tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16046204820232863552024-03-19T03:18:30.847-04:00Learning in TandemAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11423343578843915247noreply@blogger.comBlogger423125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1604620482023286355.post-46354292830407592932018-01-03T12:54:00.002-05:002018-01-03T15:51:21.990-05:00Lessons from 2017: extreme parenting, playing backup & fleeing the #ThomasFire<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Well, we made it. Seriously, there were some touch and go moments last year, if I'm to be honest. As I haven't blogged for six months, and those six months were some of the most emotionally taxing in recent memory, I wanted to give them their due in my end of year reflection.<br />
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2017 held some high highs professionally. I learned an incredible amount last year and really pushed myself. But as much as I'd like to focus on my professional achievements this year, it was my personal life that taught me the most.<br />
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In August of 2016, I had a bit of a mom-crisis/epiphany. We had acquired our 7th kiddo earlier that year, and with adding Arial to our flock, I was going to have a kid graduating from high school every year for 5 years. Five of our seven kiddos were teenagers and the youngest two are squarely in their preteen years. John told me, "the next five years are going to suck and then our lives will look a lot different." I was pretty confident that the second part of his prediction was inevitable, but after 2017 I can tell you that his first prediction seems to be spot on. I'm sure this is no surprise to any of you, looking in from the outside and thinking, "well duh, having seven kids is hard," but I can tell you that up until 2017 is wasn't THAT bad. We have really good kids, but they unfortunately only have teenage brains and things like consequences or planning or big picture thinking? Non existent. While there are lots of parenting highlights, the biggest being officially adopting Arial, in general, 2017 will be the year I remember that parenting went next level and all I could do was hold on and do my best.<br />
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In 2016, John went back to college to get his teaching degree. It's something he had wanted to do since before we met, and even though we knew it would be hard, I pushed him to do it. And it has been hard. But neither one of us could have predicted that because of him going back to school, and taking a job last January running the STEM classes for an after school program, that he would have been hired as a full-time robotics and engineering teacher starting this past fall. Still going to school to get his degree, starting his dream job...John had a good year professionally, and I am learning how to be the supportive, behind the scenes partner in our relationship. It's actually not very comfortable for me, and sometimes I worry that I'm not very good at it, but I'm learning.<br />
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All of my work/parenting/spouse balance was thrown over the edge in November when both John and our 11 year old Sallie had surgeries (deviated septum and broken ankle, respectively). Nothing life threatening, but it reinforced for me why I didn't go into nursing. I struggled to balance taking care of my work responsibilities, taking care of my family, and taking care of myself. As we celebrated Thanksgiving and prepared for Christmas, I was looking forward to life getting back to normal. I joked, "no one is allowed to have a medical emergency for the rest of the year."<br />
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The Universe accepted my request and raised me the largest wildfire in California history.<br />
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At about 9:30 pm on December 6th, we packed our kids and dogs when the Thomas fire evacuation was announced for our house. Earlier that day, knowing that the fire was moving towards us, we had packed our irreplaceables and moved them into a safe storage spot well outside of the evacuation zone. We were fortunate we had enough warning. By the time the evacuation was announced for our house, I was already having trouble breathing from the smoke thanks to my asthmatic lungs. We had heard stories of folks in Ventura who were woken up in the middle of the night to evacuate and we just couldn't imagine wrangling all the kids and dogs if the fires were bearing down on us, so we left that night, confident that we'd be back in a day or two, hoping our home would be spared. As we walked through the house one last time before leaving, we made sure there was nothing remaining that we couldn't replace or live without. It is amazing what the imminent threat of fire does to your prioritization of things.<br />
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And here we are in 2018, almost a month later. The fires did not reach our home, but the smoke and ash have left a hazardous grime on everything that requires more cleaning and restoration services than we can do ourselves. Based on current estimations, we are hoping we can move back in by mid January.<br />
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The last few months have provided some extreme lessons.<br />
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Lessons in friendship. OMG, you really know who will be there for you when you are in the middle of a crisis. I have some amazing, amazing friends. I love them more than they may ever know.<br />
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Lessons in letting go. Letting go of "stuff," letting go of expectations. Letting go of needing to know what's going to happen next. With the letting go has come clarity. Clarity of what's important. Clarity of purpose.<br />
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That clarity, my purpose, what's important? My family. And that's what 2017 was all about, really. Putting my family first: my spouse's education and career, my kids' well-being, education, and aspirations. I've had to let go of some things in my life that I loved, because right now my focus has to be on this big, crazy family. I love them most of all.<br />
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If 2017 is any indication, John was right way back in the summer of 2016 when he said the next five years will suck. Being a parent to this many humans is hard. But it's also amazing and fun and I love the people these kids are turning out to be. One year down, four more to go...<br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11423343578843915247noreply@blogger.com20tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1604620482023286355.post-68502925589417773372017-07-21T14:57:00.000-04:002017-07-21T20:39:32.195-04:00A funny thing happened while I was just doing my job<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
This week, my employer, D2L Inc., held it's annual users conference Fusion in Las Vegas. One of the main stage keynote sessions is called Solutions Spotlight, and it is focused on the new products and features that we're about to release. The hallmark of the keynote is that we demo new things that aren't live on the product yet, and we demo them live. My role at D2L is Product Management Director for our corporate segment, which basically means I drive strategy across development, marketing, support, and sales to meet the needs of our corporate customers. I was invited to do the portion of the keynote focused on the new corporate features, and while I practiced more for this demo than anything I've ever presented in my life, it was an honor to represent the work of the team at Fusion.<br />
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My mom has been asking me for the last year or so if there was a chance for her to see me in action at work. She obviously knows me very well, but she has told me she doesn't get to see "Work Koreen" and so, when our CMO took a picture of me onstage in one of our practice sessions, I posted it up on Facebook and tagged her in it, as well as my husband who was holding down the fort at home and who loves to see me present. So I posted the pic quickly in the minute or two I had to myself that day, thought nothing of it, and spent the rest of the day in customer meetings and more practice sessions.<br />
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When I got back to my room late that night and finally had a chance to talk to my husband, he asked me, "Did you see the comments to your post on Facebook?"<br />
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I of course had not, as I had been working hard for about 16 hours that day.<br />
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This was the first comment on my post:<br />
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I know the guy who posted the comment only as an acquaintance. I met him years ago through some learning industry event or another, and we had somehow ended up as Facebook friends. I know that he's retired, I know that I don't agree with his politics but I appreciate that he seems willing to agree to disagree. I know that he likes to make controversial (but I've never thought offensive) statements at times on people's Facebook posts. I know that he often will post complimentary things on my own Facebook posts, about my kids or family, etc. I was surprised by his comment on my picture.<br />
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Now, if you remember, I had tagged my mom and my husband in the post. So the first thing they saw after seeing my pic was this comment. My mom was upset. My husband was upset. My sister saw it too and was upset. I mean, it's pretty upsetting, right?<br />
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So here's the sad truth. I wasn't actually that upset. It wasn't, to be honest, the worst thing that had been said to me even that day. And over the course of my career in tech and gaming, the most dismissive, sexist, over the top things have been said to me that I think I have become numb to a lot of it.<br />
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The obvious sexism rarely bothers me anymore. It's the subtle stuff, the things that happen by well intentioned people, that accumulates and over time suffocates me.<br />
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What DID upset me, though, was that my family was upset. My mom doesn't know all of the overt and subtle sexism I have to navigate. My sister hasn't ever worked in tech. My husband has heard my stories, but I don't think he always gets what it's like; he can sympathize but not empathize. And here was a really crude comment that showed them all, more than I intended to, what it's like to be a woman in tech leadership.<br />
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Here's where things get pretty amazing. Other friends that I've met through work started commenting on my thread. Some of them copied the comment and posted it on their walls, calling out the bad behavior. Some of them replied back directly to the poster on how inappropriate it was. But the best was when people started posting comments about what I'm like professionally, where they first met me, what they thought of me both personally and professionally, and how I've impacted them and their careers. And my mom, my sister, and my husband got to see all of that, too.<br />
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In honesty, I wasn't able to respond to the hundreds of people who reached out to me over the past few days. I hope that this post helps in way of explanation: I was full stop working and connecting with folks at our user's conference, and I'm happy to say that not only did the live demo go off without a hitch, but I didn't fall off the stage or accidentally curse during the demo. I did read all of your incredibly kind words. I was lifted up by the memories of when we first met, and how you've all impacted me and my career as well.<br />
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It has crossed my mind that I'm sorry it took such a bad situation to hear all of the incredibly humbling things people said about me, but I am so grateful that I did. In the balance, more happy tears were shed than sad. That's all you can ask for, really.<br />
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And the guy who posted the comment? He never responded to any of the subsequent comments and posts. He hasn't deleted the comment. Maybe he was serious, maybe he was trolling us...I don't know. <br />
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Last night when I finally got home from the conference, Sallie, my 10 year old daughter, asked me how my trip went. I told her pretty good, and that I had presented that day. She said, I know, I saw the picture of you on that BIG stage. She said, "You're pretty badass, mom."<br />
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I think I'll excuse her cursing, just this once.<br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11423343578843915247noreply@blogger.com18tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1604620482023286355.post-48606815519356026372017-06-13T19:47:00.000-04:002017-06-13T20:37:23.149-04:00The Great Divide<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
When I grew up in Michigan, The Great Divide was a college retail apparel store (I hear it's now called "<a href="http://www.mlive.com/news/flint/index.ssf/2017/06/the_split_mitt_chosen_as_new_n.html" target="_blank">The Split Mitt</a>"?). One side was Blue and Gold (or Blue and Maize, depending on how much of a Michigan purist you are) and on the other was Green and White. One half for Michigan fans, one half for Michigan State (Sorry CMU!). The joke, of course, that many of us knew first hand was that even in families, there were clear delineations in support of your favorite Michigan college team, so much so that you needed to separate them out with a big dividing line that zigzagged through a store to keep your college team purchases from blending together.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIIUnQ4FBeyaCdnYunR3o1eePDJhPeRsxcVFsPM49zj-IVTFGJKZRnU_MEzQFrt2rdEjWEECtRD46YJ_ld3bhm21B2VesrXWOs_YrVrktt0f6bLHheizl-hMrue_4GRWn6u_2hqflvXvk/s1600/SplitMitt.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="420" data-original-width="630" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIIUnQ4FBeyaCdnYunR3o1eePDJhPeRsxcVFsPM49zj-IVTFGJKZRnU_MEzQFrt2rdEjWEECtRD46YJ_ld3bhm21B2VesrXWOs_YrVrktt0f6bLHheizl-hMrue_4GRWn6u_2hqflvXvk/s320/SplitMitt.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Even the ceiling tiles are divided...</td></tr>
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When I started this blog, I focused on what it was like to be a female entrepreneur. I wrote about learning and technology and games. Sometimes I wrote about personal stuff, but mainly I kept it professional. A few years ago, however, I started to shift. Work was becoming less of a driver of my personal growth, and my blog reflected how my life had moved from career-first to a big ol' mixtape of personal and professional. Sometimes even political. I started posting my reflections from the services I participated in at the Unitarian Society of Santa Barbara. I started posting about my kids more. About personal accomplishments. Suddenly, my blog was much more about me and not about my work.<br />
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I think that's ok. Blogs can be whatever we want them to be. For me, Learning In Tandem has become all of me, and it has been great to have an outlet to reflect and write about my life.<br />
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But the more I shared, the more I wondered if I was doing this right. I was no longer just an entrepreneur, but also a technology executive. I was no longer focused solely on games, but on building scalable technology. I was no longer just starting out, but now mentoring and coaching. I had moved in many ways from simply learner to learner and teacher. I find these days I have more to say about how to survive and thrive in the tech industry. Often, I keep these thoughts to myself, as I didn't know if they had a place anymore on this blog. In short, I felt like I was writing for everyone, which ended up with me writing for no one.<br />
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Today, I had an epiphany (which, besides wooly mammoth, is my favorite word). And so, I'm starting a new blog, just for my professional writing. It's <a href="http://www.roadmapher.com/">roadmapher.com</a> and starting this week I'll be posting about what it means to be a product manager, and product management strategies, and generally things that reflect what I do all day long in building products and businesses. Maybe there's even a book in there, somewhere. I'm anxious to see how it goes.<br />
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As for Learning in Tandem, I'll still be posting here. I'll cross-post things that I think are interesting, but I'm going to reserve this blog for focus on learning, whether personal or professional. This blog has grown up with me for the last 10 years and for those of you who have read along, I'm not going anywhere...just hopefully posting more, now that I have more clarity and focus.<br />
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Maybe it's more of a Venn diagram than a Great Divide? Either way, I hope you'll follow me to my new blog if you're interested in what I do, and stick around here at Learning in Tandem if you're interested in who I am.<br />
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(I'm totally a Spartan, btw. I can sing you the whole MSU fight song if you'd like. Don't even think of buying me U of M gear). </div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11423343578843915247noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1604620482023286355.post-57235463889218486542017-03-13T14:09:00.000-04:002017-03-13T14:09:03.496-04:00When Your Teen Comes Out As Trans<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Our family is over 3 years in to our oldest child's coming out as agender, a name for a transgender person who identifies as a subset of non-binary, who doesn't identify as either a boy or a girl. If you ask our oldest kiddo if they are male or female, they would say, "neither." (And, note, they use "they/them" pronouns.) And in the last year, we took in and are in the process of adopting another trans teenager. For a couple cisgender people, my husband and I have had a personal, vested interest in supporting the rights, safety, and happiness of our kids.<br />
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In the last several years, we've met lots of other families with trans kiddos of all ages and lots of trans adults. In the last several years, we've also seen trans identities and issues become more visible and more political, in everything from bathroom access, healthcare services, and overall civil rights. We helped found and continue to serve on the board of a local nonprofit focused on serving the needs of transyouth, their families, and the transgender adults in our community. I do training for local educational and community organizations. For a cisgender person, I have learned a lot about the issues that transgender folks of all ages face, and I invest my time (and often my money) in helping advocate for them in every way I can. I try to be the best ally I can be.<br />
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Very likely, you don't have a trans kid. Statistically, you don't. So let me try to paint the picture of what being the parent of a trans kid is like.<br />
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Imagine you have a teenager who comes to you and says, "the gender you assumed I was is not the gender I am." Suddenly, these things are expected of you, in an instant:<br />
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<ul style="text-align: left;">
<li>Learn what the term transgender means (most cis folks don't learn about this until circumstances prompt our education, unfortunately)</li>
<li>Learn what the transgender experience is like</li>
<li>Advocate with school staff, healthcare professionals, extracurricular event instructors</li>
<li>Be supportive of the challenges your kiddo is facing</li>
<li>Use new pronouns</li>
<li>Use a new name for your child that you likely didn't choose</li>
<li>Navigate the opinions of everyone you meet</li>
<li>Navigate the opinions of your family and friends</li>
<li>Navigate the emotional response of your partner, if you have one</li>
<li>Navigate your own sense of loss, grief for the dreams you had formed for your child, for who you had believed that they were or who they were becoming</li>
<li>Navigate and develop new dreams and expectations of who your child really is</li>
<li>Face the realities of how your trans kiddo may be treated in the world</li>
<li>Try to navigate your deepest fears of violence against your child</li>
<li>Try to navigate your deepest fears of violence your child might commit against themselves</li>
<li>Come to terms with statistics</li>
<li>Learn about blockers, hormones and trans healthcare. Understand and weigh the pros and cons. </li>
<li>Realize how big of a deal bathrooms are for trans folks. Understand why.</li>
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In all likelihood, you aren't prepared for any of these things. You probably don't have a community of trans folks who you are already integrated into that you have learned from, seen their struggles, and who you can turn to for advice, or to be role models to your kiddo. </div>
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You will make a million mistakes. You will make a big deal about messing up pronouns and make it all about you and say that it's hard. You will get frustrated that your kid just can't use whatever bathroom they want so you just don't have to think about bathrooms anymore. You will hesitate to talk about your kid with strangers, at work, with friends, sometimes even with family. You will freak out about healthcare and big decisions about things like hormones and surgery that will impact your kids' future choices in having children or that can cause side effects. You will think and maybe even say things like, "It would be so much easier if you were just gay," because, honestly, you are pretty sure it would. You will see Facebook memories and ugly cry at inconvenient times. You will worry about your kid's safety in a way that you never, ever did before. You will look at seemingly benign situations as a threat, or a potential trigger, for your kid. You will worry about their body dysphoria. You will worry about their ability to emotionally deal with all of the things you are having a hard time dealing with, and you're not even trans. </div>
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You will be attacked by your trans kid. Your kid telling you you're not doing it right, not doing it enough, that you can't possibly understand. You will be lumped in with all of the other cis people who just don't get it. Your mistakes as you learn will be held against you. Your feelings and emotions will be dismissed, be seen as hostile and not accepting. You'll be told you're not a good ally. You will be despised as the enemy. All of their anger at the world will be taken out on you. </div>
