10 December 2016

The Dirty Dozen

Today, this blog is 12 years old. We will now be entering those awkward teenage years, full of sturm and drang. Or perhaps that phrase is more reflective of our time together until now.

I won't take you down memory lane. I think we all know the web and social media have changed a lot over the last 12 years. I won't claim this space will be active for another twelve years, but I can say that I own the domain until this place is *gulp* 20 years old. And while some may have tried to shut me down in previous years, I am quite sure that I will only quiet my voice when I choose to do so.

We have a long four years ahead, educators. Blogs were a space for individualism and activism back when I started this space...and I suspect that blogs may become that refuge again as federal leadership puts public education under attack once again. Our ideas are too large to contain in 140 characters, a single image on Instagram, or in feeds of Facebook.

I believe that we all do what we can to take care of ourselves and one another. For some of you, that's giving money on DonorsChoose to your favourite classroom(s). Others participate in outward shows of ally-ship amongst different groups. There are volunteers of time, resources, or presence. Make the best choice you can within the space you have to live and work in. This blog will still be here to put forward some new ideas, revisit some old ones, and walk with you along the way.

Thanks for reading.

19 November 2016

A Wall to Invite Others In

If you follow my other blog, then you know that I have set a challenge this year to tell 10 new data stories in 10 months. My goal is to only use data that we don't typically share. That doesn't mean that it's private, just overlooked. All the data I'm using would be considered public, but no one requests things like Outlook calendars for meeting spaces or the number of emails sent in a day.

I've seen a lot of data walls over the years. I've heard of the spaces they occupy referred to as "war rooms." These data are, without fail, just about assessment scores. Now, there is absolutely nothing wrong with looking at student performance, but I often remind people in my district that children are more than the sum of their test scores.

What would happen if we built a (data) wall that invited conversation, rather than screamed at an audience?

One school in our district has decided to join me on my data story journey this year. They are sharing data about library book checkouts by grade for each with of the semester.

It's ginormous...maybe 4 x 8 feet. A lot of work has been put into getting everything labeled. The numbers at the top of each stacked bar are written on little books!

Every colour represents a grade level and every bar is a week. Fourth grade has been rockin' it this year, it appears.

There is a lot of joy this year at this school. They are so proud of their data wall (as they should be). I've heard about several teachers bringing their classes to look at it and all the good discussions that ensued. Parents are asking about and engaging with the data. These are data that generate conversation in a positive way.

Walls aren't always about who we want to keep out. Once in awhile, they're all about who we want to bring in.

17 November 2016

Dance, Star, Dance

My maternal grandmother grew up in the Missouri Ozarks. She married at 15 and had four children by the time she was 20. Her husband shot small game (squirrels, rabbits, groundhogs...) for the family to eat. There was no indoor plumbing until my mother was a junior in high school. It was a hard way to live.

As an adult...and a parent...my mother asked my grandmother how they had managed it all. Her reply was simply, "We were angry a lot of the time." Perfectly understandable. She elaborated later that it also wasn't easy to have four children under the age of five. They would work on helping one child learn to walk and then remember they hadn't helped another to sit up yet. It was a juggling act in terms of traditional milestones.

I often think of this story as a metaphor for my life, both at home and at work. There are so many things I'm supposed to stay on top of...and just when I get one area all tidied up, I realize that some other area is precariously close to being out of control. No matter how well-organized I am, there is just more and more to take on. It can feel futile, but I've started keeping a sort of log book this year. I have a little journal that I carry with me at all times. I record all the meeting notes each day, capture the steps of projects I'm working on, or even ideas from articles I read. When I look back, it's still an overwhelming amount of information, but at least I can see that it is all leading to small changes.

If I play out the metaphor of my grandmother and her family, I realize that all of her children (including my mother) graduated from high school---something neither my grandmother or her husband achieved. Out of the five children, two served in the military and four attended college all the way through earning a Masters degree. They may have had less than optimal conditions going in, but something greater emerged later.

It's kind of a Nietzche'ian end to the story: Out of chaos, comes order. Or, more poetically, You must carry a chaos inside you to give birth to a dancing star.

Just once I'd like to feel like everything is caught up and as it should be. That may never happen, but it doesn't mean I can't make something great in the process. Time to find the rhythm and dance.

