As I learn more and more about Minecraft and how it can be implemented with students, I finally reached the point where I realized that I need to spend a lot more time immersed in this virtual world.  So, I spent the last few weeks developing my gaming proficiency in MC and I have to say - I love it.

There's a concept in gaming referred to as a state of "flow."  Flow is a headspace of heightened productivity, wherein many great things are accomplished and the idea of NOT continuing the game seems impossible.  Experiencing the state of flow has helped me have greater empathy for my students.  Of course traditional learning environments can pale in comparison to the challenge and excitement that virtual worlds can offer! This begs the question - why not make school more like a game?  I'm not just talking about the gamified elements offered by Classcraft or badges.  I'm talking about full on immersion in a virtual space. 

As I continue to think on what that could look like in my classroom, in my content area, with my students, here's an infographic I designed about my MC experience thus far:

You can view the high resolution version of this graphic on Piktochart.

My teaching philosophy is firmly rooted in a constructivist point of view, which is probably why I have come to enjoy exploring virtual worlds so much. To date, I have appreciated the opportunity to construct my own meaning based on my experiences in Minecraft. I find that even though the Minecraft portion of this class is over, I still play for fun and for the joy of being creative in a virtual space.  I am actively pursuing Minecraft licenses for my classroom and just managed to talk the district ETIS staff into updating the OS on my seven classroom iMacs in order to run Minecraft: Education Edition.  The value of Minecraft was easy to see right from the start; I quickly figured out how the game could integrate into my curriculum and I have spent a lot of time thinking about how to structure the experience for maximum productivity in the classroom.
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Second Life has been a bit of a pedagogical mystery for me.  From the beginning, I felt skeptical toward Second Life because I know that it is a tool that will never be appropriate for my ten and eleven year old students. There is too much adult content that is easily accessible, and the immersive quality of the world is routinely compromised by the glitchy nature of the interface. (Even though I am working on a Macbook Pro with updated OS, using high speed Internet.) Despite these challenges, I have remained open to anything that I can glean from the Second Life experience in order to help me better create learning opportunities for students in other virtual worlds.

This week, I explored some educational spaces in Second Life and learned a lot! First, the overall successfulness of a space seems to depend on the level of forethought that the designer put into generating the world.  One of the places I visited was ancient Egypt, and the designer created a landing pad that right away began to communicate information.  There was a labeled image of Egyptian gods on the walls, and a helpful map that dispensed notecards with links to various locations around the world – such as King Tut’s tomb, the Great Pyramid, and the Sphinx, to name a few.
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The person who created ancient Egypt employed a rich level of detail and historical accuracy in their design. There were many monuments to explore, but I was even more interested in finding ways to interact with my virtual environment. Sacred cats roamed in the temples, and lush walled gardens were fun to explore. There were “hands-on” elements, too, such as learning Egyptian dance, sailing papyrus boats down the Nile, and riding camels. These added features brought a level of entertainment and “worldness” to the space, which helped immerse me in the experience of being in ancient Egypt. As an educational space, the iconography and materials/textures were a really effective way to communicate information about Egyptian art, architecture, and culture. A space like this could be important for students to experience, because it brings relevance and excitement to the curriculum.

Another educational space that I explored was Yoruba Town.  What I liked about this space was that it was overtly educational; users can click on blue tiles around Yoruba Town to receive notecards that contain information about African culture, economic structure, social structure, wildlife, and food. There were also several NPC’s (non-playable characters) built into this world, and with a click users can interact with them.  The overall experience of Yoruba Town was, perhaps, a little less immersive than the ancient Egypt sim. One of the notecards indicated that the world is still under construction, which may explain why some of the detail is missing. Whereas ancient Egypt had a plethora of objects to interact with, Yoruba Town had few in comparison. Much of the understanding that can be gleaned in the Egypt sim stems from experiential learning; Yoruba Town depended predominantly on notecards to communicate purpose and meaning.


In order to design an effective educational space, I would want to combine the best of ancient Egypt and Yoruba Town.  The rich level of detail from Egypt combined with the guiding purpose of the notecards would strike the right balance that makes a virtual educational space worthwhile.
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My impression of virtual worlds as educational spaces is constantly evolving. There is something so unique and wonderful about teaching and learning in a virtual world that I am always left eager to learn more. My big take-away idea from exploring virtual educational spaces is that they are created intentionally, with attention to design, detail, and “worldness.” The most effective spaces I have visited have achieved a special balance of these attributes, which makes them compelling to experience.

