My family and I recently moved. In fact, just before we recently moved, we recently moved. After about five years in one house, we moved back to Cape Ann, MA this past summer and then, six months later, we moved again. Looking back on our lives together, my wife and I have moved twelve times in almost seventeen years of marriage. We’ve packed, unpacked, and organized our possessions more times than I care to remember. While we’ve found ways to simplify the process over the years, there’s one area we’ve refused to downsize: our books.

I haven’t always loved books. Although I was, according to my parents, an early reader, I didn’t become an enthusiastic reader until finding my “just right” book in early high school. Visiting the Derby Square Bookstore in Salem, MA with my mother, she suggested I give Druids, by Morgan Llywelyn, a shot. Begrudgingly, I relented and brought the book home, where it sat untouched for a few days. While I don’t remember the moment I made the decision to crack the spine and dive in, I vividly remember being completely absorbed by the story of Ainvar, Vercingetorix, and Julius Caesar. Once finished, my life of books began.

If a heaven for me exists, I’ve often imagined it a used book store, stacked high with delicious volumes from all over the globe. The sun is poring in from the large bow windows where I sit with a bottomless cup of steaming black coffee. The clock face never changes, there is no “next thing” clamoring for my attention.

Over the years, we’ve had the opportunity to downsize our collection many times; indeed, with each move we’ve considered the cost – both in dollars and in effort – of keeping and hauling dozens of boxes, which strangely become heavier with every passing year. Confronted with the possibility of parting with our friends, however, we’ve repeatedly opted to move them “one more time”, with the vision of one day being able to unpack them all and place them, with all due admiration, in a place of honor in our home. In fact, we had that exact scenario this afternoon.

After a morning spent hauling boxes, organizing our stuff, and deciding what to donate, we surveyed our stacks of boxed books. Sweaty and sore, we openly discussed whether it was time to start downsizing our collection, being “sensible” about it all. Once we opened up a box, however, and spotted those spined beauties, resplendent in their own right, but also weighted with the significance of our own histories and stories overlapping with their pages, we shared an appreciative grin and quickly closed the lid. We’re apparently not willing to be sensible about our books quite yet.

This evening, after dinner and homework help, I sat on the couch to read the latest copy of The New Yorker.  Flipping through the pages to set my order of reading, I came upon a moving Personal History article by Kathryn Schulz called “The Stack” in which she lovingly recalls the remarkable pile of books in her parents’ room that stood as a growing monument to her father’s “expansive, exuberant mind”:

I can’t remember it in its early days, because in its early days it wasn’t memorable. I suppose back then it was just a modest little pile of stray books, the kind that many readers have lying around in the living room or next to the bed. But by the time I was in my early teens it was the case—and seemed by then to have always been the case—that my parents’ bedroom was home to the Mt. Kilimanjaro of books. Or perhaps more aptly the Mt. St. Helens of books, since it seemed possible that at any moment some subterranean shift in it might cause a cataclysm.

In reflecting how books are organized – or not – in different families and households, she remarks:

The difficulty is that anything that is perfectly ordered is always threatening to become imperfect and disorderly—especially books in a household of readers. You are forever acquiring new ones and going back to revisit the old, spotting some novel you’ve always intended to read and pulling it from its designated location, discovering never-categorized books in the office or the back seat or under the bed. You can put some of these strays away, of course, but, collectively, they will always spill out beyond your bookshelves, permanently unresolved, like the remainder in a long-division problem. This is a difficulty that goes well beyond libraries. No matter how beautifully your life is arranged, no matter how lovingly you tend to it, it will not stay that way forever.

We adore our local library, and are routinely hauling overflowing bags of books back and forth across town. But there’s something about owning a book, engaging it with pencil in hand, reading it over the course of months or years rather than two weeks, that resonates with me. So we’ll continue to add to our own Stack, and, if necessary, lug them with us in our travels, confident that our labor of love is worth the effort.

After almost ten years living and working in CT, my family and I recently moved back to MA this past summer. In the midst of the chaos, it seems I neglected to renew my ownership of the domain designsaunders(dot)com. As such, I lost it 😦 I’ve been itching to get back to blogging and I took some time this week to port over some of my favorite posts from the past few years. Rather than simply rehash old material, I’m using it as an opportunity to reflect on how my life as an educator has evolved over time. I’ll also be adding new posts documenting my experiences as the new Director of Innovation in my new school community!

