Onward and Upward!

Hiya! Adam here. 

We have traversed the thickly congested trenches and perilous peaks of the land known as Kickstarter. We have voyaged across its tempestuous tides and braved its most unforgiving wastes. We have sampled the fruits of its bounty, but much of its terrain is as yet unexplored. While our epic quest has yet to succeed, we have reaped the rich rewards of reconnaissance and self-discovery. On our next foray into this unpredictable wilderness, we will be much better prepared. 

In other words:

Massive thanks to everyone who supported our Kickstarter campaign. While it was unsuccessful, we haven't given up. Far from it. We've learned an incredible amount about what to do better next time and how to improve our project itself. It's time for a little brutally honest navel-gazing in the hopes that we can help any of you who are setting out to fund your project. Here we go.

The biggest mistakes we made (in my opinion):

1. We jumped in way too fast. We should have taken months at least to do more research and preparation. It's easy to feel like an expert after reading a few articles and spending a few weeks preparing a great campaign. But we should have tested it and gotten feedback to improve our public presentation. Instead, we were getting that feedback a third of the way into our campaign, when we should have already been most of the way to our goal. 

2. We assumed that because we had great response from our local community, the response from other people would be just as enthusiastic. We were wrong. We forgot to factor in that our local community knows us. When we show people here what we're up to, they see not only our project, but the years we've spent building relationships, proving our competence, and earning their trust. They're excited because they know who we are and how amazing a job we can do with this concept. The online community in general doesn't know anything about us, and we didn't take time to establish an extensive online network with similar relationships of respect and trust. So when we started reaching out to others - even others with similar interests - we came off as spammy and entitled. We hadn't earned the right to ask for help by building a relationship first. 

3. We didn't seek other sources of funding first. A project like ours with a moderately high price tag would have benefited from some other kinds of funding, whether it be investors, grants, fundraising events, whatever. If we'd been able to raise about half of our total budget from other sources, the amount we were asking for would have seemed a lot more reasonable. Even though we know that a $95,000 budget isn't much for a project like this, we can't expect the average person to get that on the same level.

Some smaller mistakes:

1. Hiring a crowdfunding promotion service. This was not worth it. Even though the guy we hired was very responsible about fulfilling his promises and keeping us informed, his services did not result in even one additional backer. With only one exception, our backers were family, friends, or people we knew in a professional context. Again, the relationship is key. They guy we hired posted our project all over social media, but the accounts were ones used for promoting Kickstarter campaigns: a.k.a. the kind of account everyone ignores. He sent our press release out to lots of places, but most of them had specialties that were totally irrelevant. The release did get picked up and re-posted by a few sites - the ones that made sense because of what they do - but nothing really came of that. 

2. Bad timing. With Liz graduating and me faced with end-of-school-year stress, we just got burned out on things. Despite having set out clear expectations for who was doing what throughout the campaign, we lost our energy.

We also did a lot of things right:

1. We made a video, then remade it based on feedback from our backers and others. 

2. We continued to update the project page throughout the campaign as more endorsements and other feedback came in. 

3. We set up this blog as a home base for information on the project, although we could have (and will) made better use of it. 

4. We made social media accounts for our project, and also leveraged our personal networks. 

5. We reached out to leaders in relevant fields and celebrities known to take special interest in projects like ours. We actually got responses from a few of them, too!

6. We put together a competent team to create our project. 

7. We came up with creative rewards.

8. We started getting into the right kinds of online and local communities. 

So where do we go from here?

We've started by taking a step back. We've looked back at everything we've done, questioning even our most basic assumptions about what we're trying to accomplish, and we've come up with a plan for the future. I won't share much of that plan at this point, but for the near future it involves developing some projects on a smaller scale that use the same principles, and building out the established Camera Obscura concept into a gateway and a framework for self-directed, experience-based learning in any subject area. We've got a much longer-term project in mind, and will probably not be seeking funding through crowdfunding again for a year or more. During that time, we'll focus on community building and other sources of fundraising, in addition to developing our project. 