10 November 2016

What next?

Like many people I know, I have felt fucking terrified since the results of Tuesday's US presidential election were revealed. And that's the nicest way I can think of to say it. I also know that I'm not alone in that feeling. From my friend who had to explain to his son that nothing will happen to his family with two dads...while all the while knowing we have a VP who thinks we can electrocute people straight. To our district ELL coordinator who spent the day reassuring students. To my bff, who is black and has seen so many tenuous steps toward equity. To a teacher who told me today that her daughter doesn't know where it will be safe to go to college given the repudiation of women the vote represents.

Two of my favourite Jennifers (Borgioli Binis and Orr) have recently posted some reflections on the aftermath of the election and moving forward. Orr, as a classroom teacher, keeps her focus exactly where you would hope it would be: supporting students. Borgioli Binis sets the stage for peer-to-peer conversations.

And I am currently pondering the next level in the system: How do we as administrators or district leaders support discourse among staff? I do think it's good for kids to see that we can disagree on some things, but agree on others...that we can engage in healthy conversation. I also think that some of the differences in opinion in this case are so personal and fundamental, so strongly tied to one's own core values, that finding common ground might be impossible.

I had a teacher confide in me today that she felt like the election result was ripping apart her staff. She was horrified that her peers would be so open about anxious they were for the deporting to begin of immigrant families who send students to her school. The truth, of course, is that those opinions were always there working in the classroom next to hers, they just weren't openly expressed. And now she knows things about the adults in her building that she doesn't want to know...and can't set aside. She is too afraid to engage in conversation with them, even though she knows she needs to. She knows that white, protestant, women...like the ones who fill her school...didn't vote for Hillary. To make change in the future, she has to create change in thinking with them.

I wondered how many principals were seeing this in their schools...staffs divided by the results. And yes, I know that elections happen every four years and that there are always winners and losers. But something this time around feels very different. The campaigning was just so vile and ugly by the candidate who won. Were we, as leaders, prepared for the outcome (either way) and how this would affect relationships among our staff? What do we do next to ensure that friendships and collegial efforts stay strong and focused on what's best for kids? How do we help teachers who may have lost trust or respect for their peers (who may not know this) move forward with them?

This is what I'm pondering over the long weekend while I engage in some self-care and think about my own path forward. I am scared that there will not be a light to find in all of this dark.


05 November 2016

We're Gonna Need a Bigger Band-Aid

In Jaws, there comes a moment while hunting for the shark that Roy Scheider's character realizes that they're going to need a bigger boat. The problem---the great white shark---is far larger than they'd realized. In the movie, it the first time we glimpse the shark, too. The size of the (pseudo) animal makes the audience nervous, too. We realize that the captain's bravado isn't going to be enough to seal the deal...and we feel rather small in that boat on the big ocean.

The title of this post came from some words I found myself saying recently at a meeting. We have a lot of big changes ahead for our district. Plenty of construction is happening, thanks to a bond passed by the voters. Next year, sixth graders will begin attending our middle schools---meaning our elementary schools will be losing staff and reconfiguring schedules, and our middle schools will be gaining staff and have 2/3 of their student populations new to their buildings. The money from a recent technology levy has made for some wonderful additions for staff and stuff. We have new leadership, which brings its own new ideas to the mix.

All of these sea changes have been planned, of course. We've made choices---from the voters, to the school board, to the administrators, to parents. But as we steer this ship to our new beginnings, other temptations arise. As long as we're making these changes, why not make a few others we've been wanting to take on, but too afraid to initiate? Why not just "rip the band-aid off" on x while we're already doing something different with y? I realized after a bit that we are, indeed, going to need a bigger band-aid...or suffer a death by a thousand little cuts.

I've pondered change a lot over the years on Ye Olde Blog...enough posts that I even made a tag for it. I don't know that I'm any better now at understanding how to manage it vs when I started thinking about it. There have been a few points in my personal life where I discovered it was better to rip off a giant band-aid...to let everything fall apart and then pick up the pieces I wanted to keep and move on. That path was better than trying to duct tape things together and convince myself it was all right. Sometimes it isn't all right...and that's okay. But that's just me. What happens when we talk about a whole school? Is it all right to just throw in all of the changes at once and see what grows from the rubble? Do we take baby steps or do we jump in the deep end...and how do we know which of those to do in which situations?

