistently about you and your work. And if you don’t volunteer, we’ll call on you. Our idea is to commission about one piece each month, and we’ll host it right here and advertise it on our listserve. Again, it isn’t for accountability, and it isn’t really about any kind of data gathering that we have in mind. Rather, we all want to know what else is going on “out there.” Because, really, the disorganization of people we get to host at Crossroads really is the group we all look to to lead reform, to take a stand, to change our thinking. When I have one of those days that shakes my faith in what I can do or just generally makes me want to take a nap, I look to people of this group to pull me up simply through your own example. I think we all want to know what we’re up to in those interims between meetings.

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If you’d like to volunteer for a certain month before we start to call on you, just drop us a line at sciedxroads@gmail.com, or feel free to comment below with nominations.

a new meeting and new thinking

by Adam

We’re getting excited in both of the Crossroads offices, East and West. For me, there’s some snow falling and very soon I’ll get to eat lunch. And, also, we can announce our 2012 meeting and its Call for Papers:

Science Education at the Crossroads 2012

Providence, Rhode Island | September 6-8, 2012

Renaissance Providence Downtown Hotel

KEY details:

Proposal deadline: Saturday, April 28, 2012
Acceptances (no later than): Saturday, June 23, 2012
Final Revisions for Proceedings due: Saturday, August 4, 2012
Crossroads 2011 Begins: Thursday, September 6, 2012

Submit papers to: sciedxroads@gmail.com

Moreover, John’s sketched out an idea that makes itself manifest on the Call. We’re asking for an illustration, preferably from your own hand. We don’t expect anything fancy, and I suspect the charm and benefit will all be a result of your personal scratchings with a slightly dull pencil, eraser smudges optional.

As I myself have considered this new feature, I started to realize that the drawing could be a final piece of my Vexation & Venture, similar to how I’d compose an abstract for a paper. However, now I’ve started to realize that the sketch could actually be a way to develop my initial ideas. And so I have this scratch pad with a variety of stick figures and diagrams. I like this one for now:

What actually comes of this has yet to be seen. But, I’m excited by the possibilities, both in my own work and in all of yours.

images

by Adam

I took a few pictures, mostly of y’all with your name badges, along with a few from sessions. Take a look at our photo album here, or the slides below:

knitting a network

by Adam

My loving partner has a mistress, but we have an understanding. I have my own mistress as well, but … well, I’m getting ahead of myself.

Karyn’s other lover is knitting. Of course, there’s much more to her than the single dimension of a long line of yarn, but for the sake of this essay let’s ignore her great literary taste, photographic genius, and loving devotion to her family and neighborhood school. For now, let’s imagine her whole identity is woven, er, knotted… tied? stitched? … knit (and purled) into her collection of natural fibers. If you, too, are paired with a knitter (not simply someone who knits), you will understand what this means. The act of knitting is ritualistic and embedded into many other features of one’s life. People identify their selves with projects and process, and I’ve come to respect actions such as “turning a heel,” “tying in the ends,” and “decreasing,” as well as other stunts I’m less adept at describing.

Strangely and fascinatingly, knitting isn’t the solitary pursuit that I would first assume it to be. It is ridiculously social compared to the stereotype. Karyn heads to Portland, OR at the end of the month for a “sock summit,” and she sorely laments the fact that Crossroads conflicts with an annual knitting retreat in the mountains. (She’s a good sport, though, and will hopefully spend a weekend in San Antonio instead, needles in hand, camera at the ready.) Weekly meetings with friends revolve around the knitting act as well. And then there’s “Ravelry.”

Ravelry has had my attention since Karyn had joined and started telling me about it. This was well before either of us were connected to Facebook in anything more than a superficial way. Recently, Farhad Manjoo described it and its novelty at Slate.com. He does a great job of explaining what makes Ravelry not just special, but actually useful and integral to the craft of knitting and its social experience. You should read this yourself — I won’t bother restating his observations at length; for my purposes its enough to explain that Ravelry allows knitters an identity that is connected with their craft and projects, gives them a space to document not only the results but the process and progress of their endeavors, and provides an arena in which to get advice and ideas from others.

