The following are my notes, reflections, and slidedeck from my ASCD podcasting presentation.

I presented this session with Jeff Arnett, the Chief Communications Officer for Barrington Community Unit School District 220.

Jeff and I began the session asking the question, “What can you accomplish when you merge communication strategy and innovative instruction?”  As Jeff is the Chief Communications Officer for our district, he is constantly working to ensure our district is communicating effectively with our community.  Often times a role like this in a district ends up being more of a public relations role wherein the individual works to shape and control the stream of communications coming from a district.  Jeff, however, works very hard to maintain open dialog with the community about what is happening throughout our district, and in particular, what is happening with our students as they are learning.  This is evidenced in his use of Facebook and Twitter as a strong component to our district’s communication plan.

My focus as Instructional Technology Coordinator for the district is on engaging students in learning experiences through technology.  I work to help teachers establish and identify their learning goals, and then we move to extend the learning experiences students are engaging in a way that moves them beyond the point that was possible with traditional learning tools.

A year and a half ago, Jeff and I began discussing the potential of establishing a district podcast where we can both accomplish goals for our respective areas of work.  What we came up with is the content for our presentation.

We spent the first portion of the presentation talking about the why of this project.  Why did we do it, and why do we believe in it?  We framed the discussion around three main points; purpose, power, and product.  We each answered how our goals worked in these three points.  We then talked about the process that got us to a district podcast.

The questions we posed for each point were:

Purpose-

Jeff- How are your current communication strategies engaging your stakeholders?

Ben- What are you doing to create engaging learning experiences for students?

Power-

Jeff- What you are doing to create ownership of your message and brand?

Ben- What are you doing to release ownership of learning to your students?

Product-

Jeff- Is your product adaptable to emerging technologies?

Ben- Are your learning experiences adaptable to emerging technologies?

We presently have three different shows in the network.  Elementary Insights, where our Superintendent of schools has a discussion with elementary students about issues and topics of interest happening in our district.  The Midpoint, where members of our Board of Education have discussions with middle school students about what is taking place in the district.  The Barrington 2:20, where high school students report on stories from the community.  To hear a short sample of each show, click here.

We started the network a year ago, and if you look at our blog, you will notice a serious lapse in new content.  We spent the fall and early winter in a targeted effort to transition to a new content management system for our district, and once that transition is complete, we will move all our podcasts to our new platform.  This work is nearly at the point where the podcast network can begin again, and in fact, we recently recorded new content for Elementary Insights and The Midpoint.  Both should be released within the next week or two.

I believe a partnership with communications and instruction can yield powerful results for students, teachers, and the community.  I could talk a whole lot on this subject, but I’ll leave it at this.  If you have any questions on this project, please feel free to let me know.

I have to establish from the outset, I’m not yet determined in my thinking on this topic. I’m also not sure that the conversation will get us any further than what Mr. Jakes likes to call a “taffy pull.” But it might. Might not, either. We’ll see.

Many of us are moving in and out of a very large space that extends well beyond us. We move through the space with great fluidity, and each movement we make creates waves that extend outward and touch the movements of others. Our ideas make connections, and the connections form a web of interconnected knowledge and thought that soon can’t be separated one from another. Many call this a network.

I really like George Siemens’ explanation of our connections and the networks they create.

Thinking of it as the way we identify and arrange the inputs, or nodes as Siemens calls them, creates in interesting point of discussion. Because we arrange the nodes the way we desire and the way we think best meet our needs, does that mean the network belongs to us? Should it? Can it?

The creation of a network is an inherently personal experience. We are innately involved in the process. However, does our involvement ultimately yield a network that belongs to us individually? Many are prone to calling this concept a “personal learning network.” I wonder if that’s accurate.

I keep returning to what Dave Cormier said in a recent “Not EdTechWeekly“. He maintains that it isn’t a personal network as the network doesn’t belong to us. We belong to it.

This is where the taffy pull pundits enter and say it doesn’t matter and the conversation is circular and recursive and won’t really get us anywhere. I’m not so sure I agree.

Because if we started looking at the network as something we belong to, rather than the possessive way we tend to describe it, we begin to realize just how much of what takes place in our lives, and our thinking, and our relationships don’t really belong to us personally, they belong to all of us collectively.

