I’m waiting for the start of a school year that goes predictably, without confusion or chaos… is boringly normal.  So far in 22 years that hasn’t happened… this year was no exception.  In my second year as the District Information Technology Coordinator, I was looking forward to hitting the ground running. And then I was thrown a curveball. There is an organization in the province, which runs on grants from the Ministry of Ed, membership fees from school districts and vendor evaluation fees.  Known as The Educational Resources Acquisition Consortium, ERAC manages software and web-based resources, as well as manages the evaluation of novels and textbooks for use in BC schools. I had presented at their conference in June, and in July G got a phone call asking if they could second (a fancy word for poach) me for the upcoming year.  Long story short, I was able to take a position at 20% time, allowing me to carry on doing my dream job in the district, and take on part of another dream job for the Province.  So! This week was my first official opportunity to wear my ERAC name tag, at the conference.

I have attended many educational conferences before. I have presented at many as well, occasionally sharing a workshop I have created more than once.  But this time it was different… This time I planned or prepared and presented 4 different presentations.  One of which was a format I have never experienced before, called “Ignite”.  More on that in a minute. The others were a more familiar format, including a co-presentation with G which was the first of the four I was responsible for.  It was for the third presentation that I started to learn some lessons that I hadn’t been prepared for. The day before, my first solo workshop had been planned for the death session— last place of the day. It was sparsely attended, and I found my energy was more frantic than the the usual frenetic, and I didn’t feel like I had engaged the participants as best I could. My third session, the next day, was first thing after the keynote, and even though the time spot was better, I wasn’t taking any chances with the energy I was going to require.  I started, because I was going to ask the participants to chat in small groups, by moving chairs out of the traditional theatre (or church pew) style into a random and chaotic mess.  My plan was that if I had a low turn out again, it wouldn’t be so obvious that the first 3 rows were empty, and when we got to the “move around and form small groups” section of the pres, the participants wouldn’t be reluctant to shift the furniture about.  What I was totally ill-prepared for was the social experiment that ensued.  As people entered the room, they either paused and re-checked the room number, came in and then moved to several places in the room before settling, or asked if I wanted help getting to room “back in order”— the assumption that someone before me had messed up the chairs.  It became a delicious and completely unintentional metaphor for what I was speaking about—helping or mentoring people throughout a chaotic transition—in this case, our mentoring program.  It ended up being a brilliant session, particularly the small group break-out, as they all shared their experiences and learnings.  I circulated amongst the groups and was reminded, once again, of what I love about teacher-culture.

And then…. then there was the Ignite session.  Now, I had received instructions for the session— the design is 20 slides in 5 minutes, which allows 15 seconds per slide.  Participants prepare and submit their own slides, but for some reason I was under the impression that the stand and deliver part was to be done off the cuff— or at least sans notes. I also thought that ideas would need to be “small”- that is, there wouldn’t be time to deep-dive into great philosophies.  So. We assemble at the head table of the large banquet hall, probably 80 to 100 people in attendance. Six presenters, plus me, side by side at the front. Explanation and introductions, and several references to the bravery we presenters were exhibiting (re-affirming for me the impromptu nature of the exercise, as I understood it).  First guy gets up.  A seasoned teacher and presenter, I’ve seen him speak and emcee many times.  He takes the podium, and opens his tablet and READS HIS SPEECH as the slides progress— and it’s all about Leadership, and Nurturing spirit and being a Guide and Mentor. Next guy gets up, and DOES THE SAME THING— except his topic is all bout meaningful resources, guiding learners in the digital age, being a good digital citizen. Great. Next guy— this whole huge deal with graphs and fancy transitions and lofty ideas about the speed of information growth and how we owe our learners the best/most/all we can do.  Oh but wait it gets better.  The next fellow to move to the podium with his notes on copious SHEETS OF PAPER is the same fellow I met at the first night’s social hour. Who, when I learned was a co-Ignite presenter, I told of my trepidation.  When I told him what my topic was, he enthusiastically encouraged me to rest assured my idea was a GREAT IDEA. And then did his presentation on a bunch more lofty ideas around educational change and leadership and probably world peace.

And there is me. Following these 4 rehearsed and slick presentations on Really Important Things, there is me. Me and my No Notes, and my topic.  I wish, fervently, the event had been video taped, but I remember I introduced myself thus: “Hi everyone. So, I’ve never done this before, and I think I may have misunderstood the criteria….The topics before mine include themes of Leadership, Growth and Change in adversity, Educational Shift, The Information Explosion… and now, I’d like to talk to you about 20 things I like to do with an iPad”. *thumbs up and a big cheesy smile*  Fortunately, the fellow who spoke about real and authentic digital resources had made a comment that there “….is more to educational videos than fluffy squirrels”.   And finished my introduction: “I am the Fluffy Squirrel”.

But you know…. the room filled with laughter, and I knew that every educator there felt my pain, and so I did the only thing I could.  Owned it. Rocked it. Left them laughing.

Could have been worse….