On my way home from Massachusetts yesterday, I listened to an episode of NPR’s Invisibilia called Our Computers, Ourselves, which dealt with the evolving relationship between humans and computers. The whole episode is well worth a listen, but I was particularly intrigued by the story of Thad Starner, who, as a student at MIT in the early 1990s, developed a form of wearable technology, called Lizzie:

SPIEGEL: Twenty-one years ago, in 1993, Thad took this box, which houses a computer hard drive, and strapped it to his body with a whole bunch of other hardware. He had a three-pound battery…

STARNER: Lead-acid battery about the size of a motorcycle battery.

SPIEGEL: …A huge 1990s modem.

STARNER: I plugged that into a car phone.

SPIEGEL: There was a small, one-handed keyboard called a Twiddler. It has, like, a handful of keys that are played kind of like chords on a piano so that words can be typed really, really fast.

SPIEGEL: Finally, Thad had a computer screen for just one eye that he jerry-rigged to some safety goggles. It was black and originally covered all of his left eye – making him look kind of like a 21st-century pirate with a large mechanical patch.

What was Thad’s motivation?

I was learning trigonometry. And I went to my father – he was a power engineer – and said hey, can you help me with this homework? My father looked at it for a few minutes and said nope, I can’t. I really don’t remember it. Hold it – you’re telling me that you knew this stuff at one point, but you forgot it? So I resolved right then and there that I was going to find a way not to forget my lessons. I found that that idea that I could gain understanding of something and then forget it was intolerable to me. It was just a sense of loss – it’s like losing a chunk of yourself.

As a Google Glass Explorer, I was particularly interested in how his professors and classmates felt about Lizzie, and about this type of technology in general. This anecdote seems like it could be found in the headlines of today:

SPIEGEL: So we talked about the anecdote – how Thad, after years of wearing Lizzie, had showed up at his PhD qualifying orals with Lizzy on him as she always was – how, as the panel of professors quizzed him, she had been there in his eye the whole time, gently guiding him, cuing his memories, which, at the end of the exam, had prompted a debate among his examiners. Was it fair to give Thad alone a PhD when he had Lizzy there helping him?

STARNER: It was a half-hour flame-fest. And I almost got a PhD that said, the faculty of MIT hereby convey upon Thad Starner and his wearable computer the degree of doctor of philosophy (laughter).

Definitely give this a listen. I’ve been thinking a lot about devices, connectedness, and personhood this summer, and will be trying to work through my incoherent thoughts over the next few weeks and months.

I had the opportunity this evening to chat with Nicholas Provenzano (@thenerdyteacher) on his podcast NerdyCast. Over the course of an hour, we discuss comics, graphic novels, reading, and makerspaces in schools. True to form, Nick brings his passion, insight, and humor to the conversation while also managing to drop some serious graphic novel recommendations for listeners.

Show links:

Blankets, by Craig Thompson
Habibi, by Craig Thompson
Superman: Red Sun, by Mark Millar
Kingdom Come, by Mark Waid and Alex Ross

makershed.com
makered.org
The Teachers Guild

And for those interested, here’s the skinny on the Robin Poll we touched on when talking about A Death in the Family:

Over 10,000 votes were cast, with the final vote being 5,343 votes for Jason to die over 5,271 for him to live.

“Chuck it in the skip!” she said from across the table. At first, I nodded in agreement, pretending to understand, but my curiosity got the best of me and I had to ask, “I’m sorry — what..?” I’d only been in England for a few days, but I’d already encountered countless expressions that forced me to admit ignorance and to lean on the kindness and patience of others. It would turn out to be a valuable skill in the days to come!

I’ve been messing around with Raspberry Pi for about a year now, but never made much progress. Earlier this year, I received a Kano as a gift and enjoyed building the computer and leveling up my avatar as I completed challenges along the way. But it wasn’t until January of this year that I stumbled upon Raspberry Pi Academy via Lenny Dutton’s Twitter banner image. Intrigued, I reached out:

Navigating to the Picademy website, I read their description of the program:

Over the course of two days, 24 teachers get hands-on with computing here at Pi Towers in Cambridge, and discover the many ways in which the Raspberry Pi can be used in the classroom. No experience is necessary; the Foundation’s Education Team will help you discover practical ways in which Raspberry Pi can support and further your teaching of the new curriculum.

