Let Them Laugh: Using Humor in Math Class

Humor serves many functions in my life. Noticing the absurd. Playing with unexpected associations and enjoying the surprise. Sharing inside jokes with friends. Resisting, venting, and gaining temporary relief about abuses of power by belittling them with laughter.

I am obviously not unique in this. Humor is a crucial part of being human in a complex (and often ridiculous) world.

But humor –– especially in certain forms  –– is not always welcome in school. What does this mean for students’ expressions of their humanity? Think about the well known class clown archetype. Some educators use this label with derision, assuming students step into this role for negative reasons, like avoiding work or garnering attention that distracts from lessons, making the teacher’s job harder.

The essential role of humor for many people’s ways of being in the world is thus in tension with many ways of “doing school” that require deference to the teacher’s authority. This leads to dilemmas for those of us who want to build inclusive and humanizing classrooms. We get many messages from administrators, teacher educators, and other colleagues that a good class is an orderly class, one where the teacher leads and students follow, not one where spontaneous outbursts might be embraced and incorporated, where laughter might be happening in small groups, or where a class clown can have a legitimate place in learning –– even be an important member of the community.

Personally, I knew early on I was going to struggle to navigate my own predilections with these common images of “good teaching.”  During my student teaching, I accompanied a group of seventh graders on a field trip to the courthouse to observe a trial. Our guide welcomed us to the courthouse and looked at the docket to see what case we would be viewing.

“Oh, good. It’s a nice, clean trial,” she said.

“Dang!” said one student, leading me to snicker audibly.

Some nearby students turned to me in surprise: Wasn’t I supposed to scold him for his lack of decorum? Perhaps I was. But as a human, I loved his reaction for its honesty. In fact, much of my joy as an educator comes from engaging students’ clear eyed honesty, which extends to their disappointment about a “nice, clean trial.” I realized then that I would need to develop a way to enforce behavioral norms (many of which I myself find challenging to adhere to) and my genuine appreciation for his rascally reaction.

Let me be clear. I am not suggesting an “anything goes” approach to humor in schools. Educators resist humor for many reasons. Humor can be subversive. Humor can be exclusionary. And, obviously, humor can be mean. But shouldn’t we have a way of inviting some humor into our math classrooms? Can we pick and choose with a little more care?

Seeking a framework for humor in math classrooms

Recently, I have been working with my colleague, Dr. Nicole Joseph, and an undergraduate research assistant, Yasmin Aguillon, to look at humor in math classrooms.

Dr. J and I are working on this together for a few reasons. We share a commitment to welcoming students’ full humanity into the math classroom and seek to help teachers understand what that entails. In one of her recent articles, she and her colleagues heard from Black girls that they wanted math classes to be a place to be their full selves, including the silly and “goofy” (an adjective one of the participants used). We also share that our ways of being in the world do not require us to put our own silliness in a box when we are doing work. We can sing, tell jokes, code switch –– play –– while we are working on things we deeply care about. This, in our lived experience, is not at odds with deep and rigorous work. In fact, bringing our authentic selves to our work only enhances its depth and rigor.

Dr. Nicole Joseph and me, clowning with math at the Escher Museum

To build our framework, we draw on several sources. First, we have looked at research on humor in social life, especially classrooms. Second, we have looked at classroom level data from my recent research project where students are clowning around. Finally, we conducted a completely unscientific #MTBoS #iteachmath twitter poll on whether math teachers felt humor had a place in the classroom.

We are working on a fuller discussion of humor in math class, but for the purposes of this blog post, I want to suggest the following:

The playful –– and even the subversive –– aspects of humor belong in math class, not only because they allow students to more fully be themselves, but because they embody important mathematical habits of mind and allow entrée for students’ broader identities. At the same time, we recognize that inviting humor may require teachers to develop new forms of teaching and cultural competence. 

Playful and subversive humor belongs in math class

If you think about the pleasurable aha! of mathematics, you might notice its similarity to the pleasurable moment of getting a joke. The common experience is that of insight.

Mathematics has its share of jokers. Aside from famous people like Lewis Carroll who enjoyed playing with logic, we have mathematical entities that upend the order of things. Infinity and zero subversively violate our expectations of how operations and functions work: what do you mean we can’t divide by zero? why do functions change when we imagine taking them to infinity? The whole field of topology essentially invites us to imagine that objects as made of rubber, making a coffee mug “the same” as a donut.  These delights of insight and absurdity tickle any good rascal.

