Sign in:

Since the first week of my employment with Modular Robotics, I’ve been hearing production staff talk about the process of getting a stencil printer with great enthusiasm. Someone talked to the vendor and mentioned that a stencil printer had been found for a good price on my second or third day here. Then, there was work involved to determine price and how to get it here. More talk of the much-anticipated stencil printer the next week in order to plan going to see it, get a basic training on running it, and make sure it worked. It’s been mentioned in our daily staff meeting roughly once a week, for one reason or another, for the last 12 weeks. But the thing that caused MY ears to perk up was when someone casually mentioned, “Yeah, when we load in a new piece of equipment, we rent a forklift. Wanna drive it? It’s fun.”

Now, don’t get me wrong, the stencil printer is a sleek and space-age-looking piece of machinery. I don’t want to diminish the importance of this piece of machinery that’s been awaited so eagerly. ( I have it on good authority that we’ll be blogging about all of the wonderful things it will mean for the incremental upgrade of Cubelets production in the very near future.) But, a stencil printer sits in one place and a forklift not only GOES but lifts things. I cannot tell a lie – I was pretty dern excited about the forklift. Especially after hearing about it for weeks! As it turns out, I didn’t get to drive it (and you’ll see why), but never fear, I know we’ll rent a forklift again. And in the meantime, our forklift fun illustrates some of the things I most adore about working here – the creative and entrepreneurial impulse to just jump in and try things, our collaborative problem solving culture, and our seemingly boundless ability to laugh at ourselves.

Enjoy a re-cap of our stencil printer delivery and forklift fun via these pictures and captions –  it was an interesting week.

April 14, 2013 – On the day before the stencil printer arrived . . .
It started snowing like it meant business, but this deterred no one from cleaning up our factory floor . . . and then jumping in our new dumpster.

April 15th – The Stencil Printer arrived!
And it made Matthew happy. And this was good.

By April 19th, more people had thoughts on what we could do with the forklift.
Such as lifting things up on high and then dropping them with a clamor.

Of course, we’d all forgotten that all of the snow from earlier in the week melted, transforming our lawn into a silent trap for the mighty, but heavy, forklift.

Sadly, our friend the forklift was stuck. But we were good-natured about it, assuming that with all our combined skill-sets we could solve this dilemma. Surely, with the number of engineers here alone, that would take care of it!

We tried pushing the forklift out in two different ways.
It turns out forklifts weigh more than 2 tons! (Who knew!) So, these efforts were in vain.

We tried lifting it UP (Go, go gadget pallet jack!)

And weighing it DOWN (Hi Carl! Hi Michael!)

These attempts were to no avail. So, in a last ditch effort, we tried “polo-malletting” wood under the tires.

We tried lots of things, and though our character building was great, and our critical thinking well-honed, our friend the forklift was still stuck. In the end, the answer was simple.

 Call the tow truck!

 

I just returned to Boulder after a lovely week totally unplugged in Panama.  First off-grid week since 2011!  We snorkeled and surfed and ate fish and fruit.  I read books and relaxed, and barely thought about work at all except for one anagnorisis that happened in the middle of the night.

I woke up and looked out the open sides of our little thatch-roofed cabin to see the moonlight flickering on the ocean swell as it rolled lazily onto the beach.  The thought occurred to me that Modular Robotics was happily functioning while I was gone.  We’ve put together such a great team that I’m not even really necessary for day-to-day functioning of the company.  I can leave, turn off my phone for a week, and we keep pumping out Cubelets.

If I think about our company as a little train, we’ve built the train cars, loaded up on fuel, figured out how to mix drinks in the bar car, and left the station.  It will happily chug along for a while without the need for me to walk up and down its length chatting with passengers and crew and patrolling for problems.  I suppose that I could even just get off the train more often, and I probably will.  The realization here was more profound, though.  With the train carrying on smoothly, I’m free to head to the caboose, pull out some maps, do some reading, and determine where I think the train should go.

