a paparazzi-filled future

This must be a mistake! Surely there’s been some sort of tampering with the votes. The amount of talent around me and here I am, on the stage, accepting this Educator. I’m speechless, utterly and truly speechless. I don’t know what to say. I should probably just say ‘thank you’ and walk off this stage, to my right, yes I know to go to the right, but…oh my…

When I started on this sinuous path, there was no pavement, no posted signage, no, not even a rest stop. Seriously, I had to hold everything in, and doing that within the confines of my solitary classroom was no easy task. Oh my Lord, I can’t believe this. Pinch me, Dave.


Can I call you Dave?

Oh…Mr. Warlick it is.

My bad.

My mother and father, for always believing in me and for their amazing purchasing powers. Without them, there would’ve been no Atari, no Intellivision, no Commodore 64. They harnessed the power of credit limit and technology to instill in me a technological curiosity that, to this day, still percolates with bubbles of inspiration.

Mr. Maltese, for crafting lessons that, in their writing and his oral instructions, seemed more like infomercial than educational. Oh, and for believing in me without ever having to say that you knew I could do whatever I wanted. I only hope that I can continue in the powerful conveyance of inspiration without ever having to crack someone over the head with an after-school special pep talk. Honestly, he’s the best teacher ever and there’s no way I would be here without him. Mr. Maltese, this Educator is for you, for you are ‘the Educator’.

Joyce...you know. You complete me. You had me at ‘hello’. Or was it ‘wiki’? I recommend that all of you, native or immigrant (not that kind), find a giant and stand upon its shoulders. Travel with it to NECC. And upon its clavicle, ask questions, seek information. Better yet, information fluency.

And finally, Web 2.0. You are an ever-changing entity, a tumultuous adolescent with an over-aggressive, no-quit puberty streak that keeps everyone around you overwhelmed, intrigued, and frustrated.

Oh, I remember those early days of skepticism and doubt. There was no way you could ever be worthy of my time, my students’ time. But I can’t quit you, and I won’t quit your tweets, your blogs, or your pods.

And even if some applications are too simplistic to warrant inclusion in a serious discussion of tech integration, don’t ever change. Because in truth, I would have never received this honor without your Animoto, your ToonDoo, or your Blabberize.

You remind us all that simple is, for some, a complex and scary word; a word that, when digitized and Flash-enhanced, still keeps many educators away.

But you keep creating doors. Doors for me to open. Doors for me to explore. Doors for me to consider. And doors to thresholds upon which my colleagues and I may take some of the most wondrous experiences in our teaching careers.

Thank you, thank you, thank you.