As a reminder, teachers viewed a Prezi on their own prior to coming to our whole group meeting. This contained information that we needed to cover from the faculty handbook, along with some silly videos and other absurdities intended to keep it mildly entertaining. Then, when we met as a group we used our Smart Response system to take a quiz over the Prezi's content. Things that seemed unclear (via the real-time quiz responses) were discussed. Things that seemed really, super duper clear, we didn't spend our valuable time talking about.
Here's how it went down.
I began the day absolutely certain that someone - maybe everyone - would be totally confused, frustrated, angry about a major technology fail. We've all been there, right? The perfect lesson was prepped and ready to go, you got to school early because you were so excited about all the amazing learning that was going to happen that day, and BAM! the computer doesn't work and the internet is down and the water is off in the building and there's no air conditioning.
I was prepared for that to happen, and I was prepared not to cry or sweat profusely or seem rattled. I committed that I was taking a risk doing something new, and risks are called risks because they are risky and sometimes they don't work out. I was cool and calm.
Wouldn't you know it? Not one single person had trouble. No one even had a question about how to access the Prezi. I swear I could hear angels singing "hallelujah" in the hallway. It was like my own little miracle.
Then one group found a mistake.
The hallelujah chorus stopped abruptly. I willed myself not to sweat. I took a deep breath. And I laughed.
Two of the videos were swapped. I introduced saving lesson plans and the Prezi advanced to the video on how to document parent contact. Curse you, last minute editing to increase the volume!
"Well, I guess that doesn't make any sense, does it?" I said to the group who first discovered the mistake. "Sorry about that. I promise the other video will come later in the Prezi."
"Okay, no problem!" they responded, and they just kept right on trucking with the Prezi.
Calmly, I continued from room to room, nonchalantly saying things like, "I guess you guys figured out I swapped the videos. Sorry about that! If that's the worse thing that happens today it will be a good day!"
And you know what? No one cared. No one complained. No one was confused forever. It was Just. Fine.
We proceeded with our afternoon of quizzes and conversation, and I loved it. I left that afternoon certain that we did not waste a second of our teachers' valuable time that day. The feedback I got was all positive. Teachers were particularly glad that they could view the Prezi at their own pace with their team and have discussions that were relevant specifically to them -- discussion they couldn't have if we reviewed all of the information as part of a large group (not without getting some dirty looks for talking, anyway). People on my campus have made Prezis in the last few weeks. It was good.
Then I did the survey.
My goal was the quickest, easiest survey possible while getting some feedback on what worked for teachers and what didn't. The first weeks of school are crazy, and, let's face it, no one wants to spend their precious minutes filling out a survey, even if it's for the betterment of the staff development universe.
My super simple survey listed the sessions we had during the week, and asked staff members to choose "this was awesome," "this was just fine," or "this wasn't useful to me." It also had a comment box for any thoughts or ideas that teachers wanted to add.
35 people completed the survey (it was not required), and three of them checked the "this wasn't useful to me" box about my awesome, innovative, technology-ridden session. 11 noted "this was just fine," and the other 21 selected "this was awesome."
I was crushed.
I think I actually started some sort of weird staff development planning grieving process.
First, I was sad. They hated it. They didn't find anything useful in it at all. It was a total waste of time. Horrible! What about all those people who told me it was great? Were they just trying to make me feel better because it was so bad? Do people think they have to tell me what I want to hear? Do I really know our staff at all? I have ruined their entire staff development week. Risks are for losers! What was I thinking? Next time we will just talk for hours. It worked in the old days, so it will work now.
Then, I was judgmental and offended (I'm not proud of this stage). If those people didn't get anything out of it, then they weren't trying to get anything out of it. Some things changed since last year, and those are things they need to know. If they didn't get those because they had a bad attitude, then they'll be sorry when they do the wrong thing, won't they? Some people are just going to be grouchy.
Stage three was an attempt at rational thinking. In this stage, my type A, nerdy, over-achiever personality flared, and I lamented the "just fine's." I don't like "just fine." I like awesome. I like impressive and cool and inspiring. If this is
Finally -- wait for it -- I became a rational human being. Overall, teachers appreciated the session, as is evidenced by the survey and the comments I received. Customization of learning opportunities exists because everyone doesn't enjoy the same stuff or learn the same way, so the three evaluations that I viewed as negative are just a reminder that we need to continue to differentiate - to provide something for everyone - to meet the needs of individual learners even in staff development.
I also came to accept (for maybe the billionth time in my life) that "Just fines" are just that - fine. Every day can't be mind-blowing for every person. If we can have a several awesomes mixed in with lots of just fines and an occasional "I didn't like this," then we're actually doing a bang up job right here in reality, in the trenches where philosophy and research go up against real life.
Was the risk worth it? Yep. It was totally worth it. Teachers learned, administrators modeled, information was communicated and we all left with tools we'll use again some day in some form or fashion.
And all was well with the world.