We'll keep you informed on the process here. For now, thanks again for your support, and let's move onward and upward!

Love, 

Adam

Adam Talks About Camera Obscura - On YouTube of All Places!

Hiya, Adam again.

So, I realized (thanks, Mom) that some people might need a little help getting excited about what we're trying to do here, or possibly understanding some of the key things about this project. So I made these videos. Let me know what else I should explain about.

Love,

Adam




By the way, these were shot on an older DSLR - a Nikon D90, in fact, which will always be an important camera because it was the first (I'm fairly sure) DSLR to feature HD video recording. Its age shows in the quality, but it was the best camera I had access to at the time. Thanks for understanding!

Quality Pieces

Hiya, Adam here.

As a board game fan, I've always believed that quality game pieces make a game better, and it's worth paying extra for that quality. The added dimension of weight and physical substance dramatically improves the gameplay experience, which in turn increases engagement and my desire to play again later.

Take Dread Pirate, a game my family and I have loved for years:

Photo by Josh Brewster Photography

The point of the game is to sail around the board raiding or trading with other players' home ports, engaging in pirate battles on the high seas, and discovering island treasures. It's a lot of fun, in no small part due to the quality of the game pieces. The game board is a fabric map, beautifully designed, that doesn't feel too smooth, but isn't rough enough to get in the way of gameplay. The players' pieces are cast metal pirate ships, each with a different metallic finish. They're heavy enough to sit flat even over creases or wrinkles in the map. The treasure consists of gold doubloons - also made surprisingly heavy metal - and glass gems which, though commonly found in lower-quality games, are elevated by the pieces that surround them. There are lovely wooden dice that you can see (and appreciate) the grain in, and the box also screams quality, coming as either a wooden book-shaped version or an actual pirate chest. The booty bags are of a higher quality than your average game pouch, and even the cards manage to have a parchment like aesthetic. The whole thing just screams "touch me!" When you do, you're not disappointed.

Our original plan with the web series of Camera Obscura was to shoot the entire run as part of a class, using a student cast and crew supplemented by the few kind professionals who were willing to be involved just for fun and love of the students and/or medium (here's looking at you, Shana Lyris and Gabe White). Russ Whitelock was generous enough to donate his services for the score of our first episode, but we were going to use royalty free music for the rest (Russ is a great guy, but we couldn't bring ourselves to take advantage of him). That production would have been a kind of rough draft that we would use to try to get funding for a higher-quality version than what we could reasonably do with our current resources.

However, the pilot episode got such a positive response from everyone we showed it to, and what with Liz's getting recognized so highly for her work on the project and the School Improvement Network featuring us so amazingly (we were truly humbled), and everything that was happening, we realized there was no need to do the entire thing twice - we should try to make it once and make it right. So we revised our plans. If we're going to make this game, we said to ourselves, we want high-quality pieces. So we launched this:

If you're not familiar with it, Kickstarter is a crowdfunding site, which means it's a kind of social media fundraiser. People can contribute money to back projects, and they get rewards in return. If the project reaches its fundraising goal, it gets the money and has the obligation to follow through on the production and rewards. If the goal isn't reached, the project doesn't get any money at all. You can click on the image above to go to our Kickstarter page and back us. Please, do! 

Our fundraising goal is $95,000. That seems like a lot, I know, but it's just enough to pay the people involved and get the equipment we need to do a first-class job. When you consider that the total run time of the series will approach four hours, then think about what it costs to make a Hollywood film less than half that length, you'll realize we're not asking for much. 

Another good reason to fund us is that we're still involving students as much as possible in the production. Several cast and crew members are students, and all will be paid for their work. Basically, we're offering paid internships to high school kids to work alongside professional filmmakers. Think how awesome that will look on a college application or resume. Think what a cool experience it will be for the kids!

On top of that, the equipment we purchase with the fundraiser money will stay in the classroom once the production is done. Full disclosure: I'm the teacher in that classroom, but the equipment will be used to elevate the ability of my classes to prepare kids for the professional world. Even if they never make a film again, working with this equipment will empower them with a sense of what professional work is like, and their skills will skyrocket. Those who do continue will be able to keep improving the skills they develop because they'll still have access to the kind of gear those skills are suited to. 