The sea changes involving my own job are calming down, at long last. It's been a difficult few months and I've learned a lot about patience and letting go of some expectations in favour of others. I'm learning new things about resilience as it applies to my own role and how to develop it in the ones I work with. I'm hopeful that I can continue learn and advise others on finding the right-sized approach instead of always looking to the bigger one.

16 October 2016

Many Facets to the Same Jewel

Over the last several months, I've been doing a lot of reading about additional perspectives on data visualization. We are all familiar with bar and line charts...and many other types, mostly developed and promoted by white males. On one hand, it would seem that the basic versions of charts we use would be somewhat agnostic; but then, nothing ever is.

As I was traveling down another rabbit hole, I ran across an article by Sherry Turkle and Seymour Papert: Epistemological Pluralism and the Revaluation of the Concrete. It is not an article about data viz, but it does explore ideas related to "accepting the validity of multiple ways of knowing and thinking." The focus of the article is STEM, and in particular, the difficulty with recruiting and retaining women. They seek to "address sources of exclusion determined not by rules that keep women out, but by ways of thinking that make them reluctant to join in." The article was written in 1992, so some of the references feel dated, but the concept that there should be a variety of valid pathways to the same endpoint is timeless.

I couldn't help wondering about connections with education. We are primarily a profession of women (about 76%), and yet only about half of all principals and just 15% of superintendents are female. Turkle and Papert write that "Women are too often faced with the not necessarily conscious choice of putting themselves at odds either with the cultural meanings of being a scientist or with the cultural constructions of being a woman." I would guess that you could replace scientist in the previous sentence with principal, superintendent, or even leader and have a partial explanation about why there are so few of us at the organizational helm. Or perhaps administration lacks appeal because of how many women view the world as "a web of interconnections among people" vs. a "hierarchy of autonomous positions."

Further than that, I've been thinking about the implications for how we offer professional learning opportunities. I was talking with a male colleague recently about a project he's been working on to use video and remote coaching in the classroom. When he wound down, I asked him if he'd noticed that all of the names he'd mentioned...all of the teachers involved...were male. He had, but his reflection on that was focused on recruiting women. I suggested that maybe they wanted a different opportunity to engage. There's more than one way to engage in reflective practice, after all. In another conversation last week, I listened as a teacher passionately described several pieces of information from her various heroes of grading. All men. Don't know if she noticed that, but I sure did.

All this has started me wondering about PLCs, conferences, edcamps, instructional coaching, workshops, and other opportunities we provide for professional learning. Do we ever apply a lens which causes us to look at how practitioners view things---including societal messaging---vs. the goals we have in the name of "support"?

As I mentioned earlier, the article that prompted this thinking was written in 1992. It focuses on gender. There is no mention of the rich backgrounds and intersectionality that all teachers bring to the classroom...their ethnicity or race, gender identity, sexual orientation, and more. And that absence points to the lack of a full range of conversation about what our system of education looks like from something other than a white male message. We continue to make efforts around social justice conversations in our classrooms. How do we reframe the entire context of school to include the different viewpoints of those who work in it?

I'll continue to keep an eye out for that, as I read through various articles on Feminist Data Visualization, alternate histories of data viz, and other aspects of the digital humanities. What have you seen in your travels through the web?

Interesting article in today's Guardian asks Why aren't we designing cities that work for women---not just men?

And, via Jennifer Borgioli Binis, here's a podcast (Episode #48) on the intersection of women, education, and leadership.

08 September 2016

When School Shootings Hit Home

In the states, we are a bit inured to school shootings. Yes, they're horrifying every time...but there are so many and they won't stop. To protect your sense of self, you must think of them as things that don't happen to you.

But this time, it happened to me. At least from a distance.

I haven't lived in Alpine for 25 years, but I return every year to visit friends and family. And in the high school I attended...just outside of the band hall where I practiced for four years...in the restroom I used every day...a fourteen-year old girl shot another one, and then turned the gun on herself. We do not yet know why, and even if we ever find out, I'm not sure it will ever make sense.

This pin hangs on my bulletin board at work. I've had it since high school and it is one of my secret smiles in my office---something that I know the origin of but doesn't make sense to anyone else.

