*This is a reflection post required for my JHU-ISTE Leadership program.  As always, if the topic is of no interest to you, feel free to skip on by.

This reflection asked us to answer the following three questions:

How do you define transformational leadership based on your reading?
How can transformational leadership impact the way an administrator leads a school?
How can transformational leadership impact the school administrator as he/she leads integrating technology with instruction?

There are some leaders who ascribe to a “pull” style of leadership.  They stand atop the pyramid of an institution, look forward, and try to pull the pyramid along with them as they take each step toward the vision they have cast for the institution.  This is often referred to as “command” leadership, and while it can certainly be an effective way to move an institution in increments, it is not always the most empowering method for the constituents working within the walls of the pyramid.

There are other leaders who find themselves standing at the bottom of an inverted pyramid.  It is their goal to see the needs of the constituents, as well as the needs of the institution as a whole, and push each individual in a manner that effectively moves both the person within and the institution as a whole.  This is often referenced as servant leadership, and it often dismantles the notion of “leader as manager” and instead fosters leadership with the multitude of constituents in the pyramid.

Servant leadership can also directly lead to “transformational leadership.”  Leonard Burrello speaks directly to the idea of transformational leadership in his book, Educating All Students Together.  Burrello states that transformational leaders need to be less concerned with leading for the sake of compliance and linear system stability and equilibrium, but rather, such leaders should look to increase constituent’s investment and enrollment in the institution’s vision.  Michael Fullan has also written a great deal on this subject, and he states that transformational leaders should build the whole of the institution into each individual.  All people have a voice and input in the direction and execution of the institution’s vision.

When applying this concept to education, one can readily see how an atmosphere of networked learning can occur.  The overall investment and health of the educational institution will be experienced throughout as all members of the community are involved in decision making and implementation of specified goals.  If a building administrator seeks transformational leadership, learning will likely take the lead, and opportunity will abound for all in the system to grow and learn together.

I believe a transformational leader will also allow the institution to adapt as culture and educational practices adapt to better engage the process of learning.  The leader will allow new practices to emerge, and I would postulate that utilizing Argyis’s model of double loop learning for an institution would be an excellent opportunity for organizational learning and growth.  This model would certainly be an impetus for change, and given the present resources emerging and established technologies present, the members of the institution would find themselves tapping into the potential power that technology proffers.  The leader will also focus on the pedagogical questions of implementing technology, and he or she will not seek to implement technology for any contrived mandate or false pretense of doing so solely for the sake of the implementation.

I believe this sort of transformational leadership is exactly the way I want to lead an institution I might have the honor of leading in the future.

Thanks to Bluedrakon for the use of the Flickr image.

The average American student will take American history at least four times in the span of his or her education.  How many of those people can now recall why the Battle of Quebec, fought in 1759, was an important event in American history?

I was talking about this concept with a teacher this week, and his response was, “Ah, a perfect point for why we need repeated practice.  Just like in sports, there’s a lot of value in having our students repeat content, like repeating a skill in practice for any given sport.  If we repeat it enough, each time the student will get it a little better than the time before, and eventually he or she will master it.”  A little paraphrasing there on my part, but the essence is captured and preserved entirely.

This conversation immediately brought to mind the recent tension between the content-focused camp versus the skills-based camp.  And that gave me pause to reflect.

In my estimation, this is one of the foundational, keystone issues we’re facing in education today.  Do we focus on the skills of learning how to learn, or do we focus on the content that we believe students need to know in order to be able to apply skills contextually?  Or, as many advocate, do we need to accept these two aren’t mutually exclusive and strike a balance between the two?  Balance sounds great, but if we’re going to advocate for balance, that means we’re accepting that we need some foundational level of content with which to bestow upon our students.

How do we decide what constitutes the foundational content knowledge?

Just this morning, Karl Fisch posted these thoughts which show how so much of the content we typically classify as foundational is becoming even more immediately available, if such a thing is possible.  If content is that at the ready, do we continue spending time trying to get students to repeat until “mastery?”

For the record, the Battle of Quebec in 1759 was the turning point in the French and Indian War (part of the Seven Years War for friends across the pond).  The outcome of the war gave England control of land that sustained people who would eventually revolt and form their own country- America.  Most history teachers find this of paramount importance, and worthy to be committed to memory.  I’m willing to bet at least a few of you easily found the information using Google.

So, I’ll repeat.  How do we decide what constitutes the foundational content knowledge that every student should know without assistance?  Should there even be such a thing?

Thanks to Nathan Dainty 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.

On Thursday, January 22nd, I became a father.  Life hands us many unfathomably incredible experiences as we live it, but none can compare to seeing life that you halved the responsibility in making come into existence in this world.  I must be forthright and admit, I was warned by many.  I was told it would be an amazing experience.  I was told it has to be lived to be understood.  I was told I would be overwhelmed with emotion.  But I don’t think I was told the real truth.  Nobody warned me what it was really going to be like.

Nobody told me…
-your wife becomes an even closer treasure as she shares your joy in parenthood
-you’ll lose the capacity to speak when holding your child for the first time
-there is no chance you’re not thinking about him every waking moment
-no obstacle seems insurmountable if overcoming it means his life will be made better
-you think about him and you lose the ability to stop a smile
-you see a portion of your living purpose rise and fall with each breath he takes
-there is no greater pride than that which lives because he does
-sustaining his life is the greatest cause you will champion in your life

I was thinking about this tonight as I was driving to pick up some needed baby supplies, and I found that in simply ten minutes of his absence, I missed him incredibly.  And then I realized, my experience is not unique.  It is something hopefully every parent has the joy of living.  And it means something beyond just my own indescribable emotions.

As I was reflecting, I was struck by the thought that this experience was sustained by every parent of the roughly 10,000 students being educated in the district where I work.  And in that moment, I was overwhelmed.

Each of those parents entrusts me and my colleagues with that which they most dearly treasure.  They trust us to do what is best for their children.  Someday in the near future, I will place my trust in the same way in those who will endeavor to educate my son.  It suddenly brings a great sense of focus to my professional purpose.

I am the Instructional Technology Coordinator for a school district in the northwest suburbs of Chicago.  My job exists so that I might bring vision, clarity, and purpose to the utilization of technology in a student’s learning experience.  We are all aware of just how important this has become in the age in which we live.

My son’s birth has brought with it an unexpected sense of clarity.  A focus on what is important.  I’ve been caught up in some very insightful, meaningful discussions lately, but I’m beginning to wonder if it isn’t time to disengage a bit from that space.  I know there were several very powerful, purposeful conferences that took place this past week, but I’m beginning to wonder if that’s where my attention should be.

So many are engaging in discussions that seem to be resounding loudly only as echoes against the walls of the chamber from which they are being contained.  A cry for change is bellowed, but does the cry carry the weight and momentum necessary to exact real change?  Are we focusing energy trying to move the immovable boulder rather than finding ways to push the pebbles we know we could push if we really wanted to?

Jen Wagner put it very succinctly recently with her challenge to move away from the circular discussions and put one foot in front of the other on a path of practical progress.  I think that’s the direction in which I need to start moving.  I have influence in areas of my life where more change could be manifested if I stopped thinking in global terms and started moving locally.

If I think of my own son, and consider that my passion and dedication to his life are truly multiplied 10,000 times over in my own district, I can readily find the motivation I need to keep fighting for what I believe is the best and in the best interest of the parents and students which I serve.

It’s time for me to readjust the focus and start seeing things through the lens of fatherhood.  I believe this could be the view that changes many things for me in a very profoundly positive way.