Post-Concussion: What a car accident taught me about my students

When I found out I had a concussion, I didn't think it would impact my life in the way it did.  Honestly, I felt fine--for about 12 hours.  Then the way I look and interact with everything in my life changed.  About a week in, I knew I wanted to remember and catalog this journey, but I wasn't able to.  I dictated thoughts into my phone, but it just wasn't what I was used to doing.  It's hard for me to listen to myself be so--vulnerable, and for this reason, this post will be the least edited I've put out to the world.  I am fortunate my injuries weren't worse, but I'm still healing.  And, as I've learned, healing is a process.  Especially for the impatient ones like me.

I share this for many reasons, but mostly for me.  I don't want to forget what I went through.  At the very least, I don't want to forget that I was able to better understand some of my students' struggles.

December 27th

I was leaving my sister's house, driving along the gravel road, when the loose gravel carried me into a tree lining the side of the road.  I wasn't going very fast, but in a matter of seconds, my car was totaled.  I wasn't looking at my phone, distracted.  Something had caught my attention and I looked in the rear view mirror for a moment too long.  Being of short stature (I'm 5'4"), I have to sit fairly close to the steering wheel.  My first collected moment was hearing my phone ringing.  Remembering I had set up 911 assist, I tried to end the call.  I was fine.  Sure, my car was not in good shape and in the middle of the road, but I was fine.  My nose hurt a bit from the force of the airbags punching me at full force and there was this burning sensation.  I guess airbags are basically fireworks inside your car.  That's probably not supposed to burn your skin.  I couldn't figure out how to end the call.  My car wouldn't let me.  I'm sitting in the middle of the road, sideways.  The last thing I remembered after the airbags going off was looking forward, yet seeing down the hill.  I closed my eyes and braced for the trip over the edge.  Now I was in the middle of the road.  Turned 90 degrees from where I'd been before.  I tried to call my sister.  She didn't answer.  Maybe I should run to her, then a car came along.  My shin hurts.  Stupid knee airbags...more like angle airbags for me.  I knew this would hurt tomorrow.  I get a good look at my car.  It's toast.  My ears are ringing.  I'm not sure how much time has passed.

The view from my sister's car while we wait for the tow truck.
Those are county deputy lights, not fire.  Sorry folks!

The EMTs clear me but tell me I should see my doctor anyway.  I passed all of the neurological tests they gave me.  I remember them saying my vitals were "something to be admired."  Maybe it's a teacher thing, calm during the storm and all.  I went home to sleep.  I just wanted the day to be over.

December 28th

The pain I expected, but the nausea started just before I called my doctor to schedule a visit.  A trip to urgent care it is!  My ears are still ringing, I'm not sure I should be alone, let alone drive.  A friend drives me to urgent care.  I'm told that I pass all the neurological tests again, but I still don't feel right.  The diagnosis is a concussion.  My students have had these, many on more than one occasion, but my airbags went off.  I wasn't driving very fast.  It just doesn't make sense to me.  I'm supposed to go home and rest.  At least I'm still on break.

December 29th

After being cooped up in the house for longer than I'm used to, I went out to eat.  It's hard to hear everyone's conversations and focus on the one I'm supposed to be having, but I really don't think much of it.  That is, until I'm at the counter, paying my bill.  I'm trying to add 27+5 and I can't do it.  I can't hold focus on the task at hand no matter how hard I try.  I hear every conversation, clear as day and muffled at the same time.  Dishes are clanging on the buffet line.  Sizzling at the hibachi station.  Children tapping their cups with forks.  People eating.  Lights buzzing.  I could hear everything and I couldn't block any of it out.  Determined, I focus on my hands.  "27" I point at one of my fingers "28", another "29", another "30", until I have 5 fingers up.  I may not teach math this year, but I'm a math teacher.  This isn't happening to me.  I sign the receipt and nearly burst into tears as I walk out of the restaurant.  My brain is broken and I'm locked inside.

This isn't right.  None of this is right.  I end up in the emergency room later that night because either my concussion made me so nauseous I threw up or the thought of me not being me was much more than I could handle.  I still don't know.