I’m the CEO.  It probably seems obvious to you that my role should focus primarily on strategy and direction.  While that seems fairly obvious to me in the abstract, it took a little time away and a different setting to make it seem real in the present.  I think the reason for my slow uptake has everything to do with our growth.  When there were two of us, I designed circuits and sourced magnets and wrote code.  When there were ten, I answered questions and did a lot of hiring and wrangled our bookkeeping.  Strategy and direction happened at interstitial times: at night, over a meal, or during a flight.  Over the last couple of years we’ve made hires sequentially, and each new team member has taken a role that I muddled through, and filled it fully and expertly.  Now that the train is rolling, our next hire is someone to focus not on operations, but on strategy, new products, team building, and design.  That hire is me!

We have a sign on our production floor that says “Fail early, Fail often.” The application of this idea is simple and manifold in manufacturing Cubelets – it’s vastly better to have any number of parts fail to meet expectations early in the process of building Cubelets than to have a whole Cubelet assembled and then fail to work. This makes perfect sense but applying this strategy to my own “production” of classroom activities and lesson plans was a little challenging. It’s hard to foresee what might NOT work in a plan you’re generating when it’s on paper. And unlike Cubelets, plans on paper are hard to quality test in our factory.

From our Production Floor

So, I headed out to spend a few days in the classrooms of a wonderful school we are lucky to have a great relationship with. I know a little bit about working with a classroom of exuberant 6 year olds, or too-smart-for-their-own-good 9 year olds and lots of ages in between. I’ve taught a variety of topics in a variety of venues to students of a range of ages in the last 18 years. I’ve learned that there is one truth that pervades every class I’ve ever been charged with leading no matter who, what, or where I was teaching. Here it is – are you ready? Whatever you plan to do in a class, you must also plan to do things you hadn’t planned on. In other words, a lesson plan should include the elbow room to pounce on what is moving students closer to the discovery and understanding you’re targeting even if that means re-arranging parts of what you thought you would do. So, as I headed out of our office for a couple of days, my mission was pretty simple – I wanted to teach, using one of my classroom plans for Cubelets, and see for myself how it played out with real students, their real questions, and in a real classroom.

In large part, I was looking for any glaring gaps or problems – places where my lesson plan wasn’t coming in for a landing, or ideas the kids couldn’t connect with the robots they were making. Were my plans too ambitious? Too detailed? Not detailed enough? Fun? Boring? Observing “out in the field” answered all of those questions, raised others, and gave me a clear picture of what ideas students most actively cultured given Cubelets and these challenges.

But it also reminded me of something very fundamental about how I see education. Kids are “little scientists.” Without having the language for it, without a formal research proposal and with no grant money or fancy lab coats, kids are actively engaged in testing theories throughout their days. It’s their primary operating mode and they carry it out tacitly but very seriously in nearly all that they do. Piaget first stated this idea, and as he observed more and more children he added more detail to his proposed stages of child development. The overarching idea, revolutionary at the time, is that children engage in trying to make sense of their environments actively rather than just passively receiving information or being uploaded wholesale information, as onto a blank slate.

Like any theory, Piaget’s isn’t perfect.  There are more articulated versions of it, and less articulated versions, but the idea that kids are capable of developing ideas about what they encounter in the world and then revising them as they obtain more data informed the work of other great thinkers (Chomsky, Vygotsky, and Papert) in fields including Linguistics and Modern Cognition, Child Development, Math, and Computational Thinking and Education.

Watching students ages 5-12 taking on the task of being “robot investigators”  this “Little Scientist” model of how kids learn and reconcile their worlds seemed inescapable. I asked students to use observations of robot “behavior” or reactions to try and work backwards to find the cause. Students engaged deeply in the task of figuring out what their robots liked, would do, and which inputs corresponded with which outputs in order to best understand what their robot was sensing and why their robot was reacting as it did. Part of my lesson plan was about robotics, and part of my lesson plan was about biology and behavior, and a third part was about scientific method and critical thinking. (I’m the kind of educator that thinks learning these skills not only can but should be handled in inter-disciplinary ways.) I was thrilled with how sophisticated students were in proposing methods to test their theories and how industrious and boisterous they were in carrying out their plans and tickled by how gleefully students’ reported “We have a theory!” But what astounded me was that students pressed further into questions about what the robot knows or how the sensor worked. Students posed questions about robotics and behavior that I anticipated but I also got queries about what counts as “knowing” something, questions that pointed towards complexity and emergent behavior, biology, and what counts as “being alive” and impromptu musings on how brains work and what parts of them might be contained in a robot. Philosophy’s deepest conundrums exposed by children under five feet tall, no joke.