I’m writing this post. I can easily say it’s mine, and grow possessive of the content, or general lack thereof, and chide anyone who I think is using it unjustly. I can place my personal value in this network on what I’ve produced, and expect others to see my value in the same way.

Personally, I think that’s an awfully dangerous place to be. Because I have no idea how much of this post is really mine. In fact, I’d say most of it came from my interactions in a learning network at some point in time and that really makes it yours as much as it is mine.

And that’s why I think the personal might matter. I am personally part of the network, but my ideas and thoughts, and my learning are also part of the network. They aren’t entirely mine. Yes, I shaped my specific nook of the network to fit my needs, but it still remains a part of the whole. If I go away, the network remains. My arrangement of the nodes may disintegrate, but the nodes themselves will still exist.

And knowing that frees me to learn and contribute collectively in the network and rid myself of any potential conflict I might have about gaining value in the network by what part of it all I own. Or how I’ve assembled my part. Or how important I think I am based on what I’ve created, which is probably influenced by the network far more than I could ever realize.

I don’t know. Maybe I have this all wrong. Maybe the conversation doesn’t really matter.

But I’ve a sneaking suspicion that it does. That it matters quite a bit.

Thanks to eskimoblood for the use of the Flickr image.

I read a great post by a student in my grad class last week that has me thinking again about the idea of a backchannel.  I wrote about this a while ago, but it seems the topic has surfaced again recently about the value of a backchannel.

The past several conferences I have attended have tried to implement a conference-wide backchannel discussion, and most have failed.  Whether due to poor wifi, poor implementation, or simply lack of interest, it seems to me the idea has started fading a bit.  I don’t know if I think that’s good or bad.

Certainly the story that surfaced this week about the backchannel gone bad at the Web 2.0 Expo is evidence of how this idea can be a complicated matter.  This spurred much discussion on Twitter, and the experience leaves many wondering what is the value in having a simultaneous chat running while a person is presenting his or her ideas.  I still believe, if done well, the chat can add a great deal for both the presenter and the conference attendees.  I really do.  However, as some have noted recently on Twitter and in other conversation spaces, it seems that often times the backchannel fails to connect to the message being presented and breaks down into a virtual cafeteria where the kids are all talking about any and all topics other than the ones being presented.

I found the post above by Michael to be most interesting.  It leaves me wondering what the role of this experience could be in the classroom.  Could it be that if we built this the right way, kids could greatly benefit from the chance of moving from passive listeners to active engagers of what is happening around them?  The idea of allowing students to backchannel during a read aloud is fascinating to me.  It takes courage for teachers to try such a thing, but if, like Michael, the end turns out to yield something of value for students, I think we should try it more.  Allow them the chance to mix their ideas with their peers in a nonconventional way to see what the recipe ends up making.

Maybe it won’t work for your students, or your teachers, or your presentation audience, but I still do believe there’s something to this idea.  It just takes some work and effort to keep the connections aligned with your learning goals, and obviously sometimes we fail at that in our endeavors to get students to invest in their learning through technology.  But if our work with technology does indeed increase student investment, then I say turn on the backchannel and see what you can hear, so to speak.

Thanks to tranchis for the use of the Flickr image.

I was eating breakfast with my dad last weekend, just sitting enjoying the beautiful Sunday morning meandering through the topics of our lives, when half way through my plate of banana nut pancakes the conversation turned to politics.  My father, never one to hold back an opinion, began to passionately engage the conversation.  He worked hard to prove his point, and when the “it’s a matter of fact”s came out, I knew all was lost for our peaceful breakfast.  But I noticed, more than I ever have in the past, that his matters of fact were, in fact, matters of assumption.  I raised the point with him.  He didn’t care much for the point.  And I realized there, in that moment, how bad things have really become.  Because we’ve pushed our assumptions of others to the point of assigning them the value of fact.  I fear that while that has likely always been present in human logic, it is becoming more prevalent.  And I realize…

We are a polarized people.

Let’s try an experiment.  See how bad it is.  Read both of the following observations.