I also have this picture...the only photograph I have hanging up at work or at home...on my board.

This is Juan and me. And while most people keep photographs of their family or major events, I keep Juan in front to remember the joy of graduation and why I work in education. I want every student to feel like Juan on the day he graduated from Alpine High School.

It is surreal to read articles about this shooting, because so many of the people quoted throughout the coverage are people I know, in spite of all the time and distance. Ah yes, the guy I made out with (on a dare) while I was dating his roommate. And the county official was someone who asked most of my friends to "take your pants off" when he took them out. The principal lived three doors down from me when she was in school. I remember being in girl scouts with her, swapping stories with her step-sister, and how several of my friends chased after her step-brother. (Don't get me started on the time in fifth grade where he tried to convince our art teacher that he was making an elephant out of clay and not a penis.) There were 59 people in my graduating class. We knew each other well...maybe too well...along with those who graduated just before and after us. We are of an age now where we have civic responsibilities and are stewards for the next generation. History and secrets run deep, but all we have right now is each other. The names I read and the faces I see are not abstract contexts. They are connections that span from my childhood to the present, and will no doubt be part of my future.

I suspect that most of the public sees pictures of the school or town without context. The most oft-shared pic I've seen in the last 24 hours---with students crossing the street from the school to a church---shows the view toward my best friend's house. My mother lives two houses from the elementary school, with its well-armed guards.  I have walked in and around all of the buildings referenced, laughed and shared with others, and now I grieve. I am not there in body, but part of me is so deeply rooted there in spirit that I feel crushed physically whenever I have seen a picture or reference today. I can't imagine what it must feel like to be there in person.

There is sure to be anger in time. Anger over a lack of gun control that provides a 14-year old with access to a handgun. Anger over the waste of life. Anger over the distrust and disillusionment sowed in a community that needs interdependence for success. For now, I am just sad and hurt and wishing there was something I could do to ease the burden. I am grateful for my friends, who have called or reached out. I need them to tell me it will be all right, even if that's a lie.

Even if it's true, it feels cliche to ask you to hug your loved ones a little tighter tonight. Instead, educators, I ask you to connect with your students a little more closely tomorrow. Remind them that you care about them as people, that they have value, and that you will help them. It hurts to realize that the next news cycle will move on to the next shooting, well before any healing from this event has happened. Do what you can to ensure that your school is not the next one that is hit too close to home.

03 July 2016

Make or Break Time

I have reached the end of Year Two in my still-new-but-no-longer-shiny district job. This spring was a killer, as at one point, I was attempting not only my own job, but covering for two other people. One of those jobs remained open for three months, so I have done little else this spring other than something work-related.

As I prepared for a week off on Friday, it was incredibly difficult to not bring home work. There were several times during the day where I had to stop myself from making a list or moving some files to a thumb drive. I kept reminding myself that the work would still be there when I got back. And after three months of putting my personal life on hold, it's okay to take a whole week just for me. Maybe I can remember what I like to do and be.

There is never a year in education where things are the same as the previous one. There are always staff changes, new kids, curriculum, or responsibilities. And the coming year will be no different for me. I have supported the district CTE program over the last two years, but no more. I love the intent of CTE--there are great pathways, passionate teachers, and amazing students. From a district-level role, however, it is nothing but tedious meetings and paperwork. The largest waste of time is trying to deal with the state-level program officers, who seem to love to play all sorts of games. When I think about never having to deal with those people again, it feels like an enormous weight is lifted. I realize that is a very sad comment on what should be a very exciting opportunity for our kids.

So, I will "just" focus on data and assessment this year. Here is one look at why the change in job assignment is needed:

Visit the state assessment site for an explanation of the alphabet soup represented above.

Over the last 20 years, state assessment has changed a lot. During the 2015 - 16 school year represented above, the upper timeline is for general education students...and the bottom one for special education students. Other than the last four days of school, there was not a single day this year that didn't include at least one assessment window. This does not mean that there are children sitting down with bubble sheets every day or that every child takes every assessment. That isn't the case at all. But purely from a district responsibility perspective, there is a lot to track. Oh, and none of the district assessments (DIBELS, CogAT...) are represented on this timeline. Not to mention all the data generated here, plus other data tasks related to programs. I won't be bored.