I work for an urban Title I school, meaning we have a high percentage of low-income families, and lack the kind of booster programs that supply these things at some other schools. I doubt we'd ever get access to this kind of resources any other way. 

Please, help us raise our production values, give these kids the experience of a lifetime, and supply quality pieces for Camera Obscura and who knows how many great student productions to come. Our biggest hurdle is letting people know, and helping them understand how great a thing we're trying to do here. Please post about us online, tell all your friends, share our content, and of course go to the Kickstarter page and back us today!

Love,

Adam

Camera Obscura Featured by School Improvement Network!

Hiya! Adam here.

A few months ago some lovely folks from the School Improvement Network came by our humble little school to see what we were up to. When they found out about Camera Obscura, they wanted to come back and take a closer look. I did not expect them to do a segment just on our pet project, but they did!

On Edivate (formerly PD 360), a website rich with professional development resources for teachers including videos, trainings, communities, and more, you can now find a nearly nine minute video segment with accompanying guidebook that is all about us! How cool is that?

Jeremy Tuttle, the content specialist who came to our site, was already into gamification, and got really excited to see a real-life example being designed and implemented. The screenshot above is from the video, which is titled 7th-12th Grade STEM: Implementing and Alternate Reality Game. For you non-educator types, STEM is teacher shorthand for Science, Technology, Engineering, Math, and is a hot topic in American education today.

Jeremy, Alex Anderson, and their crew came on the day Liz was giving her senior presentation, and filmed that exciting event, which provides much of the narration and some of the visuals in their video. They also got some footage of my photography classes that are playing the game, my Film II class that is producing the web series, and some of our clue implementation. They talked to me a lot too, so I'm in the video as well, but that's literally the only downside.

Here are a few more screenshots: one of the Film II class, one of our logo sequence, and one of the summary section from the guide book.

The video isn't publicly available; Edivate's videos require a paid subscription (though the first 30 days are free) and the site is specifically for educators. I'm only posting these screenshots because they feature images of Liz, me, or content we created. Still, if you're a teacher or administrator and you want to see the clip, log in to Edivate and search for "Alternate Reality" or "gamification." It should pop right up. The video featuring us is the only one of its kind, though hopefully it won't be that way forever as gamification becomes more and more popular and better understood.

Thanks so much to Jeremy, Alex, and the whole team at School Improvement Network for taking the time to get invested in this project we care so much about.

Love,

Adam

Awards!

So, you know how Liz has incorporated her senior project into Camera Obscura? Well, guess what? Our school recently had a showcase of all the senior capstone projects. Not only did Liz win an award for the best education focused project, she also won for best project overall! Out of eight categories featuring roughly 50 projects, ranging from student-designed-and-built flight suits and disadvantaged youth outreach programs to animal training and software development, Liz's work on Camera Obscura was deemed the most impressive not only by her teachers, but by the many peers and community members who attended the ceremony.

Way to go, Liz! We couldn't be more proud. 

Here are a few photos from that night. 

Liz Speaks about her project.

Liz is announced as the winner from her category. Another student, who also did a gamification project, congratulates her.

Liz is announced as the overall winner.

Liz poses with some of our crew members.

Grading is Backwards

Hiya. Adam here. This post (with minor editing) is borrowed from my personal blog, where it was titled "How Our Current Grading System Directly Undermines the Goals of Education" The tone is different from what I go for here, so please forgive that. Enjoy!

As should be so obvious it hardly needs stating, the purpose of most any class is to take someone with a certain baseline of knowledge in a subject (ranging from nothing to quite a bit) and add to his or her competence in, understanding of, or exposure to the relevant topics. In other words, classes are designed to facilitate learning in some way. We go to school to learn. Is it safe to say we can all agree on that?