The Obama Administration recently set up an email account the public can use to report misinformation they hear about the present health care reform initiative.  The White House blog explains that a great deal of erroneous information is being disseminated through “chain emails or casual conversation”.  The blog maintains that the White House can’t keep track of all this misinformation, so they would like for us to help and report anything we hear that “seems fishy” to the email account they have set up.  Because of the current laws with electronic communications and the requirement that all such records be held permanently, the White House will ultimately have a list of people who have reportedly disagreed with their policy.

The Bush Administration set up a list of suspected individuals who could potentially commit acts of terror against America.  The list was collected through various means, including phone taps and individuals who were reportedly observed engaging in suspicious activity.  Many of the individuals on the list were prohibited from flying within the United States.  The Bush Administration ultimately collected a list of people who they then monitored based on suspicion.  The ACLU maintains the list has grown to include over 1,000,000 names.

Consider your reaction to both stories at this moment.  I’m nearly certain you are currently forming an argument in your mind defending one of the two scenarios and finding fault with the other.  There’s a good chance you might even be working on your rationale to post below in the comments.  You might have even found yourself, at some point through your reading, uttering a “come on” in your mind or even aloud.

And that’s my point.  Think about it.  You are forming a position very likely based on the administration you believe in and support.  You might even find yourself irked at me for bringing up the scenario, or even in your estimation, misrepresenting one of the two sides.

The scenarios aren’t the point.  The point is how much we assume when we read them.  It seems we’ve become a polarized, perpetually skeptical people.  We believe in “our side” and view the other side with an air of uncertainty to the degree that we assume the worst of their intentions.  And we convince ourselves we’re right to do so.

I had the incredible pleasure of hearing Deborah Meier speak a month ago, and one of her most poignant points was that we’re failing to teach empathy in our pursuit of democracy.  I believe she’s absolutely correct.  We’re forgetting that there are multiple sides to a story.  We’re losing our perspective.  And it isn’t just happening in politics.

I see this mindset increasing from a trickle to a torrent in education.  Each interest group grows increasingly more skeptical of the others.  Teachers assume administrators are determined to fleece them at every opportunity.  Administrators assume teachers want to preserve only that which is in a teacher’s best interest.  Parents assume teachers want to take the easy route.  Teachers assume parents don’t respect teachers as professionals.  Technology administrators assume teachers won’t do what it takes to properly use available technology.  Teachers assume network administrators only want to lock down a network to make their job easier.  It goes on and on.

It’s quite sad, really.

Where is the empathy?  Where is the perspective?  Where is the consideration in our own position for those who maintain another?

I earnestly believe we have the capacity to change.  Quite honestly, I earnestly believe we have to.  We can’t continue to allow this state we’re in to perpetuate to the point of eventuality that it has started.

We have to start seeing both sides of the coin.  And I would hope we would feel compelled to allow this lesson to be learned by our students.  Because if we don’t, the polarization might well turn into sure schism.  It’s dangerously close here where we now stand.

We have the means to be better.  I hope we’ll exercise those means.

Thanks to jonr for the use of the Flickr image.

Yes, this is my gratuitous NECC 2009 reflection post.  There were too many experiences and too many conversations that took place for me not to stop and reflect on the week as I experienced it.

The most noticeable observation I can make is the comparison of experiences from last year’s NECC to this year’s.  Last year was my first, and it was quite honestly an incredibly overwhelming experience.  I felt rather detached and fatigued as I flew out of San Antonio, and I can directly attribute that to how disconnected I was to this community.  I hadn’t yet started my blog, I was only faintly invested in Twitter, and I knew a total of about five people at the conference.  How a year can change everything.

I began my blog in August and have been learning by exponents ever since.  Not long after, I sought to engage in conversation on Twitter.  Again, the learning experiences quickly heaped one atop the other.  And as my learning opportunities increased, so too did my level of connectedness.  I came to NECC this year part of a very strong network- an engaged network who readily struck up conversations that will fill my foreseeable future with countless moments of pondering.

This experience has left me with no doubt that a learning network can be one of the best things any professional can develop.  Engaging the community and building relationships leave one in a place to break the bubble of solitude and grow in entirely unexpected ways.

I also learned what an outstanding experience it is to meet people face to face who you’ve been connecting with exclusively online.

