You gotta' actually DO it

Bouncing among several books seems to work for me.  Whether it's a short attention span, an inability to remember which book I'm currently reading, or just a reading style (I rather like that...I may use Reading Style more often), I am usually reading multiple books.  The past couple of days, it's been The Medici Effect.  Again.  (And, by the way, I enjoyed the improv class, survived the live performance with peers, and have plans for Improv II in the spring.)

On the heels of a several discussions this week about online teaching--some with peers who teach online and some with peers who do not--I was primed to read that people who are voracious readers, self-taught, and hands-on learners are more creative.  They actually do things, try things, break things, handle things...they learn in the the somewhat gritty world of up close and personal.

And the implications for online teaching are easy.  Teachers who want to use technology to teach are going to have to move past the theory and the models and the paradigms and actually wade into the technology.  To try it, break it, handle it...get up close and personal with it.  No amount of reading, planning, discussion, or practice will take the place of actually doing it.

And the innovators?  They've already tried it, taught themselves, learned from their mistakes...and quietly (more often than not) kept right on going.  They may not be the ones doing the talking.

Life lessons in unexpected places

First night of Comedy College and it was awesome.  Awesome not to be the instructor, awesome not to have homework to grade, and awesome just to be there.  Did I mention it was awesome?

There are seven of us who considered a class in improvisational comedy a good idea.  It turns out we were right, though maybe not for the reasons we thought.

I already knew that being funny was not required for improv; otherwise, I wouldn't have considered the course. What I didn't fully appreciate is that improv is a skill, one that involves listening, being in the moment, focusing on one's partner(s), and viewing ourselves and others without judgment.  The most important element of improvisational comedy is genuineness.

Who knew?

Earlier today, I was talking with a student about the 88 keys on a piano...and how a magnificent piano can sound very different when played by a student at her first recital than it sounds when played by a virtuoso.  In music, in management, in improvisational comedy, who we are makes all the difference.  

I suspect that many of my students, my colleagues, and my friends struggle with whether to be successful as defined by society (or family, in many cases) or to be true to who they are.  It's a decision we face many places in life, even in a class on improvisational comedy.

Related Ramblings:

Medici at the improv

Medici at the improv

Focus. I admire focus.  Occasionally, I emulate focus.  Far more often, though, my mind flits or races in seemingly random ways, seeing intersections that beckon and distract.  The cost to my ability to stay on track and complete something (anything) is high, but the benefit to my imagination and curiosity is equally high.  And I've been willing to pay the price, largely because I can't seem to function any other way.

So imagine how much fun it is to hear "I have a book for you"...and find that seeing intersections and asking lost of questions is the subject of the book called The Medici Effect.  Part of the appeal of the book is the historical linkage to the Medici family and their influence in making Florence the culture center of Europe around the time of the Renaissance.

Perhaps The Medici Effect explains why I recently sign up for improvisational comedy classes.  That explanation works as well as any other.