My purpose is not to address what, why, or (mostly) how we learn. Those are all weighty topics that deserve their own attention. I just want to point out that the way we evaluate learning is, at its most fundamental level, not only flawed but directly counterproductive. 

I'm talking about letter grades. 

Given our initial assumption, that in a class we should start at the relative "bottom" and work our way upward, we should theoretically have an evaluation metric that mirrors that progression. Instead, we have the opposite. Here's my inartistic and incomplete visual metaphor for how grading currently works:



The balloon in this drawing represents the student, who starts at the edge of the cliff and, with an initial updraft that comes from excitement, energy, a teacher, a parent, or personal determination, gets off to a great start. Of course, not all students are like this, but let's be optimistic. Very soon, however, a problem develops. The student makes a mistake by flying into the path of a well-meaning sportsman (riiight). The question is answered incorrectly, the assignment failed, and now the student has a less-than-perfect score. Under our current grading system, although the student begins the class at the bottom of the developmental scale in the subject, he or she also begins with the assumption of top marks: there are no strikes against him or her, so the student coasts along with an "A" grade. As soon as the student makes a mistake, however, ground is irretrievably lost. Sure, there's credit recovery, make-up tests, and other interventions, but without some sort of deus ex machina, it is now impossible for the student to achieve a perfect score (i.e. the highest possible grade). If continued, this translates to closed doors down the line as secondary schools, employers, and others withhold opportunities, seeking instead the students who made the grade.

Recognizing this, schools, legislators, parents, and well-meaning individuals and organizations try all manner of strategies to help kids "get their grades up," thinking this will equate to a meaningful solution. Sometimes it does. Some kids genuinely get on the path to more effective learning, improve themselves, and become better prepared for later life. But sometimes they just learn how to give the expected answers or work the system to their advantage without actually increasing their mastery of the subject in question. Other people abuse said system, pressuring teachers to give kids grades they haven't really earned, or to grandly reward the most token efforts in the name of positive reinforcement. Some teachers, loving their students, do these things on their own, trying to preserve opportunities for students whose potential they can see, but who for some reason haven't taken control of their own lives. Sometimes teachers do this to avoid the wrath of parents who want to make sure their kids get "good" grades, or to preserve government funding based on student performance, possibly because of administrative pressure or simply to feel good about how they're doing their own jobs - temptations people in all professions sometimes succumb to.

This, in turn, conditions students to focus on what letter grade they have, rather than how well they have progressed in the subject matter. Many kids may not see the difference, but pay attention to a teenager sometime. Ask how he's doing in school. Ask about her grades. Odds are, she will start telling you stories about negotiating with teachers for better grades, making up a poor grade by doing far less or different work than it would have taken to get the grade in the first place, or a time when he suffered some kind of extreme stress because of a grade, whether or not it was deserved.
Furthermore, notice how often a single failure - an absence from a key class period, a poor score on an important assignment, a failed test, a negative relationship with a specific teacher - features as the main reason for the bad grades in these stories. Sometimes these failures are skewed out of proportion, but many times they are all too real. Doing poorly at the wrong time for any reason can, and often does permanently damage a student's grade to the point that making it up requires special accommodation.

Now, I'm not saying the concept of letter grades is the source of all educational ills, but we have set up a system that only rewards perfection, and even then the reward consists merely of maintaining status, not any kind of growth or increase. Even when the ground to be gained in subject matter is daunting, the only way to be rewarded above and beyond simply keeping the same grade you had at the beginning of the class is to complete extra credit, meaning additional tasks that further increase difficulty, and, for the high-performing student, offer little increase: from an A to an A+, a nominal distinction with few if any benefits beyond a proud feeling and increased expectations for the next class.

Now let's consider a different model:



This looks like a warm, fuzzy illustration of many years of rhetoric about how we all have different paths to follow and are all at different places on our path. The funny thing is, it also looks like how students actually learn. Some coast along above the rest of the class, not knowing any more but grasping the material more easily. Some struggle the whole way up the slope. Others hang out at a specific spot for a while before moving on (or not), and still others zip to the top and would keep going far beyond the scope of any single class, if we would only let them.

