Category: stories

  • Personal post: Tools of a life

    Personal post: Tools of a life

    After a decade in which we survived cancer, Brexit and a global pandemic, my family is preparing for a seismic shift: my parents are returning to the shores of Europe to be near my sister, and I will remain in the UK, where my home has been since I immigrated in 1997.

    The demands of age, which increase year on year, will be more easily met in their new home on the banks of the Rhein, and as a family we are all relieved to have found a strategy that removes at least some of the risks we have struggled with in recent years.

    The endless stream of paperwork required for this move across Brexit borders is a stark reminder that even in this digital age bureaucracy requires original signatures, contracts completed in triplicate and proof upon proof of a life lived regardless of years lost to cancer and COVID. Good luck to those who have to obtain written proof of regular hygienist visits at the dentist for the past ten years.

    When I separated from my ex husband and moved to Cardiff in 2020, my possessions were stuck in lockdown limbo for months, and I spent a lot of time missing small objects I hadn’t deemed important enough to pack into the first car load. Now, my parents are likewise trying to decide what to take, what to leave behind and what they can’t do without whilst their household is shipped across borders (where import duty will need to be paid).

    My parents are both creative, and that creativity and desire to make things, fix thing and improve things is something we share as a family. In my dad’s case it is rooted deeply being an engineer, a life working with tools. My mother’s creativity is in working with numbers and also in paper crafts. My sister’s creative genius extends to whole houses, interior design and fabrics. My own shows up in all aspects of my life, as I have inherited something from each of them.

    Something my dad gave to me during this move is a kind of mechanical leaver which comes with a key that enables you to shift weights up to ten tonnes. It’s an incredible bit of engineering, and a beautiful material metaphor.

    It’s no longer an object of use for my dad, whose engineering projects are now smaller and lighter, but it is an object that represents his quiet strength and determination perfectly. Just as the homemade Christmas cards, and lovingly made gifts that my mum gave me represent her generosity of spirit and desire to do good for others.

    This move marks a new chapter for our family, a new beginning in what will be a post-Brexit, post-pandemic world, and sometimes it feels like we need to shift a small mountain in order to get there. So it is a good thing indeed that we have this powerful reminder, that you can move great things, if only you apply your strength in the right way.

    I have translated this post into German below, for my mother, and avid reader of my blog. “Hallo, Mami!”.

    Ein Werkzeug des Lebens

    Nach einem Jahrzehnt in dem wir Krebs, Brexit und eine globale Epidemie überlebt haben, bereitet sich unsere Family auf den nächsten, großen Schritt vor: meine Eltern übersiedeln wieder in Europäischen Gefilde, um näher bei meiner Schwester zu sein, und ich bleibe weiterhin in Großbritannien, wo ich seit 1997 zu Hause bin.

    Den Ansprüchen des Älterwerden’s werden wir in ihrem neuen Heim am Ufer von Rhein’s eher gerecht werden können, und unsere Familie ist erleichtert, zumindest manche der Risiken, mit denen wir in den letzten Jahren gehadert haben, hinter uns zu lassen.

    Der endlose Papierkram den man braucht um einen Umzug über Brexit Grenzen hinweg zu vollbringen, ist enorm. Es ist auch ein Zeichen, wie viel Wert Behörden, selbst in diesem digitalen Alter, darauf legen, alles im Original zu erhalten. Unterschriften bruacht man auf dreifach ausgeführten Verträgen zusammen mit vielfachen Belegen, die man trotz all den Unterbrechungen wegen Krebs und Coronavirus erbringen muss. Viel Glück an alle, die von einem englischen Zahnarzt einen schriftlichen Beweis dafür brauchen, dass sie alle sechs Monate beim Zahnarzt waren.