I learned that

-Judi, Anne, Beth, Brady, and Scott M. are tremendous classmates
-Angela is every bit as dynamic in person as she is online
-Jon B. continues to be on my list of people I call friends (I swear the bracelet must have gotten lost in the mail).
-Dean is a crazy good golfer, and I could probably talk to him all day about all things education.
-Karl is in the same category of gentle, entirely wonderful human beings as Paul.
-Paul is an incredible social organizer
-Mike has now seen a baseball game and was the first person I’ve ever known to have a caricature drawn of his dinner rather than himself
-Scott F. is a great guy to hang out with
-Ketchup chips are as good as Dave says they are, and Dave is as good at riding in coach as I am at not making a mess in sessions
-Ken has the voice for radio
-Paula is a person you should know
-I have so, so much to learn
-Kelly is taller than her avatar and has a charming personality to match her charming southern drawl
-Jeff is the man to talk to if you ever get the itch to teach oversees.
-Vinny has an astounding memory
-Andy was missed
-Pat was very busy and had to watch someone eat rabbit
-Jen should have been there
-Jon O. is a master at the art of digital storytelling (something I’ve known for a very long time)
-Hank is a great guy to walk the monuments with
-Tim shares my excitement for digital photography
-Chris is the kind of principal I would work for in a second
-Chad is a great guy despite his love for the Brewers
-Mark is as nice as I thought he was
-Melanie is an outstanding student and a true humanitarian (see sandal fund)
-Cathy, Joe, and Lucy are great company at the airport
-Second Life still creeps me out
-Katie takes advantage of good photo opportunities
-Teryl knows how to have fun on a panel
-I wish I could grow a beard like Steve
-Christine is as nice as any Texan
-John does not cross streets properly
-Steve learned how to properly use the SMART pointer
-Nadine has great style
-Darren thinks I work for Sony
-Sylvia is a great person to converse with
-Scott M. is a person I am proud to call my friend
-I missed my family so much it hurt
-There was no way I could make this list without unintentionally leaving people out; I’m incredibly sorry if I missed you.

All this to say, it’s the people and the connections with each that made this conference one I’m truly glad I attended.

One other observation.  I’m not sure that the future format of a conference should stay as it is.  With our increased level of communication and sense of connectedness, it may well be that the session format needs to be rethought.  Much of what was presented in sessions has been discussed and broadcast at length online.  When such content is so readily available, what is it that gives a conference unique value?  I talked with several people about this, and it’s a topic that absolutely lands on the list of things to keep thinking about, but I wonder if we shouldn’t start looking to incorporate more of an edubloggercon or bar camp construct in the future.  I think this idea requires some vetting, so I’ll leave it open for your consideration as well.

That’s it.  My week in brief.  It was truly an outstanding experience, and I’m better because of the conversations, challenges, and pushes to grow.  Thank you all for that.

Thanks to Erica Marshall for the use of the Flickr image.

I know that I should, and I think that I do, but I’m actually not entirely sure what the title of this post means.  It sounds cool when you say it, and part of it is partly the title of a new project I played 1/3 of a part in starting.

A few months ago I began working with two of nature’s finest geniuses, Andy Kohl and Scott Meech, on a podcast endeavor.  I’ve always wanted to be part of such an experience, and after three shows, I’m certainly glad we took the leap.  I can say this is yet another of a drove of dynamic learning opportunities available as emergent technology continues to become less emergent and simply more accessible.

Andy, Scott, and I are engaging in dialog about the changes and shifts of education and our current culture.  We’re also learning a whole lot along the way.  It is honestly amazing what can happen when we stop and take the time to learn from one another, and I don’t just mean the three of us, I mean all of us.  There is something so refreshing and challenging about honest, open discussions, and I hope we can encapsulate that environment in our podcast.  When people are willing to leave ego behind and admit there is still so much to learn in life, the opportunity for growth is exponential.

If any of you have ever given thought to trying such a project, I simply can’t encourage you enough to take the chance and give it a try.  It’s an incredible experience.  For those of you who never have had the inkling, that’s why we’re here.  Give The Ed Revolution a listen some time, and let us know what you think.  We want to engage our educational community in relevant, meaningful discussions, and your voice can help make the conversation all the better.  Viva la revolution.

I read a story today that all but requires me to follow up with the ideas discussed in my recent post, “Technology Guidelines.”