As a Language Arts and Social Studies teacher, I am always interested in helping kids connect with books. One of my goals each year is to motivate kids to become lifelong readers. I always operate under the assumption that, if they are not enthusiastic readers, they simply haven’t found the right book yet. Tapping into student interests for novel studies helps, as well as choice reading during literature circles.  But there are always a few kiddos for whom reading is still a chore.  Colleagues and I have discussed the fact that most of our students have a very low exposure to print in the home setting; in addition, nearly half of all of our students are English Language Learners, which can also be challenging. All of this means that some of our students have a very complicated relationship with the task of reading.


In the quest Virtual Worlds and Reading Levels, I read an article from Wired called “How Video Games Like Minecraft Help Kids Learn to Read.” It is actually an article I have read before, back when I first started hearing about Minecraft as an education tool.  The main theme of the article is that students will read and engage with complex text when they are highly motivated to do so. They will successfully decode words and make meaningful content connections when the reading task and purpose appeals to them. Essentially, this article contends that students view Minecraft as a passion project and they are willing to go to great lengths to learn about the game and be successful while playing.  Many players even feel compelled to generate content to help others play better, or fictional content to entertain others based on shared interest in the game.

Over the years, I've often written about the reasons teachers should incorporate digital storytelling in their classrooms. I've talked about how student film can empower young people, promote collaboration, provide an opportunity for authentic communication, and showcase learning. In my book and during several interviews, I've made sure to express just how much middle school voices need to be enfranchised through digital storytelling, and that they have no shortage of poignant messages to share.

But this year I have learned that there is an even deeper truth about the benefits of making movies in the classroom. I've learned that digital storytelling can be the perfect modality for students to process their emotions and make sense of their world.

This past November, one of my students, Marina, experienced a personal tragedy.  She was visibly distraught in class for several days before she finally confided the reality of her family's situation. "You're the only adult I can talk to, Mrs. Pack," she said. "My family hurts so much right now, I need to be strong for them."

Marina's baby cousin passed away after drowning in her family's backyard pool.

We talked for an hour after school that day.  Then she came to me several weeks later and said, "You know how my cousin died? I think I need to make a movie about it."

My first instinct was to be hesitant. Would this be emotionally safe for her? Should I allow a student to tackle such an intense topic so close to the moment of devastating loss? What if she broke down during the process? Would I know what to do?

Marina has been my student for the past three years; she has a talent for digital storytelling. During her sixth grade year, Marina  wrote and directed an award-winning video called, Math Genius.  During her seventh grade year, she starred in the award-winning Lost Ships as one of the principal characters; it was a project took over 5 months to produce. Is it any wonder that she would choose to grieve by sharing her cousin's story, the story of her family's grief, on camera?

"Okay," I said. "But first, let's talk about what is motivating you. What is the goal you hope to accomplish?"

"I want to make this movie as a memorial to Gio. And I want others to learn from his story."

How could I deny Marina her mission? How could I stop her voice in its tracks? I decided that if she was brave enough to write and film this story, I would be brave enough to support her.

After several on location shoots, many different interview takes, and lots of tears, Remembering Gio was finished.

Marina asked me to submit her work to several local and state film festivals. She said it doesn't matter if her video is screened, but she wanted to try to share Gio's story with as large an audience as possible. The day we rendered the final cut, she also made me promise to upload the video to YouTube as soon as possible.

In workshops and keynotes, I've often spoken about the power of saying YES to our students. This is yet another instance in which I am so very glad to have said YES to the process, to Marina's choice in subject matter, to sharing her grief and love of her cousin.

Most of all, I am so proud of her for laying her grief out there for the world to see, for turning a tragedy into an opportunity to educate others. Tracey Walker, a wonderful educator in my PLN, summed Marina's project up perfectly when she said:

Yo! Does your augmented reality need a reality check? Could your AR be more student-centered? At #CUE15, Eddie Rivera and I were super excited to present how teachers can better use AR with their students to engage, create, and share content.

Check out our slide deck:

How do you use AR like a "G"? Share your AR suggestions in the comments below.  If you attended our session, please feel free to comment with your questions, too.

A student cried in my classroom yesterday.

This is not an entirely unusual experience, since we get teary eyed quite often while reading some of our favorite novels - like when Salva, a Lost Boy refugee in "A Long Walk to Water," goes back to war-torn South Sudan to build wells for his people. Or in "The Tiger Rising" when Rob, a troubled boy whose mother died, finally opens up to his father and lets all of his emotions pour out. Oh, and lots of kids also got a little misty while reading "Rules," wherein a boy with cerebral palsy makes his first-ever friend.