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You will be attacked by your friends, family, coworkers, and society. You will be told this is your fault. You will be told that you are encouraging this. You will be told that you should just not let your kid be trans. You will be told that your kid is too young to know what their gender is, and that you're a bad parent for encouraging their deviant behavior. You will be insulted by strangers. You may be cut off from your religious community. You will be cut off from people who you love. You will have to cut off people who you love. You will feel alone. You will sometimes be alone. </div>
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And yet, you will fight for your kid. You will find strength that you didn't know you had. You will push yourself to learn faster, for the sake of your kid. You will fight through the tears and your own broken heart. You will know that everything you are doing, you are doing out of love for the perfect person that your kiddo is and who they are becoming. You will work through the grief. You will buy them new clothes. You will compliment them on new hairstyles. You will proactively look for places with gender neutral bathrooms. You will find community resources. You will have awkward conversations with healthcare professionals. You will fight with insurance companies for benefits. You will find therapists who can work with your kid. You will advocate for your kid at school. You will get used to the new pronouns and learn to apologize and move on when you screw up. You will find other parents who have trans kids. You will connect with them in ways you can't explain. You will meet trans adults and will watch them as role models for your kiddo. You will learn about trans rights. You will learn about name changes and gender markers. You'll learn about hormones and what medical interventions are possible for your kiddo, and when. You'll rejoice when you see trans folks successes and grieve when you hear of violence and oppression. </div>
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You will learn to move past the insults. You will embrace you inner mama or papa bear. You will do whatever it takes, anything that it takes, to fight for your kiddo. </div>
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Even after you learn, even after you gain confidence, even after you know in your heart that you and your child are on the right path, you will be attacked. It doesn't end when you evolve. Your kid will still accuse you, other trans folks will still dismiss you, complete strangers will still insult and attack you. Your skin will be thicker, but it will still hurt. </div>
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You will never know what it is to be transgender. But you know what it means to love someone more than you love yourself, fear for someone more than you fear for yourself, fight for someone more than you would fight for yourself. Because you are a parent. And when your kid comes out as trans, you learn in a new way what that means. </div>
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Note: I couldn't have written this three years ago, two years ago, or even last year. If you are in the throes of coming out as a parent of a trans youth, be patient with yourself, brave mamas and brave dads. It is a journey for us, as much as it is a journey for our children. You are not alone. </div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11423343578843915247noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1604620482023286355.post-87897778459429920232017-01-23T14:06:00.001-05:002017-01-23T14:06:33.004-05:00On Being a White Cis Woman at the #WomensMarch & Beyond<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I keep thinking back to <a href="http://lostpedia.wikia.com/wiki/Live_together,_die_alone_speech#Jack" target="_blank">Jack's quote from Lost</a> as I write this: But if we can't live together, we're going to die alone. <div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Maybe dying alone is a dramatic outcome, since we're not stranded on an island and based on the attendance of about 3 million people at marches all around the world last Saturday, we are most certainly not alone. But it is true that we are stronger together, and in order to truly "be together," not in the physical sense of marching, but in the ideological sense that we're all standing up for one another, white women have a lot of work to do.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Consider these points:</div>
<div>
<ul style="text-align: left;">
<li><a href="http://www.popsugar.com/news/What-Percentage-White-Women-Voted-Trump-42690419" target="_blank">53% of white women</a> voted for Donald Trump...the MAJORITY of white women. Why?</li>
<li>how many women of color did you see at a march wearing a pussy hat, if you attended?</li>
<li>what are transwomen supposed to think when participants at the marches are equating anatomy with womanhood?</li>
</ul>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
If these things don't make you pause, then you're not doing the hard work yet. </div>
<div>
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And consider this photo:</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmQTxe-H8CpNRw62pheXd2qM_u_s-kcTvejpU-1RusudoZOv7lbvG6EbOmBbuQn0WEIP2Gr9M1_k3Nf-FPJw9ZhyphenhyphenCqJX44zS9uI-W-OXMRhfPMEjsNGV7BGpCp0-ZwhWGvALi0ZZssAiM/s1600/16110407_752843531538751_918270123918229504_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmQTxe-H8CpNRw62pheXd2qM_u_s-kcTvejpU-1RusudoZOv7lbvG6EbOmBbuQn0WEIP2Gr9M1_k3Nf-FPJw9ZhyphenhyphenCqJX44zS9uI-W-OXMRhfPMEjsNGV7BGpCp0-ZwhWGvALi0ZZssAiM/s320/16110407_752843531538751_918270123918229504_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo credit: Angela Peoples @ms_peoples</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div>
<br />When I saw this photo online, I made the mistake of reading the comments. Predictably, white women were defensive. I don't know the women in the photo, and for all I know, those white women are active transgender organizers in the Black Lives Matter movement. I have no idea...and the point isn't about those women personally. The point is that while we are donning pink knit hats and posting selfies of ourselves at the march on social media, women of color know that MOST white women voted for a candidate who has bragged about sexual assault, does not acknowledge #BLM, is already threatening women's health by defunding Planned Parenthood, and is threatening the rights of our LGBTQ community. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
White women, we're embarrassing ourselves and undermining our claims of feminism if we ignore that more of us than not support the patriarchy that continues to hold all of us back.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
This weekend I also saw an online post from a white woman explaining why she wasn't attending the Women's March (not linking to it here. I don't want to be responsible for promoting it). It was a whole lot of march shaming, culminating in the assertion that we should stop whining about how bad it is in the U.S. and go help women in other countries who have it much worse than us. Not surprisingly, a bunch of white women posted and liked it on Facebook. And I thought, THIS is who we need to understand. White women who voted for Trump, who are shaming those of us who are fighting for equality, who are denying our lived experiences. Just as bad as the white liberal feminists who want credit for showing up but not doing the hard work are the white women who deny that the hard work even needs to be done. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
So for my white cis sisters who attended the march, waving their signs and wearing their pussy hats, here's some work for us to get started on this week. It's not going to be comfortable. As our sisters of color and trans sisters can tell you, it is not easy. But if we are to live together, to work together, to make change together, then we need to be prepared for the fight. This work is going to require more than poster-making or hat-knitting skills. It requires us to examine our innermost biases and beliefs, open ourselves to the experiences of others that are different than our own lived experiences, and then fight to change their experiences even when fighting for them means challenging our own privilege. THAT is the work. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
And for any of the white women who voted for Trump, or who spoke out against those of us who attended the Women's March this weekend, I invite you to do the work, too. We really are all in this together, and it all starts by listening to each other. ALL of each other, not just those who look and think and vote like you.</div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div>
Let's get started. </div>
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<div>
Ask yourself these questions:</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<blockquote class="tr_bq" style="text-align: left;">
<ul style="text-align: left;">
<li>What would you do if you were harassed at work based on your gender, race, or religion? Would you have the ability to quit your job, or easily find another one? What if you had worked hard your entire career and landed your dream job, only to be harassed at work? What would your options be?</li>
</ul>
<ul style="text-align: left;">
<li>What would you do if you were the only breadwinner in your home? How would that change your answer or options to the scenario above?</li>
</ul>
<ul style="text-align: left;">
<li>What if you or your child or your partner had a pre-existing medical condition and would lose health insurance and wouldn't be eligible under a new plan if you changed jobs? </li>
</ul>
<ul style="text-align: left;">
<li>How many transgender folks are in your family? Friend circle? Community? Do you know the difference between sexual orientation and gender identity? Do you know what agender, or bigender, or gender fluid mean? Do you know the laws in your state that protect or discriminate against transgender folks?</li>
</ul>
<ul style="text-align: left;">
<li>Do you personally know folks who are Muslim? Undocumented? LGBTQ? How many of these folks are in your family, your friend circle, your community? If none, how could you meet them or hear their stories? </li>
</ul>
<ul style="text-align: left;">
<li>Have you ever avoided going to the doctor for routine care because you couldn't afford it? Do you know folks who have? Do you know people for whom free or affordable clinics like Planned Parenthood are their primary source of medical care? What services would you use if you suddenly lost your health care coverage?</li>
</ul>
</blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq" style="text-align: left;">
<ul style="text-align: left;">
<li> Do you have a safety net for health care coverage once you retire if there is no Medicaid or Medicare? What will your options be?</li>
</ul>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
</blockquote>
</blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq" style="text-align: left;">
<ul style="text-align: left;">
<li>Have you ever been prescribed birth control pills for something other than birth control? What other options would you have if you could no longer afford birth control?</li>
</ul>
<ul style="text-align: left;">
<li>What would you do if the schools in your local district had such poor student outcomes that families who could afford it all pay to send their kids to private school? What if you couldn't afford private school for your children?</li>
</ul>
<ul style="text-align: left;">
<li>Do you have the option financially to stay home? What enables you to have that choice? If you are financially dependent on your partner, what would be the impact of them losing their job, losing their insurance, or simply being passed over for raises or promotions?</li>
</ul>
<ul style="text-align: left;">
<li>Have you ever noted in a conversation that you "have a black friend" or "work with a Muslim" etc., to prove you aren't racist?</li>
</ul>
<ul style="text-align: left;">
<li>Have you ever said in a conversation, "I'm not racist, but..."?</li>
</ul>
<ul style="text-align: left;">
<li>Have you ever said in a conversation, "I'm not racist."?</li>
</ul>
<ul style="text-align: left;">
<li>When considering Black Lives Matter, do you more closely identify with those who support, those who oppose, or police officers? If you don't most closely align with supporters, what would it feel like to change your perspective for a week? A month? A year? Could you view this movement through the experiences of a black woman? </li>
</ul>
<ul style="text-align: left;">
<li>Consider how your experiences and opportunities would be different if you were black. Or Muslim. Or born to undocumented parents. Or born with male anatomy but feel very much like a woman. How would your life be different today? What challenges would you face that you don't have to think about today?</li>
</ul>
</blockquote>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCzZKnUu0eId1zbUCWTzTnHY89hzLFTgfRcL8EXnc_RP3OmS6tYOUgzQe6oQApFi6l4C97EK_ZUnUcIJDdhMTfYFMPe4YGe_mRVt_PQLRhJb2QPimkH94Z7XjrP9q9SQKeod869f4XbgM/s1600/16115070_10154356442907099_2487219502870300007_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCzZKnUu0eId1zbUCWTzTnHY89hzLFTgfRcL8EXnc_RP3OmS6tYOUgzQe6oQApFi6l4C97EK_ZUnUcIJDdhMTfYFMPe4YGe_mRVt_PQLRhJb2QPimkH94Z7XjrP9q9SQKeod869f4XbgM/s320/16115070_10154356442907099_2487219502870300007_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11423343578843915247noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1604620482023286355.post-39370475683488780452017-01-01T14:02:00.000-05:002017-01-01T15:07:48.694-05:00The passing of time, the realization of dreams, the challenge of optimism (happy new year)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Welcome, 2017.<br />
<br />
I haven't blogged for 6 months. I've thought about it a lot, planned out posts. I wanted to write about politics, about accomplishments, about failures. I wanted to write about funny things my kids have done, my job, things I have learned.<br />
<br />
2016 was a weird year. It was a year that made me fear stating my opinion. It was a year when I attended rallies to support my kids in saying loudly and publicly that Black Lives Matter. It was a year when I saw the ugly face of gender discrimination everywhere I looked. It was a year when I feared for my family. It was a year when I often didn't feel safe writing a blog post, sharing my innermost feelings and thoughts. It was a year that pushed me into being quiet.<br />
<br />
It really wasn't the year, I know. It was me. It was me feeling guilty that personally, I wasn't having a terrible year, but the events of the world made it difficult to feel like I had the right to celebrate personal and professional victories. With so much conflict, so much noise, so much fear, I didn't feel like it was ever the time to say the happy things. Or even to voice my own sadness and grief and anger and frustration. After all, I'm just another white liberal cis woman, passing for straight, not the 1% but living in Santa Barbara county, well paid and with health insurance. The best I can hope is to be a good ally and let marginalized voices fill the silence, not mine.<br />
<br />
Worse, I started to feel like my eternal optimism, the feeling baked into the core of my being that everything will always work out, was breaking apart. John calls me Pollyanna, but I have been struggling to hold on to that feeling. What if I was wrong? What if things don't always work out as they should?<br />
<br />
Every time I went to write a blog post, I stopped myself. Thinking I'd be too angry or too happy or too anything. Thinking that maybe everything I felt or believed was wrong. Thinking that maybe my time for making meaningful observations had passed, if they had ever been meaningful at all.<br />
<br />
This morning, when I woke up and welcomed 2017 next to the love of my life, surrounded by dogs and listening to my kids stirring in their rooms, I thought maybe I'd skip the annual new year blog post. I barely wrote anything last year, after all. And looking back, I didn't accomplish even one of <a href="http://learningintandem.blogspot.com/2016/01/my-2016-resolutions-after-dismal.html" target="_blank">my three goals for 2016</a>. Funny. My resolutions clearly have been lacking the resolve. Still, I'm a sucker for traditions. And this is one I think I need, a milestone that needs marking for me. A way for me to reflect and take stock, and then pick myself up and start anew. A way to mark the passing of time and measure progress, a tenet of a good product person, I think. And since my life is in a way the greatest and most important product I manage, I can't shirk my responsibilities in holding my annual retrospective.<br />
<br />
So here it is, the annual taking stock. What did 2016 hold?<br />
<br />
<ul style="text-align: left;">
<li>The biggest, best thing: Arial. We brought our 7th kiddo into the brood. She joined our family in May, and she has been a blessing to all of us. I can't imagine our family without her, and I can't wait to officially adopt her this year. </li>
<li>The job I started the year off with was a bust. I probably should have known that joining a startup with a bro-culture would mean that when times got tough, I'd be the first to go. In retrospect, it was a great thing, but man, it sucks in the moment to lose a job. </li>
<li><a href="http://www.sbtan.org/" target="_blank">SBTAN</a> hosted the first annual Trans Day of Visibility event in Santa Barbara. I couldn't be more proud of our community, our trans kids, teens and adults who live bravery. It was an honor to be part of that day, and I'm looking forward to the second annual event this year. </li>
<li>I got a new job that I love. It's challenging and I work with lovely, smart people and I believe in what we're doing. I don't know that you ask for much more than that. </li>
<li>I officially joined the advisory board of a VR company. I am still trying to figure out the perfect mix of immersive tech and learning, and while it's not my full time job, I love staying connected. Who knows what the future holds?</li>
<li>I "rebought" my house. When I bought this house 4 years ago, my divorce wasn't finalized and my ex graciously agreed to put his name on the house so I could finalize the purchase. This year I was finally able to buy my house outright, in my name only. I don't know if I can capture here what it felt like to sign the paperwork. If ever there was a metric of success, of me feeling like I have accomplished something in my life financially, it was buying this house this year. </li>
<li>I officially came out as bisexual. This was a surprisingly big deal, since I've only ever had long-term relationships with men, and I'm currently married to a man who is...everything. The truth is I've never been straight, but when I grew up, saying you were bisexual was not something that you did. But my kids have made be brave, and so, yep, the "B" in LGBTQ is me.</li>
<li>We hosted an exchange student from Japan who is our honorary 8th kiddo. We miss Yu, and have loved staying in touch with his family in Toba who hosted Jackson after Yu stayed with us. It was an amazing experience.</li>
<li>I spoke at my 9th consecutive <a href="https://www.elearningguild.com/DevLearn/content/4500/devlearn-2016-conference--expo--home/" target="_blank">DevLearn</a>. Professionally, DevLearn has been my favorite annual connection to the industry I love and the people who I've connected with through the years who are now, personally, my lifelong friends. I can't wait to make it 10 years this year!</li>
<li>I joined Pantsuit Nation. This is a heartbreaking one, but also my source of hope through what was a bleak year. For every story I heard of hate, discrimination, and marginalization, there were stories shared of love, hope and solidarity. </li>
<li>I lost 15 pounds. It wasn't a resolution to lose weight, but I started on a program in the last few months that helped me lose some weight and lower my blood pressure. And I got a FitBit for Christmas, so I'm thinking that will help continue on with improving my health in the new year. </li>
<li>Not my accomplishment, but John went back to college to get his teaching degree. I honestly couldn't be more proud of him. It makes me so, so happy to see him excited about his future career and doing something he loves. I am living vicariously.</li>
</ul>
<div>
So, I didn't learn to play the ukelele this year. But still, I did some pretty big things that weren't on my list of resolutions. Not a bad year, after all. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
2017, though. And the matter of resolutions. What should I set as my goals for this year?</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I've decided to stick to three, keep it simple. I've decided to keep them closely aligned with my life goals. I've decided to not try to set myself up by picking new things to do, but rather to resolve to keep doing the things that are most important to me. So here they are.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Goals for 2017:</div>
<div>
<ul style="text-align: left;">
<li>Adopt Arial. </li>
<li>Do things to improve my health.</li>
<li>Smash the patriarchy.</li>
</ul>
<div>
Here's to you and yours for a happy, healthy new year. </div>
<div>
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</div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11423343578843915247noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1604620482023286355.post-32648210885337768472016-07-11T15:21:00.000-04:002016-07-11T15:21:34.568-04:00What #PokemonGo means for immersive learning<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I, like many of you, spent my weekend hunting for Pokemon while tracking my progress on Nintendo's new Pokemon Go game.<br />
<br />
To say it was a revelation was an understatement. And the bigger question: will it lead to a revolution?<br />
<br />
For many years now, I've talked about how technology can be used to create immersive experiences, how giving people the sense that they are performing real tasks and receiving real-time feedback is the key to that immersive feeling. I've talked about avatars and virtual worlds and alternate reality games and augmented reality and, recently, virtual reality. I've talked about how biometric data can be used to impact your experience within an environment, and I've talked about how all of these things are converging. I've also talked about the shortage of big design thinking in better leveraging the technology that is currently available to bring together storyline and experiences. <b>Design has been lagging behind technology where immersive learning is concerned.</b> I would tell people to keep their eyes open, because there would be a point where someone figured it out and it would go mainstream.<br />
<br />
I'm pretty sure most people thought I was talking about a few years in the future. Turns out, I was talking about this last weekend.<br />
<br />
Finally, FINALLY, there is an example of an augmented reality game with characters, avatars, interactive game play with feedback and leveling. And the whole world is, or wants to be, playing.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeM4y7S1-KTBx7CKGw6u4XfxrdwHV-fBHXbzrn3rrmfNUbra6Swf82CVZPEQ8Hk-JpKt1wVl8pJAMlJlKHwp57nS46O09DNIBMSK6Oi7rToMVanJoDkRxmvaA_bohlXeBk4uFtEQVUFAo/s1600/Arial+and+Meowth.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeM4y7S1-KTBx7CKGw6u4XfxrdwHV-fBHXbzrn3rrmfNUbra6Swf82CVZPEQ8Hk-JpKt1wVl8pJAMlJlKHwp57nS46O09DNIBMSK6Oi7rToMVanJoDkRxmvaA_bohlXeBk4uFtEQVUFAo/s320/Arial+and+Meowth.jpg" width="180" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our kiddo was working alongside a Meowth</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
