I am an education writer, a recovering academic, a serial dropout, a rabble-rouser, and some days, ed-tech's Cassandra.

“It’s a long story,” I often say. You can catch snippets of it, if you pay attention. I’ve got a CV if you’re the type that cares about that sort of thing.

I’m a lit geek and a beer snob. I love tattoos and, some days, I like technology. I loathe mushy foods and romantic comedies. I’m not ashamed to admit I like ABBA and dislike Tolkien. I am somewhat ashamed to admit I’ve not finished Ulysses. I prefer cake to pie, unless we're talking pastry projectiles. I pick fights on the Internet. I’m a high school dropout and a PhD dropout. I have a Master's degree in Folklore and was once considered the academic expert on political pie-throwing. I was (I am?) a widow. I'm a mom. I have a cold hard stare that I like to imagine is much like Paddington Bear’s and a smirk much like the Cheshire Cat’s.

I travel as much as I possibly can. “Home,” at least according to my driver’s license, is Hermosa Beach, California.

Way back in junior high, I took an aptitude test that gave me a single career option: freelance writer.  I remember feeling rather panicky at the time, wondering how the hell I’d manage to pull it off. But now I do.

My essays have appeared in multiple places, but mostly I write on my blog Hack Education. I've published a collection of my public talks, The Monsters of Education Technology, and I'm in the middle of writing my next two books, Teaching Machines and Reclaim Your Domain, both due out in 2015.

In my spare time, I read, rabble-rouse, drink beer, and prepare for the zombie apocalypse. Because you never know…

About Hack Education

I created Hack Education in June 2010 shortly after I became a technology journalist. I was frustrated by the lack of coverage of education technology -- by both technology and education publications. I did my day job (that is, the freelance writing I got paid for) but devoted as much attention as possible to Hack Education, trying to create the sort of publication that I'd want to read: one that's smart and snarky, one that's free of advertising and investor influence (See: Disclosures), one that's tracking new technologies but not just because of some hyperbolic "revolution."

Hack Education isn't simple about how ed-tech changes "the system." It is about the future of learning.  (Yes, there's a distinction there.)

To “hack” can mean a lot of things: To break in and break down. To cut to the core.  To chop roughly. To be playful and clever. To be mediocre. To solve a problem, but to do so rather inelegantly. To pull systems apart.  To "MacGyver" things back together. To re-code. To rebuild. To “Hack Education,” in turn, can have multiple interpretations, I recognize: a technological solution, a technology intrusion, a technological possibility, a technological disaster.

To "Hack Education" isn't something that just technologists should do or care about. Nor is this just a concern for teachers, administrators, parents, or students. We all should weigh the implications of technology on how we teach and learn.

Image credits: Alan Levine, Popular Science; Updated December 2014