I suppose that makes it all the more important to just be me this week. Frankly, it's been so long since I had that opportunity that I have forgotten who I am if I am not working. If nothing else, I can take some deep breaths before submerging into another year.

How are you spending your summer holiday?

13 June 2016

Because I Love You

I attended the Eyeo Festival last week. "Eyeo assembles an incredible set of creative coders, data designers, artists, and attendees---expect enthralling talks, unique workshops and interactions with open source instigators and super fascinating practitioners." It is not an education conference---in fact, the lack of K-12 public ed in the conversation was very noticeable. But I had selected this as a learning experience knowing I would have to apply my own lens.

This is the only conference I've ever been to that resulted in my feeling inspired and creative. Every other one has had learning outcomes...and this is all right. It's not that one takeaway is better than another. When I go to an ASCD conference or an assessment workshop, I expect to learn things that have direct application to my daily work. I want that. With Eyeo, there were 45-minute talks by a presenter. No activities, turn-and-talk, or other "engagement" strategies that education conferences expect. But these simple and straightforward presentations of a creative process or project were enough in and of themselves. I really appreciated that.

My full Eyeo recap is posted on my other blog. Here, I want to focus on one session...and why I can't stop thinking about it. Marek Tuszynski from the Tactical Technology Collective shared their recent exhibition: The View from the White Room. (i.e., looking out from an Apple store.) The show looked at questions such as What does it mean to live in a quantified society? and What is the value of data privacy when it becomes something you can buy?

Part of the exhibit included something called Big Mama---a riff on Big Brother. It was twisted to accommodate a quote from a government official justifying surveillance. He said that what he did was necessary because "I love you all."

This concept took my breath away, because it sounds so much like what we do in schools. We love you, kiddos, so give us your data. Give us your learning...your assessments...your demographics...your attendance...your health information. We love you and need to continue collecting all of that to keep loving you.

Tuszynski also made the connection between the contribution of data and a harmonious society. Be a good citizen...a good student...and give us your data. It's not only for your own good, it's in the best interests of everyone.

I understand that this is a cynical view. I also understand that what was shared at the conference is derived from a context of living in an eastern European society. History gives them a necessarily darker view on the actions of the state. But even knowing all that, I had to take a long walk after the session and think about all the data currently percolating in the background of public education. I want to think that we have nobler reasons than Big Mama...that our smiles and talk of love are not driven by data.

Here is Marek Tuszynski's full talk--well worth your time.

Eyeo 2016 – Marek Tuszynski from Eyeo Festival  //  INSTINT on Vimeo.

15 May 2016


I have about four weeks left of "testing season." In truth, there is some sort of state testing window open every single day of the school year. We kick off the year with the assessment for kindergarten and wrap up with End of Course assessments for high school. But the majority of testing happens between mid-April and early June.

In our district, this final frenzy means that I monitor about 10,000 tests. Every student in grades 3 - 8 have assessments in English language arts and mathematics. Those in grades 5 and 8 also complete something for science. Science tests have to be done in one sitting, but the others can have as many as 45 days to finish. So, it's a matter of tracking not just who did or didn't test, but who hasn't finished. We have kids move into our district, as well as out, throughout the window, so that becomes another factor to track. As well as those few students who have taken a different state test due to their special needs. And ELL students who are spending their first year in the country are excused from English language arts assessments. And the test refusals. And...well, you get the idea. It's not quite as simple as getting everyone to sit down on the same day at the same time and do their thing, which is how we used to do it 20 years ago.

High school has even more oddities with testing due to the state phasing out some types while phasing in others. Different graduating classes have different tests they can use to meet those requirements. And then there are federal expectations to meet for student participation...which are almost impossible at the moment given that the test used to report that is given the year after most kids have met their grad requirements.

It's a challenge at all levels. It has been more of a challenge for me this year because not only did my assistant move on to another job the week we started spring testing...my student information person did, too. My job alone was already large enough that some parts are being shifted to someone else starting in July, and for a month, I got to pick up the work of two other people, too. So, in addition to 70+ hour work weeks, I've also been chained to my phone and email. There cannot be a time when a teacher or principal reaches out for help and doesn't get a reassuring voice on the other end. Their jobs are hard enough without them having to deal with gaps in service. But maintaining it all just about did me in.