    Als ich mich Anfang des Jahres 2020 von meinem Ex-Ehemann getrennt hab, und nach Cardiff gezogen bin, sind viele meiner persönlichen Dinge monatelang während des Lockdowns stecken geblieben. Und ich habe sehnsüchtig auf Dinge gewartet, die mir nicht wichtig genug erschienen um sie auf der ersten Fahrt nach Cardiff mit ins Auto zu packen. Diesen Sommer sortieren nun meine Eltern ihren Hausrat danach, was sofort mit muss, und was per Spedition geliefert werden kann (inklusive Zoll und Importsteuer) und auch, was man nicht mehr braucht.

    Meine Eltern sind beide kreativ, und Kreativität und eine Gabe Dinge zu verbessern und neu zu gestalten ist etwas, was wir alle, als Familie, gemeinsam haben. Für meinen Vater diese Kapazität hängt mit Jahrzehnten als Ingenieur zusammen, eine erfolgreiche Karriere mit Werkzeug in der Hand. Bei meiner Mutter kommt die Kreativität von ihrer Arbeit mit Nummern und Zahlen, und auch mit Papier und beim Basteln. Das kreative Genie meiner Schwester kann sich auf ganze Häuser beziehen, durch Innenarchitektur und Design. Als jüngste habe ich etwas von allen geerbt, und meine Kreativität prägt alle Bereiche meines Lebens.

    Ein Werkzeug das mein Vater mir während dieses Umzugs gegeben hat, ist dieses Objekt: es ist ein Mechanismus der sehr schwere Gewichte, bis zu zehn Tonnen, anheben kann. Es ist eine unglaubliche Ingenieur-Maschine und auch eine materielle Metapher.

    Obwohl dieses Objekt an sich für meinen Vater nicht mehr nützlich ist, da seine Ingenieur Projekte in Zukunft etwas kleiner und leichter ausfallen werden, ist es weiterhin ein Symbol seiner ruhigen Kraft und Zuverlässigkeit. In einem ähnlichen Sinne sind die handgemachten Weihnachtskarten und liebevoll verpackten Geschenke die meine Mutter mir gegeben hat, Symbole Ihrer Großzügigkeit und ihrer Gabe, anderen eine Freude zu machen.

    Mit dem bevorstehenden Umzug fangen wir, als Familie, ein neues Kapitel an. Ein Kapitel das sich hoffentlich ohne Brexit und weitere Epidemien überstehen lässt; und manchmal fühlen wir uns, als müssten wir einen riesigen Berg vor uns her Schieben, um dort hin zu kommen. Und deshalb ist es gut, dass wir dieses Werkzeug haben, dass uns daran erinnert, das man sehr viel erreichen kann, so lange man seine Kraft auch richtig einsetzt.

  • Poseidon, bin collector, judge. What I wanted to be when I was a kid.

    Poseidon, bin collector, judge. What I wanted to be when I was a kid.

    When things are busy, it can be tough to make time and space for YOU. So in order to make some space for ME on MY blog, this is a blog post all about… me 🙂

    Reflecting on ‘career’ progress for want of a better word is an important part of charting your own development, and this is something I have been doing as part of reviewing and updating my Senior CMALT Portfolio. The time frame for updating the portfolio is the last 3 years… but what we I look back 30+ years instead?

    How has my path changed since I first decided on what I wanted to do in life? Well, it all started with.. ketchup.

    Hot dog vendor

    Yep, growing up in what was then West Germany in the 80s made me a child who had a fondness for both, sausages and ketchup. Hence, my first career plan involved (what seemed to me) an endless daily supply of both. Whilst I am glad that this particular plan didn’t work out for me, I am still absolutely a fan of sausage on a barbecue AND ketchup.

    Early school years

    Bin collector: Obviously because of jumping on and off a moving vehicle, which looked like a LOT of fun to me.