This weekend I spent with my family, walking all over my home town Carpinteria and Santa Barbara. We were finding landmarks we didn't know existed which had been designated as Pokestops. We were exploring new neighborhoods and talking to strangers. We were walking, walking, walking. We were smiling and laughing. We were bemoaning our ridiculous battery life and speculating on our data usage. We were running into friends and chatting. We were teaching each other nuances and strategies in the game. We were laughing when we saw a large group of people wandering around a parking lot, looking for a Koffing we knew was there. I was sending messages to a friend halfway around the world in Milan, Italy, who was experiencing the same server issues we were.<br />
<br />
Suddenly, everyone is playing and experiencing immersive learning.<br />
<br />
For those of you who haven't played yet, imagine you are a Pokemon trainer (if you don't know what Pokemon are, google it). The world is filled with Pokemon, and you can find them via a phone app, then catch them using Pokeballs that you throw at the Pokemon on your phone screen. You can get more supplies at Pokestops, and train with the Pokemon you've caught at Gyms. All of these locations are populated from data collected over the last several years from <a href="http://www.recode.net/2016/7/9/12133084/niantic-labs-ingress-pokemon-go-augmented-reality" target="_blank">another game, Ingress</a>, which is (of course) a product of Google.<br />
<br />
I could talk about the social learning implications (this game has no social features, but is an amazingly social game). I could talk about the health benefits, both mental and physical. I could talk about how the game is driving behavior change (my kids keep opting to walk instead of asking for rides...crazy...).<br />
<br />
But instead, I want to talk about what Pokemon Go means for the future of learning. Because we finally have a flagship immersive game to build from. Where we go from here, and how we push technology to support our design, is really up to us.<br />
<br />
First, let's talk about technology needs.<br />
<br />
<ul style="text-align: left;">
<li>WE NEED BETTER BATTERIES. If we are leveraging our phones for experiences like this, we can't have our batteries last an hour. </li>
</ul>
<ul style="text-align: left;">
<li>Also, WE NEED UNLIMITED DATA. It's well past the point that this should be the case, and the first major company who goes there will get my money, and hopefully yours too, so that the whole market will follow. </li>
</ul>
<ul style="text-align: left;">
<li>We will need data to be able to interact in the world, unless, of course, we have UNIVERSAL WIFI. That would be ok, too.</li>
</ul>
<ul style="text-align: left;">
<li>And finally, the device-specific access is a drag. Most of the people we saw playing were adults, not because kids wouldn't want to, but because kids don't have smartphones that they can use to play. MAKE ALL DEVICES CAPABLE OF PLAYING IMMERSIVE GAMES. Photo apps, GPSs, data accessible (with unlimited data, as previously mentioned). Let as many people play as we possibly can. </li>
</ul>
<br />
<br />
What about design?<br />
<br />
Honestly, the possibilities are endless for future applications, but let's start with what we could do with Pokemon Go.<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheA7w8od6Pmunppbc5Fq5yvDr37U2jMUWl0GtBz8QkzoCGR3bYPg9EKB5J6Xkk9CTGLVPBKvFdMj7aWSDwYv3e1WdlA72JBrzqrYTELplaMRdZGJ1V1Ye1qRqInIoLRYfGP68agSN3jsk/s1600/pokemon+park+ranger.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheA7w8od6Pmunppbc5Fq5yvDr37U2jMUWl0GtBz8QkzoCGR3bYPg9EKB5J6Xkk9CTGLVPBKvFdMj7aWSDwYv3e1WdlA72JBrzqrYTELplaMRdZGJ1V1Ye1qRqInIoLRYfGP68agSN3jsk/s320/pokemon+park+ranger.jpg" width="180" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Santa Barbara Park Ranger <br />chatting about the Pokemon in the park</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<ul style="text-align: left;">
<li><b>Tie Pokemon Go to biometrics.</b> What if you could get certain Pokemon by keeping your heart rate in the ideal range for exercise for 20 minutes? What if you were rewarded for number of steps (not just distance covered, which is how you hatch eggs)? What if you were rewarded for consecutive days of hitting exercise targets? There have to be some easy partnerships to be made with fitness trackers. </li>
<li><b>Add some social features.</b> My kids already want to trade Pokemon. I'd love to see a way to do that through proximity, rather than some online marketplace. While I've been having great conversations with people I meet while playing, it would be great to have a game mechanism to prompt more interaction. Also, how about adding a way to friend other players you meet? It was great meeting folks all over town, but now there's no way to stay connected. There are already social groups forming outside of the game, why not enable it within the game?</li>
<li><b>Leverage Pokemon Go for medical treatment.</b> If there were enough Pokemon in a hospital or rehabilitation center, patients could collect Pokemon as part of their recovery. Therapists could track distance walked or number of Pokemon caught to help encourage patients to get out in the world and walk. </li>
<li><b>Pokemon Go as the new marketing angle, both customer and internal-facing. </b>We already saw this with Foursquare, but is there something more to be done here? I would definitely frequent a place that set up a Lure to attract more Pokemon...beyond attracting more customers, could this type of activity work for new hire training? My family was chatting yesterday about what type of Pokemon we might find at our zoo; what if the zoo could strategically place Pokemon?</li>
</ul>
<div>
What are some issues that need to be addressed?</div>
<div>
<ul style="text-align: left;">
<li><b>Accessibility barriers.</b> Already, my color-blind husband can't see the difference between the blue and purple Pokestops and has to ask me. Can options be included for blind players? Hearing impaired players? Players with physical disabilities? Let's get everyone playing.</li>
<li><b>Technology barriers.</b> Let's not make immersive learning only accessible to the privileged. While desire for immersive experiences might drive buyer behavior toward technologies that can support it, if only high end smart phones can play the experiences and only people who can afford more data can play, we are cutting out major segments of the population based likely on age and socioeconomic status from participating and benefiting. Immersive learning should be available to everyone. </li>
<li><b>Societal barriers. </b>There has been nervousness already around women playing alone at night, players who are ethnic minorities worrying about accessing Pokemon in particular neighborhoods, and general unease about what a gaming experience that everyone can play everywhere might uncover about our own biases, prejudices, and fears. These are things that already exist, that game play is exposing with heightened visibility. Ironically, it has also been prompting people from all walks of life to start interacting and supporting each other. Maybe there's something to us all just playing a game together that may lessen this barrier. </li>
</ul>
</div>
<br />
But let's end with some larger implications for learning, particularly organizational learning.<br />
<br />
<ul style="text-align: left;">
<li><b>New hire training:</b> tour facilities with augmented reality or virtual reality. Meet key folks in the organization. See behind the scenes production, or visit HQ virtually. </li>
<li><b>Skill refinement: </b>once the basics have been taught, present ongoing practice scenarios. Could be internal, customer-facing, or software/equipment training. </li>
<li><b>Product training:</b> provide the ability to interact with multiple customers and see how the product benefits them differently.</li>
<li><b>Application in context: </b>how do you navigate a real-life complex environment effectively? Think busy retail, insurance adjusters, combat/disaster zones, crime scenes, etc.</li>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7zY6eodXSdFLBF19s_i8DUgSy_jjgfkIdC5MzDThO8oNh7WO233jFpRzGAmog2pB2GEpSAgKKxtFKGv-RIqLMdUiBdt0Zy0qPAsAPVH238j0HUKZrw_bV-x-jfRQyr7chJ9x8kFhkOA0/s1600/rattata+in+kitchen.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7zY6eodXSdFLBF19s_i8DUgSy_jjgfkIdC5MzDThO8oNh7WO233jFpRzGAmog2pB2GEpSAgKKxtFKGv-RIqLMdUiBdt0Zy0qPAsAPVH238j0HUKZrw_bV-x-jfRQyr7chJ9x8kFhkOA0/s320/rattata+in+kitchen.jpg" width="180" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Don't mind the rattata in my kitchen</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<li><b>Just in time geographically relevant support.</b> Have a question in context? What if an app let you access training and tips relevant to where you are? </li>
</ul>
And that's just to name a few.<br />
<br />
<br />
So, to sum up, we need better consumer tech for immersive experiences, we can build on Pokemon Go for even more immersive design examples and applications, we need to be mindful of biases limiting access, and there's a lot of potential for organizations to leverage immersive learning to solve meaningful learning problems. Let's do this, folks!<br />
<br />
<br />
(Related: Does anyone even use Foursquare anymore? I bet the kids don't even know what that app is...)</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11423343578843915247noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1604620482023286355.post-70568314047294460142016-05-09T18:52:00.000-04:002016-05-09T18:52:58.802-04:00The power of putting yourself out there<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
In the early days of my writing this blog, I would be surprised when people, sometimes people I was meeting for the first time, would tell me they read one of my posts. Over the years, I've come to be less surprised, but more grateful. While people have told me they have disagreed with my opinion, and I've even been threatened to edit or remove a post or two, in general everyone who has talked to me about one of my posts has been really positive.<br />
<br />
I've written before about how nice it is to have someone talk to you about how something you've written has impacted them, but I've always focused on the positive experiences. I have realized in recent weeks that there are just as many negative reactions, and just as many possibilities for people to think poorly of me, form an opinion about me without ever meeting me. As wonderful as it would be for everyone to always heap praise, it is just as important to pay attention to the naysayers.<br />
<br />
Tomorrow I'm presenting on the power of social media at the <a href="http://osl.sa.ucsb.edu/org/pwa/conference" target="_blank">20th Annual Professional Women's Association conference at UCSB</a>. I've been putting together my slides, and thinking about how blogging has helped, or at least shaped, my career. The reality is that for as many job opportunities, projects, introductions and recommendations my social media presence has facilitated, there are likely many that were squashed by my personal reflections, my mentioning my children, maybe even because of my love of my pit bull (seriously, I've had people contact me privately...but look at this face!). At some point along the way, one of these things that I've shared through social media has likely meant an opportunity lost.<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaye89GbVBAEojNR1ZQ54CqC3AInJJgzWFUGF2uODg8Uzu2PpvPuKw79aKBTawuJeNTHVMXwKKrD3qyJyf-S1IU93nACT4-vu_9emuN4G8VG1PrEOkc4exKzM3k_5ZRD5e_EWk4XJuPq0/s1600/Screen+Shot+2016-05-09+at+3.42.32+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="238" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaye89GbVBAEojNR1ZQ54CqC3AInJJgzWFUGF2uODg8Uzu2PpvPuKw79aKBTawuJeNTHVMXwKKrD3qyJyf-S1IU93nACT4-vu_9emuN4G8VG1PrEOkc4exKzM3k_5ZRD5e_EWk4XJuPq0/s320/Screen+Shot+2016-05-09+at+3.42.32+PM.png" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Darwin would like me to finish up this blog post.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
And so...so what?<br />
<br />
I am who I am. If I didn't get an opportunity because of my personal beliefs or interests, then it's very likely that opportunity would not have been a good fit for me. If hiring a mom is a problem, I'm not right for your organization. If my publicly sharing my personal reflections and faith is troubling, then we'd likely not be a good match. If my love of zombies and robots and taking selfies on the beach with my husband are turn offs, then it's probably best for both of us to just move along.<br />
<br />
While I like to think I post a good mix of professional and personal content on my social media accounts, what's true is that everything I post is a reflection of me, the whole human being. Social media allows me to find my tribe and build a solid, supportive network, but for me, it's not a closed network of like-mindedness. I welcome the differences in life views and experiences, because reading about you helps me learn more about myself.<br />
<br />
And learning from others is (almost) always a good thing.<br />
<br />
So blog and tweet and post and I'll be reading along, nodding in violent agreement or crying in empathy or laughing because it's funny because it's true. But don't hide, because it's nice to get to know you better, even if we're not kindred spirits. Don't be afraid to put yourself out there because of the potential lost opportunities; there is so much more amazingness to be gained.<br />
<br /></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11423343578843915247noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1604620482023286355.post-24827152034548924432016-04-20T15:07:00.000-04:002016-04-20T15:07:48.356-04:00An open challenge to be as accepting as you say and think you are from the parent of a trans teen<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Today an article was published in my hometown on transgender teens. Written by a cis-gender person and including the perspective of two trans kiddos, a therapist and a couple parents, the article suggested our transgender youth have a "dialogue" about their gender identity and noted that most people don't have any idea who they are when they're 14.<br />
<br />
Which is like telling a teen who comes out as gay that they should think about it and maybe try to be hetero for awhile? Don't rush into being gay! Maybe you're actually straight!<br />
<br />
What if you never felt comfortable in your body, never felt that you were the gender assigned to you at birth? Do you really think any person who comes out as transgender hasn't already been "trying" to be the gender they were assigned? Do you really think, at the point that someone, at any age, is brave enough to say, "I know you've always thought of me as a (girl/boy) but I'm actually a (transgender identity)" that that person hasn't already been through a huge struggle? While you might like to think it's a phase or an experiment, the reality is that to come out as transgender means risking friendships and family. It means being ridiculed, ostracized and sometimes targeted by people you know and people you don't know. It means risking your safety. It means struggling to know which bathroom in public is safe to use. It means, for my agender kiddo, not wanting to fill out forms because they don't want to choose between two genders. It means having people constantly challenge and question an integral part of your identity that you know to be true.<br />
<br />
I can't imagine if everywhere I went, I had people challenging me to prove I'm a woman. I say I am. I am consistent and persistent. That should be good enough. No one has ever asked me to prove that I have a vagina to prove that I'm the gender that I say I am. And I REALLY can't imagine, although I now find myself thinking about it every day, what it would be like to not fit neatly into male/female, either/or. What if you are "both" or "neither?" And really, what is the big deal about that anyway?<br />
<br />
I feel for my kiddo, having to try to explain using they/them/their pronouns and having to have the same conversations over and over:<br />
Yes, they has always been used as a singular, nongendered pronoun.<br />
Yes, I know it's hard for you to remember.<br />
Yes, it's ok if you make a mistake, as long as you correct yourself and move on.<br />
<br />
I have taken all of this for granted because I'm cis-gender. But I don't anymore, because my kiddo isn't. Their struggles and issues and obstacles are now mine too.<br />
<br />
I want my child to be who they really are. I want their identity to be respected. I want them to be able to have a conversation about pronouns and the person they are talking to not make it all about them. I want my kid to be able to get a job and a drivers' license and be able to use their preferred name and their appropriate gender identity. I want them to be able to pee in public restrooms without being questioned, challenged, or assaulted.<br />
<br />
I want people to get over their own discomfort and put themselves into the shoes of a transgender person for awhile. I want people to stop asking my kid if this is real, or if they're going to eventually pick a gender, or act like this is a phase. I want them to respect my kid's gender identity and stop making it all about them, what they are comfortable with and what would be easiest for them.<br />
<br />
I know that's a lot to ask...people tend to focus on the impact and hardship to themselves over the impact and hardship for others. So let me end with this.<br />
<br />
My kid's gender identity has no impact on you. Why do you care if another person has a different gender identity than the one they were assigned at birth? There is no deadline for gender identity. There is no requirement that you always have to be the same gender. We are autonomous human beings that should be able to choose the pronouns and name by which we are addressed, if the pronouns assumed at birth or the name given to us at birth don't fit.<br />
<br />
If you don't get this, or if you are uncomfortable, then that is about you, not my kid. They know who they are.<br />
<br />
Also? The labels liberal or progressive don't apply to you if you aren't willing to accept that others might have a different experience than you, even a different experience of gender.<br />
<br />
The biggest challenge for my kid's acceptance in this close-minded, binary-gender world aren't the conservatives who spout hate and fear; we know those enemies and they are open with their opposition to accepting anyone who is different from them. Our biggest challenge are the wolves in sheeps' clothing, the so-called liberals and progressives who somehow understand that sexuality lives on a continuum but can't understand that gender does too.<br />
<br />
GENDER DOES TOO.<br />
<br />
So stop focusing on what transgender means for you; I have no sympathy that you have to wrap your brain around using pronouns that feel uncomfortable to you, or have to ask someone their preferred pronouns. It's a small price to pay for my kid to be accepted, respected, and honored for the gender and person that they really are. <br />
<br />
<br /></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11423343578843915247noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1604620482023286355.post-54133587073475119852016-01-15T15:17:00.000-05:002016-01-15T15:17:52.912-05:00The reminder that death gives <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
It's been a brutal start to the year with the news of several of my favorite musicians and actors passing away weighing heavily on my heart. It's tough to lose someone who has inspired you, entertained you, motivated you, validated you. It's tough to lose several of them within the span of a couple weeks.<br />
<br />
It's funny what you think about when you're dealing with loss.<br />
<br />
One of my overarching emotional responses has been what I like to think of as my death panic. As someone who likes to dig in and discover the root cause, solve problems and uncover unexpected issues that affect outcomes, death is really my nemesis. It is not a problem to be solved; it just is. And we don't know, no one does, what it really is. Is all of what I am here, right here, right now? All of these feelings and dreams and fears, are they just temporary, wiped out when I die? Or is there something beyond, and if there is, will I get to recognize and experience it?<br />
<br />
A lot of questions with no answers + no way to really know = death panic.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBVmNpA0VSMcYORYgokvr4JANlCmCa0hE8ZCNY0k_oLbesxnP6D1UWB_HGPgAriiwy6C2h_KeX_uEV7a46zn0bwo1Ey5TK965qWYP1yVVhxHRlpurFjahUv3o0CIhwZBfRcqWtgBB_3hE/s1600/for-death-is-no-more-than-a-turning-of-us-over-from-time-to-eternity-quote-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBVmNpA0VSMcYORYgokvr4JANlCmCa0hE8ZCNY0k_oLbesxnP6D1UWB_HGPgAriiwy6C2h_KeX_uEV7a46zn0bwo1Ey5TK965qWYP1yVVhxHRlpurFjahUv3o0CIhwZBfRcqWtgBB_3hE/s320/for-death-is-no-more-than-a-turning-of-us-over-from-time-to-eternity-quote-1.jpg" width="274" /></a><br />
But there ARE things you can control here and now. The death of my idols has been the catalyst to <br />
reexamine my priorities. What is the life I really want to lead? Who am I, and who do I want to be for the people I care about? If today was my last day, what would be my regrets?<br />
<br />
The big question: am I spending my most valuable resource, time, doing the things that are important to me?<br />
<br />
As a product manager, one of the biggest factors in the day to day work that we do is time. Time is a known, limited resource. My whole job is to prioritize and make decisions around scope and urgency. I need to collect data and try to predict the future: what will have the biggest impact? what is the minimum amount of effort that will bring value? what should we do first?<br />
<br />
When death affects me, I start applying those product management principles to my life. What is my minimum viable product? What bugs do I need to address? What enhancements do I need to tackle? What other resources do I need?<br />
<br />
The world lost an immense amount of talent in a short amount of time; I lost some of my biggest sources of inspiration. As I'm mourning those losses, I'm also trying to appreciate the reminder that death gives. Thank you for one parting lesson, David Bowie, Alan Rickman, Natalie Cole, Lemmy Kilmister and Dan Haggerty.<br />
<br />
<br /></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11423343578843915247noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1604620482023286355.post-58124886455597403042016-01-05T15:09:00.002-05:002016-01-05T15:10:30.949-05:00My 2016 resolutions (after the dismal results of my 2015 goals...)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I've been thinking about whether I should be making any resolutions at all, since I didn't achieve ANY of <a href="http://www.learningintandem.blogspot.com/2015/01/the-annual-resolution-post-2015-edition.html" target="_blank">my resolutions for 2015</a>. But it's tradition, and so, 5 days in, I'm going to give it a shot. No pressure at all, actually...achieving just ONE would be an improvement over last year :)<br />
<br />
My goals for 2016:<br />
<br />
<ul style="text-align: left;">
<li>Learn to play my ukulele</li>
<li>Keep up with my workouts</li>
<li>Take a picture every day; post them in Flickr (or on some 365 day photo challenge site that I might find...).</li>
</ul>
<div>
That's it. I have professional goals, I have some travel goals...but my resolutions this year are my selfish, personal goals to do things that I know (will) make me happy. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Here's to achieving all of your goals in 2016. Do something for yourself this year. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Happy new year!</div>