Scientists get used to looking for the fault lines in their theories and are trained to lay out their experiment design so that their methods have narrow parameters and their hypothesis are built to be discredited rather than confirmed. Although the “Little Scientists” I worked with didn’t have this training, they were perfectly capable of adapting their ideas to accommodate new information, even if that information complicated or undermined an explanation they had been busily shoring up just moments ago. In some cases I saw students pause in order to deeply reconsider their hypothesis and start over, but in most cases students were visibly excited by having more information, more insight, more to account for, even if it meant scrapping their idea and reworking from the ground up. I know adults, professionals, who could make fabulous use of the enthusiasm these students had for the “Fail early, fail often” principle – they seemed not just to abide it but to welcome the chance to absorb more data and revise.

In that spirit, I returned from my jaunt with a new motivation to look at what I had created  and to re-work, rewrite, and revise. I’d seen six and seven year olds mournfully announce that “this robot is NOT listening to my words. I’m using my words like I’m supposed to and it’s not paying attention” and then be reminded that robots might be sensing other things than words. They immediately re-tasked themselves to find out what the robot could be responding to and to expand their thinking about a plausible explanation. It’s hard to not learn the lesson that testing things out and being willing to keep testing, refining, and amending is the way to be.

With that in mind, here is an open invitation to try out our first Cubelets activities at home, in your classes, at an after-school program, or a camp, and tell us what worked, what you liked, how your students responded, and suggestions you have for improvements or next activities. Last week I used the lesson plans on Robots and Behavior, but I’ve also posted activities for Robots and Sensing, Properties and Characteristics, and Cause and Effect. They can all be found in the Education section of our Forum and start with the title “Cubelets Activity”. It would be wonderful to hear from educators of all varieties as they take a look at these and have thoughts about ways to make them better, suggested next activities, or feedback on how your students and kids responded. We plan on revising and re-working these many times. Theories are made to be tested, and the only way to do it is to get lots of data so we’re actively inviting you to be part of this exciting development with us, test these out, and then talk to us about them! Help us fail – I know from my time with young ones how informative failures can be!

Many, many thanks to The Colorado Springs School for their willingness to let me try things in their classes!


This robot made of only Distance and Flashlight Cubelets (and, of course, a Battery Cubelet) has been on our coffee table at Modular Robotics for weeks. Wave your hands over the surface and the Flashlight Cubelets light up. It’s fun to play with, and can be easily reconfigured to different layouts.

My first science project involved growing 84 bean plants and measuring how they fared when watered with varied salinity solutions. All I really had to do was measure the salt and water, bottle it, and then grow the plants and water them on schedule. The next year I set my sights on something harder and collaborated with UCONN Avery Point’s Project Oceanology to identify possible ways of obtaining clams. Why clams? Well, I’d done a summer project with Project Oceanology on clam kidney stones indicating water pollution and I wanted to extend my research. More clams! More sites!

There I was, an eighth grader, reaching out to marine research facilities and asking them if they would afford me access to the clams they obtained. I bought fancy paper and wrote letters introducing my previous results and the hypothesis and scope of this project. Then I proposed that if they were doing species collection, could they please give me clams that would otherwise just be counted and thrown back in exchange for sharing my data and results? I learned the term “Principal Investigator” and appealed to those people through the Environmental Protection Agency and state colleges around Connecticut. In addition to writing letters, I learned to interpret water quality data, mastered lab equipment, and I had to make good on my promise to share data and results. I even had an innovative moment because the middle-school science classroom I was in outfitted me to titrate, dissect, centrifuge, and use a microscope, but had nothing powerful enough for me to lever open the clams’ stubborn shells. Problem solved – my friends and I gleefully discovered that dropping the clams from over our heads onto the pavement did the trick – after all, I didn’t need the clams or their shells, just their kidneys.