    Circus conductor: as you can see from the cover image of this post, a fancy dress party my parents organised for my sister’s 16th (?) birthday gave me the opportunity to try out what it would be like to be a circus conductor, and needless to say I enjoyed it very much. Animals. Travel. Being in charge… what’s not to like 😉

    Poseidon: my fancy dress costume of choice at pre-school, patiently produced by my talented mother from green fabric, green netting and plenty of home-made paper and foil fish as well as a cardboard trident, was Poseidon. I proudly climbed up into the school bus on the day, only to meet rather puzzled classmates, who weren’t quite sure why I was dressed in a green bedsheet covered in fish whilst they wore princess dresses or the armour of superheroes. Still, being of the sea has always attracted me, and I still smile when I think back to that particular outfit.

    Astronaut: in primary school I had an inspiring teacher, who taught us sciences with such enthusiasm, that we not only learnt about photosynthesis, but in my case also got inspired to go into space. Willy was a teacher who welcomed all questions and valued curiosity above all else.

    Later school years

    Horse breeder: I can’t remember anymore which books I read, but for some time during my early teenage years, I was into horses, big time. We had a neighbour with an elderly horse that needed care, and Blacky proved to be an ideal horse for me to spend time with. I was a bit too afraid of riding to really get into it, and not physically confident, but I enjoyed walking him around the paddock, looking after him and… reading books about horses. My fantasy of having a farm and breed horses (ideally somewhere in the Irish countryside) involved wearing wellies, and being outside with horses and dogs. That, minus the horses, is how I like to spend my free time now… only in the Welsh countryside.

    Judge: At some point during the turbulent years of teenage hood, I became very interested in ethics and the legal system. I read a lot as a teenager, mostly books that were far too serious (I still have a full set of Kafka in black paperback from that period) and the idea of being part of something that could help set things right in the world, at least in my young eyes, was appealing.

    College and university

    Once I started college in London, my seventeen year old self discovered a lot of new opportunities and careers. Through my mostly low paid bar and customer service jobs I met people who had interesting, creative careers: cinema projectionists, coffee roasters, art collectors, book shop owners, academics, artists, musicians and many, who were many years older and worked behind the same shop or bar counter as me.

    Artist: throughout my college and undergraduate years, my focus was on my creative practice. It was challenging and interesting and provided me with freedom that subjects like law or science wouldn’t have. I loved art school. I didn’t love selling the work I made. I didn’t end up pursuing a career in art, but the things I learnt, the ways of thinking and being curious, are still very much part of my daily practice.

    Anthropologist: when I returned from a scholarship at the Athens School of Fine Arts, I was looking to do a postgraduate degree, and one MA, in Material and Visual Culture, attracted me in particular. It was a great course that introduced me to a whole new discipline and opened up a world of new perspectives in my head. I was still working in a café and a bookshop during my first postgraduate year, so my time to engage with student life was limited. That changed during my research degree years, when I managed to get a scholarship, and study cemeteries for a few years. My thesis has an intensely practical focus: how to bury people in the 21st century whilst respecting the burial culture of the past. But even I never expected to have a career in cemeteries.

    Learning Technologist: When the opportunity came along to work on a new VLE, Moodle, being introduced in my department at university, I immediately applied for the summer job and spent happy months setting up dozens of modules. That was the start of my work in Learning Technology, and it has lead to me a field that I am still working in today.

    Now

    Every Myers-Briggs test I have ever done described me as someone who is good at making decisions, good at leading, and I enjoy the variety of being in a leadership position that brings new challenges with it every day. I guess it’s no surprise that I will be celebrating 10 years of being a CEO next year, and that is a milestone I am looking forward to reflecting on in my CMALT Portfolio update.

    I am not sure if what I do now would seem like a good thing to the me who wanted to be Poseidon or breed horses. What I am sure about is that younger me would love the dog, and be happy about me writing a book.

  • A love letter to #DS106radio emergency broadcasting

    A love letter to #DS106radio emergency broadcasting

    Tomorrow’s the big #ds106 #ds106radio marathong and I can’t wait for 24 hours of broadcasting on my favourite radio station.