What if there was a system in which everyone in a class started not with the assumption of a perfect score, but with the much more realistic assumption that they have a lot to learn? What if we started at the bottom and, as the gamers say, leveled up as we went along? What if rather than having a single standard for perfection that could only be maintained or fallen from, we had a standard of progression that was, quite literally, unlimited? Imagine a student being able to achieve a level 13 in math - a respectable accomplishment that might get you up to geometry - while another could get all the way to calculus at level 25. A third, struggling student, might only reach level 6 in a given year, but that would be OK because instead of having fallen from grace, that student would still be getting rewarded for every right answer. Every effort would bring with it a tangible benefit. Failure and misunderstanding would result in additional attention from the teacher, but not in a punitive way. There would be no ground to lose as long as the student was trying. There would be no shame in retaking a class if you could start at the level you left off on before. In fact, you could mix all kinds of ages and ability levels in the same class, provided the curriculum was well designed (more on that another time) so there would be no per se re-taking a class. It would just be Math, a class shared by all, and students would progress as fast as they were able.

Plus, the long-term benefits of subjects like math would remain. These benefits, in my opinion, do not reside in being able to compute advanced statistical formulas - that's only useful on a day-to-day basis for statisticians and a precious few others. The rest of us have helps and shortcuts for things we lack true aptitude for. The lasting benefit is in the development of the mind that comes from practicing the logical, analytical thinking that math requires. That's just one example. Something similar could be said for any subject.

This is far from a Utopian solution, of course. Parents would still demand performance at a specific level by a specific age. Students and others would still look down on those who progress more slowly. Governments would still want to impose one-size-fits-all metrics for purposes of funding and evaluation. Colleges, universities, and employers would still show preference for the highest-performing students. Most of the pressures I've already described would remain, and not all of them are bad things. But one key element would change: fear.

There would still be standards and expectations, but fear of failure would evaporate, and we could focus on helping students genuinely learn. Grades would actually mean something because they would reflect actual understanding, achievable only by performance. Kids would progress faster because they wouldn't be afraid of being punished, and they could help each other along more easily because they would be more confident in their own skills. They might only earn a Math level 7 by midterm, but that could be improved with extra effort, while perhaps backing off for a while in a subject that comes more easily, and this could be done with no negative repercussions. Students who lack an aptitude for math might easily excel in language arts, social studies, fine arts, or some other area, while still continuing their gradual but rewarding progress in the harder subjects. Instead of worrying about an all-inclusive and over-simplified GPA, a student might graduate with an accumulated level 12 in math, level 30 in English, level 26 in social studies, level 17 in science, and level 32 in art. Of course it could (and likely would) get more complex than that, but you get the idea.

This would give counselors a better idea of how to direct student ambitions, and students themselves would have a better idea of their true strengths and weaknesses. Schools could still set benchmarks, but they could be based on competency level, not grade level. Best of all, students would be empowered to achieve as much as they can, without arbitrary limits. Hopefully I don't have to go on listing the benefits, because they should be easy to extrapolate from here.

I have a lot more to say on restructuring education, but what are your thoughts about this most basic element: how we evaluate progress? What have I missed?

Love, 

Adam

Structural Integrity at 95%

Hi there! Adam here again.

This time I'm going to talk about structure. This will be a long one, so strap in. There are a million ways you can structure your gamified curriculum. A lot of it depends on your mechanics, some of it on your content, and some on your target audience. Probably other things, too. I'm no expert, so I'm just going to talk about what we're doing and some of the considerations involved.

DRSLs

Before I get into our approach, let me take a minute to address some of our considerations, starting with Desired Results of Student Learning, or DRSLs (as they're known). We're designing a photography curriculum, so obviously a big DRSL is for students to master the course content by developing knowledge and skills related to digital photography. That can get a lot more specific, but we'll leave it high-level for now. We can create a wonderful, engaging story that keeps kids following clues and loving our class, but if they're not completing the core content of the class, we've failed.