</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11423343578843915247noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1604620482023286355.post-27617550690871572982016-01-05T14:59:00.000-05:002016-01-05T14:59:36.069-05:00Burning bright<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Last Sunday I served as Worship Associate at USSB and shared this reflection in the service titled, Dark of Winter. I didn't know what the reflection was going to be about when I started writing...I was thinking about winter and cold and darkness and how they resonate for me. Sometimes just writing triggers memories to work through; one of the benefits of having this space to blog.<br />
<br />
Welcome 2016. Here's to winter and writing and having community to support you.<br />
<br />
__________________________________________________________________________<br />
<br />
<div style="line-height: 1.8; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: left;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I grew up in Michigan, and during my preteen years, in Northern Michigan. Because of where I was raised, I have very particular mental references for what constitutes winter. Snow, of course. Lots and lots of snow. Cold. Burn your nose and ears and fingers cold. The kind of cold that creeps into your clothes and takes a while to shake off once you’re indoors. Blinding whiteness. Everything white and shiny and bright. Glittering whiteness. But the thing I miss most is the quiet. </span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<b id="docs-internal-guid-3be34e95-1355-4801-4ff8-0318c6fa509a" style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></b></div>
<div style="line-height: 1.8; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: left;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">When it’s so cold and snowy in the heart of winter in northern Michigan, you spend a lot of time indoors. Everyone does. Fireplaces crackle and blankets and slippers are the preferred fashion of the season. Indoors is loud and cozy and bustling with life as you stick close with family and friends to stay warm. In my house, there was a lot of laughter. A lot of reading. My sister and I put on shows for each other. There was safety and love in my house. </span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></b></div>
<div style="line-height: 1.8; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: left;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">That wasn’t true for everyone. Winter in Northern Michigan for some meant being trapped. The winter I was in 7th grade, I went over to a friend’s house after school. You know that feeling, when you walk into an environment and immediately feel like you need to leave? I knew something bad was happening in that house. I could feel the suffocation all around me. I could sense my friend didn’t want me to leave. Her sister clung to me. I could feel the tension from their dad, asking when I was getting picked up. It felt like he wanted me out of there. </span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></b></div>
<div style="line-height: 1.8; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: left;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">When my mom finally did pick me up, I didn’t know how to describe to her what I felt. The days were short then, so even though it was only 5 o’clock, it was already dark as night. When we got home, I went outside to think. </span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></b></div>
<div style="line-height: 1.8; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: left;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">There’s nothing like the dark silence of winter. When heavy snow has fallen, there’s nothing to make noise: no crickets, no birds, just the occasional sound of branches breaking under the weight of heavy snow. Sometimes, when there’s no moisture in the cold air, the snow itself can creak, an icy, low-pitched crunch as the snow gives way underneath you. I remember sitting in my backyard, thinking about my friend. The cold air hurt to breathe in, but I kinda liked it. It made me feel alive. </span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></b></div>
<div style="line-height: 1.8; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: left;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I don’t think I’ve ever felt so helpless. Maybe that was the first day I really understood what empathy was, knowing that my friend and her sister wanted me, needed me maybe? to help them, but not knowing why or how. I could just feel it. The only thing that made me feel better was sitting in the dark, feeling the cold, and surrounding myself in the deep silence of the winter night. </span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></b></div>
<div style="line-height: 1.8; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: left;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Eventually, my mom came out to get me, made me brush off the snow in our vestibule, and then brought me in to sit by the fire. She knew I was upset, and she knew that neither one of us could fix it. Sitting in our warm, glowing family room that night felt wrong to me. I wondered what my friend was doing. In the era before junior high kids had cell phones, wondering was all I could really do. </span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></b></div>
<div style="line-height: 1.8; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: left;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">A few weeks later, my friend handed me a note in class. It was a suicide note. I was only 11 years old, but I knew that I couldn’t let me friend hurt herself, even though she had written in the note that if I told anyone, she would never talk to me again. I took the note to my school counselor and there was a huge hubbub. My friend was whisked off to meet with counselors and administrators. Calls were made. I knew big important things were happening, but I didn’t know what. I knew my friend was safe, though...I knew that she had a chance to tell people she could trust what was going on in her life. I still don’t know what those things were. She was true to her word for a long time...she didn’t talk to me, and even when she did, our friendship was never the same. </span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></b></div>
<div style="line-height: 1.8; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: left;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">The rest of that winter, I would go sit outside at night. I would let the air burn my lungs and my toes start to tingle as my boots couldn’t keep out all of the cold after awhile. I would sit in the silence of the heavy, snowy night and think. Did I do the right thing? Was my friend going to be ok? How could I enjoy being inside with the warmth and love of my family when other people were sad, in need, and in pain? </span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 1.8; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: inherit; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 1.8; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: inherit; white-space: pre-wrap;">I still like to sit out in the dark and think, although winter nights are not quite the same in Carpinteria as they are in northern Michigan. There’s no snow to muffle the noise, and no cold air to burn my lungs. But I can remember those feelings, and those nights, thinking about gratitude and fairness and empathy and helplessness. And I can still capture that clarity of vision in the dark that somehow is so elusive in the light. </span></div>
</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11423343578843915247noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1604620482023286355.post-1959952006971786212015-12-31T18:13:00.000-05:002016-01-05T14:49:52.906-05:002015: My year in review<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I just took a look back at <a href="http://www.learningintandem.blogspot.com/2015/01/the-annual-resolution-post-2015-edition.html" target="_blank">my resolutions for this year</a>...I did not accomplish one of them. Not one. Wow. Not sure if that's something I should be advertising, but my goal-setting was WAY off this year.<br />
<br />
I don't know how I'll look back on this year, 2015. While there were some big milestones for me personally, this year was a lot more about our kiddos. I think that's ok. As they get older, I love getting to know them as the people they are growing into and enjoying the time we spend together.<br />
<br />
We have a lot of really cool kids.<br />
<br />
So here's a few highlights from the year, in no particular order:<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQm39NTWq5qRx5WDO8xaRYUnfgpQbLvokGhfWlg55TE9TxT6YaySZ02AYk287_0EY57Z0kvnS7sSIhnTj0JDDppeP8iuKSoG6xbKs8Yk7g2_dY0nx7DCBW1POozCBRXUBvZgATtzLKQ6A/s1600/tatoo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQm39NTWq5qRx5WDO8xaRYUnfgpQbLvokGhfWlg55TE9TxT6YaySZ02AYk287_0EY57Z0kvnS7sSIhnTj0JDDppeP8iuKSoG6xbKs8Yk7g2_dY0nx7DCBW1POozCBRXUBvZgATtzLKQ6A/s200/tatoo.jpg" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My new tattoo</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<ul style="text-align: left;">
<li>New job! This is really the biggest one for me personally. I'm loving the new adventure of heading up the Product group at ShipHawk. 2016 is going to be a very big year.</li>
<li>New tattoo! I finally did it! My third tattoo, but by far the most ambitious...I got my pirate mermaid with her jellyfish and octopus. </li>
<li>I did the service on gender at USSB that I've always wanted to do. It felt good. I hope others got something out of it, too :) You can read the transcripts of my reflection <a href="http://www.learningintandem.blogspot.com/2015/11/what-would-geraldine-ferraro-do.html" target="_blank">here</a> and my sermon <a href="http://www.learningintandem.blogspot.com/2015/11/what-does-equality-look-like.html" target="_blank">here</a>. </li>
<li>We have redone a significant portion of our house...our room, our family room, our living room...and we did it all ourselves.</li>
<li>I finally got to the Monterey Aquarium.</li>
<li>I saw Oingo Boingo perform Dead Man's Party live onstage for the first time in 20 years.</li>
<li>We really got involved in and learned a lot about the trans community. I can use they/them like a champ.</li>
<li>We hosted 2 Spaghetti Western Wednesdays, and attended a few TuTu Taco Tuesdays. I like our new traditions.</li>
<li>We had a getaway to a dome treehouse and a private dinner in the trees. Highly recommended :)</li>
<li>We attended the Edward Gorey Edwardian Ball for Valentine's Day. </li>
<li>We got married in Vegas by Elvis. Viva Las Vegas!</li>
<li>We finally made it whale watching! We saw an actual whale. We called him "Spouty." We saw some dolphins and sea lions, too. </li>
<li>I jumped into some super interesting virtual reality ventures.</li>
<li>John saw color for the first time. It was inspiring.</li>
<div style="text-align: right;">
</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyyRwRvrYps1yiXyb2JDh414l-JmGue_DE2MRxkVvpuf2vyl5ylX4T8Z8ew2gokjQvOAQT8alt7ol3tSrZcntZ25YsJ0mmmwVao1-CsR8eF0AQZHtae6tRIO4uosDszmF5hgj9cIGg8wM/s1600/Vegas_kiss.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyyRwRvrYps1yiXyb2JDh414l-JmGue_DE2MRxkVvpuf2vyl5ylX4T8Z8ew2gokjQvOAQT8alt7ol3tSrZcntZ25YsJ0mmmwVao1-CsR8eF0AQZHtae6tRIO4uosDszmF5hgj9cIGg8wM/s200/Vegas_kiss.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Only fools rush in? Nah.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<li>We made significant progress on getting HelloYello to market - 2016 will be the year!</li>
</ul>
<div>
I'm sure there is more that I'm missing. Our kids had great successes and great struggles this year. We laughed a lot. We cried less than we laughed. We dressed up in silly outfits on a regular basis. We were spontaneous. We tried to always say yes to adventures. We tried to be present in the moments and enjoy this time of our lives, with our kids, and not take anything for granted.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
2015 wasn't a great year in the world. I feel like we were surrounded by injustice and sadness and pain. I struggled with how women are treated, how minorities are treated, how immigrants are treated...I struggled with how much we allow people to be marginalized, victimized and ignored. People are angry, but often at the things I think are insignificant. People are complacent about the things that scare me. I hope that 2016 is the year of hearts and minds prevailing, of us standing up for what is right even when it's hard, and for thinking globally and acting locally. Good bye, 2015. Thanks for the memories and lessons you've taught me. </div>
</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11423343578843915247noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1604620482023286355.post-28177544188962965052015-11-20T16:49:00.000-05:002015-11-20T16:49:32.145-05:00What does equality look like?<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div dir="ltr" style="margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 18.6667px; line-height: 22.4px; white-space: pre-wrap;">On November 9th, I led services at the Unitarian Society of Santa Barbara. The service focused on gender equality; previously, I posted my opening reflection, <a href="http://learningintandem.blogspot.com/2015/11/what-would-geraldine-ferraro-do.html" target="_blank">"What Would Geraldine Ferraro Do?"</a> Here is the transcript for the sermon I shared in that morning's service. </span></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">_____________________________________________________________</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">A few months ago, I heard through my "family grapevine" that one of my kids was not a feminist, or at least he had been saying negative things about feminists. I was in complete disbelief and that night at dinner, I asked him about it directly.</span></div>
<b id="docs-internal-guid-5539136f-26cf-ad15-463b-2d19f74a1089" style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Here's how the conversation went:</span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 11pt; margin-left: 15pt; margin-right: 15pt; margin-top: 11pt;">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Me:</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> "I hear you've been saying negative things about feminists."</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 11pt; margin-left: 15pt; margin-right: 15pt; margin-top: 11pt;">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Him:</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> "Well, yeah. I mean, I don't get how they want to be treated better than men." </span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 11pt; margin-left: 15pt; margin-right: 15pt; margin-top: 11pt;">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Me</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> (seeing red, freaking out inside): "Feminists don't want to be treated better than men, they want women to be treated equally to men."</span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 11pt; margin-left: 15pt; margin-right: 15pt; margin-top: 11pt;">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">(at this point my husband and the other kids made some excuse to leave their half-eaten food at the table...) </span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 11pt; margin-left: 15pt; margin-right: 15pt; margin-top: 11pt;">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Him:</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> "I don't understand. Women ARE treated equally to men. These feminists want to be treated better." </span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 11pt; margin-left: 15pt; margin-right: 15pt; margin-top: 11pt;">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">At this point, I totally broke down into a rant about how women are NOT treated equally, citing numerous examples of bias and discrimination against women in general, but also bias and discrimination that I've experienced personally. I pointed out all of his privileged statuses (sex, gender identity, race, class, geography, able-bodied, apparent sexual orientation...he's at the top of the privilege chain). My son sat there wide-eyed and in silence, finishing his tacos. </span></div>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 11pt; margin-left: 15pt; margin-right: 15pt; margin-top: 11pt;">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I believe I ended with, "I can't believe you're MY son, you live with me, and you don't know that gender discrimination exists."</span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">As I was preparing for this service, I recalled the stories shared last year when a group of women in our congregation who were having a decade birthday gathered in celebration. During one portion of the day-long event, we shared what life was like in different decades and I was struck by how much, but how little, things had changed for those of us turning 40 compared to those turning 50, 60, 70, 80 and even 90 years old last year. Some of the women talked about having to choose between having a career and having a family. Others shared how career options were limited to teacher, nurse or secretary. It was a day full of reflection and joy, and still I left feeling a little disheartened. For all of the progress that feminism has made in promoting equality, there are still so many ways we fall short. </span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b>
<blockquote class="tr_bq" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><a href="http://www.iwpr.org/initiatives/pay-equity-and-discrimination" target="_blank">Women still only make 79% of what men in similar positions make.</a></span> </blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><a href="http://feimineach.com/2014/today-sexism-gender-movie-study-film-industry-discriminates-against-women/" target="_blank">Only 29% of speaking characters and only 20% of employed characters in films are women.</a></span> </blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b><a href="https://www.washingtonpost.com/news/the-fix/wp/2015/01/05/the-new-congress-is-80-percent-white-80-percent-male-and-92-percent-christian/" target="_blank"><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Only 20% of Congress and the Senate are women.</span> </a></blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b><a href="http://money.cnn.com/2015/03/24/investing/female-ceo-pipeline-leadership/" target="_blank"><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Only 14% of top executives in the Fortune 500 are women.</span> </a></blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Eroding abortion rights. Rape culture. Catcalling. Gamergate. Mansplaining.</span> </blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><a href="http://jezebel.com/russia-to-test-all-female-moon-mission-but-how-will-th-1739264693" target="_blank">Interviewing an all-woman team of astronauts and asking them about hair, makeup and men.</a></span></blockquote>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">There are still so many ways, large and small, that gender influences your choices, opportunities and life experiences. </span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">So why did my son believe that women are treated equally? And why, when I asked a female member of YRUU to share a reflection today, did she answer that she couldn’t share a reflection because she has never been discriminated against? Is the world that our kids are seeing more equal or inclusive than what the data would suggest?</span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">One answer may be that we feminists have done such a good job of promoting equality that it has been ingrained in our children. My son truly believed that women are treated equally, and some of that I’m going to take credit for. He’s grown up watching me, after all: in his lifetime, I led and grew a very successful division of an agency, I started my own company, spoke internationally, wrote a book, and have been at various times the primary breadwinner at home. He’s also seen me speak on this chancel.</span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Arial; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">In fact, he’s seen a lot of women in leadership in our church. From Reverend Deborah Mero who led the congregation we joined while living in Pennsylvania, to Reverend Julia and Reverend Caitlin here at USSB, all but one of the religious leaders Jackson has had personal experience with </span><span style="background-color: white; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">have been women. And that’s likely true of a lot of Unitarian Universalist youth. <a href="http://chicago.suntimes.com/uncategorized/7/71/201008/number-of-women-as-clergy-jumps-for-some-denominations" target="_blank">Currently, almost 60% of UU ministers are women.</a> </span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: white; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">But even that majority percentage doesn’t tell the whole story. Although women are 60% of our clergy, they are still very underrepresented in the leadership of our largest congregations. Senior ministers of large congregations are overwhelmingly male. And maybe in part because of the size of the congregations they serve, female ministers still make less money than their male counterparts. </span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: white; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Still, all of this could easily be lost on a teenager whose mom has been instilling feminist beliefs into him since he was born, or on any children of highly privileged feminists who have only been told what equality should look like and not shown the inequality that still exists. My son looked around his world and seeing his successful mom and women in leadership roles all around him, made the assessment that this is what equality looks like. </span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: white; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Our current world, however, is definitely not my vision of what gender equality looks like.</span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: white; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">As I’ve thought about it, I realized I have no idea of what it WOULD look like. What is my vision of a feminist utopia? How might it be the same or different from your vision?