I think this is the value of doing a science project – the perseverance to follow research through and break it into manageable pieces, the realization that even if you choose a topic you are enamored with you will likely cross discipline lines to bring it to fruition, and the unforeseen problems along the way (I have vivid memories of those kersplatted clams imprinted on my memory). So, when I was offered the chance to judge Boulder Valley School District’s High School and Middle School Science Fair, I leapt at the chance.

Immediately, I thought, What a great opportunity to partner with the schools here while wearing a name-tag that says, “Christie Veitch, Modular Robotics.” But, to be honest, my motivations ran deeper than making contacts in our backyard. We’ve been having this conversation about STEM education during my first month here and discovering over and over that true STEM ed is mostly only happening in ways that are self-selected by students and parents. Because curricula standards still point mostly at Science and Math, and because those are usually taught as separate subjects, there isn’t very much interdisciplinary STEM for all students. While some great schools offer electives in computer programing or in engineering and production or even Pre-engineering Programs,  most are addressing students’ interests in science, technology, engineering, and math through after-school clubs or other out-of-school opportunities. I figured that if Modular Robotics is going to be in the business of trying to re-shape how STEM can be hands-on, fun, and interdisciplinary in school, I wanted to see examples of what students can do when given that opportunity and some resources and support.

As it turns out, they can do a LOT. Some students were apprenticed to college laboratories, and others developed research or engineered and tested new products on their own. Some worked alone and others in teams. I was assigned to judge engineering projects but saw projects as diverse as using Chitosan (ground up shrimp tails!) to create scaffolds for new human tissue to grow on to using algae to produce fuel to cryogenic cooling mechanisms to to biometric gun safety handles to potato cannons and water balloon launchers.

sciencefaircollage

Engineering is a broad category, it seems, and in any case where a student made something new or tested the feasibility of producing a new mechanism, they were considered an “E” project. Time and again, I saw that the best projects, regardless of mentoring or group vs. individual research, were the ones where students had to look beyond one academic discipline – potato cannons require knowledge of physics and chemistry, and while building tissue scaffolds is engineering, it’s also biology. Some of the best projects I saw combined biology or behavioral science with electrical or product engineering. Those students thought clearly about the next steps and potential applications of their research and many had to teach themselves to use Arduino or to program in Python in order to make the leap from concept to producing a working something. As I asked students questions about their designs and tests, I heard many stories of iterative attempts to make a breadboard circuit do their bidding or last-minute trip to Home Depot to get a part they hadn’t anticipated but suddenly realized they needed.

After my day at the fair, as I told stories of algae fuel and biometric firearm safeties or chairs outfitted with a design allowing students to lean back and not fall over, a paraphrase of a response I heard more than a couple of times was, “Hmm, privileged kids/schools have lots of resources to do this.” It’s true – Boulder Valley School district probably offers more resources and support for these STEM-focused students than most public schools in the land. But, for me, the story was, Look what students CAN do when given the opportunity to aim bigger than the assignment for this week or what’s been whittled down into this chapter. See what self-direction and initiative and resources and support can produce – clever engineering that is relevant in today’s world and projects that succeeded precisely because they had little regard for which discipline they belonged to but, instead, voraciously pursued the best methods and answers to their questions and challenges.

To me this is the hopeful story about STEM – it doesn’t have to be divided into its components in order for learning to take place. (In fact, that division is probably an invention of perceived necessity in order to define what is testable; kids care about it not at all.)  But my day at the fair was also an optimistic realization about students – they are  curious about how things work or don’t work, and enthusiastically participate in posing their own solutions. They will dive headlong into their interests, even (and sometimes especially) when it requires research and skills far beyond their experience. It strikes me that seeing what students can do when given access to resources and support and the chance to pose real questions is a better bar to set than matching tests and books up to a list of the minimum objectives, but that’s the subject for another blog post. For now, I’m just honored to have seen some really cool science, and to have met with kids and teachers that believe this kind of student work is not only feasible, but deeply worthwhile.