    I came late to this great endeavour and only really got into DS106 Radio in 2020, when my friends Tannis and Anne-Marie and I started broadcasting every Sunday throughout lockdown from Canada and the UK respectively. If you’d like to get a flavour for what we got up to, then head over to this post from July 2020 or hear us chat about it in this video Hope on the Airwaves from the OERxDomains21 Conference in April 2021.

    I got a lot from this and many other ’emergency’ broadcasts on DS106 since March 2020. I listened hungrily to voices of distant friends and colleagues, who were sharing their own trials and tribulations along with a varied and inventive playlist of tunes both old and new.

    Last year was a year of loss for many and one of the things the broadcasts have given me a renewed appreciation for, is how each individual in their particular is contending with a whole lot. The pandemic might have stopped many activities across the globe, but it certainly didn’t feel like a break for anyone working in EdTech.

    Anne-Marie and Tannis got me through some of the roughest patches of a very difficult year and we found some respite from the demands of being an adult woman in pandemic times through our collaborative playlists.

    Ladies, thank you for the laughs and tears and love. See you on the airwaves.

  • Drawing 2020 – a bit of strategic ‘visual thinkery’

    Earlier this year, I blogged about that I feel I am starting a ‘new job’ as things have changed so much over the past year… so this week on Friday I am having a strategy away day, pandemic style.

    CEOs often get asked what success will look like in 3, 12 and 36 months. Asking yourself that question is a useful way to get your own thoughts in order and prioritising short, medium and long term goals.

    Often, the kind of success measures or KPIs you’d include range from internal to the organisation to external stakeholder groups, from local to national to international. That’s the kind of thing an Impact Report is made for and that is important – but not helpful for me just now.

    I am looking to re-imagine, to re-assess and to start from a blank page. Cue a bit of drawing and colouring…

    Putting pen (and brush) to paper

    I find it helpful to start with a blank page and the first thing I drew was a little flag, planted at the start of the year. It marks the launch of ALT’s (then) new strategy for 2020-25 (…best laid plans etc).

    From there, it was a story of firsts… the first pivot online… our first ever fully online OER conference… the first time that we ran an event with 1,000+ registered participants, and the first ever time that we had to fully refund hundreds of paying delegates AND the first time those participants donated nearly £10,000 to help cover the losses we were making.

    The first time that we drew up an emergency budget and plan just two months after setting the first ones… the first time we made an emergency strategy and held an emergency Board meeting.

    In June we held our first ever fully online AGM with in-house voting. And in July, ‘business as usual’ included open calls for volunteers, editors, committee members – all for activities which were changing continuously.

    Our first ever online Summer Summit took place in August, the first ever fully online awards short-listing process in September and the start of term saw us provide a second wave of support webinars, resources and care for an increasingly exhausted membership, preparing for an academic year that would be like… no one knew.

    In November we launched our first ever CMALT Accelerator workshops and in December the Winter Conference saw our first ever online Awards Ceremony and first ever Community Award to every Learning Technologist.

    By the end of the year, we had also published 49 new research papers, double the average number and the first time that we reached such a high number of publications.

    A year of firsts – pandemic style.

    Doing this drawing, sitting and thinking, letting my pen guide my thoughts, is incredibly helpful. It allows me to see beyond the KPIs and budget columns – and these don’t feel terribly meaningful anyway in a global pandemic context.

    What does feel meaningful to me is the picture I have in my head of the past year. A picture of an agile, learning organisation where everyone contributed to us achieving a lot of successful firsts.

    I also see thousands of professionals whom we have supported through the ups and downs of 2020… from sharing open resources and offering full scholarships to running support webinars and providing much needed CPD.

    I like the idea of last year being a year of firsts and as well as all the bad stuff, there are a lot of positives to take with us.

    The next blank piece of paper is going to be for 2021. A year of… ?

    What success for ALT looked like… in 2020
  • Still broadcasting on #ds106radio

    It’s the middle of July… and ever since March every Sunday evening three of us, Tannis, Anne-Marie & me, have been meeting up on Radio DS106 http://ds106rad.io/listen/ .