Other DRSLs might include collaboration, lifelong learning, communication skills, critical thinking, competitiveness, etc. Sometimes these are defined at the school or district level. Some are at the class or individual level. When planning your game, you should have a good idea of your DRSLs and the indicators that will show whether you are achieving them.

State Standards

This is where things get more specific. Most if not all of us are accountable to someone (or several someones) for the content of our courses. In my case, my classes count towards graduation as CTE credits or arts electives, and I need to meet the state standards for those credits. That means my game needs mechanics that allow me to guide student learning in specific directions. For example, one state photography standard requires students to learn to interpret photography and find meaning in images. Another requires the learning of specific technical skills. So my game has to do more than allow kids the chance to possibly learn those things: it has to ensure the material is presented to them. I love it when kids explore and go beyond the base requirements of a class, but I need to make sure all the bases are covered.

Self-directed Collaboration

I've briefly mentioned the problems with multi-age classrooms before. A room full of 7th-12th graders have a wider variety of backgrounds, skills, and maturity levels than a class that caters to a specific age. Engaging everyone at the same time is difficult, but also key to success. One of my goals from the beginning was to develop a game that allowed students to take an individualized approach to the course material but still encouraged collaboration. Ideally, I'll have more experienced or faster-learning students helping those who struggle, not because I ask them to, but because the game itself rewards them for helping everyone succeed. But the more advanced students still need to feel challenged, and the struggling students need to feel optimistic and successful. The perfect mix will let students choose their path while highly incentivizing collaboration, or making collaboration essential to progress. In the age of online multiplayer games students are very open to teamwork as an essential mechanic of the gaming experience.

Game Within a Game

The core mechanics of Camera Obscura revolve around a photo contest website we've created that in and of itself acts like a mini-game. In order to protect student data I won't share the address to the site, but it works like this:

• Students create an account, which gives them access to a variety of photographic contests, each of which is designed to teach a certain concept, technique, or skill in accordance with state standards. They complete these contests in any order they choose, but I can rotate which contests are available at what time, giving me loose control over the class's general directions. This lets me sequence the learning as much as necessary, but not so much that participation in any given contest feels involuntary. It also allows me to make sure I'm meeting standards for what is being taught. Strange as it may seem, this flexible point of entry to the course material is really important. Some students will look for the easiest possible project, or the one that sounds the most fun. Others need the freedom to tackle something really challenging even if they lack skills. Once they see how hard it can be I get to encourage them to try more basic contests. Later, they can come back to the harder projects with enhanced skills and understanding. The excitement they feel over their progress in each case is exactly what the self-directed approach is all about.
• Before students can enter their work in the contests, they have to submit it to our peer-review forum and receive at least three critiques from classmates. This fulfills a variety of goals and gives me a chance to provide individualized feedback. 
• In addition to the contest requirements, the site features a dice game that can be used to add extra conditions and value to contest entries. For example, based on a roll of the dice, a student entering the silhouette contest might be tasked with only entering photos that fit the theme "lost and found." These conditions are divided into subjects, techniques, and themes, and point multipliers are assigned by category. The categories align with Costa's Levels of Questioning, and cause students to think on all three levels (subjects = level 1, techniques = level 2, themes = level 3). Here's a lovely graphic that breaks down how the points are assigned. 

• Students get points for entering each contest, meeting the dice criteria, thoughtfully critiquing each other on the forums, and replying to critiques. There's your collaboration DRSL right there, incentivized and everything, not mention the analysis side of the curriculum. Some contests also include extra credit assignments (usually writing) that encourage deeper analysis. Students receive a bonus for winning a contest (competitiveness DRSL). Winners are chosen periodically, once enough students enter a specific contest.
• Students begin the class at Level 0, and gain points to progress up to Level 13. Each level corresponds to a letter grade. I'll do a post on grading later to address some of the obvious problems with that system and how I'm planning to overcome them. They are never penalized for poor performance, they are simply not rewarded. A student who fails to meet the dice requirement gets the normal contest points, but not the bonus. This means there is no such thing as complete failure because every effort results in some learning and some points. Building upward means every new attempt contributes to a better grade, as opposed to the traditional system under which every imperfection causes students to fall further from grace, with recovery becoming increasingly difficult. This creates a very positive environment, minimizing boundaries to participation. Students can enter a contest more than once as long as it remains open, and can revise their work based on the feedback they receive on the forums. 