This was exactly what I was looking for! I immediately set out to complete the application process and create a short video focused on being a 21st century educator.

A few months later I received an invitation to join Picademy 8 in Cambridge, UK April 27–28! Now it was time to make travel arrangements, reach out to the other attendees, and review my python scripting skills..!

The next 6 weeks seemed like an eternity, but the time finally came for me to board a plane headed for London.

My itinerary included spending Saturday and Sunday exploring London before taking a train to Raspberry Pi Towers in Cambridge. Having never been in England, I was excited to have an opportunity to visit as much of the city as would be possible with two days and a limited budget. My Airbnb flat was located right near the London Eye, so I was in a great location for sightseeing. Some of London’s most popular spots were basically on my front porch!

But I wanted to go far afield, so I ambled across Westminster Bridge and headed towards St. James Park where I rented a “Boris Bike” and rode through the park, across Kensington Garden, and up to Notting Hill where I dismounted and found a place to grab lunch.

From there, I wound my way back through the City, heading towards Covent Garden, where I would be meeting Cat Lamin and Steve Bagnall for dinner at Polpo, which was amazing.

The next morning, I woke up and walked over to grab breakfast at Borough Market, which is an open air market “celebrating 1000 years in Southwark”. I found some great coffee and walked around to all of the vendors selling fresh breads, cheeses, and produce. It was St. George’s Day, so there were street performers and cooking demonstrations.

After walking to the nearest Underground station, I traveled to Camden Town where I saw street performers and walked the labyrinthal markets that seem to encompass an entire city block. By this time, it was well after lunch and I needed to find my way to King’s Cross in order to catch the train to Cambridge.

Collecting materials to build a retro game console with my son over break. As this was my first attempt at a gaming station, I found a tutorial that would walk me through the steps of how to install and configure the game console emulator so that my Raspberry Pi can play the video game files in my library. There are tons of resources online, and I chose this fairly straightforward project from the amazing people at Adafruit.

Setting Up the Raspberry Pi

This part did include some work in Command Line, but nothing too complicated. If you get stuck, there are loads of resources online. And if you really get stuck, you can always just reformat your SD card with a fresh copy of Raspbian! I had an SD card with Jessie, the latest version of Raspbian, installed, and downloaded a copy of EmulationStation from their website (note: the tutorial directs you to the Pi Store, but it’s no longer active).

Once it was installed, I rebooted into the EmulationStation configuration window. This is where you set up your controllers. For this, I wired two buttons and my joystick to the GPIO pins on my Pi then mapped them accordingly. EmulationStation then boots into the menu where you can choose which game console you want to play.

Designing the Case

Given that I don’t currently have access to a laser cutter, I opted instead to design and print a custom case to house the joystick, buttons, and Raspberry Pi. I measured and remeasured the diameters of the buttons to make sure the holes would be just the right size! I also measured out the distance between the screw holes in the joystick housing so that I wouldn’t need to drill into the 3D model itself. Then I took to TinkerCAD to design my case!I first designed the lid of the case, making sure the holes were the correct size and aligned with one another. The next step was to use the dimensions of the lid to create a matching box. Once the lid and the box were the correct sizes, I added some vents to allow airflow to the Pi, and, for good measure, I added a Raspberry Pi emblem to the front of the case!

A Quick Note About That Logo

In order to create and insert the Raspberry Pi logo to my TinkerCAD file, I had to first go to Adobe Illustrator. I pasted a copy of the logo to my artboard and then AutoTraced it, making sure to adjust the results until it was just right. I then expanded the image and deleted all of the white space from the image, leaving it a simple vector image. I saved it as an SVG file then imported it into TinkerCAD. From there, the image is ready to be manipulated in 3D.Now Back to the Case DesignI added a few more vents and a frame along the front face of the box to give it a more finished look. Lastly, I rechecked all of my measurements then saved the file, uploaded it to Makerware and prepped it for printing on a Makerbot Replicator 2.