So, crying is sometimes just part of the larger context of our classroom, and I've been known to shed tears, too.  No matter how many years I've read some of these books with my classes, it always feels special to connect not only with literature, but with one another, too.

Yesterday was different.

This time, one of my students stayed after school to work on a digital storytelling project that she is undertaking.  One of my language arts students and also an after school AV Club devotee, I've been encouraging this wonderful young lady all year.  Ever since she proudly told me that she is a folklorico dancer on the evenings and weekends, I've enthusiastically urged her to share her story.  I know that as teachers we're not supposed to earmark favorites, because they are all our kids, but I am so touched by this girl and her family.  With immigrant parents and a house on the other side of the freeway, her family makes time to drive her to school every morning.  Super studious, constantly in motion, and quite a chatterbox, she always has stories to share - like the morning after President Obama's executive order regarding immigration. She came right up to me, smiled brightly, and proclaimed, "Did you hear? The president forgives us and says we can stay. My mom cried last night, because she is so happy."

This student has worked for a week on writing a script about folklorico.  As her guide, my job at this phase of the production process is to offer suggestions on storytelling.  I began with the positive aspects of her topic, complimented her storyboard ideas, and affirmed that I thought she had a wonderful story to share.  Then, I tried to explain the difference between "showing" and "telling" when writing a script.  She nodded vigorously, but still seemed confused.  So, I referenced an entry from Julie Barda's class in last year's DigiCom Film Festival and pulled it up to use as an anchor video:

I think we only watched about 45 seconds before she started crying.  I immediately paused the video, worried.  Worried that I had somehow offended her, worried that she was discouraged, worried that I wasn't being gentle enough in my critique.  For the first time ever, I didn't know what to do or say when confronted with tears. I decided to wait her out, offer Kleenex, and listen.

It was a good strategy.

"This is a good story," she told me. "It makes me think of my mom and my experience in kindergarten.  It makes me think of my culture and how proud I am of what my family has done."

"Good," I responded. "You should absolutely feel proud to be who you are."

"And, I get it now," she said.  "I understand what you mean about my script. But I don't know how to fix it."

After a few beats, I asked her why she dances.  I asked her to think about what she feels when she dances and what keeps her showing up at practice every week.  I asked her why the long hours, the elaborate costumes, and the music are so appealing when other kids her age tend to focus more on Instagram and Snapchat.  More tears welled up in her eyes as she considered her answer. 

"Because. I forget everything else in my life, all my trouble and all my worry. I don't think about anything but the music and the steps and I feel joy."

And that perfect revelation was the heart of her story.  Sometimes, as a script writer, there are quiet moments when everything comes together and the story works out just right.  The key to digital storytelling is to write from the heart, and some of the most compelling stories that can be told are the ones about ourselves.

This morning, I arrived at work a few minutes later than usual.  On my desk, in a zip lock bag, there was an SD card with a sticky note:

There are a million reasons why I think gamification is an important tool for teachers to implement. I've read plenty of articles, set up a Tweet Deck column for #gamification, attended a phenomenal Minecraft session at #CUE14, and participated in a #caedchat to learn more. But, at the end of the day, there are a million reasons why I never really got the gamification ball rolling.  Here are a few:

So, with all of these questions and a complete lack of experience, I felt stuck in a kind of ideological purgatory where my professional goal of gamification didn't really seem all that attainable. For a while, it was just easier to put this on the back burner and get on with app smashing, digital storytelling, and 20% projects.

Then, I had the chance to learn about Class Craft from Ricardo Higuera at EdCampPS - and I finally found my entry point into classroom gamification.

My husband grew up playing D&D and all kinds of other role playing games, but I grew up in farm country and we just sort of...went outside.  So, coming from the standpoint of having zero experience with role playing games, I was amazed to find that Class Craft is easy to understand.  It also has a user-friendly interface, and is versatile enough that it can be implemented in any classroom.

Essentially, students operate both individually and in teams.  They take on the roles of three different character classes: mages, warriors, and healers. Each team decides how to balance the roles within their group and generates their own "recipe" for success. Students earn "powers" specific to their character class, and throughout the day the teacher acts as the Game Master.  The Game Master has a lot more than just a rockin' job title - they award points and control different aspects of the game.  For example, students work to earn XP (experience points) which help level up their characters.  Leveling up is good because it unlocks more powers. The Game Master can also dock HP (health points) for negative behaviors and players use up AP (action points) as they utilize their powers throughout the period.  The thing I love most about Class Craft is that everything is 100% customizable.

