(Warning: long-ish post ahead)
Belonging is hard.
If you follow #MTBoS, then you have probably felt the shockwaves sent across #MTBoS over the past little while. It may seem like it began with
this post from
Dan Meyer (who maintains that the name #MTBoS is alienating, citing many who echo this sentiment), but if we want to really talk about members wondering about their identities within #MTBoS, or initiatives to help change the perceived exclusivity of #MTBoS, then it's pretty much something that has been happening since the first year (e.g. I recall a virtual meeting about the state of MTBoS back in 2013 that I attended but didn't say much at) of #MTBoS. Not really claiming to be a historian here, but just noting that this isn't a 'new' issue.
I wrote this as an initial response
Followed by
this string of tweets a few days later.
Besides noting the complexity of the issue as beyond simply a hashtag (and more about our community), I believed (and still do) that conversations about -- who 'we' are and how 'we' can be more -- are important. Of course, this comes within other complex issues as timing, existing efforts of many from #MTBoS and much more.
In any case though, let me get back to this:
Belonging is hard.
To be honest, I went through most of my life never feeling like I belonged (until probably when I met my now-wife Lucy). Born in Taiwan, up until I was about 12, parents were never around. After 12, my mom, my younger brother and I landed in Canada. A year or so later, just when I felt like I was getting the handle of speaking, writing, and understanding English, my mom left and so it was just my younger brother and I living on our own (beginning from Grade 9). We lived in a house but it did not feel like a home.
It was not a home. At least not mine.
Besides taking care of finances, meals, chores, and my younger brother, I did fine at school (I suppose 'great' by some measures). But I didn't belong at school either. Not that people didn't like me, more like I would disappear when the school bell sounded (and by grade 12, I only attended classes when there were evaluations). Belonging is hard and I don't think it was simply the circumstances beyond my control. By the middle of high school, certain events landed me into some evaluations that concluded I was manic depressive (which I continue to struggle with). I had a therapist and social worker who had worked discreetly to help me breathe. I am unsure if the pills helped, but the conversations certainly did (of course I went on to disappoint them with attempts at my life which I am still ashamed of). I did not belong and felt that I could not belong. Like I was adrift at sea where noone would hear me drown.
Broad brush strokes. These were some of my past, in order to help illustrate that, at least for me:
Belonging is hard.
Flash forward years later to #MTBoS. 2011 (or was it 2010), I met
Alex Overwijk. He spoke about spiraling which I gravitated toward immediately (and subsequently incorporated into my teaching). In passing, he mentioned this online existence of math teachers.
I was intrigued.
I followed a few blogs on and off before deciding to start
my own in 2012. I participated in the blogging initiative, and even blogged through my honeymoon (thank you to the
many who organized/participated/commented as part of that year's blogger initiative). I also jumped into twitter. Not really a social media user, I strictly used twitter for math ed purposes. To this day, I rarely tweet about personal events (with a few exceptions that I will mention later), not because I did not see it to be appropriate - it just isn't me. Instead, I sought conversations. Often dragging people to other platforms to have conversations in a bit more detail (thanks to those that did this with me:
Bryan,
Chris,
Jonathan,
Nik,
Jon,
Kyle,
Anna B,
Anna W,
Peter,
Fawn,
Judy, and many many more). I didn't care very much about number of followers, and strictly followed those that I have had conversations or debates with (with a few exceptions). I read around for conversations and hopped into them. Sometimes with success. Sometimes not.
Then in 2013 #MTBoS started. I admit that I hesitated using the #MTBoS hashtag myself. In my mind, I flashed through some of the similar concerns that we currently have about the hashtag. Even back then, I saw that there were different groups of people having good conversations, and an appearance of a hierarchy. Despite these concerns, I worked to let others know about the existence of this great online. In fact, it was during one of these sessions that one of the participants alerted me to the fact that I co-existed with others on what
Dan called his 'Blogulty lounge'. I wasn't alone, there were many others who were (and are) continuing to do great things to invite others into #MTBoS. After participating in, and leading, a few virtual and face-to-face discussions about #MTBoS and how others could join this community, I realized that I really didn't suit a 'promoter' kind of role. It just isn't my cup of tea to only rave about the positives (and boy there are lots of positives that others have already mentioned in their tweets and blogposts -- all definitely true) -- as soon as I say something, I almost always think about other view points. Nonetheless, I became okay with simply participating and supporting others through commenting, conversations, and offering wonderings and ideas.
Those, I can do.
I became a bit clearer about who I was, why I blogged, and why I tweeted. I was never concerned about popularity, because that wasn't why I blog or tweeted.
At some point I even landed on a list of people that someone had created about teachers who they'd like to see a particular lesson from. The idea was that people would contribute a clip describing how they'd teaching something. I forget who started that one (sorry). It was an honour.
Belonging is hard, but I felt like I belonged in the #MTBoS. I still had questions and doubts (as I do with everything), but I will get to that later. (Edit: I am not getting to that in this post after all. But it has to do with my worries about the echo chamber effect and bumper sticker surface statements being perpetuated).