But my new assistant started last Monday. She's very bright and excited about taking on the work. And while it takes a lot of time and effort to onboard someone new, I will reap the benefits soon. We'll post the other position soon, now that bargaining with that group is done and we can offer something solid to a new employee.

It's been a crazy spring. The work is getting done, and I'm still in one piece. I won't be going under after all.

30 March 2016

Kick It Up a Notch

Muriel Rukeyser says that The universe is made of stories, not atoms. As a scientist, I might disagree. But as an educator working with data and children, I am inclined to draw that same conclusion.

I tell stories with data all the time. It's my responsibility to look for connections and identify patterns. For the most part, however, it's focused on those tales that I am asked to tell. What are the characteristics of students who are never able to meet the standards? Does better attendance lead to better achievement outcomes? Which schools or programs best support closing the achievement gap?

We are data rich, and information poor, in my district. Perhaps you are in yours, too. So for next year, I am planning a new challenge: Ten data stories in ten months. But I don't want these to be our regular stories, such as how students performed on the spring assessments. Instead, I am looking to use some untapped sources of data.
  • For example, a month of use of the district board room. Are there connections between our stated goals and priorities and how we use this resource? How do we use time, which seems to be the most precious commodity? 
  • Or perhaps I could dive into the class of 2017 with the lens of those students who spent all 13 years in our district. 
  • What would a text analysis of a month of school newsletters reveal?

I need at least seven more ideas like these. I'd like a few "spares" because I don't know how many will be viable once I get into the actual project.

These stories will be told in two ways. First, I plan to use a bulletin board at the district office to display some offline data. I like the idea of data you can touch. Can I use different grits of sandpaper to indicate different levels? What about some 3-D paper techniques, like you'd see in a pop-up book, to illustrate change? There will be a companion web page for every data story---something that those with online access can explore to get details.

I hope to get a jump start on these over the summer. Ten is an ambitious goal...perhaps I might have to back off from that. I chose ten because we have school during ten months of the year...and we have ten schools. Perhaps December and June will be "short stories" given the number of actual school days in each.

I am excited to kick things up a notch. I have seen any number of schools with a "data wall," but none who have data stories. What stories would you want to see about your school or district? Where would you shed some light or reveal some data? What are the questions no one seems to ask about your classroom or students?

26 March 2016

Increasing Understanding with Data Displays

Commenters on the last post are looking for suggestions of better strategies for highlighting student data. As students, we often learn rules for communicating with text. We know to put a capital letter at the beginning of a sentence, and end a sentence with a punctuation mark. We learn about grouping sentences of a similar topic together---and even signalling those groups/paragraphs with indentation. We have an entire grammar system when it comes to text. It's all built on enhancing the dialogue between a writer and a reader.

Visual communication is not so different. There are some basic rules, although we don't seem to teach them in the same way as we do for writing. The purpose behind these principles is the same as for text: We are trying to enhance understanding between the author and the audience.

If you were given a page of text and a highlighter, and then tasked with identifying the most important ideas, would you highlight every word on the page? Probably not. Why? Because when everything is highlighted, it is as if nothing is highlighted. Your brain cannot identify what is most worthy of attention. So why do so many educators insist on doing things like this with their data?

From strictly a visual processing standpoint, this approach has a variety of problems. The most obvious is the non-stop highlighting. If one of our goals is to identify students in need of support or identify patterns, the approach at the left is not helpful. We should be as strategic with our highlighter here as we are with text. Only those students in need of greatest support should catch our eye. This is not to say that heat maps can't be useful as data visualizations, but most education related data doesn't connect to their purpose. We need to match the right visual with the right goal, just as we might match our writing style (informative, persuasive...) to the outcome we wish to achieve.

The second problem with this example is that it has both numbers and colors. Working memory can hold about 7 items. There are 38 numbers in the Fall and Winter columns---far beyond what we could remember, let along compare in our heads. It's great to use highlighting to reduce that cognitive load, but it also means the numbers need to be hidden so we can look for patterns. When we leave the numbers there, we start devoting mental processing to things like figuring out cut scores or how far away a particular student was from the next achievement level. We're distracted from the more important conclusions about student performance.

I could put on my ranty-pants about the color choices here, but if you're interested on color perception and how it relates to your design choices, you can visit my post on my other blog (which is devoted to data viz for the classroom). Head on over there anytime for all sorts of ideas to transform your data.