I’ve been simultaneously encouraged and challenged by the comments to the post, and I’m heartened to see many affirm my position on the issues.  There remains, however, one nagging thought that I can’t seem to convince of its irrationality.  It’s an issue of liability.

In the first point on the post, I make mention of the implications of hosting student content on a server that a district doesn’t control.  This would include services such as WordPress hosted, Wikispaces, VoiceThread, etc.  I would say this would also include students using their own cell phones in class for learning.  The overwhelming response to this issue was that the experiences such services afford students far outweigh any potential consequences of the environments being abused.  In fact, many people poignantly pointed out that the transparent nature of learning as well as the obvious lack of IT support in most districts necessitate the decision for districts to seek outside resources for their students.

I found myself in complete agreement until I came across this article today.  I can’t encourage you enough to take the time to read it in its entirety.

I know many will respond that we can’t let such things cause us to fear making progress and moving forward with engaging students in a digital world.  However, I can’t help but wonder if those people would advocate for the same if they were in Ting-Yi’s position.  This is the very reason why this issue is much more complicated for me at the present.

Given the litigious nature of our society, and the fact that so many of you would be the ones lawyers would come to directly should something happen to the students in your district while they were online in the very environments which you established, I wonder if we shouldn’t give pause to consider the issue a bit further.  I want to offer my students the best learning experience possible.  In fact, I argued almost to the point of absurdity with the person whom which I first engaged this discussion.  I’ve now been given reason to pause and renumerate my position.

We know, as is evidenced in the article, that far too often blame is defrayed from the student and placed on the one who set up the system.  As wrong as that is, precedence proves it to be true time and again.  The last thing I want to do is let fear of misappropriated blame stop me from seeking dynamic learning opportunities for students, but I do think I need to fully consider every angle should something like this happen in the district where I am responsible.

I’m not saying I’m shuttering the windows and locking all the doors I can find.  What I am saying is I need to consider how we all respond to such issues when they arise.  What do we say to those who ask or to the angry parent who accuses us of willingly setting up an environment in which students can be harmed?  How would you honestly respond if someone purported you were to blame for students finding serious trouble within the spaces you setup outside the district?  I find it a very critical point in time for us all to work together and create a coherent, cogent response to the question.

Thanks to Chris Owens for the Flickr image.

A few weeks ago I took my life into my own hands and faced certain ruin and potential eternal consequences.  I sent a tweet from church.

My wife had to leave service to take care of our young son, and I was left to my own devices.  Quite literally.  I decided to try an experiment and extracted my iPhone from my coat pocket.  I began innocently enough by using the Bible program I have loaded for reference, and then the forbidden fruit dangled enticingly in front of my eyes.  I thought twice, twitched slightly, opened TwitterFon, and sent out this nugget of wisdom.

Inspiring, I know.

Coincidentally, almost immediately after I sent the tweet, I remembered that I have Evernote on my iPhone.  I used the application for the rest of the service to take notes, and I am quite convinced this is something worth continuing in the future.  In fact, I’m going to be writing a guest post on our church’s blog about using technology in service in the near future as a result of the experiment.  I’m sure it’s going to touch off a great conversation with those in our congregation who are a bit, how should I say it, traditional?

I also later confessed my sin to my wife, and a fascinating conversation ensued.  Much of it was centered around recent discussions regarding how presenting to an audience who is Twittering or backchanneling changes the presentation dynamics for a speaker.  This conversation likely merits its own post at some point in the future as well.

But the most telling outcome of this experience didn’t come from my digital note taking in church or the discussion with my wife.  It came a few hours later when I got home and checked my Twitter feed.  The responses to my tweet in church were both entertaining and intriguing.  It was this tweet that really got me thinking.

I wondered what would happen if I did actually start sending out updates from my church’s service.  Would people who know me on Twitter for my educational focus want to hear me talk about my faith?  I then sent out this question.

The responses ranged from unequivocally “I would unfollow you” to “I think you should do it as I prefer people to be all of who they are on Twitter.”  It was quite a range, and it was quite interesting to ponder exactly who we’ve let ourselves become in the social networks in which we run.  Perhaps even, who do we want ourselves to become?