Here's a quick screencast to show you how I have customized the game for my students:

I implemented Class Craft immediately after EdCampPS because I just couldn't wait!  The first day, I used this Google Presentation to explain game protocols:

There was an immediate, observable difference in student motivation.  Classroom management has never been a significant issue for my classes, because I've always used a token economy that worked well to control behavior.  However, there are usually a few students for whom it can be difficult to find the right carrot - not to mention that I tend to focus much more on intrinsic motivation as opposed to extrinsic.  

Gamification matters because it motivates.  By introducing Class Craft, there was a new layer of energy in the room, a new excitement for completing daily tasks and working together.  Now, I fully understand that in order to be completely valid, strategies need to stand the test of time.  But, so far, it's so good! Students who haven't attended tutoring in a month or so were in my classroom every day after school this week.  More than half of each class spent at least 2 or more days in lunch tutoring, too. Group leaders are taking their role very seriously, helping to monitor and motivate students who struggle to stay focused.  Best of all, there is a hum of excitement and anticipation as we gear up for the Daily Event, spin the Wheel of Destiny, and dread the Book of Laments.

Class Craft is everything I wanted gamification to look like in my classroom, and the benefits of gamification are everything I wanted them to be.  I'm looking forward to reporting back after a few weeks.  Hopefully, I'll have even more positive things to say and an even bigger impact to share.

As a teenager, I wasn't interested in school.  School was a big, scary place full of people - which may not seem like much of a challenge at first.  Unless you're an introvert. Then, it's sort of tortuous.

In fact, I did pretty much everything I could to avoid homework (especially science), anything related to math (especially algebra), and tended to hangout in the library (where there were books, not people).  There were only two things I wanted to do: read and code.

I taught myself basic html when I was fourteen or fifteen, because I wanted to build a website. This was back when Geocities and Angelfire were the most accessible website builders available.  You could use the template they provided, or toggle the html view to customize. I've always been a creative person, and despite my work avoidance in the school setting, I enjoyed a challenge. So, I looked up some html guides and started teaching myself how to code.  For me, coding offered the same sort of refuge that a good book provides. And it's a skill that has stuck with me to this day. 

Because coding impacted my life, I wanted to give my students the opportunity to participate in the Hour of Code. Instead of limiting coding to just an hour, however, I decided to create a three week coding unit.  Students watched TED Talks from outstanding kids (including Thomas Suarez, a 12 year old app developer), experimented with coding activities on www.code.org, engaged in close reading of articles, performed collaborative close viewing of video resources, and answered text dependent questions. Though some teachers may be reluctant to use core instructional minutes for something outside the norm, I found that students were energized and excited by their coding experience.  They were eager not only to code, but also to research, plan, write, and share.

Here are some of the resources we utilized during the course of the unit:

Bringing an expert into the classroom to talk about coding as a career was an important aspect of our instructional plan.  Fortunately, a good family friend is a computer programmer and was willing to conduct two Google Hangouts on Air so that both of our blocks of students could ask questions about coding.  These Hangouts also provided a fantastic source for expert quotes, as our students conducted research to write an argument about coding and whether or not it should be taught in schools.  In sixth grade, the Common Core State Standards make a huge leap from writing opinion pieces to writing more formal arguments with a thesis and evidence to support a claim. To help students learn argumentative structure, I created aGoogle Doc template to support the process of research, constructing a claim, and drafting.

Digital storytelling is an important pillar of my classroom.  To that end, I regularly give students the opportunity to create some sort of video-based synthesis as a capstone to their learning.  This time, students create Public Service Announcements aimed at a specific audience to promote coding in schools. (Overwhelmingly, all of the student arguments were pro-coding, so a pro-coding PSA made sense.) Kids worked together to storyboard their concepts, pull evidence from their research, and record video clips to help tell the story of coding in the classroom. 

Here are two of their best efforts:

After focusing on coding for three weeks, I expected students to be a bit burned out to the idea.  However, I've been pleasantly surprised to find that students are still asking for time to code in class, and they are still sharing things they have made using code at home.  As teachers, that's what we want most - transferable skills that students continue to develop even after class has dismissed.