When we invite humor into math class, we also change the emotional tenor of what we are doing. Humor positively effects learning by releasing tension. When we laugh, we are at often more at ease. Humor has even been shown to improve students’ performance on tests. Maybe laughing sessions can improve study sessions. Humor can build rapport, either with individual students or with a classroom community. I know a teacher who strategically looks for something to laugh at with each of his classes, so that they can have a shared inside joke.

Humor also invites students’ broader identities into their learning. Who we are is fundamental to how we make sense of the world; when we have to leave part of our selves at the door in order to be seen as “acceptable,” we abandon crucial sensemaking resources. Although laughing at my student’s response to the “nice, clean” court case may have not followed a proper teacher script, it appreciated him for the twelve year old boy that he was and his understandable wish for a meatier, dirtier case. In sanitizing the world for children, often in the name of protection, we omit important details. By the time they are twelve, they have often started to question who is actually protected through adult judgments of “appropriateness.” This kind of questioning signals curiosity and intelligence.

Why wouldn’t we welcome such attitudes in school?

Teachers may need new forms of teaching competence to productively support humor in class

Indeed, in our completely unscientific twitter poll of 741 people on the Internet, 94% of respondents agreed with our idea that humor belongs in math class. Among the 31 respondents who elaborated on their reasoning, we found that most people (64.5%) referred to math humor, like math puns and math jokes. The next most mentioned form of humor were intentional mistakes (12.9%), a pedagogical strategy where teachers present an incorrect solution and humorously play at not understanding to prompt student explanations. Most of the remaining responses referred to negative forms of humor such as sarcasm (9.7%), put downs (6.5%), or teasing (3.2%).

Breakdown of the 31 comments from our completely unscientific Twitter poll

What is interesting about these responses, as limited as they might be because of the nature of the poll, is that the positive examples of humor are teacher-centered; that is, they are controlled by the teachers’ choices about curriculum and pedagogy. The negative examples signal adverse relationships, whether from students to the teacher, teacher to students, or among students themselves. But, in the examples offered, we do not see examples of how students themselves can be a positive source of classroom humor.

We suspect this is because student-derived humor is trickier teaching terrain. (Or it may be due to the limitations of our completely unscientific Twitter poll.)

Building off of the first interpretation, we acknowledge that there are many shades of gray when we laugh with students. How do we navigate the ideas of “appropriate” that can vary so much within a classroom, let alone a broader school community?

Once we open the door to students’ humor, how do we ensure that positive humor does not cross over into the exclusionary humor that can lead to hurt feelings and negative social dynamics?

How do we feel if students are laughing at us? Or even if we are not the target, how do we feel if they are sharing a joke that, for reasons of generational, linguistic, or cultural differences, we don’t get? What would it mean for us, as teachers, if we are on the outside of the humor?

We suspect that productively managing humor requires a unique form of teaching competence. As the outsider example suggests, this also includes forms of cultural competence.

We are just starting to figure out how to name and describe what these teaching competencies might look like, using the classroom data examples. From our initial look, we think humor competence for teaching involves a form of self-knowledge –– knowing yourself, being comfortable with your own identities, having the humility to laugh at yourself. But it also involves relational skills of reading students’ reactions, developing rapport to invite open communication, and having strategies for repairing relationships when lines get crossed or feelings hurt.

We would love to hear more about how you use humor in math class to make it a more humanizing space. Math class could use a few more laughs.

This post was written as a part of The Virtual Conference on Humanizing Mathematics (#VConHM on Twitter)


The Best of the #MTBoS is Here!

Well, Tina and I didn’t plan it this way, but the publishing gods have given our little project a Pi Day release! We told you about it here, and now you can get your own copy for a good cause. 

Last year at Twitter Math Camp (TMC), participants were asked whether they paid their own way. Here was the show of hands:

(📷: @_levi_)

We know that there are some fantastic math teachers out there for whom the cost of TMC is prohibitive. We would love to have you join the fun and learning!

So please purchase a copy, give them as gifts to your colleagues, and re-tweet, re-post, and share!

Online preview (intro, table of contents with titles only, index, glossary):


Direct purchase (more of the money goes to the scholarship if you buy from here):


Amazon Paperback:

Amazon Kindle:

The Best of the Math Teacher Blogs 2015

It’s never been easier to miss a great math blog post. The MathTwitterBlogoSphere –– known as #MTBoS around social media –– was once a small group of math teachers willing to make themselves vulnerable, putting their practice online. As the community has expanded, even the most dedicated readers struggle to keep up with the deluge of thoughtful commentary, engaging and interesting tasks, and stories that we can all learn from.