Another issue with this example is that every cell has lines printed around it. This is called enclosure, and like signals such as line length, color, or position, your brain "sees" it as a way to pay attention to what's important. (To learn more, hit teh googles for pre-attentive attributes.) Enclosing everything is as confusing as highlighting everything. Let's look at enclosure another way.

Here's a typical data table. There's some students and then some item analysis for each student. How long does it take to recognize the patterns here? What if we take off some of the lines and, instead of highlighting, simply grey out the zeros?

One might argue that this type of representation isn't as sexy as the circus-like highlighting in our original example, but it sure makes things a lot easier to understand.

And that's really the bottom line with data visualization. It is intended to be a bridge between the raw data and meaning that we elicit. If the visualization gets in the way of that, then we are at risk of making the wrong conclusions or even taking the wrong actions based on those data. We can apply some principles to our numbers, much as we do with our words, to help our audience---even if it just a party of one.

13 March 2016

The Right Kind of Sticky

At one point in my post-secondary education, I took a class on working with gifted students. As college students, we took turns modeling different types of differentiated lessons with our peers. I really don't remember much about the details, except for this one example where the "teacher" asked us to think of words that "described how the soldiers at Gettysburg felt." And the first word that popped into my head was sticky. Apparently, this was not the sort of feeling that the facilitator had in mind.

I was thinking about this story earlier this week because I have been pondering sticky ideas---and, in particular, what we do with the ones that have become old and gummy, but are still hanging on long past the time we have moved to something better.

I had the privilege of attending the Tapestry Conference this week. As far as I could tell, I was the only K - 12 educator there. That's not surprising, given that it was not a conference for educators. It's goal was to bring together people who use data to tell stories. The most common question I was asked was "Are there others like you---in other districts?" This was a hard question to answer. Yes, there are people who work with assessments in every district (no matter how small), but the data part only comes into play once districts reach a certain size...and even then, I haven't run across very many who tell data stories.

Instead, I see lots of spreadsheets that are coded in shades of red, yellow, and green. This is a sticky idea---and one which might have been the best option 8 - 10 years ago, but it is certainly not considered best practice (let alone effective) now. And yet, it's so ubiquitous that I don't know how we will ever manage to shift away from it. Are we really so frightened of change that we would rather to hang onto the only thing we know than make sure we have the best option available? What does it say about us when we work in a profession devoted to learning and yet we are unwilling to learn and adapt?

I understand how comfortable it is to be in a box of your own design. Whatever passes for normal in ones' world is what gets maintained. I am certainly guilty of choosing safe over new. I'm trying to stretch more this year. Tapestry was one way to do that, and Eyeo will be next. There are all sorts of education-specific conferences I love to attend. I learn a lot of things that support my day-to-day work. But I can't pretend that there isn't more out there to explore or learn. I can go to a data conference and find things to apply to my work. I can learn to unstick myself from routines and ideas, at least for a little while. How do I help others do the same?

16 January 2016

Stretching Beyond the Boundaries

Education likes its boxes. We like grade levels and subject areas and demographics. We like hierarchy and programs. We like making determinations about who fits where, what they should learn, and how that should happen. These things are at odds with being in a "people business," but we excuse it in the name of having an economy of scale and maintaining an unquestioning status quo. Good teaching, in my opinion, is about helping students understand which limits they are bound by and which are arbitrary. Teachers support students in testing and exploring these.

As adults, we owe ourselves the same opportunities for personal and professional growth. In social networks, you sometimes hear a reference to an echo chamber that occurs when you surround yourself with contacts that are similar to you. It's comfortable and familiar and cozy.


I feel those walls creeping in sometimes, too. Make no mistake, I am quite happy to succumb to their charms as easily as anyone else. So this year, I've been thinking about reaching out in different ways for learning.

Up first is the Tapestry Conference on March 9. This event focuses on storytelling with data, but it is not an education conference. I applied to be part of it for just that reason. I don't know that I have anything to offer the group that will be there, but I am hoping to learn things that I could bring back to the big ole box of education. I've been trying to shift the narrative in our district away from cartoon-colored spreadsheets to meaningful conversation about the data we collect and use. I am excited about being a part of Tapestry this year and extending both my knowledge base and personal network.