NOTE: I've been through simulation activities for ADHD and specific learning disabilities.  I wouldn't wish this restaurant experience on anyone, but if I could have others experience it I would.  Maybe they would understand what many of our students go through in our classrooms.

December 30th

Brain rest is boring. Nothing with a screen, no reading, no thinking.  Brain rest is boring.

Note: I didn't even write this part that day.  I didn't need to because it's really easy to remember that brain rest is boring.

December 31st

Tried to leave the house tonight for New Years.  I can't drink and I don't want to drive.  I'm exhausted.  I'm not sure why I left the house.  Leaving the house is overrated.

January 2nd

I went to the car dealership today. I sat there for an hour, waiting. I should have been home, but I just wanted to feel like I accomplished something. I need to make sub plans for my students tomorrow and maybe even Thursday.

I can't believe how exhausting it is to do the most basic things. I feel fine when I'm at home. Once I'm out, it's like I'm in a fog. I feel like everything I'm doing is for the first time. As if my muscle memory was wiped. I remember doing these things, just can't seem to do any of it right. The muscle relaxants make it easier to move, but I still feel that piercing pain when I turn my head at even half normal speed.

Yesterday, the remote fell off the couch and made a loud crack sound as it landed on the wooden floor. In that moment, I was back in my car. Scared and alone. Heart racing, frozen from fear. In that moment, I realized that I did lose consciousness. The phone ringing brought me back to focus, but I was miles away in the seconds before. How many times did the phone ring before I was aware?


I managed to have a conversation today when two people were talking at the same time without cringing in pain trying to focus. I have no clue what one of them said. I only managed to follow the other. Hopefully it wasn't anything important.

In so many ways this would be easier if I had a cast or something visibly broken. People could see the progress, see that I'm not quite there, but more importantly, others would know that I was injured. They would know that I didn't walk away from the accident free and clear. So they wouldn't tell me how thankful they are I wasn't hurt. I know they mean well, but I'm too tired to explain. More importantly, I would be able to see and gauge my own progress. As my cuts and bruises heal and fade, I know how long I'll be left with those marks. I have no way of knowing how long before I feel connected to the rest of my brain again. No way of knowing how long before I don't feel like a stranger in my own body.

What will my doctor say tomorrow, when I ask him if he can give me a cast? Will he understand? Will I feel more detached from the world I no longer understand?

January 6th

I missed the first 3 days of the semester. I have 75 students, most of whom have never met me, and I'm not there. I hate concussions. I hate head rests and trees and laws of physics. Brain rest is boring, but at least it's an excuse to block out the rest of the world for a little longer.

January 9th

I'm not ready to go back to work. I'm not ready to leave my house, but today seems just as good a day as any. If there's anything that has kept me from losing it during this time, it is my job. Even after missing the first week back, everyone welcomes me with open arms. Teachers who have given up part or all of their plan periods (in some cases multiple times) to sub for me aren't angry as I would have expected. They are happy to see me return. I don't know why I was so worried. I have the best workplace I could ask for.

I decided I would talk to my students about what is going on with me and my brain. It isn't easy and I hold back tears at times when telling them about what happened and how it will impact what we are going to be working on for at least the first part of the semester. Several students who have also suffered concussions nod in camaraderie. They get it. That's what got me through the first day. Then I left and went home to sleep for 12 hours.

This continued. Some days were better, some days weren't.

January 18th

Three weeks #postconcussion and still healing. In the last three weeks, I have learned that the side effects/symptoms of post-concussion are basically that of pregnancy plus a few fun extras (irritability, exhaustion, nausea, neck pain, tension headaches, ringing ears, hyper-sensitivity to certain sounds, lack of focus, and crappy memory/processing). I used to get migraines, I would take one instead in a heartbeat.

It is a daily struggle to be patient with myself when I'm not able to do what used to come so easily (or without exhausting me by 10am). I do a good enough job of acting like I'm ok and maybe that's a bad thing. Sometimes it's harder to keep it together. They say it just takes time. I kind of hate hearing about "time" right now.