To help keep you from missing out, we have compiled some favorite posts from this past year, as nominated by #MTBoS folks on Twitter, into a book. These posts are as rich and varied as the educators who wrote them. Some delve into specific content. Some tell stories of change and growth. Others explore teaching practices, new or well established. We hope that you find some that provoke and push you, and others that make you smile. Most of all, we hope you make some new connections in the MTBoS community.

This book has another purpose as well. Since 2012, folks from the MTBoS have participated in an annual “tweet up,” a two-day math extravaganza called Twitter Math Camp (TMC). Unlike regular conferences, teachers come knowing who they want to meet. They come to continue conversations that have been taking place online, through blogs and twitter. TMC is a rich and personal learning environment. The grassroots nature of TMC means it is lively, personal, tailor-made, and unpredictable. However, most teachers have to pay their own way. We will use the money raised through sales of this book to start a fund to bring along some of the teachers who would not otherwise be able to participate. We think that TMC is a unique professional learning experience, and we hope to share it while we grow our community.

The book is nearly ready for publication, but we need assistance with a few tasks (we’d like to add an index and list embedded links at the bottom of each post so they’re accessible to anyone reading a paper copy). If you’re interested in assisting please email Tina (tina.cardone1 on gmail) and she’ll get you set up with a task.

Thank you for reading, and thank you for your support.

— Lani Horn & Tina Cardone
P.S. Sorry that we were super secret on this project! We didn’t decide to do this until after the #MTBoS2015 conversation started. We were so impressed by the quality of the nominated posts, it seemed like a great opportunity to do something for this amazing community. As long as we are confessing, we also didn’t announce it until now because we weren’t sure we’d be able to finish it! If people like the idea then we’ll have a more public and organized process for 2016.

#TMC15 Reflection: Gratitude

Last week, I had the pleasure of joining 200 math educators for Twitter Math Camp (#TMC15) at Harvey Mudd.

TMC is a place with a lot of heart: part reunion, part meet up, and a whole lot of hugs and mathy goodness. Most everybody travels on their own dime. They come because they want to connect to people who have sustained them and helped them grow as teachers. They want to deepen their mathematical knowledge and expand their teaching toolkit, alongside people of goodwill.

Heart. Many of us connected to Christopher Danielson‘s admonition:

Find what you love. Do more of that.

TMC was like a re-set on me for connecting to my purpose.

And I realize that what I love is being with really thoughtful and passionate teachers. So I am grateful for that. I felt recharged after having the chance to attend workshops and learn alongside everyone. I also made some great connections to thoughtful research colleagues. We are already scheming.

Heart. Like when Fawn Nguyen made us both laugh and cry, describing what she has learned after 25 years of teaching.

I also had a chance to give a keynote. It was about how teachers can use social media to grow their own practice. I have studied math teachers’ learning extensively, mostly by listening to them talk with colleagues. I challenged myself to think about how to apply what I have learned in real life professional communities to the online space known as #MTBoS (which, I learned, we can say aloud as “mit-boss”).

Here is a link to my slides. I don’t know how much it will make sense as a slideshow. I am trying to track down the guy with the video camera in the third row so you can hear me.

So thank you to everyone who organized #TMC15, especially Lisa Henry, who knows how to build community like nobody’s business. Thank you to everybody who participated, both IRL and virtually. I look forward to continuing to learn with you.

UPDATE 1: Here is the YouTube of my talk (Part 1 and Part 2 — thanks Richard Villanueva! You can also see Fawn and Christopher’s talks on the same playlist.)

UPDATE 2: Here is a googledoc started by Jonathan Newman for us to put in common teaching problems, along with unproductive framings vs. actionable framings of those problems.

What are the Grand Challenges in Mathematics Education

Back in March, the National Council of Teachers of Mathematics put out a call for Grand Challenges in Mathematics Education.

A Grand Challenge is supposed to spur the field by providing a focus for research. NCTM came up with the following criteria for a Grand Challenge in math education:

Research Commentary-Grand Challenges_1

So I ask you to help the brainstorm. What are the complex yet solvable problems we face in mathematics education that can have a great impact on people’s lives?

Add your thoughts in the comments below or through Twitter (@tchmathculture). Use the hashtag #NCTMGrandChallenge.