Jealous? I am. It doesn’t drive me to knit, but it does make me wish for a deeper connection with my own mistress, science education. We have places to dump out the results of our work, but really this is not much more than a display case for a cabled, wool sweater. We do little to model our work in its most authentic forms; we seldom have the opportunity to pull up our pant leg and show off our new socks as we’re wearing them. And, most lamentably, we don’t get the chance to talk about and display the processes of our efforts as we’re in the midst of them. We could learn something from knitters.

Okay, it’s true that we created Crossroads specifically to meet these needs. San Antonio, for many of us, provides us with a moment to show off those socks and other projects, most of which are still on the needles or perhaps still being patterned. And, I’d never want any online, social network to replace the actual face-to-face-to-face-to-face-to-etc. of our physical retreat. It couldn’t. I still wonder, though, if our collective group, with all its technological savvy, gumption, and higher degrees, could come up with a better way to keep us connected. Is there a Ravelry we could be making for ourselves? And as I ask this out loud, almost rhetorically, I wonder if I should be looking at myself (and a few helpful others) to take responsibility for answering the question.

trust and sparkles

by Adam

Recently, I was taken by John’s writing about trust. He goes beyond a simple description and admiration of being able to find trust, faith, dependability in someone or something, and suggests that these features may in fact be those that allow success in an educational arena. From his own experiences, there’s a case to be made that a teacher can be innovative when he trusts in the leadership of his principal; a teacher’s instruction can be reformed if she trusts in the example of a peer; and I suppose even students will endeavor to try out something new and even uncomfortable if they have a certain trust in the good intentions and integrity of their teacher.

I didn’t immediately buy into the idea until he related it to backpacking. When on the trail we can enjoy ourselves because we trust that companions will do their own part to make sure we return to our families safely. Given that premise, I could see the many other applications of the idea, including maybe even my own classrooms for preservice teachers. If these up-and-coming leaders learn to trust that I have their best interests at heart and maybe some record of not completely failing them in the past, they seem to be willing to follow my lead into the unfamiliar and even unsteady. If we know we won’t fall over on our bicycles because of a guiding hand behind the seat, we’ll be willing to take the risk of getting on the improbable two-wheeled machine in the first place. My first experience rock climbing was only enjoyable because I had a large amount of faith in my guide and his ropes. I suppose a lot of teaching and mentoring is much like this. We’ll step out on a ledge if we know there’s a net or, even better, someone there to prevent any disastrous misstep.

This all makes sense, until I think of my friend John on the trail:

I love this image, and I’m proud that I was able to take it. But the true secret of my photographic genius is that I was in the right place at the right time behind our campsite in the Kolob Canyons of Zion National Park; and I simply saw John approaching this backlit, upward bound position a few seconds before. I barely had time to pull out the camera and point. I didn’t look, didn’t sight, didn’t check light settings — I just hoped that I was getting a light reading off the sky and had things more or less in focus. And what I got was a great image, sun at his heels, climbing a mountain. This is pretty much my complete, enduring image of Dr. Settlage. This is an image of someone I would follow up a mountain, literal or metaphorical. In truth, it’s only partially because I trust that he knows where he’s going and what the route will look like. It has more to do with the light at his heels and the emboldened look in his eye. It reminded me of the “sparkles.”

Our friend Heidi Carlone first told me about the sparkles. As she was talking about her data and the group’s method of coding it, there was something that they didn’t know how to name, but knew it was important. As Heidi related it to me:

“Sparkles”… named for what’s come to be a very important code in our data analysis — “the glittery sweet spot” scientific performances.

I’m not sure if I’m ready to tell John or anyone else outside of my immediate family that they have a “glittery sweet spot.” I’m not sure how that will be interpreted. And yet, there’s something that goes beyond my trust or faith in someone or something, as important as this may be. If I’m going to follow you, I need more than a belief in your ability to provide for my safety. I have to be excited by the prospect of following you. It’s not exactly what Heidi had in mind when she has been coding for “sparkles,” but it’s a similarly intangible thing. Call it sparkles, the light at someone’s heels, a certain enthusiasm/energy/inspiration. Whatever it is, it’s important.