</span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: white; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Last month, a new book, <a href="http://www.thefeministutopiaproject.com/" target="_blank">The Feminist Utopia Project</a>, was published. It is made up of short stories, artwork, and other depictions from 57 different feminists of what the world might look like if gender equality existed. Each of these stories focuses on an aspect of society that the author or artist is passionate about. </span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Digging into these visions, I started to notice a trend. In their depictions of what a feminist utopia looked like, it wasn’t just about gender equality. Their works painted a picture of overall equality: gender, racial, class...the visions incorporated what the world might look like if we were all treated equally, respecting our differences and providing for freedom of choice. </span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I have a confession: lately I have been struggling with the label feminist. As our family has been learning more about trans identities and the gender spectrum, the word feminist has felt too limited, too tied to the binary concept of male or female. I have always been a loud and proud feminist, and yet, I have felt a tension in fighting for equal rights for women when there are other marginalized identities that feel left out of that fight. There are even tensions among people who identify as feminists in how to advocate for women of color or trans women. And what about people who are agender, like my oldest child? </span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">And yet, as I’ve heard celebrities recently claiming, “I’m not a feminist. I’m a humanist,” my reaction to that generalization is a strongly negative one, as has been my reaction to the #AllLivesMatter counter-campaign to #BlackLivesMatter. Doesn’t it make it harder to fight for the rights of a marginalized group when you don’t name them? Doesn’t it become easier to obscure the struggle of gender equality if it’s lumped under the label of human equality? </span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The label of feminist is unique in that no other group fighting for equality have a name. There is no name for people fighting for racial equality. There is no label for people passionate about equal rights regardless of your sexual orientation, or immigration rights, or for fighting against poverty. The only other social justice group with an identity label are environmentalists, and even that name has fallen out of style. </span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">So what is a feminist like me to do? </span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Ma</span><span style="background-color: white; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">ybe the place to start is to embrace the concept of intersectionality, a term used to describe the ways in which oppressive institutions like racism, sexism, homophobia, transphobia, ableism, xenophobia, classism, etc. are interconnected and cannot be examined separately from one another. A vision of a feminist utopia wouldn’t be complete without addressing all types of discrimination, because our identities are not limited to our gender identities. </span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Feminism is meaningful to me as a starting point for thinking about equality because of the intersectionality of my identity and privilege. Perhaps for you, racial equality is where you start. Or accessibility drives you because of your disability. Wherever you start, whatever the inequality that inspires you to action is no more or less meaningful than what drives me or her or them. Much like how each of the pieces in The Feminist Utopia Project are from the author’s or artist’s particular view and perspective, so too will each of our utopian visions spring from our reality, our privilege, and what we feel passionately about. </span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">For me, imagining what utopia looks like is still a struggle. As much as I want to be able to work towards a vision of what equality looks like, it’s hard to see it clearly through the day to day realities that obscure my view. If I can’t articulate my own vision of utopia, how can I explain the difference between the reality of today and my vision for the future to my son? </span><span style="background-color: white; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">In the introduction of The Feminist Utopia Project, the editors acknowledge the challenge we face in imagining a gender-equal world. They write: </span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b>
<blockquote class="tr_bq" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“When we yearn for more - food, power, sex, love, time - we are gluttonous, egomaniacal, slutty, desperate, silly. To want less, to be less hungry, we are told, is to be “reasonable.” After long enough, we tell ourselves this, too. Sexism justifies itself by commandeering our logic and, quietly, the limits of what </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">is</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> constrict our logic of what </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">should be</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">. Misogyny comes to taste like air, feel like gravity: so common we barely notice it, so entrenched it’s hard to conceive of a world without it. </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">So how can we propose new ways of living when misogyny fogs even our imaginations? And even if we tried - where and when would we organize not just to preserve what we have but to build a wildly better future?”</span></blockquote>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Where and when would we organize to build a wildly better future? </span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Where and when can we talk about, form, and challenge each others’ visions of what equality looks like? Where and when can we collaborate, support and inspire each other to reflect on our privilege and plan actions to move our world closer to equality?</span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Here. Now. And every Sunday.</span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b>
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Please join me in a few moments of reflection on what your vision of utopia looks like. Think about how we might think differently about gender, race, body size, sex, family or governance. Imagine about what equality would look like for you.</span></div>
<b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /><br /></b><br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 18.666666666666664px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">[Closing Words]</span></div>
<br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 18.6667px; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">As we leave each others’ company this morning, hold on to your vision of equality. Share it with someone after the service. Share it with a friend over coffee this week. Write it down. Draw it. Know that it’s a work in progress. And as you go through your week, acknowledge the instances where reality differs from your vision. Name it. The only way for us to get to utopia is to work together today to build the path. Go in peace, go in love. Let us call out a blessing. </span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11423343578843915247noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1604620482023286355.post-47728163426935229162015-11-18T13:29:00.000-05:002015-11-18T13:59:26.285-05:00Stand up to one<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
There's a lot of fear going around these days, and with it, a lot of fear-mongering.<br />
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Yesterday, I posted this on Facebook:<br />
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At the risk of inciting the ire of the Internet, here are some truths. Daesh (ISIS) are already in the US; there's not enough security or shoe screenings in the world to keep them out. Worse, we are bombarded with terrorism from our own citizens daily: school shootings, church bombings, people gunned down while sitting in a movie theater. We don't have the systems and controls in place to secure ourselves from ourselves, let alone from some unknown villain. People love to poi<span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline;">nt fingers at others, to blame other people. It's easy to blame someone else. It's so easy to fall back on fear and hate to guide decisions.</span></blockquote>
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Choose love instead. There are people suffering; we should help them. That is what good people do; they look violence and hatred in the eye and meet it with love, compassion and kindness. Those are the heroes, those are the free, those are the brave. That is how we win. We stop building walls and boundaries and we reach out our hands in peace. We take loving action. It's not enough to change your profile pic or post articles of support on social media. Open your hearts, open your homes and help those in need in real, tangible ways.</blockquote>
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There will still be violence in the world. Innocent people may be hurt or killed. We may not change every heart filled with hate. The best we can do is try to overpower it with love and lead by example. The best way to win is to represent the opposite of the hatred and violence; be stronger and more powerful in our resolve to not give in to what terrorists ultimately want to create: a culture of fear and hate that they have created, in which they hold the power. The best way to win is with love.</blockquote>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Yesterday evening, I saw this posted on Twitter, and responded: </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiV6f3tqG1xWVrj5Kqx03TB33upEZJ2UPyzfyMU7mJmfgY7fovpvWkUyCayTUs6u3EgYhspSxOWwrbPsLsjKcq6UkPxWDomPGz7qelSkeMVEYzqt-txEhjgGzrvmBh_L97J3T0WFbBGKcY/s1600/Screen+Shot+2015-11-18+at+9.30.06+AM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiV6f3tqG1xWVrj5Kqx03TB33upEZJ2UPyzfyMU7mJmfgY7fovpvWkUyCayTUs6u3EgYhspSxOWwrbPsLsjKcq6UkPxWDomPGz7qelSkeMVEYzqt-txEhjgGzrvmBh_L97J3T0WFbBGKcY/s320/Screen+Shot+2015-11-18+at+9.30.06+AM.png" width="272" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Evidently, Dr. Scipioni didn't like to have his data challenged, because here were his subsequent tweets: </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGgsNVhDE9NamQUfCRnr26v5tlXxHTZ0Wm0yaoSWYofOQOGOjAAj6f1UdEuKuBaGtnM-SRKwZ9W_owOxUqkd8QXkCMYSSN8h0JOdaK4lfRfk-k4kJhnhrrBuliKsV9tkauI3Wvs1D1D4M/s1600/Screen+Shot+2015-11-18+at+9.31.59+AM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGgsNVhDE9NamQUfCRnr26v5tlXxHTZ0Wm0yaoSWYofOQOGOjAAj6f1UdEuKuBaGtnM-SRKwZ9W_owOxUqkd8QXkCMYSSN8h0JOdaK4lfRfk-k4kJhnhrrBuliKsV9tkauI3Wvs1D1D4M/s320/Screen+Shot+2015-11-18+at+9.31.59+AM.png" width="293" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">So, because I cited a source with a different number of homeless veterans, I subscribe to a "that can't be" philosophy. I have pre-programmed beliefs. I am sub-literate. A pot-stirrer. A rabble-rouser. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">I actually found a few sources to back up my data. Here they are: </span></div>
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<span style="color: #141823; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="line-height: 19.32px;"><a href="http://www.endhomelessness.org/pages/veterans">http://www.endhomelessness.org/pages/veterans</a></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #141823; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><a href="http://nchv.org/index.php/news/media/background_and_statistics/">http://nchv.org/index.php/news/media/background_and_statistics/</a></span></div>
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<span style="color: #141823; font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><a href="https://www.hudexchange.info/resources/documents/2014-AHAR-Part1.pdf">https://www.hudexchange.info/resources/documents/2014-AHAR-Part1.pdf</a></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">I haven't found any sources that would bring the average number of homeless veterans on any given night to 3.2 million. So far, Dr. Scipioni hasn't provided any. I am happy to be proven wrong if anyone can provide me with data to support his claim. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">If, however, that data doesn't exist, why am I being called names for pointing it out? Why am I being personally attacked and called names? Why are assumptions being made about who I am? </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">This is why social media is such a toxic place: the name-calling, the bullying, the threats are allowed to happen. Misinformation is spread without anyone fact-checking, and those who try to hold people accountable to data are attacked.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Why do we allow people to behave in this way? Why do we allow this type of behavior? Aren't there more of us that can keep our conversations civil even when we disagree? I committed the grievous act of challenging uncited data and somehow I'm the problem? </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">No, Dr. Scipioni. You are. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">If someone you worked with behaved this way, they would be fired. If your kid talked to you this way, they'd be grounded. But on social media, we allow it. And it's ruining it for everyone. Aren't there more of us than there are of them? Can't we stand up and say "this is not ok"? </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">The truth is, Dr. Scipioni could have responded with a citation of the source of his data. He didn't. He could have said, "Oh, my bad. Still, 50k is too many." And I'd agree. He could have just ignored me. But he responded with an attack and an assumption that I don't have the right to respectfully challenge his words. I believe that I do have that right. I believe we all have that right. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">So today, I call on each of you. Those of us that believe in civil discourse, even when we disagree. Those of us who love social media and don't want our spaces filled with vitriol and attacks. Those of us who want to make decisions and form opinions based off of accurate information. Those of us who are sick of being called names for standing up to mis-information. Stand up to one person. Say that it's not ok. Stand up with love to the personal attacks. Stand up to name calling. Stand up for the truth, and be willing to do the work to back it up, and be willing to be wrong. But stand up to those who don't want us to question, don't want us to challenge them. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">When we stop challenging each other, we all lose. Don't let intelligent discourse die because a vocal minority doesn't want to participate. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Stand up to one person today. Let me know how it goes. </span></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11423343578843915247noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1604620482023286355.post-85756820647318229252015-11-09T12:13:00.002-05:002015-11-09T12:13:43.983-05:00What would Geraldine Ferraro do?<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
This Sunday I had the privilege of leading services at the Unitarian Society of Santa Barbara; I chose to tackle the topic of gender equality. The following is my reflection on gender discrimination.<br />
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I know the exact moment I became a feminist. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">It was 1984 and my elementary school was holding mock presidential elections. I knew I was a democrat because, while Walter Mondale was running for president, I barely noticed him in the shadow of my hero, Geraldine Ferraro. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">My mom had raised me to believe that I could do ANYTHING I wanted to do, be anything I </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqxhLe2ON400OO4RI9HbULiP_CwNv9udKORNV9zs6tDiqGMZyhkq8UJIqvv9jxAFgkUnhzZzm0zonYUgPyMTygzOH9qIGGX1XB310t1Ka0Y_B2_r13Jl_xPZtReQ8HxWMksO26_JRUczo/s1600/2364803738_c91bc846bb.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="224" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqxhLe2ON400OO4RI9HbULiP_CwNv9udKORNV9zs6tDiqGMZyhkq8UJIqvv9jxAFgkUnhzZzm0zonYUgPyMTygzOH9qIGGX1XB310t1Ka0Y_B2_r13Jl_xPZtReQ8HxWMksO26_JRUczo/s320/2364803738_c91bc846bb.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">wanted to be. But when I learned about history, specifically US history, and I saw that endless parade of white guys, I wasn’t sure that being president was included in that word “anything.” </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I was only 10 years old at the time, but I also remember that about the time that I was learning about political party affiliations, I also learned about sexual orientation when I heard Geraldine Ferraro called a lesbian and asked my mom what that meant. While my mom answered me with definitions not emotion, I understood from the way the media was depicting Geraldine that the only thing worse than being a female Vice Presidential candidate was being a gay female Vice Presidential candidate. I didn’t understand either as being an insult, although that’s how they were being depicted in the media. In spite of all the vitriol flung in her direction, I hoped and prayed that Walter Mondale would win so that Geraldine Ferraro, a woman, would be 1-step away from being President. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">It was, of course, not meant to be, and I heard all of the commentary after the election that maybe having a female running mate had been a publicity stunt, or that it cost him the election. I was angry: angry not only because Geraldine Ferraro wasn’t going to be Vice President, but because so many people thought she shouldn’t, or couldn’t, be because she was a woman. I realized that while my mom told me I could be anything I wanted, a lot of people didn’t agree. I was frustrated, I was confused, I was sad. And I was angry. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I know the exact moment I decided to stop taking math classes. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">My junior year of high school, I was taking a class called math analysis, which was the name for the honors pre-calculus class. My teacher had been teaching this class and honors calculus for over 40 years. I was getting a B in the class, which was driving me crazy because it was ruining my straight-A grade point average. About half-way through the second semester, I was frustrated when I got another test back with a B grade. I reviewed my answers and couldn’t figure out why I had gotten one of the problems wrong. I compared my test to my friend’s; he had gotten an A. We reviewed my wrong answers and found that they were exactly the same, except his were marked correct and mine were marked wrong. I remember walking up to my teacher with both tests in hand and asking for an explanation for why my answers had been marked wrong. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">My teacher answered, “Because you’re a girl.” I wish I could tell you that he was joking, but he wasn’t. He refused to correct my test grade. There were only 2 other girls in my math class. They had gotten lower grades, too, but didn’t want to make a big deal out of it. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">You’d think that I would have freaked out, and you’d be right. I went straight to the principal’s office after school and showed him the two tests, then told him what my teacher had said. I told him I wanted the teacher fired, and I wanted my grade changed. The principal said, “Your teacher has Parkinson’s disease, so he’s only teaching for another couple years. There’s nothing we’re going to do.”</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">For the rest of the year, I despised walking in that classroom. I didn’t take calculus my senior year so that I could avoid having another year with that teacher. But something else happened, something that I didn’t acknowledge for another 10 years. My perception of math gradually changed from “I hate this situation” to “I hate math” to “I’m not good at math.” By college, I truly believed that I wasn’t good at math and I avoided any majors that required math classes. I actually changed the whole trajectory of what I believed I was capable of because one math teacher in high school told me girls weren’t good at math. Even though I was angry and didn’t believe what he said was true, the power of his words changed the course of my life. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Years later, I took a calculus class at a community college because it was a prerequisite for a graduate program I was applying for. I aced that class. I loved it. I realized how many years I thought I couldn’t do calculus, that it was too hard. I thought about all of the doors I closed, what potential paths I didn’t take, because I thought I couldn’t be successful because of my gender. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Geraldine Ferraro is my hero. She had to have faced a million of those obstacles along the way, people who told her she was less than because she was a woman. People who wouldn’t hire her into their law firms because they weren’t hiring women. People who pushed back against her fight for wage equality. People who said a woman wasn’t qualified to be Vice President. She faced much worse opposition than a sexist high school math teacher, and she had the</span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> strength to move forward. </span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /><span style="vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I remember Geraldine Ferraro when I’m ignored or marginalized. I remember Geraldine Ferraro when someone implies that my abilities are limited by my gender. And when I look at my daughter, I hope that next year, when she is 10 years old, she sees the first woman elected President and grows up trusting that she can be <b>anything</b> she wants to be. </span></span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11423343578843915247noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1604620482023286355.post-87275910714559770162015-10-05T17:07:00.000-04:002015-10-05T17:07:12.224-04:00My next adventure<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Three and a half years ago, I started my new job at lynda.com. My own company had been acquired a few months earlier and I needed something new. Taking the position at lynda meant moving across the country. It meant selling my house and buying a new one, getting my kids settled in new schools and it meant making a big decision about my budding relationship with my now-husband, John. It meant going from being the boss to being part of a system. Taking the job with lynda.com changed my life in every way you can imagine.<br />
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Today is my last day at lynda. Over the last few years I've had 10 bosses, 3 titles and 4 desk changes. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEqaxAoEeZgFVKGq7A4OPn7R3u4x4jFYvDqppu_anuoKLiZDzDqqfhyphenhyphenOrMl5iDJYowAsUpKB8w4AqYK9SpzWxf93qtjo4STh5B3AWr2v6vkkQ58BO0y1eiYJtBfsIZCNtBPfb-SGcKIeg/s1600/IMG_8480.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEqaxAoEeZgFVKGq7A4OPn7R3u4x4jFYvDqppu_anuoKLiZDzDqqfhyphenhyphenOrMl5iDJYowAsUpKB8w4AqYK9SpzWxf93qtjo4STh5B3AWr2v6vkkQ58BO0y1eiYJtBfsIZCNtBPfb-SGcKIeg/s320/IMG_8480.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Moving (On) Day</td></tr>
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I've been through numerous restructurings, shifting company priorities and this spring, the acquisition of lynda.com by LinkedIn. I have learned to navigate through the changes of a rapidly growing company, to hold on to what's important, and to live by the wisdom:<br />
If you're ever in a situation where you aren't happy, ask yourself two questions:<br />
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<ul style="text-align: left;">
<li>Can I change it? </li>
<li>Can I live with it (and I mean really live with it, without bitterness or regret)? </li>
</ul>
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If the answers to those questions are both no, then you have to move on. <br />
