Been taking a bit of break in these parts of late, still reading and watching a lot, writing a fair share of offline stuff, and plowing through a lot of trashy beach novels which, I’ve decided, are my antidote to over connectedness. (It’s also a great way to spend 4.5 hours on the tarmac while on your way to missing a keynote in Colorado…) Playing with some tools and my jail broken then unjail broken iPhone and all the new apps. Kind of in grazing mode. It’s troubling (?) though that at moments I still feel what I can only describe as some weird form of network separation anxiety from time to time, like I must be missing something important or not learning everything I need to learn. It passes more quickly the longer I stay away, it seems. Now, for instance, when I look at the really compelling video stuff that Dan Meyer is cranking out my first response isn’t “I need to find the time to learn that” as much as it is “thank god he’s investing the time and sharing out his reflections,” then reading and reflecting on others reflections, letting it all just sit.
Went for a couple of days to Virginia Beach to visit with Sheryl and her family and we spent a lot of time in a boat on the bay fishing and reading and chatting. In talking with her son Noah about how connected we all seem to be (text messages in between casts, etc.) one of us hit on the phrase above, and it bounced around in my brain for a bit. It seemed to fit the place I’m in right now, attempting, with pretty good success, actually, to control my connectedness, and to let the conversations happen elsewhere, jumping in when I feel compelled. Connecting, (ironically) to Nancy White’s idea of slow communities (like slow food) and wondering some more about the process of network participation and how much pull is too much pull, etc.
And that’s it…just checking in…just wanted to capture that. You have a great day now…
Thanks for the link to the Dan Meyer videos. Does this guy have a crew? I can’t find the time or bandwidth to point a tripod at my keynotes. If I do, I can’t find the time to edit the video and put it online.
I marvel at the output of people like Meyer, but am not sure that I find the content particularly compelling. Questions such as the following pop into mind:
Who is HIS audience? Why should we care about his day? Is the content interesting or the production values enviable? etc…
I’m grappling with another problem that may be related, but is causing me mental paralysis. I have too much I want to say, write and blog. This leaves me obsessing about what to do first and I don’t get around to doing any of it.
I also face the questions of:
Who is MY audience?
Why should people care what I think?
Shouldn’t I spend my time writing my book or magazine articles?
Isn’t writing a book a lousy return on investment?
Why won’t magazine editors leave my jokes and personal “voice” in my articles?
Will I be “the mean guy” because I don’t follow the herd?
Why don’t people understand that just because I debunk the BS in edtech that I am an unapologetic advocate for its (largely unrealized) potential and that I get up every day to make the world a better place for kids?
I wrote a bit more on this subject, including a nifty graphic blast from the past, for my own blog. http://www.stager.org/blog/2008/07/thinking-out-loud.html
I’m now off to New Hampshire to run my own conference, http://www.constructingmodernknowledge.com This is the culmination of months worth of work.
Makes me think about Carl Honore and the Slow Movement.
Here’s a link to Carl speaking at TED
I’ve been struggling with the same pull and talking it out over on my blog. I can’t imagine what it must be like for you. I’ve done a great push this past week with blogging and although I love the connectedness to others, it takes me away from connecting with those right in front of me, and no matter what I give up in learning from my online community, connecting with those around me is what’s important. So, I’ll be lurking online occasionally, reflecting in writing a bit and even commenting and questioning others at times. I feel fortunate that in my NWP world all my work is connecting with others and collaboratively sharing and questioning and pushing each other’s thinking. Lucky us.
Thanks.
Susan