What I Notice and Wonder about Teaching Like a Champion

Last night, Chris Robinson shared an experience with an administrator who observed his math classroom. He had been doing an activity called Noticing and Wondering with his students, something that Max Ray of the Math Forum has written about extensively. Noticing and wondering is a great discussion starter. You share a mathematical object or situation with children and open up the floor to their curiosity. They can connect the mathematical thing with their own ideas, then a teacher can shape the conversation by building connections to formal math.

Here is the administrator’s feedback:

Now, I am not naive. I understand that our lack of consensus about good teaching leaves a lot of room for interpretation about what is working and what is not. The administrator was obviously perplexed by the wide berth Chris gave to his students to wonder about the math. Kids do say and think goofy things, as do all people. But sometimes our odd ideas need a good airing to connect to what we are learning.

Normally, seeing Chris’s tweet would frustrate me. What do we need to do to drive a wedge between people’s confusion about students being compliant and being engaged? What do we need to do to help educators understand that the path to deep understanding is often not a straight line, and that to connect ideas to our lives, our own thinking –– goofy or not –– needs a chance to come out?

Yesterday, however, the administrator’s problematic response did more than frustrate me. As I told Chris (and the others on the thread):

In my class Teaching as a Social Practice, we have been discussing the consequences of our lack of consensus on the nature of good teaching. We often examine what gets put out and circulated as good teaching and hold it against various research on things like  how kids learn or how teachers can teach responsively.

I showed this Doug Lemov video related to his best-selling book, Teach Like a Champion, with the intent to dissect the underlying assumptions about teaching and learning. The 100% technique is a way of managing students’ attention during instruction. Take two minutes to watch it.

What do you notice? What do you wonder?

I notice that these are all White teachers and that the students are nearly all Black.

fold hands

I wonder why the teacher (above) is signalling this boy to have his hands folded. I wonder if there is any research anywhere showing that folded hands will help with his learning.

Whisper to Jasmin

I notice that when this teacher reprimands this student for not having the answer to a question (1:11 on the video), she jumps immediately to the assumption that the girl needs to work harder. I wonder why the teacher doesn’t ask her if she has any questions about what was being asked or if everything is okay today.

Giving you a gift

I notice that this teacher says the following to his class as a motivational speech (1:44):

I can bring it to you but I can’t give it to you. You’ve got to reach for it. If they were free at Toys R Us you would reach. I’m giving you the same kind of gift, just not wrapped up. The gift of knowledge.

I wonder what is going on in this metaphor. I am wondering if I ever have seen wrapped up gifts at Toys R Us. I wonder if other overly analytical kids in this class also got lost down this rabbit hole of wondering.

I wonder if the kids would like the gift of being able to keep their hands unfolded and moving their bodies more freely more than the gift of repeating after the teacher in the name of “knowledge.”


What does all this have to do with Chris and his interaction with his administrator?

Teach Like a Champion has been a huge seller, especially in urban schools. It’s highly rated and ranked on Amazon and I have talked to numerous new teachers who report getting handed a copy by administrators. There is even a new edition Champion 2.0.

Activities like noticing and wondering open up classroom discussions and invite kids (goofy ideas and all) to think. Techniques like 100% in Teach Like a Champion limit permissible activity and thinking by students.  Contrasting the two is a productive microcosm on current debates about teaching. The issue is particularly urgent in urban classrooms, where methods like those promoted in Champion emphasize the control of Black and Brown bodies by White teachers instead of the celebration of children’s own ideas. This is especially troubling given what we know about disproportionate discipline of these children.

With this vision of teaching dominating the landscape, it becomes increasingly difficult for teachers like Chris Robinson to invite their children to think with him in the classroom without the risk of being reprimanded.

Relational Density in the Classroom

Recently, Michael Pershan has been thinking about why it’s so hard for teachers to share knowledge and ideas. He has been playing with building cases to discuss as teachers, wondering about what counts as sufficient description to invite consultation.

In my work, I find that one of the challenges to building shared professional knowledge comes from the irreducible situativity of teaching. If that sounds like an academic mouthful, my apologies. But what I mean is that we can’t escape how much of what works in teaching comes out of nuances of our practice and resources in our context that we may not even be aware of. Just as fish don’t see the water they swim in, so too teachers often miss things like community norms or material resources that shape what is possible in the classroom.

In addition, I think the relational part of teaching has been understudied –– especially in mathematics education. As I have said before, asking students to share their thinking is a socially risky proposition and depends on the relationships in the classroom and the norms for participation.