Fast forward a few more years and my attendance to twitter and blogging was significantly less than before. A few events in life pulled me away from blogging, and eventually from twitter altogether. It wasn't anything sudden - more of a build-up over time. Most notably some family deaths, falling behind in grad school/academic pursuits, and the arrival of a baby (and, I think, a deep desire to do better than my parents -- to actually be a parent).
I felt my belonging in #MTBoS slowly fade away. No one tore it away from me. It wasn't something someone said to me either. I just felt it. It's saddening, but at the same time understandable.
"It's okay," I'd tell myself, "the dust will settle and I will get back in no time."
More time passed. More conversations went by that I wish I had the time to participate in. There were many twitter users and bloggers that emerged that I wanted to have more conversations with. Their thoughts intrigued me, and those conversations interested me. But I held back. I was chest deep in many obligations that I had somehow gotten myself into and have failed to shake off (thanks to many who have offered me advice about pulling out of some of those responsibilities:
Chris,
Mary,
Bruce, and many others). I wanted to talk to them, but I held back.
"It's okay." I repeated to myself in my mind. As topics came and went, I took solace in the fact that there were many who were offering pushback and debates and wonderings in a similar way that I would have done so (albeit in a different way, with different ideas, and with different conclusions). I also took solace to know that I was able to
successfully push Alex Overwijk to really blog about his work. Since his work is similar to mine, I felt okay not really being around.
"Conversations were happening still. Just without me. For now. I will be back." I assured myself.
But I don't know what 'back' means. Do I still belong?
What does 'belonging' mean anyway?
I had good conversations with
Judy about this last year during
CMESG. We spoke about #MTBoS, which she's working on for her dissertation, as well as individuals in #MTBoS and #TMC (which I actually never attended for a variety of reasons). Inevitably we also spoke about belonging. I think I described that even since the beginning there were groups of people who worked together and connected with each other in different capacities. Similar to her comments recently about pockets:
Which I think pretty much hits the nail on the head.
How do I know if I 'belong?'
Maybe it's when my blog popped up on Dan's blogulty lounge (which I am no longer on - for good reason since I haven't been around)?
Maybe it's when I felt support through moments of vulnerability? Like here in
not enough where I struggle with my desire to always do more for students. Or the
subsequent post about those same emotions.
Maybe it's during the series of blogposts about ninja boards (
e.g. here) where many sought to converse more with me about it (thank you
John,
Jessica,
Malyn, and more)
Maybe it's when I was part of long twitter conversations with others about mathematics education.
Maybe it's when I spoke about #MTBoS so fondly to others?
Maybe it's when I contributed, and was subsequently included in the
Nix The Tricks book (Thanks for continuing with that initiative,
Tina!)
Maybe it's when I saw my own profile picture pop up in other people's ignite slide that mentioned #MTBoS (thanks
Kyle)
Maybe it's when my parents only contacted me when they wanted money, and
Fawn kindly gave me words of strength (thank you Fawn, I don't even know if you remember that).
Or maybe, it's all of these and more.
Belonging is hard. It's more than being invited to initiatives or conversations (although those help provide opportunities). It's more than being able to chat and banter with others who have more perceived popularity. It's more than any particular moments in time, because it's threaded together by all these moments.
What 'belonging' means is necessarily different for everyone. We come with our own contexts, our own loves/hates, our own histories, our own stories. We start to belong when we build moments with others in this space we call #MTBoS. I am unsure if we belong to 'a pocket', because I think it's a bit more complex than that. We simultaneously exist in several pockets, and exist in these moments shared and experiences lived.
And so, I am still unsure what belonging means and whether I still belong, but I do believe that a sense of belonging begins with our doing. We build belonging when we act.
Many have recommended similar ideas moving forward. From people's personal stories about their #MTBoS starts, or
Carl's recent
TMC keynote about #pushsend (Carl, incidentally, is one of those people I hope to chat with soon).
Belonging is hard.
My thoughts during the beginning of this recent wave about identities and #MTBoS was that having conversations is good. I've seen many tweets noting that this debate has changed how they thought about #MTBoS, and I can only think of that as a good thing. (of course, there were many bad bloods that could have been avoided I think).
Belonging may be hard, but in order to say "I belong" I would need to sound out who "I" am, and to recognize that it begins with me. What does blogging/twitter mean to you? What can they mean to you? It may sound like a cliche by this point, but #MTBoS truly is what you make it. (For this reason, I disagree with those that imply #MTBoS can be described with a single label. E.g. not all #MTBoS'ers are doing group work, or formative assessment, or etc... in ways that we have defined those terms ourselves. To pretend that everyone in #MTBoS is at the same place would be a mistake, and, in a way, exclusive)
The only thing you can be, is you (re-recorded
5 min clip from my Ignite a few months ago).
And with a tweet, a blogpost, a comment, a read - you're already stepping into this vibrant community of #MTBoS. It's up to you to then make it yours.
In any case, here I stop rambling about #MTBoS and #iTeachMath and #pushsend before the baby wakes.