Think Like a Teacher

As I write this, I am listening to wind chimes — the long, tubular, metal kind that resonate with deep tones. The late December wind gusts occasionally escalate the usual mellow tones into a dissonant frenzy. I have become accustomed to hearing them, an indicator of the invisible, weather-changing winds coming across the lake. These same winds provide a climate early-warning system on the lake side of the house quite opposite the protected, oblivious side. The wind chimes help us avoid the complete shock of stepping out unprepared into the changing micro-climate. Fortunately, we can hear the chimes’ reminders inside the house and select our outerwear accordingly.

Late December also brings the annual rite of reflecting back on a year gone by. The winds of 2008 resonate with edgy, dissonant tones of wind chimes as a front comes through. Every newscast this week has commented on the changes: political, economic, military, societal, world…. the media wind chimes are truly in a frenzied state. But the optimist in me cannot help but hear the underlying mellow tones, tones that find occasional harmonious combinations or a counterpoint of difference that somehow fits together.

My hope is that the winds of upheaval which produce so much dissonance will also escort in a refreshing front of rethinking, a permission to look anew at everything, including the way we operate the processes we call Teaching and Learning. As someone who has been fortunate enough to have had almost entirely positive experiences with Teaching and Learning in my life, I want so much for others to feel the same winds. Even more, I wish them wind chimes of their own: an awareness that the winds ARE ushering in change. And change is not bad; you just need to put on the appropriate outerwear.

Happy New Year.

OK, I am going to go completely off-topic…but I think I can pull it back in at the end.

Last night I watched A Charlie Brown Christmas for at least the 70th time (once a December since 1965, plus several repeats, VHS tapes,  and a DVD) . I can recite the entire dialog and knew the song, “Christmas Time is Here,” before the rest of the world ever heard it. I was one of those kids who was singing in the intro and during the tree sequence at the end of the show. I even got to shout “Merry Christmas Charlie Brown!” in a San Francisco sound studio late one night, having no idea that the shouts of the six of us,  fellow church junior choir members,  would be used at the moment that makes millions of people smile and an animated Charlie Brown do a double-take at least once each Christmas season on TV.

It is a long story, some of which is documented in the book Lee Mendelson and Bill Melendez wrote at the35th anniversary of the making of the show, a few months after Charles Schulz passed away. They messed up recounting the details of where our junior choir came from, but they did include portions of the letter I sent to Mr. Schulz… no matter. I just said all that to “prove” that I am not making this up.

What I noticed last night [here she goes—connecting back to the usual themes of this blog] was the community the Peanuts gang has. The absence of adults (except the wah-wah-wah voice of a school teacher in LATER specials) is a given in Peanuts. These kids do everything together: play baseball, fly kites (or not), learn about life, and even run their own Christmas play. We accept that. In the fantasy world of Charlie Brown and Lucy, kids have wisdom beyond their years and work together to respond to the needs of their own. Last night it was Charlie Brown’s need to see what Christmas is all about. Linus delivers his explanation from Luke’s gospel (no laugh track or audience sound afterward — just peaceful reverberation of silence). The gang follows Charlie Brown and decorates his tree. It is a world where kids fall down and pick each other up as they learn together and individually.

No, that is NOT the point of A Charlie Brown Christmas, but it does make me wonder whether we can duplicate even a portion of what these kids have in our own classroom community by pulling the adults  several steps back and allowing the kids to support each other. The likelihood that this would turn to chaos among real kids is high, yet the “what if” is important. The Peanuts gang has complete ownership. They still dance when they are supposed to be rehearsing their nativity play and argue about eating snowflakes. But when the snowballs hit the fan, they make sure that everyone gets what he/she needs. It might be fun to challenge a class to create the same community. Heaven knows, they have all seen the show! If I were still in my elementary gifted classroom, I might try it one year. All I’d need is a recording of “nah-nah-nah” to play when things got out of hand.