Here is Courtney Cazden on this:

“In more traditional classrooms, social relationships are extracurricular, potential noise in the instructional system and interference with ‘real’ schoolwork. What counts are relationships between the teacher and each student as an individual, both in whole-class lessons and in individual seat-work assignments. In nontraditional classrooms, the situation has fundamentally changed. Now each student becomes a significant part of the official learning environment for all the others” (2001, p. 131)

So to get students to share their ideas, teachers have to attend not only to their individual relationships with students, but to students’ relationships with each other.

This is decidedly challenging work. Most classroom teaching situations exhibit tremendous relational density. As Philip Jackson observed decades ago, classrooms are among the most crowded of institutional settings. In order to function, they require some degree of cooperation from the students. Teachers often achieve that through setting up systems of compliance, by building relationships with students, or some combination of the two.

Although students who have an instrumental view of schooling are less dependent on a teacher’s relational skills, a teacher’s success often depends on engaging and shaping students’ sense of purpose.

But the relationships in the classroom do not simply exist between the teacher and students; they exist among the students themselves. Once we take this into account, the social complexity of the classroom is stunning. Instead of just seeing the relationship one teacher builds with each student, we must account for the combinations of relationships among the students themselves. As a consequence, the difference between having 16 students or 32 students in a classroom does not simply double the relational density of a classroom: each set of students has potential for harmony or conflict. Just considering the smaller class of 16, there are 120 possible pairings between students. In the larger class of 32, there are 496. The number of students only doubled, but the relational complexity has more than tripled.


Figure 1. Student pair-wise relationships grow quadratically while the class size grows linearly. The red dots represent students, and the connecting lines represent potential relationships.The last diagram represents the relationships among 5 students and a teacher, illustrating the fast growing relational density with every added student.

Relational density serves as a backdrop of potentialities in classrooms: not all relationships are actively engaged. When I talk to experienced teachers, however, I notice that they are alert to the relational potentials across the classroom social network, usually framing them as classroom dynamics.

Returning to Michael Pershan’s question, how do we adequately capture these dynamics when we describe our teaching situations? Some teachers talk about the kids with “strong personalities” or “the quiet kids.” I have heard teachers talk about students who are hot spots in the classroom relational network: most other students have an active experience of liking or disliking them. These experienced teachers respond by building lessons with their hotspot students in mind, anticipating possibly corrosive behavior or harnessing potential leadership.

Obviously, not all teachers attend to classroom dynamics in this way. Whether or not these dynamics are  on a teacher’s radar, they contribute to the situativity of teaching. That is, we can’t really talk about teaching without addressing some of these particulars. Inattention to details of a teaching situation leads to invisibility in critical aspects of the work. This makes knowledge sharing hard.

So the question is: what sufficiently describes the character and dynamics of one situation to help teachers productively compare it to another? Often, teachers fall into language that relies on stereotyped understandings: an urban school, an honors class, an ADHD kid. These everyday categories stand in for broader dynamics but, in my view, do not adequately describe teaching situations.

Yet leaving critical dimensions of teaching situations underspecified contributes to the lack of consensus around expertise. What constitutes successful teaching remains hotly contested, evidenced by policy debates around standardized testing and value-added models of teaching. Grossly underdescribing teaching situations has led to an overdetermination of desirable, visible outcomes like test scores. In this way, invisibility creates a reliance on other kinds of representations of the work when communicating about instruction.

Global Math Department Talk

Last night, I had the great honor of chatting up some #MTBoS teachers via the Global Math Department. I was asked to discuss mathematics education research. (You can watch the hour long discussion here.)

Part of what I get from the #MTBoS is the chance to engage with people who are personally and professionally invested in the things I care about. What a gift.


And no one blinked when this guy burst in unexpectedly to say goodnight.
Another reason to love teachers.

I promised folks I would link to some of my work that I mentioned over the course of the talk, so here goes. I am just linking to one of what are usually several papers from the different studies. In some cases, I link you to blog posts or, in the last case, the project website.

If you want to know more citations for any of these, just leave me a comment and I will provide further links. Or you can poke around on my Academia.edu page if you are not comment-inclined.

Informal Poll on on Math Edu Tweeters

In preparation for a discussion some of us are going to have at NCTM, I conducted a totally unscientific poll of the #MTBoS and others in the general math edu constellation. I wanted to get a snapshot of how math educators engaged with others through social media so I could feel more confident sharing my impressions with the wider world.

I asked three questions.

  1. How often do you engage with educators on twitter?

  2. Which of the following ways do you engage with other teachers online?

  3. Please describe the most useful learning experience you have had online. You can provide links to specific posts or tweets.