And in June, I'm off to the Eyeo Festival. I have been enamored of this event for the last couple of years and just haven't been able to make it happen. But I secured a ticket this week. And even though the festival will be at a very busy time during the school year, I feel like it's important to make the time to go. As educators, we have many opportunities to engage in professional learning that feeds our head and fills our toolbox. But this one will be something that fills my spirit for the work. Like Tapestry, it is not a conference designed for educators. However, I think that's what I need most at this point---to look beyond the borders of education and see how others are thinking about ideas related to data, design, and code.

In my quest for further inspiration, I have added a few Twitter accounts to my feed that add a sense of wonder. If you're looking for some yourself, check out the Magic Realism Bot or the Moth Generator. Both are automata...both provide something beautiful to ponder. See, too, The Strange Log, which documents "the strange poetry of changelogs and patch notes."

Over winter break, I went through and cleaned up all of my links in Delicious. Over 1200 links were deleted---mostly because the tools, articles, or services they connected with are long gone. Others were deleted because they didn't serve a purpose (for me) anymore. Something cool in 2008 is not necessarily what I use now. Since the big cleanup, I've been adding steadily, mostly in the area of design communication.This includes tagging things that relate to data visualization through the lens of feminism and audience. Again, it's an area for me to explore and push beyond the traditional narrative of communicating with data.

What are you thinking about this year that will inspire you or remind you that the edge of your rut is not the horizon? How will you stretch beyond the boundaries you set for yourself or that others set for you?

02 January 2016

Counting on You

Even though the winter season is less than two weeks old, I view the return to work following winter break as the "spring" semester. It feels more hopeful and serves as a reminder that summer is coming...someday...even if the view outside my window suggests otherwise. I am officially done with my admin credential program, which means that when I return to work on Monday, I can "just" do my job.

I have another blog, which focuses on data use in the educational setting. And recently, I've been wrestling over there with how to accurately represent and communicate about populations of students. And while readers here might not care so much about the nuts and bolts of some of this work, I do think you're perfectly poised to comment on some of the ethics and expectations associated with it. So, let me share a little background...some ideas...and then see what you can add.

I work in a district that has mostly white students from middle-class backgrounds. When I represent the achievement gap at a grade level, it looks something like this:

In some ways, this doesn't look all that different from what you might expect. White or Asian female students who do not receive special services or participate in the federal free or reduced lunch program perform better than the district average on the state assessment. (More information on this chart is over here, if you're so inclined.)

But I want to talk about the second line of data (representing race) and talk about those groups for a moment. I can't show you the actual numbers of students in each category without violating FERPA rules around student privacy. At a grade level, for example, we might only have two black students. If one meets the standards on the assessment and the other doesn't...it looks bleak. Ditto if they both don't meet the standards. However, if both of them do, they show up at 100% on the graphic above and this may also result in some ennui.

This is where I struggle with how best to represent the data. Yes, we need to consider each and every child. Every student as an individual is important and worthy of our attention and support as educators. However, small population sizes difficult to interpret for adults...and somewhat unfair to students.

For example, let's say that one of our high schools has six Native American students. When do we become concerned about disproportionality? Is it fair to assume that a "proportional" amount of those six students will take every AP course and participate in every sport or activity? Probably not, especially since those six students are spread out across four grade levels. But it is also not okay if they not represented at all. So what would make sense? Show a rolling average across 3 to 5 years?

Recently, I tried something else.

This shows student performance on the most recent state assessment in English Language Arts for one grade at one school. Every student's score is represented by a circle on the chart (n = 69). Grey circles are for scores from white students (n = 54)...pink circles are for scores by students of color (n = 15). Ordinarily, I stay away from lumping various racial groups into one category. I have really struggled with the decision here. However, instead of trying to navigate the discussion about one Native American student, what we see here is that one-third of our students of color scored in the lowest category of performance...and overall, two-thirds of white students met the standards compared to only one-third of students of color. It's a pattern that's more difficult to ignore for adults, but I still want to keep individual students in mind. (More information on the graph above is here.)

So what do you think? When there are ultra-small numbers of students in a given population, how do we accurately represent them while having enough integrity with our data to feel confident in decisions we make from them? How do we best serve our students in this area? I'm counting on you for some new ideas.