February 3rd

I made it through an entire week without feeling like I was mentally held back. I have made it through post-concussion.

Then it happened...

February 15th
I presented two 3-hour pre-conference sessions at #METC17 and helped host the #tlap (Teach Like a Pirate Twitter chat) on Monday, then powered through Tuesday's sessions like a pro.  I met up with fellow Google Innovators and members of my Twitter PLN.  It was a great week.  Anyone who knows anything about me knows I live for these days.  METC is our "little ISTE of the Midwest" and my goal had been to be well enough for it.

#COL16 mini-reunion with Austin Houp

Getting ready to Teach Like a Pirate
with Dave Burgess

I was set to present one last session on Digital Differentiation and I was ready.  I kept joking that I wasn't because I have this thing about tweaking my materials and going perfectionistic on them, but I was ready.  I'd been ready for months.  Then at 2pm my brain decided it was done, but I didn't know it yet.  I walked into my session and began by telling them about my journey, this journey.  I didn't tell it for sympathy or pity.  I told them because it is at the heart of why differentiation and accommodations are good for everyone, not just students who have been identified with learning needs.  It's why we should be familiar with them, because students won't always know about the tools that could assist them.  I tripped over some of my words, but I was off to a great start.

Then my computer glitched.

I'm the person people come to when there is a tech issue.  That is who I have been for years.  I know how to troubleshoot through most problems, so when I clicked a link in a Google Doc and nothing happened, I am more than qualified to handle that.  If not just because having passed the Google Certified Trainer test means I know how to figure this out.  But I couldn't.  My ability to problem-solve was gone.  I was instantly overwhelmed by the lights in the room, the temperature, the number of people in the room, the sound of them shifting in their seats.  In my classroom, I would have been able to have my students work on something while I sat down and collected my thoughts.  Here, in a room with 40+ teachers, I had to be on my game.  My reputation as a speaker, presenter, trainer, teacher, conference committee member...that depends on me being able to collect my thoughts, focus, sound like I know what I'm talking about and generally, finish what I start.  When every part of me wanted to say "here's the link, go have fun," I stepped away from my computer and tried to share some stories from my classroom.  Some from previous years, and some from now.  It was the worst session I've ever led.  It's embarrassing.  Even days later, I fixate on it because I know I can do better, I know I am capable of better.  But in that moment I wasn't.  All I want to do is go back in time and make those 50 minutes better, but I can't.  All I can hope is those in attendance learned something that made my session worth attending for them.

So what's this post really about?

So many things.  Here are a couple of them:

1. When I met with my new primary care physician before I went back to work, he told me that he is seeing kids take about twice as long to recover from concussions since schools are going 1:1 and cell phones are more prevalent.  Looking at a screen is basically your job description when you teach technology and I fully understand the risk and setback I cause myself by subjecting my brain to endless hours of lesson planning, personal learning, and tinkering with new technology.  Our students don't always have a choice.  I often have not even known when a student has come back to school following a concussion.  It's my personal goal to do better and lay out some recommendations for students who have suffered brain trauma when returning to the classroom.  If just one good thing could come from my experience, it will be that.

2. I share this because I'm not the only person you know who has an invisible injury. You can't see all wounds and everyone is different. Some are better at hiding the pain. Some may know what tools are available to help them on a daily basis, others may not. Teachers often provide a support system without ever realizing it.

2016 was a rough year for a lot of people in many ways. It has been blamed for taking a lot of people from us. I refuse to let it take me too.

to be continued...

I've been thinking a lot about death lately.  It's surrounds me.  It is me.  In so many ways. On the morning I left for Colorado, we took our dog of 13 years to rest. After only a few weeks of knowing she had lymphoma, she could no longer continue the fight.  On the morning I left for Colorado, I found out a former student who is very near and dear to my heart had lost her little baby sister to a drowning accident.  One of our days in Colorado, there was an active shooter blocks away in Downtown.  He was after one person and, as far as I know, only managed to kill himself.  On the night I arrived home in St. Louis, I was hearing shots fired as I drove through a neighborhood.  For the first time in that week I asked myself the question "Could this be my time?  What happens when my time comes?  How will I be remembered?"