We just made a fairly monumental decision that almost everyone in the toy industry will tell you is asinine. We decided to build a big factory in Boulder, Colorado, and manufacture all of our products ourselves.

american_nyan_cat

Electronic stuff is mostly made in China. It’s been that way for a while. Modular Robotics has a tiny factory here in Boulder, but it seemed obvious to almost everyone that as we scaled up to making millions of tiny robots each year, we’d move manufacturing to a contract manufacturer (CM) in China who would make our stuff and send us pallets of shrink-wrapped robot kits.

We have a lot of parts made for us in China. The stamped metal Cubelet connector pieces are made in Wuxi, and the plastic Cubelet shells are injection molded in Zhuhai. These parts get sent to us via UPS and we build the electronics and assemble and test everything in Boulder. It’s not trivial to get things made all the way across the world, so I’ve been visiting China once or twice a year for the last 3 years to oversee production, solve little problems on the factory floor, and audit our factories. During my most recent trip in December 2012, I visited three different CMs to begin figuring out how we might have them manufacture Cubelets (and our next product) for us.

It was a crazy few days. One CM’s mould making shop had a dirt floor. Another had ten thousand people working there and we drove through the campus in a golf cart. One had lighting so bad I could barely navigate, another had a museum of products they make that included almost every toy you might think of. But one difference between the factories struck me: at the low-end factories (they call them Tier 3), there were people everywhere. 3 workers ran each injection moulding machine, placing inserts, removing parts, trimming flash, and touching up funny white streaks with a hair dryer. The mid-level factory had fewer people, they seemed to simply have labor that was better organized to do several things at once. But at the high-end, tier 1 factories, there was nobody around. The moulding machines whizzed and klunked along on their own, aided by robotized jigs that removed parts and filled bins that ran on tracks. One worker supervised four SMT lines, simply maintaining the conveyorized, automatic machines as they did their work. China is known for its cheap labor force. Why so much automation to reduce the number of workers, I asked? The answer was simple: labor rates have increased tremendously in the last ten years.

Wait a minute. If Chinese labor costs have gotten so expensive that we need to build a robotized, automated assembly line, why would we build it in China, exactly halfway around the world, instead of in our back yard?

On the long flight home, I convinced myself that we could build our own factory, right here in Boulder, to make our tiny robots. I convinced myself that on a certain level, it’s pretty much insane to build products all of the way around the world just because the people there are poorer. I convinced myself that it would be fun, interesting, and a generally good thing to do for the world. I convinced myself to make a really unlikely decision.

There’s an alternative, by the way, that lots of companies are taking: chasing cheap labor. Huge factories are popping up in Vietnam and Thailand, Mexico, even Burma. But honestly, this seems short sighted. I don’t think it’s ethical or sustainable. I just don’t think it’s cool.

I called a couple of people that weekend to talk through the idea of manufacturing robots at scale here in the old USA. That’s where the word, “asinine” came from. A friend who works for a clothing manufacturer suggested that I must have eaten some really bad Chinese food on my trip. I was undeterred.

I’m in the unique and interesting position of being able to make big decisions for our company without giving a shit what anybody else thinks. I sort of like having that card up my sleeve but I felt like this was the wrong decision on which to play it. If we ended up building a factory in the USA just because I said so, it could quickly turn into Eric’s Folly. It seemed dumb to make a decision like this without full consensus; otherwise, when things invariably started to go wrong, it’d be because of my stupid idea. So we formed a Manufacturing Task Force to explore the ramifications of building our robots here and not in China.

There are four of us on the task force: me, Tascha (Director of Finance), Scott (Director of Supply Chain), and Matthew (Head of Production). We bought blue terrycloth headbands that we wear both to remind ourselves of the importance of our task force and to ensure that we look like huge dorks. We’re a good mix of preconceived notions. I started out staunchly in favor of USA manufacturing, and Tascha thought it would be impossible. Scott has ten years of experience with Chinese manufacturing, and Matt, who oversees our mini-factory, was eager to expand it but admittedly a bit glassy-eyed when looking at the number of tiny robots we expect to manufacture over the next year or two. We decided to take no more than eight weeks to build out a financial model of the alternatives and see what the bottom line looked like.