Those are the basics of the site. There are lots of possibilities there, but I'll save them for another post. This much is kinda fun on its own, and it keeps kids learning the right stuff and then some in a very approachable way. I've implemented the game this far already, turning my students into unwitting play testers for something much bigger. In class I assist students with their projects, provide individual and small group instruction on specific techniques or concepts, and maintain a record of student scores. The results have spoken for themselves. I'm seeing better photography earlier in the semester than ever before. Students are generally on task, and the quality of their questions (when they have them) has risen.

Storytime

But why stop there?

The biggest piece that's missing from this puzzle is something to engage the students on a visceral level: to keep them fully committed and firing on all cylinders. That's where the ARG comes in. 

As soon as the kids get comfortable with the website, I start introducing certain... oddities. An obscure link to a strange video. A reference to a mobile app. An unusual image of something not quite right. Unexplained things also start popping up in my classroom. Things that seem related somehow to the anomalies on the site. Again, I've tested this part out. It doesn't take long for the kids to start asking questions. A little bit of not-quite-denial on my part and they start exploring, showing me things they've discovered. 

This is the hook. It leads them, after a short initial chase through some moderately easy clues, to the first episode in our web series, telling the story of Liz, a regular girl who inadvertently triggers some unexpected consequences while exploring with her camera.

No spoilers allowed on this blog, but suffice to say Liz ends up in a situation where she needs the class's help, and the way they help is by completing the contests on the site they've been using all along. That sounds really contrived, but we've come up with a story that actually (we think) makes it work pretty organically. The important thing is that the students' motivation for entering the contests stops being because I said so and starts being to find out what happens next. 

New contests mean new discoveries, including the ability to interact with Liz and other characters through the website and social media, as well as a variety of other instruments. Even better, the choices students make as they complete the projects actively influence the storyline. This transforms them from spectators to participants - a powerful change. They not only determine which path is taken to the end, but what the ending actually is. Of course, there are a limited number of possibilities, but it's more than two or three and they're not all super obvious. This is important not just for engagement, but for replayability. This project represents an enormous amount of work, and it would be far less effective the second time through if the story was known, mystery solved, suspense ended. Rather than trusting past students not to spoil things for their friends, we actually have a story that can go differently enough with each new class that it feels fresh along the way and the resolutions are completely unique. 

To give you a taste of the setup, here's our pilot episode, shot by my Film II class with a budget of exactly zero dollars:

As you'll see from the credits, we were fortunate enough to get my friend Russ Whitelock, a professional film composer, to create an original score for us at no cost! 

In addition to engagement, this approach also helps us maintain rigor, which comes down to motivation. As I mentioned in another post, suspense is a powerful motivator. People, including students, will go to great lengths to find out how a story ends, or what happens next. You just need a compelling story.

Oh, is that all?

The point is, students will work harder, practice more, study longer and progress faster if they're doing it within the immersive environment of the interactive story. I can expect more of them because they will give more voluntarily. No more coercion, begging, or bribing. 

What's next?

We still have a lot of development to do on the show and the site. This semester has been a great dry run, but we've learned about a lot of fixes we need to make. We have to take much of our story from outline form to screenplay form to finished series. There are clues to invent, contests to create, hooks to plant, funds to raise. 

That last item is our next big step. We're in the planning phase of a fundraising campaign to help us produce the rest of the series, with more music by Russ and a bunch of other professional help. The students of Film II and a few handpicked others will still be involved, but the production values will be much higher, and we're bringing in some professional actors to play the adult parts. How cool is that?

It's really cool. Stay tuned for more updates, and let me know what you think in the comments. Thanks for reading to the bottom!

Love, 

Adam