I've read so many obituaries lately, it makes me think of an assignment many students used to think was ridiculous.  I want to write my own obituary so the world can hear my culminating thoughts and no one leaves out the best parts of my journey.

I want to talk of the chances I took and the people I touched. I want to tell stories of the places I've gone but also the times when I stayed.  I want to tell how there was rarely a person I found a stranger but not everyone always liked me. I want to tell some of the stories of this past week that have been so amazing but also how I feel guilty having those moments because I've been given so much already.  I want to include some of the greatest failures right alongside my successes.  I want to be able to say that I was me, but there are also times I was misunderstood.  I want to say that the good times weren't always worth the hard times, but the good doesn't happen without the bad.

I'd want my story to say that I lived.  In spite of shyness, divorced parents, moving around as a kid, student loans, and less-than-ideal working conditions.  I lived.  I excelled at something I was passionate about and touched the lives of many, so that they could touch the lives of even more still.

And for that reason, my story will not end just because I stop writing it.

ISTE 2016: A Reflection

My favorite thing about ISTE is #NotAtISTE16. This might sound a little strange...because I'm at #ISTE2016 so let me explain.

Some background:

Being my first time at ISTE, I'm glad to have learned from others who had tips and resources. One thing I know from my experience connecting face-to-face and attending conferences locally is that it is the starting off point, the beginning of a journey. When the conference ends, it's up to you to keep it going.

Last year, I was #NotAtISTE. I watched and learned from afar as people I knew (in "Twitter only") had a blast connecting. I made the decision that I would attend the next ISTE no matter what. It is a decision I stood by even when it meant paying my own way and figuring out how to make it work financially. Even when it meant I was the only person from my district. It is a decision I am glad I made.

I attended alone, but I have not been alone. I volunteered several hours in the Welcome Experience, handing out ice cream and encouraging aspiring DJs on the Mash Machine. I met many members of my PLN in person for the first time. I rubbed elbows with Edu Rockstars and generally had the time of my life.

The #NotAtIste16 hashtag led me to pay it forward to those who were learning from afar. As a (former) special education teacher, I also see this in a more powerful way to continue this connection after week leave. While many tweeted #ISTE2016 with things they learned, I also tweeted #NotAtIste16 with intention, adding nuggets of information as well as links to presentations so those #NotAtISTE16 could be part of the action.

I love the idea behind the concept and hope you will pay it forward as well. If you tweeted resources, consider retweeting your favorites (or all of them) with #NotAtISTE16. So yes, my favorite thing about ISTE has been #NotAtISTE16, because it doesn't have to stop here. Remember that while you were #ISTE2016 this week, next week we area all #NotAtISTE16.

I want to have a funeral for "We've always done it this way"

I want to have a funeral for "We've always done it this way."  I want to write it on a piece of paper, light it with a match, and watch it burn until it is no longer recognizable.  I won't spread the ashes in mourning, but as a reminder that our students deserve better.  We deserve better.


There isn't really a story with this one.  Just something I've been thinking about a lot lately.

When I first sat down, I thought I'd have more to say here, but I think anyone reading this will get the point just fine on their own.  This is a post more for me than anyone else, because I don't ever want to be a person who is ok with maintaining the status quo.  So for me, for you, for us...Let's stop making excuses for why the world isn't the way we want it to be.  Let's just go out there and do it differently.

LAUNCHing a maker project

A rock shattered the rear window on my car today.  It was an awful thing, but it doesn't mean I had a bad day.  It was inconvenient, but it doesn't mean I let it ruin my afternoon or week for that matter.

My students began working on a maker project building Roller Coasters from cardboard (and various materials) yesterday.  It's a design thinking lesson from Launch, a new book out by AJ Juliani and John Spencer.

The part I have enjoyed the most so far is seeing students who are quiet during academics come alive and get involved during this activity.  Our casualties so far have been: 2 X-acto knives, 1 hot glue gun, and about 38 egos.  The former two wore out due to continued use.  The latter is for the better.