The finished model is pretty complicated. I’ll break it down a bit in a future article. We took what we know about making all of the Cubelets we’ve made to date, and compared it with quotes from contract manufacturers, and projected these options out over time. That part was pretty easy; the interesting part was assigning costs to some of the “soft” metrics involved. Is it worth anything to be able to say, “Made in the USA” on our box? How much more innovative can we be with production and engineering co-located? What’s that worth? How much is the annoyance of flying for 14 hours worth over just walking downstairs? There is no straight conversion from annoyance to yuan, but we tried to put numbers on everything we could think of.

I’ll digress for a moment to let you know that I feel like data isn’t always the best answer to a question. This kills our engineers. But seriously; fundamentally we’re all ruled by predictable physics, but we can’t plan for the future at an atomic level. The “data” that we use for something like a business decision is so high-level and abstract that it can be misleading and certainly incomplete. I’m not saying that there’s magic involved, just science and causality that we don’t understand yet. Thanks Dave, for the pointer to David Brooks’ recent article that does a much better job of explaining this than I am doing.

Even a huge amount of data can’t predict the future. But we can talk about trends and I can say confidently that I think the difference in cost between manufacturing in the USA or China is decreasing and will continue to do so. Ten years ago, it was a no-brainer; manufacturing was outsourced. But recently we’ve seen big companies like GE and Apple bring some manufacturing to the USA. I first went to China in 2008 and witnessing the change in cost and economic climate since then has made me confident that making stuff in the USA, while still not as cheap as in China, is getting much more attractive.

The last two paragraphs might sound a little bit like justification. They are. At the end of the eight weeks, we didn’t end up with a clear answer that making tiny robots in the USA would be cheaper. Nor did we end up with the opposite answer. We ended up in between. All of our soft costs were estimated as a range. If we calculated based on one side of the range, we’d end up with “do it ourselves.” If we calculated toward the other limit, we’d end up with “have a factory in China do it.” We did end up with the conclusion that we could, in fact, do it one way or the other and have a high likelihood of success.

So we decided to build a big factory and make our robots here in Boulder. Woo! The task force is into it, I’m into it, the Board of Directors is into it, and our whole team is into it. When the task force announced its decision to everyone at scrum, a couple of assembly elves even piped up spontaneously to talk about how amped they were to work for a company that made stuff they were proud of. Thanks Kristen and Joe!

We’ll keep our injection molding and metal stamping in China for now, but examine bringing them over here after we’ve figured out the other parts of our manufacturing-at-scale process. We’ve already been working on getting a stencil printer, board washer, and AOI for our SMT electronics line. We’ve hired four new employees in the last couple of weeks. And we’re looking around at big (15k square foot) manufacturing spaces in town.

It’s going to be an interesting couple of years. I’ll try to write often about how it’s going robotizing and automating our little factory. Know anyone who wants a job building tiny robots?

As we’ve grown from 2 people to 20 and from hundreds of Cubelets to hundreds of thousands of Cubelets, we’ve hit a few stumbling blocks.  There was that time that we received a huge shipment of plastic parts that were all the wrong size, for example.  In the general scheme of things, we’ve been pretty lucky, and we’ve learned quite a bit from (and enjoyed) the Sparkfun blog, where they document their travails trying to make stuff.  There was that time that they got all of the counterfeit Atmel micros.  Or the cease and desist letter.  Or the subpoena.  Now we’ve got a new problem, though, and it’ll be interesting to see how it plays out.  US Customs seized our stuff.

We’ve been waiting on a shipment of voltage regulators for a while.  They’re tiny little parts; miniscule electronic chips that stabilize the varying battery voltage in Cubelets before power gets to each microcontroller inside.  Every single Cubelet contains one, and it’s the FAN2500S25X, made by Fairchild Semiconductor.  For the last couple of years, we’ve been buying them from Zhengke Electronics in China because they offer better prices and much shorter lead times than any of the electronics distributors in the USA.  Since the parts are so tiny, the shipping doesn’t get too expensive.  Whenever we work with a small, offshore vendor, we scale up gradually.  We place small orders, make sure they’re good, and then increase quantity as we trust each other more.  There’s always some risk of wiring a whole pile of money to China and getting a box of rocks in return.  We’ve been working with Zhengke for three years now, though, so we’re pretty comfortable placing large orders with them.