Doug Johnson had a great post last week on Seven stupid mistakes teachers make with technology . (OK, I am behind on reading my RSS feeds, but I have excuses). I might have been gentler in calling them “misguided or erroneous actions and assumptions,” because I feel great empathy for teachers. Look at the title of this blog, for heaven’s sake! Been there, done that…though I never taught lecture-style. My additions:

1. 1. Not seeking help with technology. We condemn our students who do not ask for help before the test or clarification of comments we write on their papers, but teachers don’t often speak up and participate in pointing out what they do not understand and making the effort to change that. When a student ignores the repeated comments about misplaced modifiers on his English papers, the English teacher expects him/her to ask what that is and how to fix it (if he/she does not know). Why don’t teachers inquire aloud, “What is that and how do I do it?”
2. Corollary to #1: Giving up instead of risking mistakes (another thing we condemn in our students). If the first person a teacher asks for help speaks in techno-ese and says “It’s easy…watch this “ (zip-zop-zip-zop with the mouse — too quickly for a teacher to grasp),  this provides an easy excuse to say, ” I can’t. I don’t get it. I don’t want to look stupid in front of the kids.”
3. Asking the wrong people for help. They do a wonderful job of keeping things working, but if they have never been teachers (or taught at a similar level), the tech folks may not be the best ones to ask. If they go zip-zop-zip-zop with the mouse and don’t listen to your questions and have YOU touch the mouse — not them — find someone else. If they don’t ask you questions or recognize your fears, find someone else.  If they don’t suggest simple, meaningful options to master first (see Greg Carroll’s comment on Doug’s post), find someone else.
4. Thinking there is a formula or pattern to follow for student-centered, inquiry-driven, technology-infused lessons. As with so many issues in the 21st century, the real answers are more often variations on “It depends” than something formulaic and patterned. Tolerance for ambiguity and flexibility have never been strengths of many who gravitate toward becoming teachers. These skills can be learned, however, and technology happens to be a great way to master them: no product is EVER “done,” since revision is so easy and collaboration so inviting. Teacher ed programs can be guilty of this mistake in teaching new teachers lesson planning.
5. Thinking there is a linear sequence of skills needed to learn about technology’s role in learning. Many commercial “professional development” package providers have created technology skills assessments and tutorials, but most of these oversimplify (see tolerance for ambiguity above). You won’t reach the end, and you’ll never be “done.” Using technology is like reading: first you decode and pronounce, but somewhere in there reading becomes a much more complex process, connecting known to unknown, thinking, reflecting, imagining…. Infusing technology is as complex and unending.

 I guess Doug accomplished what he set out to do. I could go on and on writing about this. Through the blessings of technology, these thoughts will never be “done.” If you’re a teacher who has never commented on a blog post, come on—try it! Avoid #2 above!

 Today I am listening to Pandora as I work. They have several holiday “stations” (many available over iTunes and on mobile devices, as well).  I love Pandora because I can teach it what I like.  I can also change moods: the Peaceful Holiday station as  I stress about an upcoming board meeting, Rock Holiday to keep me awake on a Friday afternoon, etc.

As I enjoy the privilege of music in my workday life (unlike during 27 years of music-less classrooms), I can’t help wondering why we can’t let the music in for kids, too. Classrooms have no music, except when we ship kids down the hall for their weekly fix. Of course, different music has different effects on each student, so figuring out which music, if any, actually helps a student focus, think, and create will be a challenge. Individualizing music is no different from individualizing any other learning.

I feel another analogy coming on.

Pandora has this remarkable way of taking self-reported “like it” and “hate it” signals and integrating them with a detailed analysis of musical  features: lyrics, rhythms, styles, instrumentation, even voice quality. The more the listener reports “like it” or “hate it,” the better Pandora is at sending out just the “right stuff.” So why don’t we involve kids in reporting “works for me” and “doesn’t work for me” as soon as they are developmentally ready to reflect on which approach helps them learn, including music?

With younger ones, we could simply expose them to different approaches (and music) so they know what they are. These might include seeing the images of new concepts, listening to podcasts about them, MAKING podcasts about them, reading quietly, reading aloud, building something, etc. We just need to be sure we offer the “stations” of music (learning) with as much variety as Pandora’s music offerings. The learning offerings should include actual music as they learn, too. The science teacher in upper elementary or middle school could even assign them to conduct experiments on the impact of different “stations” on their test performance or other evidence of mastery.

By the time kids are in late middle school and entering HS, they should have a pretty good idea of what helps them learn. Asking them to be involved in defining it— and then in facilitating it– will make them better lifelong learners than any approach we superimpose on them.

So back to the music. With Pandora and other music so readily available in streaming forms and on mobile devices, etc., why aren’t we letting the music in?  Yes, there are times when headphones will prevent kids from hearing necessary information. But the impact of individualized “Thinking Pandora” stations delivered via kids’ iPhones as they work independently could let far more than just the music in.

– written with accompaniment from Pandora’s Peaceful Holiday and Folk Holiday stations