Yesterday afternoon, one student moved up to me to ask a question, but hesitated.

Student: Is it ok if I...no it's probably not.  Never mind.

Me: Just ask the question.

Student: Is it ok if we work on this at home and bring pieces in?

Me: Absolutely.  Any specific ideas you were thinking?

Student: We might do some welding.

...

WHAT?!  (A few things while I let this sink in)

1. Student wants to work on something for MY class outside of class?!  That's a rarity during the school year.

2. Student is interested in welding and is thinking outside the box, literally metal not cardboard.

3. How awesome is that?!

Yeah, it's been kind of an amazing week.

I'm a Google Innovator, You Just Don't Know Me Yet...

It's the first line of my application video for the 2016 Google Certified Innovator Academy and I believe every word of it.  That doesn't mean I always did.

Let's rewind.  Years ago, in my undergrad educational technology class, we were introduced to Google Docs.  After living much of my life tied to various types of drives--Mainly floppy (the ones that literally flopped, the 3.5" ones) and flash (which consistently failed me at 11PM the night before a major paper was due)--this concept made so much sense to me.  In our world of internet and connectivity, why shouldn't you be able to start writing something on one device and pick it up on another without having to deal with multiple versions and formatting issues?  Why shouldn't you be able to share something with someone else to work on it at the same time?!

Fast forward to January 2014, and my school decided to go 1:1 with Chromebooks, starting with my classroom and the rest of our math and science departments.  My love and appreciation for all things Google had continued through these years, in fact, my students had personal Gmail accounts so we were able to use Google Drive and its capabilities even though we weren't a GAFE school yet.  This was a big turning point in my teaching career.  After having signed up for the computer lab or laptop carts for EVERY class period for over a year, it was exactly what I and my students needed to increase our efficiency.  I'll admit I was very excited that the startup time of a Chromebook was 7 seconds, compared to the nearly 15 minutes it took to acquire and get logged in on our school laptops.

I've been accused of being over-reliant on technology in my teaching, mostly by those who don't understand the motive, method, and madness.   I have used my personal time to acquire knowledge and skills, often submitting presentation proposals so I was able to attend the conference for free.  I went into this knowing it is difficult for a district to justify sending a math teacher to so many tech conferences, and I'd made attending a career non-negotiable.  I'd go alone, not knowing a single person and have a blast being out of my comfort zone.  I've come to realize being out of my comfort zone may just be my comfort zone.  I quickly found my people, two kinds of them actually.  One group, they had these really cool Google badges.  They were confident and simply amazing at what they did.  I found there was a shared knowledge between myself and them.  Whatever it took, I was going to be one of them.

It was at one of these conferences, MOREnet 2014, that I found another group of people who would become the biggest support system I never knew I needed.  I found my #tlap crew (Teach Like a Pirate).  I've told the story several times and will continue to tell it as I move through my career.  After hearing Dave Burgess speak, buying the book, participating in a LIVE #tlap chat, and basically "drinking the Kool-aid" of the entire #tlap concept, I was inspired to focus on creating an environment I would want to learn in and that I was excited to teach in.  The power of this community was in being connected, weekly chats and inspiration 24/7.  It took care of the post-conference lull I would have after returning to my school with great ideas, but not one who really "got it."  The list of names of people in this group who inspire me daily is long and wonderful.  I would not be the educator I am today without this amazing community.

By melding this and technology together, I was able to tweak what learning looked like in my classroom.  I have also taken the same approach with how I teach and support other staff in my building with technology.  Whether it is for this reason or others, one thing I do know:  Students and teachers enjoy coming to learn in my class.

The best advice I got from Google Certified Teachers (now Innovators) at these conferences was to just these tools in my classroom.  That seemed easy enough.  So I went another year using Google apps in my classroom, then passed the Google Certified Educator Level 1 test quite easily.  Due to the rush of the school year, nearly a year passed of planning to take the Level 2 test.  I was going to wait until the summer once I realized there wasn't really enough time to get in on this round of Innovator applications anyway.  Luckily, some people in my PLN reminded me that inaction is telling myself "No."  My good friend, and Google Certifed Everything (Level 1, 2, Innovator, Trainer, Administrator) Nick Cusumano refused to let me make excuses.  He never treated me as anything less than a Google Certified Innovator, and I will never be able to thank him enough for seeing that in me.