When this shipment of voltage regulators seemed to be taking a long time to arrive, we tracked the shipment on UPS.com and were fairly well surprised to find a status reading: GOVERNMENT AGENCY HOLD.  Seized.  Seize them!  It sounds like a Scooby Doo episode.

We called UPS and they told us to call US Customs and Border Patrol, where we reached Officer Ayala.  He explained that one of his agents inspected our package and suspected that it might contain counterfeit parts, so they seized it, took it to an undisclosed location, and were going to investigate.  He explained that Fairchild has been seeing a lot of counterfeit parts recently, and that Customs was on the lookout to prevent such things.  He said that Customs had taken photos of the packaging and of the individual parts, sent them to Fairchild, and would wait for their response.  He suggested that we should call again in a week or so.

I’m really curious to see how this plays out.  Since we’ve had such a great relationship with Zhengke, my intuition is that the parts are genuine, not counterfeit.  But we’re buying them through an “unauthorized channel”: a little Chinese vendor who buys leftover parts from big contract manufacturers and then resells them.  This doesn’t bother me in the slightest, and it’s perfectly legal, but Fairchild probably doesn’t like it; I imagine that they want to control distribution through a set of specific vendors.  That way they can control the price and who gets what.  In my head I’ve already made up this story of international intrigue in which the parts are genuine, but Fairchild has Customs working as their little personal goon squad to stop any shipments from an unauthorized reseller, but I have a vivid imagination.  Stay tuned!

Here’s a question I’ve been asked a few times since joining Modular Robotics just two weeks ago:

Scott (our Director of Supply Chain) walked up to my desk and said, “So, when you tell people about your new job, what do you tell them? What’s your title?”

“I say, ‘I’m the Educational Program Manager at Modular Robotics,’ . . . and then the tail end of that sentence is always, ‘And it’s the best job I’ve ever had. ‘ “

I’ve never been terribly attached to titles, but this one is exciting because it lets me explore the everyday of what kids need and teachers and schools and other learning outlets want while thinking beyond the here-and-now to what education should do.

By joining Modular Robotics, it’s not just a new job for me (hooray!) where I am inspired to work with people who in equal measure represent intelligence and creativity and fun (even better!). It also marks a new journey for this company (the coolest part yet). It’s no secret that this company is growing and changing fast. It’s exciting to be part of this phase of a cool start-up as it goes from infancy to adolescence with more potential on the horizon. And, as a place that makes and produces something, much of that growth and change has been about how to produce more, how to create systems so that Cubelets are produced efficiently and with quality, and how to do it responsibly.

Hiring me doesn’t make more Cubelets or change how fast Cubelet kits can be produced. It’s altogether different to add an educator to the team because my job is to figure out how to connect our product with educational settings and needs. Except, the more we talk about it, that’s maybe what I’ll produce – educational uses for Cubelets delivered in the form of an educational network (locally as well as nationally), teachers and educators who want to use Cubelets with their students and great curricula to do so, and opportunities for us to use Cubelets in other learning venues. But perhaps the more profound activity for this desk is to craft a plan that goes beyond providing teachers and students with something they know they need and presents compelling reasons to do things that aren’t currently being addressed or asked for. I’d like to drive change in education by giving students and teachers hands-on opportunities to see how that can be done. All of this is to say, I’m fired up by the blank page and what we can put on it by diving into education in all its forms – museums, camps and after-school settings, and schools and classrooms.

Conventional wisdom says that toys are for playing, and classrooms are for “important” learning. I have a background in the why, the how, and the pressing need for making sure that students have good foundational or “basic” skills. In my past working history I’ve said to parents more times than I can count,”Sometimes your child is just going to have to do the work of practicing ___ over and over until it’s automatic and easy for them.” And I believe that, not just because but because I’ve seen the frustration that arises when a bright student understands Algebra but makes a simple calculation error. On the flip side, I’ve seen the results when a so-called struggling student masters basic math facts or sight words and suddenly finds an entry point to grasp bigger ideas and concepts. That’s the moment they realize they aren’t a struggling student anymore, and usually others around them do too!