As we’re going through the first piles of Crossroads proposals (due this weekend!), I’m reminded of this inspiration. Already I’m reading about new endeavors that I want to be a part of. In part, this is because the ideas are well thought out and developed. They’re produced by some friends and scholars that I have reason to believe in. Most important, though, is the fact that they’re inspiring. They are attempting to ascend those steep slopes, and in spite of the climb it’s clear that there’s a sparkle. It’s a delight to see and get to be a part of this kind of work.

setting the stage

by Adam

My first trip to San Antonio has been a successful and exciting one. Though brief, it’s set the stage for our meeting in September. The meeting rooms have been selected, lunch arrangements made, and a rough schedule is confirmed so that it flows from one event to the next. I’ve even picked out which chair I can sit in as guests arrive at the St. Anthony Hotel. It’s deep and comfortable, ornamented with brass handles shaped like swans. It’s next to three others — so there’s room for you, too. We can sit and look out onto the street as people begin to arrive.

Even as I wait in this airport gate getting ready to head back home, and as John is already in flight, the fun is now underway. I’m charmed by all the possibilities. These all start with imagining people arriving, welcoming them to the reception as they walk past the piano and into the warm room surrounded by dark wood panels and filled with friends and fellow attendees. There’s the hall where we kick things off the next morning, and the small, comfortable rooms where all the incubator sessions take place. This framework awaits, and for now I’m left to wonder about details, if Naomi Shihab Nye (our guest poet on Monday evening) should stand or sit; and if we’d like pastries or fruit during a morning break.

The big piece that needs to be filled in now is you. Mark your calendars for September 25th, and start pecking away at proposals. Until then, imagine that I’m just sitting at the St. Anthony, patiently, in this comfy chair with the brass handles.

planning the revolution … and the call for papers

[by Adam]

Today I was on the radio for an hour. Previously, when I would fantasize of such a day, I would have been discussing my rock star status, sitting behind a piano. Or, more recently my images of grandeur put me and John in comfortable chairs sitting across from John Stewart on the Daily Show. This wasn’t quite as big — a public radio show that reaches out across the state, although on satellite radio you can hear it across the nation, and on the internet you can get it around the globe. So, being excited about the insides of the radio studio and the chance to feel important was tempered by a bit of terror.

Here’s what pushed me through: I was introduced as “Dr. Adam Johnston, Professor of Physics…” [blah blah] “..awarded” [blah blah] “and co-founder of Science Education at the Crossroads, a conference with a mission to reform science education.” I grinned, because if John was able to listen at that instant, I imagined him cheering for the publicity that was gained after each break and re-introduction. Moreover, this affiliation meant that I wasn’t alone. The reason I was there in the studio wasn’t because I’ve reformed science education or even because I know how. I was there because I’ve seen what others are doing, what they continue to do, and what their mission is all about. I battled a bit, politely, with the MacArthur award winner on the phone line who believed science should help us to place our elite students on trajectories to more science related jobs. I countered that we should think about reforming the culture of science within schools, educating all kids with the science ideas and attitudes that they can use throughout life, regardless of professional track. And, at the end of it all, I summarized that I know we can do these kinds of things because the people I’ve worked with and learned from at Crossroads have shown this.

When I got in my car and tried to put my head back together (I still don’t remember what exactly I said on air), I was listening to Frank Turner, and specifically these lines:

We planned the revolution from a cheap Southampton bistro
I don’t remember details, but there were English boys with Banjos

And that made me smile, because that was pretty much where this all started. Not exactly with banjos and no British accents, but the same idea. Crossroads started because we thought we could do better, and we knew that we needed to.