It was with the busiest week ever (state testing) I arrived at my decision to go for it.  I spent at least ten hours each day going over and over the materials from the Google for Edu Training website and working with tools to make sure I was ready.  I holed myself up at home, put the dogs, who lay on my computer to get me to take a break, outside and took the Level 2 test.  With time to spare, I saw the words on the screen that let me know I passed.  I almost didn't believe it.

The next week was still busy.  Things I put off the week before still needed to be done, but I was as determined as ever to finish my Innovator application.  I was ok with the idea of not getting in, but I had to try.  The hardest part of that process wasn't answering questions or even the time restriction (down to the wire) I had put myself in, it was deciding which thing I am passionate about would become my Vision Project.  Originally, I had thought I would do one on better PD for my school, but the video I had in mind would likely have not been very highly regarded by my admins.  Including teachers saying lines such as "Couldn't this have been an email?!" when referring to staff meetings and trainings would have been true and entertaining, but the biggest change would have been the stability in my career.  At the end of the day, I have a car payment.

I decided on Google Parent, an initiative to help schools educate parents and help parents who are seeking more information on the use of Google tools in schools.  On a daily basis, I am reminded of the gap between school and home and that even when sharing a link, some parents just don't understand how to interact with it.  And that's ok, for now, but that also means that we still have a job to do.  Innovator or not, I was excited to see where I get to take this project.

I clicked submit and put it all in the hands of the people at Google for Edu.  Watching the other videos made me worried, made me second guess myself and my ideas.  But I began to see that this process was about so much more than just getting an acceptance letter, it's about me doing the things that make me, well, me.  It's about not settling for the status quo.  It's about connecting and finding ways to innovate in my own way.  No matter what happened in the next ten days, nothing would discount the strides I had taken as an educator and the impact my style of teaching has on students.  More importantly, it would not stop me from continuing to do so.

Of course, all of this was running through my head during THE.  LONGEST.  TEN.  DAYS.  OF.  MY.  LIFE.  SO.  FAR...and this was in my inbox on May 20th!

I didn't do this alone, I did this with the love and support of people I (mostly) haven't met in real life.  My family doesn't bat an eye anymore to the idea that I talk so often with people I've never met.  I never was good at listening when told not to talk to strangers.  In turn, I haven't known many people to be a stranger (at least for long).  I can't wait to get to Boulder and meet everyone in the #COL16 group.  What a ride this has been and will continue to be.

When I said "I'm a Google Innovator, you just don't know me yet."  I meant it, but that doesn't mean I'm stopping there.

Yes: A reflection on not telling myself No

Not too long ago, I wrote a blog post about not telling myself "No."  That was my advice to my students.

Since then, I've been trying to practice that--taking my own advice--in everyday life.  I think I've found that the key for me isn't so much about just not telling myself "No," it's about telling myself yes.  Telling yourself "Yes" to that opportunity.

And ever since then, every single opportunity that so have had (and I always thought I was good at this), I've been really good about making sure that I don't say "No" to an opportunity just by omission.  So I have said "Yes" to every opportunity that has presented itself.  And amazing things have been happening in my life.

So my challenge to you: Don't settle for just not telling yourself "No."  Make sure you tell yourself "Yes."  "You can do this."  Be your own cheerleader.

I will admit, it hasn't been easy.  I'm extremely busy this time of year: testing, paperwork, keeping my students from climbing the walls because it's May.

It's been a lot of work.  Which makes me think about a video we show our advisory students each fall.  It's Ashton Kutcher's speech at the Teen Choice Awards a few years ago.  He shares his advice with a crowd of kids who I hope heard his message.  One of the pieces that always sticks with me is when he said "Opportunity looks a lot like work."  It's true, opportunity looks so much like work.  But when it's an opportunity you want to take, it's work you want to do.

I found what I want to do.

What do you want to do?