By Erin Knowles
Early on a sunny, crisp, Saturday morning in January, I found myself stumbling along the hallways in the basement of the College of Education building on campus, trying to find Room 22. I wasn’t exactly certain what to expect once I got there, and as it turns out, I wasn’t alone.
“It will last from 8-2”, they said.
“Come with questions”, they said.
Almost thirty-five of us gathered that morning to discuss issues centered around education: teachers, elementary school administrators (a couple!), college students, and community members all pulled up to the tables raring to go. Most of us came from Champaign or Urbana, but locations as far away as Chicago were also represented.
There was no agenda.
But we had questions (educators are good at following instructions I find!).
“What responsibilities do we have to make school a place of joy?”
“How can we think about making and technology?”
“How do we design collaborative learning spaces in our classroom?”
“What happens when your view of what’s good for kids is in conflict with the view of the districts’?”
“What sucks? / what rocks?: A conversation about things in education.”
And then, in just the time that it took me to grab my breakfast from the delicious Cracked food truck, our agenda-less, speaker-less “conference” was made whole: four sessions, each with multiple breakout topics spearheaded by the people who initiated the question(s) in the first place.
“Welcome to EdCampCU” , they said.
“Let’s get started!”
It was part leap of faith, and part taking control of our own destinies for the day. At an EdCamp, there is no such thing as a passive participant. There is no hierarchy of expertise: we are all experts in what we do, and what I have to contribute as a community member is just as valuable as the administrator’s opinion sitting next to me.
We played with Squishy Circuits and WeDos, we talked standardized tests and “Genius Hours“. We started out in one session and ended the hour in a different one (if you wanted). At times we agreed to disagree, and yet I would be hard-pressed to think that we all weren’t moved even a little on positions we stood firm on moments earlier.
Now before you scoff at the supposed utopian society that this article conjures up, let’s get back down to reality: nobody ever said that an EdCamp would be the solution for world peace, or even solve all of the problems we face in the world of education.
But what IS happening at these events is nothing short of inspirational: the difficult questions are faced, head-on. No one presumes to have all the answers, but there is a belief that we will get closer to solutions working in collaboration with one another versus outright opposition.
“How do we persist through difficult problems?” was a question asked in a session related to helping students, but I think it expresses closely the mission behind EdCamp: that we aren’t going to move forward and become better without first tackling the difficult questions and concerns head-on. Failure only happens if we don’t ever try. How are we expected to model this for our students if we don’t actually persist ourselves?
The EdCamp philosophy is one that can lead to truly genuine interactions, but if there’s one potential hindrance it would be that in spite of the supportive, collaborative nature of the event, for some it’s hard to completely leave the realities in which we inhabit. As much as I heard the encouragement, support, and want of administration (at all levels) to fully participate and be present, I also overheard the idea that some hoped their administrators wouldn’t come to EdCamp, because they wouldn’t then feel comfortable to discuss these issues in such an open manner.
This divergent thinking across the board is revealing on many different levels. Threats to vulnerability often close down a conversation before it even gets started. Our teachers put themselves out on a limb each and every day, sacrificing plenty of blood, sweat, and tears, all in the name of educating our children. Administrators (principals, assistant principals, etc.) struggle as well. No one has it easy.
EdCamps will stretch you this way, no matter who you are or where you sit. And we can’t, as a district, as a community, move forward without EVERYONE at the table. I believe that’s why it is important and encouraging when people like Jean Korder, the Director of Curriculum, Instruction, and Assessment at Urbana School District (#116) (and perhaps one of the only members of an administrative team at the district-level?) shows up to be a part of the dialogue (thanks, Jean!). As much of a stretch as it might be for the teachers to put themselves out there, it’s no different for those in decision-making roles. I hope that as EdCampCU moves forward, teachers AND administrators will feel comfortable sharing the same space and asking the tough questions (of each other and themselves). It’s not going to be easy, but I know it’s possible. Our children, and our community, deserve no less.
Perhaps another downside to an EdCamp is the feeling that by the end of the day your question might still be searching for an answer, but the beauty of its intended purpose is that what happens at EdCamp isn’t designed to stay at EdCamp. Doors have been opened, new connections have been formed, conversations continue in person or online through email or various social media platforms. EdCamp shows us the importance of what it means to “show up” and what is possible when we take control of our own exploration and learning.
By the end of the day I was drained, but also inspired by the fact that we have great people working in our schools, caring teachers and administrators who are struggling daily with COMPLEX issues that require COMPLEX discussions, that end in COMPLEX solutions, and yet they still show up, day after day, serving a purpose and a community greater than themselves. It’s the least we can do, all of us, to come together and tackle this tough slice of the world together.
Bummed you missed the first #EdCampCU? Don’t fret, the second installment will happen this fall, so be sure to check out their website and Twitter pages to keep in the loop, engage in robust conversation, and find out when the next gathering is scheduled.
Just remember to bring questions.
PS: for the record my question was “How is art (drawing / storytelling / art / making) integrated into classrooms to provide a foundation for Ss and Ts to learn from and about each other?”, and yes, this did have me leading a small group discussion. I can’t say that I knocked it out of the park, in fact, I didn’t even really get a piece of it. But I learned a whole helluva lot and left more inspired, in spite of my bumbling.
You never know what you, or a group of people, are capable of if you don’t try.