I think of the growth of many online social networks and what this means for the community.  I’ve noticed as Twitter increases in popularity, I have more friends and acquaintances outside of education following me.  I’ve also had our local newspaper, businesses, and past professors add their name to my list.  It begets the question, “what do we do with this?”  I have to wonder if my friends really care about my thoughts on Marzano and his recent research on interactive whiteboards.  Do they care I don’t care for the overused and abused 21st Century nomenclature?  Do they care that I persistently pester one particular Canadian?

This question isn’t restricted to only Twitter.  It applies to all social networks.  What do you do when your mom wants to be your friend on Facebook?  Or your students?  It makes me wonder if we have to start setting up multiple accounts for all our networks.  There have been suggestions that it would be better to have a separate “professional” Twitter account and a “personal” Twitter account.  Would the bifurcation of my life result in a dilution of my personality in both spaces?

Personally, I like some of the inane chatter that happens on Twitter.  I like knowing when Dean spills on his shirt, or what Jon is cooking for dinner, or when Jen is engaged in an epic battle to get Z to bed.  It’s the sum of the small things in our lives that make up the whole of who we are.  I also know, however, that it’s tough to sift through all the chatter at times.  I’ve heard that complaint from several people as of late, and it makes me wonder about the merit of having two accounts.

I’m really not sure where to go from here.  I know this process will likely work itself out in an organic manner as these things tend to do with emerging technologies, but what will that process yield for us at its conclusion?

To end, I’ll have to go back to the beginning, and ask a question.  If I started letting more of my life into Twitter, would you stop following me?

*UPDATED CONCLUSION: March 28

After posting this yesterday, I’ve come to realize I did a tremendously poor job ending this post.  My intention was to frame the question more in a global fashion, and instead, I managed to focus it entirely on myself.  I apologize for that.  Please give me the chance to take a mulligan on the closing.  Here is what I really meant to say.

To end, I have to go back to our beginning.  Well, the beginning of an end to some regards.  We’ve been enjoying many of our social networking sites in the comfort of the audience with which we grew.  For Twitter, that was somewhat of a niche audience focused in technology and social media.  Now, as people from all walks of our lives begin signing on and joining in, the question becomes, “What do we do as our worlds collide?”  Thank you, George Costanza for that classic episode.  As Matt said in the comments, he’s long wondered what he will do when his parents join Facebook.  That’s how I really meant to end this post.  How will our expectations and experiences change with social networks as they begin to aggregate people from all areas of our lives in one location?  I remember what George said.

Thanks to Vanderlin for the Flickr image.

This issue has never been more important to me.

Alec Couros recently wrote a post about a very disturbing experience he had with someone viewing pictures of his daughter on Flickr.  If you haven’t read it yet, it’s an excellent piece, and I’d strongly recommend you read it first before proceeding here.

The story absolutely sickens and saddens me.  It also gives me pause to consider how I want to handle the online presence of my baby who is mere weeks away from entering this world.  How will I best protect my child, while still giving him or her the opportunity to engage in community and collaboration in a world growing ever smaller and more connected?

I can tell you, it certainly won’t be the way some of those who expressed their opinions in the comments of Alec’s blog would like for me to proceed.  I’m quite frankly dumbfounded at several of the comments.  For example, Stephen Downes writes:

“The thing is, you can’t hide.
The threat to children is as great – indeed, greater – from close family and friends as it is from strangers.
Creating a climate of fear in which everyone hides their kids simply creates a safe haven for those people, and a
prison for their children.
Openness is not the enemy.
Openness is what protects these kids.
Openness is what draws people out into the open, like those Flickr photo collectors (you can be sure they are
known to police, or at least, that they should be).
And openness is what allows you – and others – to talk to your kids, to give them the tools to protect them from
danger, to given them the knowledge and the empowerment to stand up to those people whether they are total
strangers or close family.
That’s my view, at least.”

With all due respect, Stephen, I don’t call protecting my child “hiding”.  I call it using wise judgement.  Now please understand me, I’m an ardent advocate for openness and maintaining an online presence.  My child will certainly interact with others and learn from the world online.  That doesn’t mean, however, that I blindly and blithely let him or her walk unfettered in a world where Alec’s experience is one of the more mild abuses that occurs.

What about those who do suffer abuse as a direct result of what we’re discussing here?  If it were my child, would I look him or her square in the eyes and say, “I’m so sorry honey, but I had to do it.  It was for the cause of openness”?  Is it worth the risk?  Would I put them right back out there to get exploited again if it did happen?

