Finally hitting ‘submit’ on my CMALT proposal
After what felt like a very long courtship with a Word document and PebblePad, I finally submitted my CMALT proposal in April 2026.
I started this journey in Autumn 2024, with good intentions, professional ambitions, and what I now recognise as a wildly optimistic belief about how quickly I could pull it all together. I wanted a professional qualification in learning technology: something that reflected the work I do, raised my professional profile, and gave proper recognition to a field that is often busy, varied, and harder to capture on paper than it looks.
In my day job, I’m Programme Manager of the Developing Your Data Skills Programme at the University of Edinburgh. The programme is now in its eighth year, and watching it grow has been one of the clearest reminders of how much learning technology work involves adaptation, reflection, and persistence. What began with around 40 mainly ISG colleagues has grown into provision for roughly 300 staff and students each year, across campus and virtually around the world. Alongside that, I run six one-hour data webinars, and over the years the work has continued to evolve through platform changes, the pandemic, and shifts from Learn to pathways involving P&M and Teams for staff.
So, in theory, I had plenty to say.
In practice, I got caught out by the writing style.
My early drafts were far too descriptive: lots of “here is what I did” and not nearly enough “here is what I learned, why it mattered, and how it changed my practice.” That was the real challenge for me. My mentor, Neil Davidson, learning technologist in the Law School, was excellent throughout and gently but firmly kept pushing me towards deeper reflection. He was right. I just didn’t immediately appreciate how different reflective writing feels when you are used to getting things done rather than narrating your professional growth.
Eventually, I realised I needed to write in a reflective narrative rather than produce a catalogue of achievements. That shift made all the difference. ELM also helped me turn my mainly descriptive musings into something more reflective and focused, which was a huge part of finally getting it over the line.
A big part of the delay was also timing. I only really had spring to work on it, because I run the Data Skills Programme and spring is my best chance of getting anything substantial written. Even then, “best chance” does not automatically mean “loads of free time.” It mostly meant grabbing writing time wherever I could and trying not to overthink every paragraph into oblivion.
Submitting felt like relief more than triumph, if I’m honest. Relief, pride, and a bit of nerves. I haven’t had the result yet, and there is some jeopardy built into that: only one resubmission is allowed, within a two-year window from the first submission date in April 2026. That certainly sharpens the emotions.
If I have any advice for anyone still working on CMALT, it’s this: be resilient and don’t give up. If your draft feels too descriptive, that’s fixable. If it’s taking longer than expected, that’s normal. If you need help seeing the reflective thread in your own work, ask for it. Done honestly is better than perfect eventually.
And finally, thank you to Melissa Highton for making the CMALT journey possible, Jonathan Mori for leading the CMALT programme, Neil Davidson for excellent mentoring and persistent encouragement towards reflection, and Andy Todd, my supervisor, for repeatedly making space for me to spend time writing it up.
Now, at least, the document is no longer staring at me from my to-do list. For the moment, that is achievement enough.