    This little online radio venture started as a crisis support for each other and our listeners. We met up once a week to share lock down tales and even though the immediate crisis has started to relax somewhat in our day to day lives I value the connection and shared Sunday evenings even more now than I did a few months ago.

    It’s a pleasure to meet up and see how everyone is getting on… and shared some tunes along the way (have a look at this playlist of summertime tunes – complete with the Pixies, Cure and Kinks 😉 ).

    It’s great to have a window into how others are doing getting back into the swing of some kind of everyday normality outside of work and my immediate high street. It’s reassuring to see how long it takes for others, not just me, to adjust again.

    We are now talking of first trips… days away from home… new pets… things that a few months ago we didn’t have any hope of doing. And that is a great win for all of us, taking our first careful (and masked) steps back into a more social life.

    I am super grateful to my friends, Anne-Marie and Tannis, for making it all possible and keeping it going. It’s been simply amazing and I look forward to it each week.

    See you on the airwaves and we hope you stay safe & well x

  • Letter making and reflection

    I have been watching a documentary series recently on the art of design, and one episode about Jonathan Hoefler: Typeface Design in particular captured my imagination. It’s an amazing glimpse into a professional and creative practice that combines material and digital elements effortlessly. Anything from maps in museum collections to books and wooden blocks to visualisation tools and digital pens is part of the process of creating a new typeface, which then is used both in the virtual and physical world. I love watching the series partly because I get to see some of the most beautiful work spaces, kitted out with everything you can possibly imagine and also because the production values of the series are high. It’s a glossy glimpse into the cult of contemporary design. It’s also a refreshing change of perspective coming from a context in which we revisit the tension between digital and more traditional ways of working all the time.

    From the book “Envelopes” by Harriett Russel

    Learning more about typeface design fits in well with two discoveries I recently made: first, a charity shop book find, a volume called Envelopes. This book documents a project, a postal art project, of letters sent via the Royal Mail with extraordinary envelopes. Some of the envelopes are more cryptic than others, and all of them were delivered by the postal service.

    Another recent discovery, and an absolute joy, has been a blog of weekly letters written between two women called ROG & SHINCH A CREATIVE SPACE FOR TWO. I really love the project, which is described as “an exploration of writing, conversation, collaboration and curation” and I have enjoyed exploring the archive of now over a year’s worth of weekly letters.

    The letters share glimpses of daily life, work, seasons and events, thoughts and ideas explored, shared and reflected on. It makes for amazing reading and it also speaks eloquently of the value of conversation and reflection – of making a connection across geographical distance, of setting aside time and space for writing and sharing.

    I’ve written before about my love of letters, postcards and stationary, and setting aside time for writing… and this project has been a wonderful discovery that has inspired me anew to think more about the role writing, conversations and blogging have for me. Significance that is both personal and professional and a reflection of how distributed many of the people who are important to me have been since childhood, from school-sponsored pen pals that grew into long term friendships, to family relationships maintained over great distances to working in a distributed team resulting in a huge volume of letters, voicemails, video calls, emails, blog posts, postcards, parcels… that has steadily grown over the decades.

    The complete mix of different media of communication practice is one of the things I relate to from the documentary series. When I first started writing letters as a child some of the options I have now, such as recording voice messages or sending a DM were not available to me. But even though there is more choice now, what is of primary importance is not the way I write, communicate or reflect but when, how and with whom.

    I am inspired by the work of the creative people who have designed the typeface which renders these words. I am inspired by artists who create envelopes as an art form celebrating the journeys words go on between people. I am inspired by the sharing of conversations such as these two women who write letters to each other. These sources of inspiration form part of the space that my words are part of, where my voice finds room to sound. They remind me that it is important to practice communicating, reflecting, articulating my experience of the world. To keep making letters and to share, contribute, value my thoughts, my voice.