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Over the last few months, I've been thinking about, as LinkedIn calls it, my "next play." One of the things I've loved about LinkedIn is their understanding and openness to people's personal growth and career paths. I felt like I was at a crossroads, just like I was many years ago as I entered college. I had been asking myself, "what do you want to be when you grow up?"<br />
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The Universe has a great sense of humor and timing, sometimes. I was presented with two dream job opportunities on the very same day: one in learning and one in product. One allowing me to leverage my expertise in immersive design, practice what I preach in <a href="https://www.td.org/Publications/Books/Immersive-Learning" target="_blank">my book</a> and to build a team of instructional designers; the other allowing me to apply my experience and passion for product development and build a team of product and UX rock stars. One providing the safety of a large organization with big budgets and benefits; one providing me the opportunity to lead a small company to greatness. One that would be the culmination and professional recognition of my career so far; one that would push me to learn and grow.<br />
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I had a mini-breakdown under the weight of the decision. I talked to my mom. I asked my girlfriends for advice. I talked to my husband, my VERY PATIENT husband, about it ad nauseum. I got differing views: Follow your passion! Take the easier job! Don't underestimate the importance of flexibility! Take the one that makes you excited!<br />
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Any guesses which I took?<br />
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In the end, I had to take the position that would leave me with no regrets, the one that I knew in my heart would enable me to be better, the one that is a challenge and an interesting problem to solve, the one that made me light up whenever I talked about it to my friends and family.<br />
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Today is my last day at lynda.com/LinkedIn and Wednesday is my first day as VP of Product at <a href="https://shiphawk.com/" target="_blank">ShipHawk</a>.<br />
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For me, it's never about what's easy. It's about solving the puzzle, finding the solution, learning and growing and constantly challenging myself to be better.<br />
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I will miss my colleagues at lynda.com and will forever be grateful for the experience of building something great. I've learned and grown in the last few years more than I thought possible. And I am THRILLED for this new opportunity to do something amazing; I can't wait to jump in with the ShipHawk team!<br />
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After all, shouldn't we all be striving for passion and greatness?<br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11423343578843915247noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1604620482023286355.post-76703838617170283752015-08-10T19:20:00.000-04:002015-08-10T19:20:03.396-04:00Taking a break to get in the flow<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">One of the most interesting concepts in learning is the idea of "<a href="http://edutechwiki.unige.ch/en/Flow_theory" target="_blank">flow</a>," a concept proposed by <span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; line-height: 19.2000007629395px;">Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi to describe the state of not so challenged that you're frustrated, but not so easy that you're bored. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; line-height: 19.2000007629395px;">When applied to game design, this makes a lot of sense. Tic tac toe is the perfect example on the too easy end of the spectrum; at some moment in time, you realize that you can either win or tie EVERY SINGLE TIME (depending on the relative skill of your opponent). I tried to explain this to my 8 year old a few weeks ago at dinner when she tried to challenge me to a match, and then went on to show her that if she played her first play in a corner or in the center each game, and she made sure to pay attention, she'd never lose. I almost felt bad, ruining tic tac toe for her, but I honestly could not be excited about playing her. It is the game equivalent of absolute boredom for me. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; line-height: 19.2000007629395px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; line-height: 19.2000007629395px;">Opposite for me is any Call of Duty or, more recently, Flappy Bird. Seeing as I can't get past the first or second challenge (in CoD, I have yet to make it past "training"), I give up because my hand-eye coordination is not good enough to make me successful in these games without more effort than I'm willing to invest. In other words, they are too hard and I give up, frustrated. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; line-height: 19.2000007629395px;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 19.2000007629395px;">What does flow look like for learning? There are metrics we can look to, such as time on task or self-reporting channels like surveys. Research on flow in learning typically relies on <a href="http://edutechwiki.unige.ch/en/Experience_sampling" target="_blank">experience sampling</a> to gauge engagement. When it comes to flow, it's all about the feeling. So what are those feelings? I like this </span></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #252525; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22.3999996185303px;"><a href="http://edutechwiki.unige.ch/en/Flow_theory" target="_blank">definition from David Farmer (1999)</a>: </span><br />
<ol style="background-color: white; color: #252525; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 1.5em; list-style-image: none; margin: 0.3em 0px 0px 3.2em; padding: 0px;">
<li style="margin-bottom: 0.1em;">Completely involved, focused, concentrating - with this either due to innate curiosity or as the result of training</li>
<li style="margin-bottom: 0.1em;">Sense of ecstasy - of being outside everyday reality</li>
<li style="margin-bottom: 0.1em;">Great inner clarity - knowing what needs to be done and how well it is going</li>
<li style="margin-bottom: 0.1em;">Knowing the activity is doable - that the skills are adequate, and neither anxious or bored</li>
<li style="margin-bottom: 0.1em;">Sense of serenity - no worries about self, feeling of growing beyond the boundaries of ego - afterwards feeling of transcending ego in ways not thought possible</li>
<li style="margin-bottom: 0.1em;">Timeliness - thoroughly focused on present, don't notice time passing</li>
<li style="margin-bottom: 0.1em;">Intrinsic motivation - whatever produces "flow" becomes its own reward</li>
</ol>
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In the end, flow is about optimizing what you're getting out of what you are putting in. When I think about this for learning, it's not just about the feeling, it's about the outcome. I'm in the flow when I am engaged and learning and excited about what I'm doing. I'm feeling proud of my effort and good about myself. I'm having fun. </div>
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The past few months I've been trying to learn a few new things, but the one that has been the most challenging has been learning the ukulele. I hate to admit it. It has been hard for me. Me, voted most musical in my high school graduating class, has been struggling with the ukulele. IT IS SUPPOSED TO BE EASY, I tell myself. I get frustrated. I am definitely not in the flow. <table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgA_fz25f0OMHTyuj6XUCVXQV_bIpGsYTYm3oZOZ8FdN7GYrjRLA-6Km5KNsi9cmn8VGZBNg-fXoJNklWM7jynjma6Q1CdroVycim25oidrSZQXYqDySraLRzyXgsR6_jGWT_zRpRFyUlE/s1600/bundle3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgA_fz25f0OMHTyuj6XUCVXQV_bIpGsYTYm3oZOZ8FdN7GYrjRLA-6Km5KNsi9cmn8VGZBNg-fXoJNklWM7jynjma6Q1CdroVycim25oidrSZQXYqDySraLRzyXgsR6_jGWT_zRpRFyUlE/s1600/bundle3.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is a small image of my Evelyn Evelyn ukulele <br />from Amanda Palmer. I love it. I need to play it. </td></tr>
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<div>
That's the thing about flow. People tell you to get in it, but HOW do you get in it? When you need to learn something hard, how do you get past the point of frustration to get to appropriately challenged? </div>
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<div>
The truth is, you have to practice. You have to persevere. Eventually, things get easier and you get better. But in that point of frustration, you take a risk if you keep pushing. You can start to HATE the thing that is frustrating you. I will tell anyone who asks that I don't like Call of Duty. It's not because it's a bad game (although first-person shooters aren't really my cup of tea). It's because the day that I was trying to learn the controls to make it through the game orientation, I felt pressure. I couldn't do it. I was frustrated, and then I gave up. All of my negative feelings transferred to the game. I know that if I played again, in a less stressful environment, MAYBE I would like it, but I would have to get past my negative feelings towards the game and my previous poor performance. </div>
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<div>
It's why people who struggle to read say they don't like to read. </div>
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It's why girls who are told they aren't as good at math don't go into STEM careers. </div>
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It's why women who go into STEM careers have a hard time staying when their work environment is gender biased. </div>
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When we can't get into the flow, it's hard to love something. It's hard to want to do it all the time. We all seek flow. </div>
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<div>
So what can you do to get past the frustration? Here are some tips I try:</div>
<div>
<ul style="text-align: left;">
<li><b>Find a patient coach or teacher. </b>Sometimes you just want to feel supported. Don't find someone who wants to do it for you. Find someone who wants to be your cheerleader.</li>
<li><b>Walk away for a little while. </b>You may need to take a break before you jump back in. Don't let your negative feelings build up; find ways to shake off your frustration before trying again.</li>
<li><b>Break down the task into smaller pieces.</b> In learning the ukulele, I needed to admit I wasn't going to start out playing a whole song. If I just practiced transitioning between chords, and practiced until I was good at it, it felt like a victorious step along the journey to playing my first song. </li>
<li><b>Decide if the effort is worth it.</b> Sometimes, it's really ok to walk away. I don't feel like I'm missing out on anything because I never learned how to play Call of Duty or because I never scored higher than 4 on Flappy Bird. Some things just aren't worth the effort or frustration. </li>
</ul>
<div>
The ukulele is worth it. I'm still working up to my first song :)</div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11423343578843915247noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1604620482023286355.post-32471449092250398062015-07-14T16:36:00.003-04:002015-07-14T16:36:45.221-04:00Raising a generation for the world we want, not the world we have<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="tr_bq">
A few months ago, after experiencing a particularly discouraging incident of gender bias, I came home crying and frustrated. How can people not see this? I thought, probably asked out loud to myself. How often is this going to happen before people will call it out as wrong? How long until everyone, EVERYONE, stops discriminating based on gender? </div>
<br />
I had heard through my "kiddo grapevine" that one of my kids was not a feminist, or at least he had been saying negative things about feminists. My heart literally was in my stomach. He is MY kid! How could he NOT be a feminist? Hadn't he lived with me his whole life? I was in complete disbelief and that night at dinner, I asked him about it directly.<br />
<br />
Here's how the conversation went:<br />
<br />
<blockquote>
Me: "I hear you've been saying negative things about feminists."</blockquote>
<blockquote>
Him: "Well, yeah. I mean, I don't get how they want to be treated better than men." </blockquote>
<blockquote>
Me (seeing red, freaking out inside): "Feminists don't want to be treated better than men, they want women to be treated equally to men."<br />(at this point my husband and other kiddos made some excuse to leave their half-eaten food at the table...) </blockquote>
<blockquote>
Him: "I don't understand. Women ARE treated equally to men. These feminists want to be treated better." </blockquote>
<blockquote>
At this point, I totally broke down into a rant about how women are NOT treated equally, citing numerous examples of bias and discrimination of women in general, but also bias and discrimination that I've experienced personally. I then continued on to point out all of his privileged statuses (sex, gender identity, race, class, geography, able-bodied, apparent sexual orientation...he's at the top of the food chain, I made sure to point out...). My son sat there wide-eyed and in silence, finishing his tacos. </blockquote>
<blockquote>
I believe I ended with, "I can't believe you're MY son, you live with me, and you don't know that gender discrimination exists."</blockquote>
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I've been thinking a lot about that conversation, and specifically my son's opinion of the world, since that conversation. The truth is, he's a really earnest, sweet kid and he'd be the last person who I would think would be perpetuating bias against anyone. When I thought about it, I realized that he wasn't. He HAD lived with me his whole life, and what he learned from that has been that women are equal to men. He TRULY, HONESTLY believes that. He couldn't comprehend what feminism is because in his world view, women are already equal to men and he treats them that way.<br />
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It was this same kiddo who, when he was five years old, got into a verbal argument with a cashier in a department store because he said, "I like your brown skin." and the man said, "I'm not brown, I'm black." My kiddo responded, "I can see your skin and I'm pretty sure it's brown." The cashier was NOT happy about it, and I had to explain to my 5 year old on the way home why the man was upset with him. I felt the same way, full of sadness and frustration and worry, explaining to him the meaning of and reasoning behind feminism.<br />
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I feel disheartened because my son sees the world the way I wish it actually was: where skin color is just a color and everyone is treated equally. I've shown him that through my example, through what I've modeled in my own behaviors and attitude. And now I have to teach him that's not what the world is really like. While the lessons have been heartbreakingly easier around race and sexual orientation because of tragedies and recent victories in the news that lend themselves to discussion at the dinner table, gender discrimination continues to be mostly invisible. It's not, of course, but besides catcalling, discussions of campus rape and sexual consent, and GamerGate, there aren't big news stories. It's just the everyday-ness of discrimination and bias that continues and continues and continues.<br />
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Even though I know I have to start pointing out reality, I wonder what it would be like for a generation to grow up taking for granted that people should be treated equally regardless of their sex. What if we succeeded in teaching our kids that all people should be treated equally and with respect? If all little boys were raised believing that girls could do anything they could do, how would our world change as they grew into adulthood and challenged and then changed organizational and cultural bias? I want to live in my son's world where we don't need feminism. I hope by showing him the world we live in now, it doesn't cloud his view of the way things should be and how he has already been living in this world where he is more likely the exception than the rule. </div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11423343578843915247noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1604620482023286355.post-27765640638850749252015-06-02T18:25:00.001-04:002015-06-03T11:51:53.402-04:00Holding your breath<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Yesterday I saw this article posted on Facebook: <span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; letter-spacing: -0.00625em; line-height: 1.2;"><a href="http://www.npr.org/sections/health-shots/2015/05/29/410331432/breath-holding-in-the-pool-can-spark-sudden-blackouts-and-death" target="_blank">Breath-Holding In The Pool Can Spark Sudden Blackouts And Death</a>. </span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; letter-spacing: -0.00625em; line-height: 1.2;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; letter-spacing: -0.00625em; line-height: 1.2;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">I thought about how much I've been holding my breath lately. </span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; letter-spacing: -0.00625em; line-height: 1.2;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; letter-spacing: -0.00625em; line-height: 1.2;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Yesterday, <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0OwDp2LMVbg" target="_blank">Caitlyn Jenner's Vanity Fair cover</a> was released and took social media by storm. I held my breath, waiting for the transphobia and hate, because that's what you do when you have a kid who is gender non-binary. You hold your breath and hope that the world gets better and more loving and understanding. You hold your breath and hope that there are way more of us, allies and advocates, than there are of them (I'm looking at you <a href="http://www.cnn.com/2015/06/02/entertainment/drake-bell-caitlyn-jenner-tweet-feat/" target="_blank">Drake Bell</a> and <a href="http://thinkprogress.org/lgbt/2015/06/01/3664799/fox-news-repeatedly-mocks-misgenders-caitlyn-jenner/" target="_blank">Fox News</a>). </span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; letter-spacing: -0.00625em; line-height: 1.2;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white; letter-spacing: -0.100000001490116px; line-height: 19.2000007629395px;">I hold my breath, waiting for the transitions to shake out at work. Hoping that my work is noticed, that my passion is valued. </span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white; letter-spacing: -0.100000001490116px; line-height: 19.2000007629395px;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white; letter-spacing: -0.100000001490116px; line-height: 19.2000007629395px;">I hold my breath when I travel, knowing that inevitably one of my kiddos or one of their schools will call me and I won't be there to fix it. </span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white; letter-spacing: -0.100000001490116px; line-height: 19.2000007629395px;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white; letter-spacing: -0.100000001490116px; line-height: 19.2000007629395px;">I hold my breath as the side project I've been working on takes off like a jet, <a href="http://time.com/3897741/elementary-school-teacher-bullying-protect/" target="_blank">article published in TIME magazine</a> and big meetings with important people that could mean big, big things. </span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white; letter-spacing: -0.100000001490116px; line-height: 19.2000007629395px;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white; letter-spacing: -0.100000001490116px; line-height: 19.2000007629395px;">I hold my breath so my husband doesn't hear me wheezing the last few nights. He does anyway and knows that this cold I'm trying to ignore is kicking my butt. </span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white; letter-spacing: -0.100000001490116px; line-height: 19.2000007629395px;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white; letter-spacing: -0.100000001490116px; line-height: 19.2000007629395px;">I hold my breath when I see a text from one of my sons. He is unhappy but fixing it would mean conflict and there's nothing he hates more than conflict. I hold my breath waiting for him to tell me he's ready for it. </span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white; letter-spacing: -0.100000001490116px; line-height: 19.2000007629395px;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white; letter-spacing: -0.100000001490116px; line-height: 19.2000007629395px;">I hold my breath when I step out of my office building at the end of the day and the air is like breathing oil. Since the <a href="http://www.ksbw.com/news/things-to-know-about-the-california-oil-spill/33339674" target="_blank">oil spill in Santa Barbara a couple weeks ago</a>, there are times when the fumes are still so bad where we live that you can't ignore it. We shouldn't ignore it. </span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white; letter-spacing: -0.100000001490116px; line-height: 19.2000007629395px;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white; letter-spacing: -0.100000001490116px; line-height: 19.2000007629395px;">There are so many other times I hold my breath. Sometimes I find myself taking a deep, gasping breath and realize I've been holding it in. </span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white; letter-spacing: -0.100000001490116px; line-height: 19.2000007629395px;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white; letter-spacing: -0.100000001490116px; line-height: 19.2000007629395px;">When I saw the headline yesterday, I wondered if blackouts and sudden death were only symptoms from holding your breath under water. I worried. </span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white; letter-spacing: -0.100000001490116px; line-height: 19.2000007629395px;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="color: #333333;"><span style="background-color: white; letter-spacing: -0.100000001490116px; line-height: 19.2000007629395px;">Today I listened in to a session at work with </span></span><a href="http://www.matthieuricard.org/en/" target="_blank">Matthieu Ricard</a>, the "World's Happiest Man." I tried to follow his meditation exercise at my desk, but I couldn't stop worrying about my breathing. I thought about how I tell my bionic boy, when his ADHD overwhelms every cell in his body, to take a deep breath and he looks at me like, "mom, you really think that's going to help?" and I make him do it anyway. I even do it with him, trying to model deep breathing. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Holding my breath is more than deep breathing: it's ultimate mindfulness, forcing to a halt my body's automation. Being still and not even letting the ebb and flow of air in my lungs distract me. It is ultimate focus. And it can only be temporary...until it's not. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">I used to have contests with my sister in my grandma's pool to see how long we could stay underwater. Sometimes we would race to see how far the length of the pool and back we could swim without coming up for air. Sometimes we would sink to the bottom and be still, feeling the burn in our lungs as air ran out until we finally pushed to the surface. I always won. Now I find out every one of those contests was inviting sudden death. I not only could hold my breath the longest, but I could also out swim the Grim Reaper. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">I think maybe all of this holding my breath I've been doing will not lead to sudden under water death but slow, above water tempting of fate. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">How do you practice NOT holding your breath? Isn't that just...breathing? </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">I am thinking that instead of holding my breath with each challenge that, like lamaze for life, the important thing is to feel everything and still breathe through it. Maybe that is mindfulness. Maybe it's intention. I think it's better to not hold your breath. </span></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11423343578843915247noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1604620482023286355.post-40486912430522533052015-04-09T12:30:00.000-04:002015-04-09T13:40:25.187-04:00Brave new world of color<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Growing up, my dad had to have my mom or me or my sister help him pick out socks. He is severely color blind, and normally it didn't interfere too much with daily life. My dad didn't really talk about it. I knew that his favorite color was yellow, because he could see it.<br />
