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As a teacher, I’ve witnessed countless moments where curiosity transforms learning from a task into an adventure. One story particularly stands out. In my Tech Projects class, I had a student who was paralyzed by the blank canvas of possibility. The course begins with complete freedom to choose any technology project, and for this student, that freedom felt overwhelming. Nothing seemed quite right.

I spend a lot of time thinking about what works in my classroom and what doesn’t. Sometimes it’s obvious - like when a project catches fire and students can’t wait to dive in. Other times, it’s harder to pin down why something that looked great on paper just didn’t land. I need help to see things clearly. That’s why I’ve always valued getting feedback on my work.

Lately, I’ve been waging a losing battle with winter. The week before last, no matter what I did, I couldn’t shake the bone-deep chill that came with the polar vortex’s bitter cold and howling winds. We even had to shut off our upstairs water for days to keep the pipes from freezing. In New England, it’s easy to see winter as an adversary during times like these – until I remember that my house has been standing since 1862, the year the U.S. first started printing paper money.

When I first got onto the World Wide Web, one of the things I liked best about it was that it was, in so many ways, completely bonkers. People were putting up weird stuff, wonderful commentary, exciting new ideas, and just being themselves in a way that was suddenly accessible to everyone around the world, including me, sitting at a computer in my tiny apartment.

In our rush toward progress, what do we choose to keep, and what do we leave behind? This question has been on my mind lately, sparked by a remarkable story from the aftermath of World War I. It’s a story that challenges how we think about value, preservation, and the hidden costs of optimization.

Happy New Year! The days are starting to get longer, but winter feels like it is just getting started in New England.  Nature feels dormant, but I’m glad that birds still call on us, the moss is still green on hillside rocks, and the cats are less aloof now that they want some body heat.

I wanted to find out how AI tools might impact the learning process for students in my 8th Grade Technology Projects class. I always ask my students to think deeply about their project experiences, but I can only get so far with a worksheet. Would doing these reflections with an AI facilitator make a difference? You bet. In fact, the results blew me away.

This album took shape over the last four years. It started as a way to cope with the pandemic, giving me a sense of control when everything felt chaotic.