And so, this is all just a longwinded introduction to the announcement that the Call for Papers is out, the dates are set, and the place is ready for us. We have our poet booked. We can’t wait to hear from you. Until then, we’ll be playing these banjos, whether on the radio or not.

plans & anticipation

[by Adam]

John and I have been busy lately, and even our email exchange you can hear our respective buzzing and giggling. Taking the year off from Crossroads has been good in several ways, but maybe none more than the benefit of re-realizing how much fun this all is.

We know what city Crossroads will be in 2011.

And we have the dates pinned down: September 25-27.

And, we have our poet. We’ve had amazing poets in the past, but … well, you’ll just have to wait and see. I’ve typed out and deleted so many times the official announcement that I feel like I’ve already betrayed the secret.

Once we figure out the exact locale whittled down from the many great offers on the table, we’ll let you all know. Right now we’re just looking at fine details, things like menu selection and how the chairs are arranged in a given meeting room. (If you’re going to be at ASTE in Minneapolis in January, we should be able to tell you all the details.) For now, mark your calendars and start to mull over your Vexations and Ventures. Maybe you could start with the inspiration of a poem, or two. These, at least for me, give me pause and are discussion prompts for classes and reminders about the purpose of education and the roles of teachers and other human relations:

Rain

by Naomi Shihab Nye

A teacher asked Paul
what he would remember
from third grade, and he sat
a long time before writing
“this year sumbody tutched me
on the sholder”
and turned his paper in.
Later she showed it to me
as an example of her wasted life.
The words he wrote were large
as houses in a landscape.
He wanted to go inside them
and live, he could fill in
the windows of “o” and “d”
and be safe while outside
birds building nests in drainpipes
knew nothing of the coming rain.

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How to Paint a Donkey

by Naomi Shihab Nye

She said the head was too large,
the hooves too small.

I could clean my paintbrush
but I couldn’t get rid of that voice.

While they watched,
I crumpled him,

let his blue body
stain my hand.

I cried when he hit the can.
She smiled. I could try again.

Maybe this is what I unfold in the dark,
deciding, for the rest of my life,

that donkey was just the right size.

consolation

[by Adam]

Billy Collins’ poem, “Consolation,” has been stirring in my head as I’ve been thinking about various goings on. John is currently en route for Ireland, a trip that is part sabbatical oriented, part vacation. Mostly, I think he plans destinations that are named after favorite whiskeys. I’m reminded by the poem because it attempts to suggest that it’s even better to not be going away to Europe, but in the process makes it clear that those of us left behind, here on the North American continent, aren’t so much better off:

Instead of slouching in a café ignorant of the word for ice,
I will head down to the coffee shop and the waitress
known as Dot. I will slide into the flow of the morning
paper, all language barriers down,
rivers of idiom running freely, eggs over easy on the way.

I’ll eat my eggs and enjoy my ice while John is sampling those fine whiskeys and visiting quaint establishments, sweet accents included, no charge. But it’s more than this. Fall is the time of year when we’re usually hosting Crossroads. It’s not that there has been a lack of things to do: An extra obligation here, another department commitment there, plenty of other projects I’ve never quite caught up on. And yet, something’s still missing.

I think about recent Crossroaders and even lurk on Facebook pages and read over emails. People are busy, taking on new administrative roles, finishing graduate programs, starting new jobs, hosting new endeavors, working with teachers, welcoming kids on Saturdays, welcoming kids on Mondays, Tuesdays, Wednesdays . . . it’s all kinds of busy out there, and I know I only catch the small glimpses of it, peeking through the openings between slats in the fence as I run by.

Taking a sabbatical from Crossroads for a year was exactly the right thing to do. At the same time, I miss it just enough to think about next year, and the year after. So, while it’s a “year off,” it’s also been a chance to deliberate about future venues, guests, and directions. Yes, we think we know where we’re going to host the conference in 2011. And 2012. It’s infuriating that I can’t stop thinking about the future plans for this. And exhilarating.

To all of you out there not coming to Crossroads in 2010, I’m thinking of you. Nice work. Keep it up. Can’t wait to see you in 2011.

To John in Ireland right now . . . well, I just don’t want to talk to you. I’m here, eggs over easy, with the waitress known as Dot.