It simply doesn’t make sense.  Yes, we can live in a world of openness, but we can also use intelligent discretion as well.  I do wonder if those who are so vehemently advocating for openness also leave their doors unlocked at night or drop off their children to houses of people they don’t know.  There could certainly be someone out there who would want to come into my house in the middle of the night and just admire the cuteness that will be my sleeping child, but does that mean I owe it to them to keep my house unlocked and available for the nefarious as well?

So the openness that allowed the abuse to occur is the very thing that serves to protect our children?  That notion is simply naive.

I commented on the post essentially explaining that I did not agree with Downes, and that while openness can certainly be beneficial on many levels, I believe operating with complete openness is not the absolute solution.

Later in the comments, Dean Shareski says,
“I’m curious about Ben’s comments. To me it reflects much of the fear that people have subjected to in our world.

I remember after the London bombings the website, We Are Not Afraid. That’s how I want to live which is not to
say we don’t do due diligence to protect our kids but not at the expense of the great benefits. Specifically, I’ve
made private a few photos of my kids in bathing suits that might be used nefariously but at some point, as you’ve
experienced, there’s a weirdo out there for everything.”

The reaction to the London bombings and the reaction to a predator abusing your child are two entirely different things.  Terrorists seek to terrorize.  To inflict fear and panic among a society so as to break down a system they oppose.  Child predators seek to indulge their own desires.  They don’t care about people’s panic.  If we send the message to terrorists that we are not afraid by going about the very business they tried to disrupt, we’re making a statement that they did not impact us.  If we do the same with our children and put them back in a compromising position, the only statement we’re making is to invite potential harm where it can certainly be avoided.

Dean does make reference to the fact that there are certain pictures he chooses to protect.  That simple statement says it all to me.  He’s using his judgment to protect what he so dearly loves.  It shows discretion, and it acknowledges that there is a threshold in all of this.

I believe this issue comes down to weighing the benefits versus the risks.  As I mentioned above, I will absolutely have my child interact with the world online.  I will not entirely shelter or imprison her from what is clearly a powerful chance to engage learning, but I will, however, use my best judgment when thinking of what is in the best interest of my child.  In the end, does posting pictures of my child serve to really benefit her, or does it do more to serve my own purposes at the cost of denying her the opportunity to one day shape her own online identity entirely?  Can’t I be satisfied sharing her images with people I know and trust until the day comes when she can make the decision for herself?  I think, personally, I can.

Thanks to D’Arcy Norman for the Flickr image.

I really wish I had the motivation and dedication to do a 365 photos type experience.  For those of you unfamiliar with such an undertaking, the basic premise is to register with a group in a service like Flickr, take one photo a day, post the photo to the group’s stream, and repeat for one year.  It’s quite a tremendous way to get better at taking photos.  I’d recommend giving it a try if it sounds appealing to you.  It’s never too late to join a group like this if you’re interested.

For me, I know given my current schedule constraints, I would be an epic failure at such a project.  When all was said and done, I’d be lucky to hit 158 days over the course year.  I’d really like to try it at some point, but I know realistically, this is not the best time to give it a go (we’re potentially three weeks away from the arrival of our first baby, which as I’m led to believe, changes a schedule quite a bit).

So, I thought we might try to start a group for people who would like to work on improving their photography skills but didn’t necessarily want to commit to a picture a day routine.  I think something more in the range of a picture a week is right in the sweet spot of what I can aptly handle.  Of course, if you’re already in a 365 group, or going to give one of those a try, you’re more than welcome to participate in the once a week group as well.  Here’s the deal.

I set up a group in Flickr called “Photos of the Week.”  The basic idea, post your favorite picture that you took from the week.  We’ll post pictures every Friday, and you can post either one or two photos each week.  That’s it.  Easy as that.  I’m hoping the experience will help us all get better at taking pictures, and we’ll be able to support each other through the process.  In the end, we’ll hopefully have a really nice repository of pictures to peruse as well.

The group is set up, and I’m going to start posting my pictures this Friday.  I’m looking forward to the experience, and I hope you’ll join me.

Thanks to Shermeee for the Flickr image.