All that said, I also am convinced that when students don’t see the value of their education, they won’t invest themselves in it. They won’t take ownership or find a passion for something that carries them through the rough class in college or the teacher they didn’t like as well in high school or the problem they weren’t able to tackle on the first try. In order to make students that energetic about the work they do to learn, it can’t just be skills and tests, and it’s not enough to merely tolerate their participation in their learning or to give them infrequent chances to make their ideas real. It’s critical to promote opportunities for students to apply what they know, to pose their own questions and then have the means to test their ideas and answers, to tackle an idea by crawling all over topic and discipline boundaries. I’ve yet to meet a student that doesn’t respond positively to getting their hands on things and DOING – it is key in powerfully demonstrating what education is FOR to the very ones we’re trying to educate.

Put another way: Make it fun. Make it initially simple and a low barrier to get started without taking away any of the complicated questions or possibilities that might come up later. Make it as open ended and student-driven as possible. Make it fun for adults to get in on so that he grown-ups and students can work together comfortably. Make it connect back to a skill or tool they gained in a class, but that isn’t limited to that unit, that chapter, that class. Make the ideas encapsulated enough for kids to get started right away but big enough to capture their interest for longer than a 42 minute class period.

I’m deeply persuaded this kind of learning works because I was fortunate enough to get an education like this for four of the 22 years of my formal schooling. I also know this kind of learning presents challenges because it requires a lot of attention per student, a lot of resources, and a lot of cool opportunities. But realistically, when education isn’t delivered well, that’s a lot of resources wasted; so, I’d rather do it right, even if it’s harder.

Well, hey, I’m working somewhere where it is OK to challenge conventional wisdom. Education must impart foundational smarts, but can’t be reduced to memorizing facts or sitting through classes as a means to an end. If we want kids to believe in their education we must give them the chance to help shape it – let’s start as early as possible by letting children play and learn simultaneously. I can’t think of a better way to do that than with Cubelets nor can I think of a better job than Education Program Manager at Modular Robotics.

So, Welcome to Me, but more important than me, welcome to Modular Robotics pressing into the educational landscape and seeing where we fit today, and where we can lead the charge tomorrow. I’m thrilled, amped, and all other manner of enthusiastic about all the outlets for learning and education with Cubelets I’ve dreamed up (and excited to discover more!) to not just do what is being done better, but to show that education should not and must not choose between being innovative and being effective.

O frabjous day! I’m happy to report that Richard Siemens, our 1997 Siplace 80-S20 dual-head, conveyorized Pick & Place machine is fully operational! The significance of this milestone has everything to do with the fact that we bought it in September and have been debugging and repairing it ever since. Here’s us celebrating in our parking lot with a few bottles of Prosecco.

pickandplace_party

Do you have a kit of Cubelets? Every single Cubelet contains a few tiny circuit boards, and most of these boards have quite a few fiddly little electronic components soldered on top: resistors, capacitors, microcontrollers, etc. If you’re holding a Cubelet in your hands, you might be surprised to know that the bulk of those components were placed onto the board manually, with tweezers, by one of our assembly elves. We’ve manually placed about 30,000 boards worth of components by hand! And that’s crazy, as most visitors to our factory have pointed out. No longer.

We began shopping for a Pick & Place machine this Summer. We’ve spent a lot of time playing electronics with our friends at SparkFun and have been inspired by the creative ways that they manage to manufacture their products here in Boulder, CO. They’re currently making use of three P&P machines: two small Manncorp models and a brand-new fancy Mydata monster that they’ve written about recently. The Mydata machine is pretty incredible, but it’s also $170,000. Yeah. So we bought an $11,000 used Siemens machine that had been sitting in a shuttered factory in Mexico. Yes, we found sand inside.

I’m way too excited about Richard’s current functionality to turn this into a rant about a certain shady industrial equipment dealer. The short version is that the machine, advertised as “tested and working,” needed a few thousand dollars worth of parts, some motor control boards, belts, hoses, all new software, and a few hundred hours worth of tinkering. Four months later, here we are. But look how fast!

Fast indeed. Richard (we named him after our favorite aerobics instructor) is rated at 21,000 components per hour. 2 heads! 12 nozzles on each head! Nozzle garages! I never thought that I’d be so excited by assembly robots.