I decided to print it as two separate files, and started with the lid. I printed it with neither a raft nor with supports, but did add the helper disks to the corners to help prevent warping. When it finished, I then added the box file and, given the negative space in the Raspberry Pi logo, I decided to print it with supports, as well as the helper disks in the corners. Amazingly, it printed without error on the first attempt!After removing the support material.The finished lid fit perfectly into the box! And the buttons clicked magnificently into their holes! The joystick, however, did not fit perfectly, as the distance between the horizontal holes was just slightly too narrow. But the real issue was discovered as soon as I attempted to fit the lid onto the box with the Raspberry Pi inside: The box is too short!

There is insufficient space for the the joystick controls and the Raspberry Pi to co-exist inside the box. I need to edit the file to add a few inches of height…Without the joystick, it fits perfectly!

Next Steps

Short Term: EmulationStation is successfully installed on my Pi and, as such, I can now play any of the games I have in my library of ROMs. But in order for this project to be a total success, I need to revisit my 3D model and make the necessary edits so that it will be the epic retro gaming console I have been craving for so long!Long Term:What I’d really love to do is build a full-sized, old-school, standing arcade cabinet! This could be a great small group project as it would involve woodworking (to build the cabinet), electronics (to wire and configure the controls and software), and art (to decorate the finished cabinet). Maybe once I get my home version finished, I’ll start making plans for this next project..!

I’ve always loved history. Some of my favorite memories are of looking through old photo albums with my grandparents and imagining what life was like for them when they were young. I can spend hours poring over collections of historical photographs and my podcasting selections have an obvious bias towards the past. I even spent the first year of college as a double major in history and art. But despite my personal affection for the subject, I wasn’t sure how to go about teaching it to others.

Many moons ago, I was an apprentice teacher at a small independent school in Cape Ann, MA. For half a year, I had the opportunity to work alongside a remarkable fifth-grade teacher who had – and still has – an uncanny ability to forge simplicity out of complexity. She shared with me an incredibly simple, but very powerful framework for teaching history that I have used in my classrooms ever since. I don’t know where it came from, or if it has a name, but I call it Three Questions and A Statement. Not a very catchy title, I know. But it goes something like this:

Question One: Who Told the Story?

We need learn how to recognize author perspective and bias whenever we consider historical texts. Read a collection of first-person accounts from a shared historical experience to see how opinions and points of view differ depending on the role, experience, and position of the different authors. Note: even textbook authors have bias and perspective – how might that influence what is included in the book? We often read excepts from this collection of primary sources to compare the experiences and perspectives of different people involved in the Battle of Bunker Hill.

Question Two: When Was the Story Told?

The gap between when an event takes place and when its story is told can dramatically impact its reliability. Memories shift and change over time. It’s therefore important to know if we are reading an account written days, months, or years after an event took place.

Question Three: Whose Story is Missing?

Someone once remarked that history is written by the victors. And even when we try to consider as many perspectives as possible, someone’s voice is missing from the conversation. Part of being thoughtful students of history is not only recognizing that bias pervades the narrative, but also identifying and actively seeking those voices missing from the record, for their perspective is an integral piece of the whole.

Statement: You Never Know the Whole Story

Imagine that we could build a book that contains every recorded account of every historical event ever to happen in the world. That’s too big. Instead, let’s imagine that we build a book that contains every recorded account of a singular historical event, such as the Battle of Bunker Hill. Diary entries from soldiers on both sides, letters from civilians living nearby, newspaper articles, editorials, propaganda. It would be an enormous book filled with an incredible amount of information, and yet it wouldn’t be the whole story. How many people didn’t write down their thoughts and experiences? How much has been lost with the passage of time? We need to keep reminding ourselves that, no matter how much we might know, there is so much more we don’t.

I’ve introduced this framework to students at the beginning of every year and it’s opened up incredible discussions about the nature of knowledge and our efforts to understand the past. They also work well as essential questions (+ one statement!) for each unit of study throughout the year. But most importantly, it empowers students to think beyond the narrative, think critically about sources, and recognize that, no matter how much we may know about something, there’s always something more to learn.