Question 1 revealed how totally unrandom my sample was. I would say it characterized my sample (n =52) as highly involved in social media. Most respondents tweet almost every day.


This means that the casual users, the lurkers, the toe-dippers are not well represented in this poll. That’s fine. This gives us a good picture of why people would feel like engaging heavily in social media. It’s a good group to hear from.

For Question 2, I let folks select as many answers as they needed. I didn’t ask for “top three ways” or anything, so some categories were frequently selected.


Tweeting, reading blogs, and writing blogs were the most frequently selected uses of social media. Less than half of our heavy users reported participating in real-time exchanges like #edu chats or the Global Math Department. Slightly more (but still less than half) talked about collaborating on specific projects using google docs or other collaborative environments.

Question 3, what was the most useful learning experience you have had, let me get my qualitative analysis game on. Aside from the frequent response of that it was hard to pick one, people pointed to the following kinds of learning via social media:

  • Idea exchange: This was one of the most frequent responses. Twitter was especially praised for the access it provides to others’ ideas: “I post a question. People come along and make me smarter.” Reading and writing blogs and tweeting let people share ideas and comment on others’ ideas about their math teaching. As one respondent described, “Whenever I’m interested in a new approach to teaching something, I can read many different implementations and see how it actually looks in the classroom. Helps make my abstract ideas more concrete.” A number of teachers pointed to the rich resources as providing more opportunities for personal development, as new ideas become more immediately accessible: “Being able to find lesson ideas, extension materials, and intriguing pics and videos has brought a whole new dimension to my classroom.”
  • Sharing resources: Teachers have to plan lessons everyday. Social media is a great way for sharing resources. By turning to an online community, teachers know something of the values and practices of their sources. As one teacher described, “The idea/lesson exchange is better than a huge google death for activities.” Sometimes folks get new preps or new groups of students who require different kinds of materials, or sometimes teachers realize that their old lessons aren’t quite doing all they could. “A few years ago I was informed I was teaching a brand new AP course three weeks before school started. I was scrambling for resources so I took to twitter. The amount of support and resources I gathered from teacher on twitter was a life saver.” Teachers will often document their new work as they build new classes, only adding to the accumulation of resources in the community.
  • Connecting with like-minded educators: A number of responses indicated that many educators who develop professional learning networks online do so to break the isolation they feel in their own schools or departments. “Just the several years I’ve had building my PLN (and making friends!) has been invaluable. I’m not sure I could point to anything specific. It changed my career.”
  • Constructing resources together: Question 2 shows that this is not as common of a practice, but those who have done it have reported its value to their professional learning.”I think the biggest learning experiences for me have been the times when I’ve constructed a resource with others online and we’ve learned as we’ve gone through the act of co-creating.” One example of a collaboratively developed resource is Nix the Tricks, whose curator Tina Cardone explained, “There’s no way I would ever have taken on this project without the crowd sourcing and the encouragement that the MTBoS provides.”
  • Developing shared critiques of educational tools and practices: Teachers, especially those committed to developing student understanding, are facing challenges on numerous professional fronts. A few teachers mentioned the support they find for particular visions of teaching. Additionally, the online community has developed numerous critiques of popular teaching tools like Khan Academy. “The mtt2k (Mystery Teacher Theatre) initiative [see an example here] encouraged me to learn more about Khan as well as doing my own video editing, plus sparked new connections.” There is a lot to keep up on the educational landscape. As one teacher described, “Twitter is my education newsfeed!!”
  • Getting emotional and moral support: Especially when teachers are working against the institutional grain, pursuing more ambitious forms of instruction can get discouraging at times. A number of teachers mentioned the emotional support they get from colleagues online. “The most valuable past of this for me is knowing there are other teachers out there that are working towards the same goals as me. That there are other teachers that will support me in my journey to those goals.” Teachers also talked about getting more specific images of the kinds of classrooms they aspired to and having people to vent with on hard days.
  • Learning about a specific practice, tool, or idea: A number of responses pointed to teachers who developed specific interests and pursued them in online communities. Some examples were practices like standards based grading, tools like desmos or GeoGebra, or unexpected insights into mathematical topics.

How did our enthusiasts do in capturing the learning potential of online professional communities? How did our friendly neighborhood educational researcher do in summarizing the responses? Is there anything that particularly resonates or that you think I left out?

Please share! I am going to be telling the world –– okay, at least the people coming to our session –– what this whole thing is about, and I am committed to getting it as right as possible.