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When I had my first son, Jackson, I noticed that he, on rare occasions, colored his sun green instead of yellow. It was hard to tell if he was color-blind, because he could read very young and so picked out the crayons by name to color things what they were supposed to be. It wasn't until Kindergarten that we had him tested and found out that I had passed down the color blind gene to him.<br />
<br />
Fast forward a few years...I meet John. Some of our early conversations as we started dating and falling in love made me realize how much I focus on color. John could barely see anything. Where my dad and son had limitations, John had a complete block on seeing most variations. I had to work to reframe how I referred to almost everything; I couldn't use color as a descriptor anymore because John couldn't see it. I joke that he's got dog vision; I imagine his world has always been seen through a sepia lens, with anything orange, green, brown or red pretty much looking the same and blue and purple indistinguishable.<br />
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It hasn't been easy for John and I think being around me made it worse, his longing to see the world as I see it growing with every sunset we watched on our beach and every road trip we took through the beautiful California mountains. One night, we took the kids to get frozen yogurt and his universe ripped apart. He asked me what color something was, and I replied "it's kinda tan, brown like peanut butter." He froze for a second and asked, "Peanut butter is brown? It's not green?" And he reeled because he had thought peanut butter was green his whole life.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWCFtgzS9BjUWL0dBs_AOggUyJ9Mx99q3qtoUP9mKsJJkI9TMDg0WMDCY29VikMkrJEr8Sgs5G_22YZVyf7VC3Wktu8mm-a5JTngEKqg9Bs25F2GFtpuTaN5yyBafW487cky8Ao8jtz5s/s1600/Screen+Shot+2015-04-07+at+2.36.08+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWCFtgzS9BjUWL0dBs_AOggUyJ9Mx99q3qtoUP9mKsJJkI9TMDg0WMDCY29VikMkrJEr8Sgs5G_22YZVyf7VC3Wktu8mm-a5JTngEKqg9Bs25F2GFtpuTaN5yyBafW487cky8Ao8jtz5s/s1600/Screen+Shot+2015-04-07+at+2.36.08+PM.png" height="146" width="320" /></a>Can you imagine if everything you thought about the world was filtered through a lens, only allowing certain information through? I imagine it must be like how Roddy Piper felt in <a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0096256/" target="_blank">They Live</a> when he put on the glasses that let him see the subliminal messages aliens were using to control humans. What if everything you thought you knew was wrong?<br />
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A couple weeks ago, John found this video from <a href="http://www.valsparcolorforall.com/" target="_blank">Valspar and their Color For All campaign</a>. They have partnered with EnChroma, a company out of Berkeley who have developed glasses that allow color blind people to see color. When John started reading about it, I could tell he was excited. Nervous, but excited. We read that the glasses only work for 80% of people. John took a color blind test that said his chances were actually worse, only 50/50 that the glasses would work for him. I told him to buy the glasses. He hesitated. At $400, they aren't super cheap. I told him to get them for my birthday (still extravagent, but still...) and my present would be watching a sunset with him. He still hesitated.<br />
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The next day, after he had posted on the Color For All page about his experience of being color blind, he IM'd me, excited. Valspar was sending free glasses out to some of the people who had posted on their message board. He waited a few days and was disappointed that he didn't get picked. I told him to just buy the glasses. He didn't.<br />
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Then last week, he IM'd me again...Valspar had contacted him. He had posted again on the message board and this time they picked him to send glasses. As excited as he was, I could tell he was nervous. What if they didn't work? What if he got excited and ended up disappointed? How would he deal with that, his dream of seeing color unfulfilled?<br />
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Earlier this week, I had a meetup with some friends at our house after work. John came in later; there was a package there for him. My friends were leaving around 6 and John casually mentioned that the glasses had arrived.<br />
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I freaked out. "Let's go to the beach! The sun is setting!" John was doing some dinner prep and seemed in no hurry. I all but pushed him out the door. We drove to the main street in Carpinteria and I realized that he wouldn't see as much if we just went to the beach, so I parked a few blocks away so he could walk and see more colorful shops and flowers before we saw the sunset.<br />
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This is John when he first saw the world in color.<br />
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfWpRZy3AdGVXoEtEDlkp4FVN8rHCjH4OVjf6VSCSy46_HSHwoHlT4gXeFNAa3f9rhZKvItQEGNf50WQ9PC7rcap9mP8mx_pLz2l6uG6Kqr6CXNh3ZSOx4cyYGnf-oPpnHHWypF7_PTfw/s1600/Screen+Shot+2015-04-07+at+2.39.33+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfWpRZy3AdGVXoEtEDlkp4FVN8rHCjH4OVjf6VSCSy46_HSHwoHlT4gXeFNAa3f9rhZKvItQEGNf50WQ9PC7rcap9mP8mx_pLz2l6uG6Kqr6CXNh3ZSOx4cyYGnf-oPpnHHWypF7_PTfw/s1600/Screen+Shot+2015-04-07+at+2.39.33+PM.png" height="320" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The first look</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3JQs1EXQEFcXT1Z1sSF93Kc2-C2QZRkjcfgPmOwzM-k24UWw944QKMh3YkoEUQ8aecU8p_xFb0StprnsMcHMkUkFxnxfZ0QvZAPalyeIc4PrWQmizMBzJqlZ9AAWbdU8mjRpXd2Xw6mo/s1600/Screen+Shot+2015-04-07+at+2.41.20+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3JQs1EXQEFcXT1Z1sSF93Kc2-C2QZRkjcfgPmOwzM-k24UWw944QKMh3YkoEUQ8aecU8p_xFb0StprnsMcHMkUkFxnxfZ0QvZAPalyeIc4PrWQmizMBzJqlZ9AAWbdU8mjRpXd2Xw6mo/s1600/Screen+Shot+2015-04-07+at+2.41.20+PM.png" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fascinating shrubbery</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgM12gPPJZdepmZG_1-Y4W1waneaUCRQXbJ4Yab3CISDNDniorhNJ5xIvwyMp6aD9jYxPPYSzst3a-UeznVaI7I8uY1NSXPhz25RyaxSLouQJZrkkfvF7IHTsQaabbQHIOmBS5tHS7fVI0/s1600/Screen+Shot+2015-04-07+at+2.39.55+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgM12gPPJZdepmZG_1-Y4W1waneaUCRQXbJ4Yab3CISDNDniorhNJ5xIvwyMp6aD9jYxPPYSzst3a-UeznVaI7I8uY1NSXPhz25RyaxSLouQJZrkkfvF7IHTsQaabbQHIOmBS5tHS7fVI0/s1600/Screen+Shot+2015-04-07+at+2.39.55+PM.png" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>
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I don't know what I expected. Watching John look around, I realized that his brain was trying to process everything he was seeing. He didn't talk. He just stared, somewhat in shock. Definitely overwhelmed. He stopped to look at bushes and plants that color-abled people walk past every day, not impressed by their variation of green and red leaves.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAsURfXwwM4bYyG3lpH5986AJBPZbiTLJVbrwoGmAu6h8_cc5J6eFBeMK6j73Es0qTow_cZkNVelS42tIw4xtrsNsAnrC7j6x9qmaKjOmnjMO8MLcA2Rji-utko1Eux9hpl1zrGdOKNeg/s1600/Screen+Shot+2015-04-07+at+2.40.10+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAsURfXwwM4bYyG3lpH5986AJBPZbiTLJVbrwoGmAu6h8_cc5J6eFBeMK6j73Es0qTow_cZkNVelS42tIw4xtrsNsAnrC7j6x9qmaKjOmnjMO8MLcA2Rji-utko1Eux9hpl1zrGdOKNeg/s1600/Screen+Shot+2015-04-07+at+2.40.10+PM.png" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>
He stared at a brick wall, literally, examining the differences in brick color. He saw orange flowers in someone's yard, and said, "I think those are the most beautiful flowers I've ever seen." But mostly he was quiet, wide-eyed and staring. Just like a baby that just found her hand, John was fascinated and curious and intensely concentrating.<br />
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Looking at a reddish succulent, he asked, "Is it always that color?" And I said yes.<br />
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We finally made it to the beach. It was really windy, but luckily there were some clouds to decorate the sky. It wasn't the prettiest sunset I've seen on our beach, but it was by far the best. John just sat and stared. He said he liked the blue of the sky the best, the brightest blue he'd ever seen. He looked really deeply in my eyes, seeing the weird green/blue/yellow swirl that they are.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-KsNXPVNv3EtuQX3zeFLHmDuvxgoEM2HtMA87jRZjceSJjncBKLXYRaij5P3v9DnL2-WGHcICcJv6tswTfa9ZAQii4tvrvcGnq_L4qlHYV6qN18YoOTEu51d5t_JdIjhaeG2npTwRr0c/s1600/Screen+Shot+2015-04-07+at+2.40.25+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-KsNXPVNv3EtuQX3zeFLHmDuvxgoEM2HtMA87jRZjceSJjncBKLXYRaij5P3v9DnL2-WGHcICcJv6tswTfa9ZAQii4tvrvcGnq_L4qlHYV6qN18YoOTEu51d5t_JdIjhaeG2npTwRr0c/s1600/Screen+Shot+2015-04-07+at+2.40.25+PM.png" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8Eo387ES2hutnWwHydWQEI6xNCgoIgj1vukJgaLmZb5ydc5ZCPvqhoSjsVpOZwQS_LEpxNwEK2e58ngtkK3yCeuipAGfnhxpBDPsZ40Iay1Wowki1CMAVbTzWcqr35055qi1NUV0jpAI/s1600/Screen+Shot+2015-04-07+at+2.40.43+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8Eo387ES2hutnWwHydWQEI6xNCgoIgj1vukJgaLmZb5ydc5ZCPvqhoSjsVpOZwQS_LEpxNwEK2e58ngtkK3yCeuipAGfnhxpBDPsZ40Iay1Wowki1CMAVbTzWcqr35055qi1NUV0jpAI/s1600/Screen+Shot+2015-04-07+at+2.40.43+PM.png" height="320" width="241" /></a><br />
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<br />
Before sunlight was completely gone (the glasses only work in daylight), we walked back into town, stopping to take pictures in front of that shrub that John was impressed with. He kept the glasses on as we drove home, eeking out the last of the daylight. He'd been so quiet that as we approached the traffic light, I jumped when he yelled out "Holy shit! Is that light green!?!" And we laughed because everything in the world is brand new and miraculous, seeing it through John's new glasses.<br />
<br />
I remember what it was like when Vardan got his hearing aids and could hear S and H for the first time. He was little, but he was wide-eyed with wonder. And now, my husband is as well seeing the world for the first time. I can't wait to let Jackson try them too (although I think he's going to need his own pair!).<br />
<br />
It's going to take some time for John's brain to make sense of all of this new color information. It will take some time for him to take it in stride. I love this part, this intense learning and excitement and curiosity. The world is brand new. I want to see it all with John.<br />
<br />
Thank you EnChroma. Thank you, THANK YOU, Valspar. What a gift to give my family. What a gift to give the world.<br />
<br />
<br /></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11423343578843915247noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1604620482023286355.post-12330561357044964252015-03-29T18:46:00.001-04:002015-03-29T18:46:55.026-04:00Make a game of it<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; line-height: 150%;">Today I led my first service at USSB; the theme was how games can help heal brokenness. I led the congregation in a spirited round of massive multiplayer rock-paper-scissors. Below is my reflection, where I included mentions of Sid Meier, Katie Salen, Eric Zimmerman, Jane McGonigal and Raph Koster. It was a really fun morning for me & from the conversations I had with people after the services, it sounds like I helped people to think differently about the value of games. And Unitarians proved they are seriously into rock-paper-scissors :)</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; line-height: 150%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; line-height: 150%;">Here is my reflection:</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; line-height: 150%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; line-height: 150%;">My family had just moved to a new town at the
beginning of my 6<sup>th</sup> grade year. A few weeks into the school year,
the entire 6<sup>th</sup> grade had a pizza party at the local Little Caesar’s
restaurant. This was back when Little Caesar’s had restaurants, and this
particular one also had a bar with a huge dance floor where the locals hung out
on Friday and Saturday nights. But on this particular Friday afternoon, my
entire 6<sup>th</sup> grade class was having a pizza party. And then a dance
contest. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; line-height: 150%;">I had no intention of dancing. I really
hadn’t made any friends yet. When a boy that I recognized from my math class
named Kevin asked me to be his partner, I was so shocked that I said yes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He pulled me out into the center of the dance
floor and the music started.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The contest
rules were simple: keep dancing until a teacher taps you on the shoulder,
indicating you are “out.” The song for the dance contest was “I can’t drive 55”
by Sammy Hagar. If you have ever heard this song, you’ll know that it’s not
exactly dance contest material. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; line-height: 150%;">As it was, the song choice didn’t matter. I
didn’t know that my dance partner was a 12 year old dance prodigy. To be
honest, he could have probably won the contest on his own. He was dancing so enthusiastically that I
couldn’t help but try to match his clearly superior moves. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; line-height: 150%;">Something happened as I tried to keep up with
my partner; I forgot all about the people watching us. I didn’t notice the
teachers tapping the other couples’ out. I was focused on dancing. I was having
fun. And for the 6,000 times they played that song, I wasn’t a shy 6<sup>th</sup>
middle school girl who was trying to make friends in her new school: I was a
dancing queen. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; line-height: 150%;">When the music finally stopped, Kevin and I
were standing alone in the middle of the dance floor, sweaty and triumphant. The
kids surrounding us cheered and patted us on the backs; Kevin grabbed my hand
and held it up in victory. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; line-height: 150%;">Now, I was a very, very shy 6<sup>th</sup>
grade girl. I had ended 5<sup>th</sup> grade as a social outcast in my previous
school, shunned and bullied by my best friends. I was honestly relieved we
moved to a new town for middle school, even though I didn’t know anyone. And then a few weeks into the school year, my
shyness and relative anonymity were blown to bits in the middle of that dance
floor at Little Caesar’s. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; line-height: 150%;">Our brains are quirky, funny organs. Brains
are super pattern collectors and recognizers, constantly seeking out meaning
amidst chaos. We delight in finding patterns where none should exist, like when
we see a cloud that looks like a bunny, or we see the image of Jesus in a piece
of toast. Our brains are constantly trying to make sense of the world, to get
better and better at recognizing patterns and anticipating cause and effect. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; line-height: 150%;">The funny thing is, when we are presented
with a new or unexpected pattern, our brains are not very good at dealing with
it right away. It’s like our brain goes into shock, yelling “This is not what I
expected! What do I do?” It can send us into a state of paralysis, or it may
prompt you to make a decision you normally wouldn’t, like participate in a
middle school dance contest. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; line-height: 150%;">In order for our brains to learn a new
patterns to better anticipate cause and effect, we need to practice recognizing
the pattern. We know that practice is how we learn. Need to learn an
instrument? Practice. Need to learn how to do algebra? Practice. We know that
practice is the path to master a skill. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; line-height: 150%;">When we are young, we practice navigating the
complexities of life through play. We learn to negotiate and argue and
apologize and make new friends all within the context of make believe and games
that we create our own rules for. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; line-height: 150%;">At some point, though, we flip the
expectation that play is the catalyst to learning and growing and begin to see
play as a waste of time, a form of entertainment with little other value. As we
stop valuing play, we deprive ourselves as adults of a safe place to practice
and fail and learn how to navigate new, complicated situations. Our brains
haven’t changed: we still are constantly struggling to learn and recognize new
patterns. Just because you’re 16 or 36 or 86 doesn’t mean that you know
everything you need to about relationships or about yourself. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; line-height: 150%;">I face issues every day that I don’t know how
to respond to. Sometimes I think it would be great to sit down and have a tea
party with my 8 year old and try to work through them, but I’m pretty sure her
stuffed animals aren’t as experienced with working through the nuances of my
adult relationships with my parents or how to deal with gender discrimination
at work. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; line-height: 150%;">Still, there’s something to be said for play
as a way to make us better, stronger and more confident in navigating the world
around us. And games are the perfect way for us, even as adults, to play and
learn and grow. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; line-height: 150%;">What is a game, really? Sid Meier, who is the
famous designer of the Civilization computer games, defined games as “a series
of meaningful choices.” This definition has always rung true to me, although
probably a little too broad: couldn’t life itself be defined as a series of
meaningful choices?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; line-height: 150%;">Another definition from game designers Katie
Salen and Eric Zimmerman says that a game is a system in which players engage
in an artificial conflict, defined by rules, that results in a quantifiable
outcome. I like this definition, particularly because of that last piece, “a
quantifiable outcome.” This is what differentiates play from games. In a game,
there is an outcome, usually a score that tells you who won and who lost. Those
outcomes, whether successes or failures, serve an important purpose: they
provide you with feedback. Are you winning more, getting higher scores? You’re
learning and improving. If you aren’t getting better at the game, what do you need
to differently to improve? What are others doing to win that you can learn
from?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; line-height: 150%;">Games, really, are patterns that we learn to
solve. The simple ones, like tic tac toe, are fascinating to kids who are just
learning pattern recognition. But one day after a couple years of practicing
tic tac toe, you realize that you can win or tie every time depending on the
skill of your opponent, because you have learned every pattern possible in the
game.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; line-height: 150%;">My uncle was so good at solitaire that he
could tell after only a few minutes of play whether he was going to win that
hand or not. I was not that good, and I would get so frustrated watching him
for a few minutes and just as my mind was starting to get into the game, he’d
fold the deck and deal a new hand. How do you know? I’d ask him. And he’d say,
I’ve played this a million times. I know. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; line-height: 150%;">In 2009, I attended the annual Game
Developer’s Conference in San Francisco and saw a presentation that changed my
life. Jane McGonigal presented a session on how games can change the world. She
had recently launched a game called “Top Secret Dance Off” with one goal: to
make people happier. The game was simple. You went to the game website and
joined a team. Once you were on a team, you could start completing dance
challenges. For each dance challenge, you needed to complete 3 steps: 1. Assume
a secret identity. 2. Video tape yourself completing the dance challenge in
public. 3. Upload the video to the game site. Once you uploaded the video,
other people could vote for your dance -
the team with the highest vote total for their dance videos “won.” The website
still exists and if you visit it today, you can still see the amazing and
hilarious videos of people in disguise dancing in public. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; line-height: 150%;">What was the pattern that Jane wanted people
to recognize in this game? Simply that dancing makes you happy. Even watching
other people dancing makes you happy. In her talk, she proposed a noble purpose
for games: games can be designed to elicit lots of different types of emotions
and develop different types of skills. What if we designed games to help make
people better and, even grander, to change the world for the better? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; line-height: 150%;">I knew that what she was saying was true. A
decade earlier, I had made of game of eating using Weight Watchers points and
over the course of a year had lost 75 pounds. If I could make something super
hard, like losing weight, into a game that I could play and win, why couldn’t
that same idea be used to solve even bigger, more complex real problems?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; line-height: 150%;">Two years after I saw Jane McGonigal speak
for the first time, she published her first book, Reality is Broken. In it, she
expanded on her idea that games can be a catalyst for growth and change, for
individuals and for the world. Her idea was catching on. A game called Re-Mission
helped kids with cancer understand how chemotherapy and radiation worked and
let them play along fighting cancer cells during their treatment. Another game,
World Without Oil, challenged people to go through their day without using oil
products and to journal what alternatives they used in order to help other
players facing the same challenges.
There were games addressing subjects as complex as how to most
efficiently rescue survivors during a natural disaster like a typhoon or
hurricane or how to achieve peace in the Middle East. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; line-height: 150%;">Even more powerful than the games that were
allowing people to work through complex problems were the real issues gamers
were being asked to solve. In 2011,
gamers were able to solve a virus enzyme structure in 3 weeks that scientists
had been unable to solve for over a decade.
In the same year, gamers were able to identify cross-species DNA
segments that geneticists were unable to identify using computers. All by making a game of science. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
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</span>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; line-height: 150%;">We, humanity, prove over and over again that
our brains are the most incredible pattern recognition systems and problem
solvers. And it’s not just that we’re capable of doing it. We think it’s fun. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; line-height: 150%;">Fun is a loaded word. Raph Koster in his book
A Theory of Fun defines fun as “the act of mastering a problem mentally.” I
like this definition because mastering a problem mentally defines fun as an
active state, which differentiates it from entertainment or enjoyment or
delight. Koster further defines fun as learning in a context where there is no
pressure. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; line-height: 150%;">Learning in a context where there is no
pressure. This is why games matter. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; line-height: 150%;">This is why playing games, at every age, is
important. If we are constantly in a state of brokenness, then we are always in
a state of repair. When we don’t know how to fix a situation, we must learn.
How better to learn a new pattern, a new cause and effect, a new way to look at
the world, than in the safety of a game where we can practice and learn and get
better, step by step? How better to make ourselves and the world better than in
a game where we can have fun doing it?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; line-height: 150%;">When I look back now, I can see why winning
that dance contest in sixth grade meant so much to me. It was the perfect game for me to play at the
perfect time. I needed to learn how to make friends in this new environment,
but there was no pressure in that dance contest: I didn’t know anyone and I had
nothing to prove. But I learned that taking a risk, putting myself out there
and trying something new COULD be the catalyst for friendship and success. It’s a pattern that I have recognized and
repeated throughout my life, from starting my own business, to meeting my
husband on a blind date, to joining this congregation. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; line-height: 150%;">Any challenge can be made into a game, just
by approaching it in a playful way. My daughter makes something as simple as
walking down the street a game by trying to avoid the cracks (and sparing my
back from breaking). More complex
challenges like exercising more, I can break down into smaller challenges and
reward myself for achieving milestones along the way. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri; line-height: 150%;">What challenge are you facing? How can you
make a game of it?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
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</span>
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</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11423343578843915247noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1604620482023286355.post-59511115552229316252015-02-26T14:27:00.000-05:002015-02-26T14:44:50.722-05:00I am surrounded<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoW3FbkqsAwZyIfD8m8-FXwaOKRyxVRy4ov_q80a7szTudEbHBmo09TMjZoUo7oJHxv7eg7EJaHdjf3QeBINfcWjSeK08afqw6ANXxK59YbLBrURJJt_Rrxee2PqZqlbTmfr4uh3nDnr4/s1600/Photo+on+2-26-15+at+11.19+AM.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoW3FbkqsAwZyIfD8m8-FXwaOKRyxVRy4ov_q80a7szTudEbHBmo09TMjZoUo7oJHxv7eg7EJaHdjf3QeBINfcWjSeK08afqw6ANXxK59YbLBrURJJt_Rrxee2PqZqlbTmfr4uh3nDnr4/s1600/Photo+on+2-26-15+at+11.19+AM.jpg" height="213" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Watson & Sherlock</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
I'm writing this post surrounded by dogs: Sherlock laying next to me, wearing a cone because his eye infection is creeping back and I need to keep him from making it worse before he sees the vet. He is grumpy. Watson is my headrest; his poodle coat is too long and woolly and it heats up the back of my neck. He really loves our new couch because he can lay along the back cushions again. Darwin is chewing on a piece of dirty, knotted rope on the other side of my lap. He's chewing noisily and won't stop moving, shaking the whole couch and annoying the other two. He's a giant pit bull that thinks he's a little dog.<br />
<br />
The house is quiet, except for Darwin's chewing and the faint sound of Sallie singing in her bedroom. She's home sick today with a fever and various other complaints. In a little while, I'll ask her if she's hungry and she'll chat all the way through lunch, telling me about some scenario playing out in her room with her stuffed animals.<br />
<br />
I love being alone. I love quiet. I don't have music or a movie playing in the background on days like today when I work from home; I don't usually have the radio on in the car. But it's rare that I'm ever actually alone. Dogs. Kids. Work. Church. The only time I have to myself anymore is when I'm driving to pick up or meet someone, or sometimes in the bathroom (although kids and dogs aren't always respectful of a closed bathroom door).<br />
<br />
My husband John knows that I'm an introvert, although I try to fake otherwise. I hate labels like that, "introvert," but I do acknowledge that labels help people understand complex dynamics quickly, so sometimes I'll use it to explain why I avoid social hour in between church services, or why I don't want to be the one to call for takeout, or why I am completely exhausted after I speak at a conference and need to decompress.<br />
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I find myself tired a lot now. Exhausted, even. John and I both work full-time, manage the schedules of our 5 kids with us in California and figure out how to stay present in the weekly routine of the 6th one who is back in Pennsylvania for most of the year. He's never out of our thoughts and we're constantly planning trips and phone calls and Skype conversations, the planning of all these things tempered by the difficulty of negotiating them. Daily life isn't just us, the kids and the dogs...it's all of the kids' other parents, too.<br />
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And work. There aren't a lot of jobs in the world where you can work by yourself, and I don't have one of them. It's funny because I intentionally chose a career path that focused on helping people learn. I love it. I'm passionate about it. And it, by design, surrounds me with people.<br />
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Beyond family and work, I'm still surrounded. I'm on the Worship Committee at church and work to create worshipful lay-led services to support our ministers. I need the feedback of my committee members and the members of the congregation to be successful. I am constantly working on new start up ideas, seeking out other entrepreneurs and experts to collaborate with, networking and building relationships. People, people everywhere.<br />
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I am surrounded. I fantasize sometimes about just driving someplace quiet, alone. Maybe reading a book. Maybe just listening to the ocean, or the sounds of the mountains. I think about what it might feel like to not be responsible for or to anyone but myself. What a relief that would be. I think about when I read Eat Pray Love and how selfish I thought the woman was, and how absolutely glorious it still sounded to me. What a luxury, to be free of commitment. How light that must feel. Nobody to make dinner for or pick up from somewhere, no deadline I need to meet.<br />
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I'd probably be so incredibly, incredibly lonely. No one to tell me something funny that happened to them at school. No one snuggle with at night. No one to hear my favorite part of the day. No one to waggle their whole body in excitement to see me when I come through the door. No one to tell me I look beautiful today. No one to giggle with about a goat who sounds like he's saying "mom." No one to hear singing in the shower. No one to ask me for a hug. No one to be devastatingly proud of as they perform on stage.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRBqffwxm0FS7TvqlVRNz61A7Q3UJOGyIhuQv_q-u3H2UTv5n3zgrPnPTUbCBDzTkCWEIM8CCoDSld6Y_ECpAqnl_mpG8FvBHJSikv9DRRFMQtyimQi22oqxsmw0L36uRGY_G17EuU_-k/s1600/Photo+on+2-26-15+at+11.18+AM.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRBqffwxm0FS7TvqlVRNz61A7Q3UJOGyIhuQv_q-u3H2UTv5n3zgrPnPTUbCBDzTkCWEIM8CCoDSld6Y_ECpAqnl_mpG8FvBHJSikv9DRRFMQtyimQi22oqxsmw0L36uRGY_G17EuU_-k/s1600/Photo+on+2-26-15+at+11.18+AM.jpg" height="213" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Darwin is snoring</td></tr>
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Sometimes when I'm feeling suffocated, overwhelmed and buried, I think about what I've surrounded myself with. All of these people and animals...I might not always be able to handle all of them. I shouldn't think I have to. Being surrounded can be a lifting up, not a holding down. Because it's love, all of it is love. I chose this life, all of it. My family, my pets, my career, my friends, my spiritual community...even my Facebook friends. It is love, not responsibility. They challenge me and make me think and reflect and grow. It is love, messy and crowded and busy. It is love, loud and yes, sometimes overwhelming. I am surrounded by love. And right now, love sounds like a pit bull curled <br />
up next to me, snoring. </div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11423343578843915247noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1604620482023286355.post-13527280007780498162015-02-16T18:14:00.002-05:002015-02-16T19:57:56.856-05:00Common Core Conundrum<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
You know the old saying, if you're a hammer, everything looks like a nail?<br />
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This is the analysis that I can't help but apply to the Common Core assessment battle emerging in states across the country. </div>
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I've been introduced to Common Core as a former teacher and now as a parent with kids in elementary, junior high and high school. I've read all the perspectives on Common Core from teachers in social media, I've read the informative literature provided by my kids' teachers, schools and school districts. I've seen the type of assignments and questions asked of my kids change. I get what they are trying to do and frankly, despite the challenges that inevitably come with change, I support Common Core. I want my kids to become critical thinkers, not spouters of facts. I want them to be problem solvers and understand the why, not just the what. I want them to think creatively and deeply and I'm encouraged that school might be a place where that is encouraged and fostered. I think it's a noble cause and it makes that longing to go back into the classroom a little stronger. A survey of teachers find that most of them feel the same way I do:</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyuaV4AEQ3ufGlW1IXhBo_wwbkGPcghxNlHrHa-7YGHeCyxxzZS4wg4zqGatH5Cnv4G6IiLO1T5VrPjBmjLdLktLKmbeeWaaFT6Uh5u7h4g5HfyczFAVlhFXKNgRI2tPRvK8U7Z1fsTrA/s1600/Screen+Shot+2015-02-16+at+3.06.39+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyuaV4AEQ3ufGlW1IXhBo_wwbkGPcghxNlHrHa-7YGHeCyxxzZS4wg4zqGatH5Cnv4G6IiLO1T5VrPjBmjLdLktLKmbeeWaaFT6Uh5u7h4g5HfyczFAVlhFXKNgRI2tPRvK8U7Z1fsTrA/s1600/Screen+Shot+2015-02-16+at+3.06.39+PM.png" height="303" width="400" /></a></div>
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And then I <a href="http://www.cleveland.com/metro/index.ssf/2015/02/testing_season_starts_this_wee.html" target="_blank">hear about the testing</a>. </div>
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It is going to be a shame if Common Core is protested, abandoned and ultimately fails because we can't reconcile our desire to encourage critical, creative thinking with a scalable assessment of those skills. We already know that standardized tests are biased and don't represent student success or achievement. They are not used as a measure of student progress; they are only used as a measure of comparing schools. They aren't even used as a measure of teacher effectiveness in most cases (and rightly so). </div>
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Standardized tests are really good at measuring how well students can complete standardized tests. If we're trying to move our educational system to measure critical thinking, problem solving, collaboration, design thinking...do we REALLY think more expansive standardized testing is going to give us the information we are looking for about the impact of Common Core on student success?</div>
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Sadly, I think we're at risk of throwing out the baby with the bathwater. Common Core curriculum and Common Core assessment should be viewed as two different things, different pieces of the same puzzle. While I think the curriculum changes are encouraging, my encouragement is overwhelmed by my disappointment on the emphasis on using the same old standardized assessment. I've been trying to ignore or combat the various Facebook memes of anti-Common Core ranting. But with these new, expansive assessments looming, I find myself siding with the Common Core protesters. No, I don't want my children sitting through 10 hours of testing that will have no bearing on their learning, forget about all the instructional time dedicated to "test prep." No, I don't believe standardized test results will show the impact or benefit of Common Core curriculum. </div>
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How can I support Common Core and not support Common Core standardized testing? How do you support the strategy and vehemently oppose the tactics? How can you support teachers and schools in trying to meet the modern needs of their students when the government assessment of student education is stuck in the 80s?</div>
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It's time to break free from the hammer of standardized testing. Common Core is not another nail. Students are not all the same. If K12 education is changing to support different skills, then assessment must evolve, not expand. We don't need more standardized testing, we need a different kind of test, a different kind of skill assessment. </div>
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I'm passionate about immersive learning, but even more so about immersive assessment. Let's stop assessing knowledge...let's let students apply their skills. What if assessments were games? What if we structured assessments like Odyssey of the Mind, or Math Super Bowls, or science fairs? What if we made assessment challenging and engaging and fun? What if we made assessment real?</div>
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I've never had to take a standardized test at work to measure my competency. I show my value in the work that I produce, the ideas I contribute, my participation and passion and ability to see problems on the horizon or find the root cause of problems that already exist. If we want students to develop those skills, let's find meaningful ways to assess them. It is possible. Let's use those creative problem solving skills that Common Core is developing to create better solutions to assessing our real capabilities. </div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11423343578843915247noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1604620482023286355.post-49584695253298023622015-01-05T15:35:00.001-05:002015-01-05T15:46:02.881-05:00If it can be measured, it can be valued<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Training is often viewed as a cost by companies and therefore is on the chopping block when costs need to be cut. Much like the arts in K12 education, training is seen as a "nice to have," but not a core function of the organization.<br />
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Why is training viewed as a cost and not a strategic investment? Because learning professionals don't measure the impact of training on the performance of the organization.</div>
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Think about the last time you delivered a training program in an organization. Or the last time you participated in training, if you aren't an L&D professional. How was the success of the training measured? </div>
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How many completed the training?</div>
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A passing score on an assessment? </div>
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A subjective "smile sheet" ranking where learners reported how valuable they thought the training was?</div>
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Do these training programs measure improvements in employee performance? Decreased time to market/increased productivity? Customer satisfaction ratings? Increased revenue? Reduction in costs? Increased employee retention?</div>
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No? WHY NOT?</div>
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If training is a strategic investment, then it is absolutely critical that we show the value of the investment. Attendance is not value; increased sales is. Assessment scores are meaningless if people don't perform their jobs better. </div>
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If our role in an organization is to improve performance, then shouldn't we be measuring performance? </div>
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Only when we start measuring the right things will training be valued. </div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11423343578843915247noreply@blogger.com0