Think Like a Teacher

Better late than never. I read the post in Education Week about #blog4nwp after the March 18 deadline, but perhaps that makes it even more meaningful. Time and deadlines will never erase the need for writers. A public policy decision looming in Congress could remove all funding for the National Writing Project (NWP), a quiet force that drives writing into classrooms across the U.S. with the strength of a benevolent tsunami. The NWP unleashes the force of writers from deep beneath the surface of a vast teacher-sea, sending forth huge waves to spread over large areas and leave an unforgettable swath. Unlike a real tsunami, however, the forces of writers are entirely of good, and they leave high water marks of inspiration and understanding wherever the wave travels.

Why writing? Why not STEM or math? Why do we need a “project” to make writers out of teachers? Writing scares people, just like water. Teachers will dip their toes in, but only through experiences like the NWP will they learn to swim, and even ride the waves as writers, willing to take risks with their words and talk about the process. Just as STEM programs provide experiences for teachers to act as real scientists so they can provide authentic science teaching, so does the NWP immerse teachers and respect the real experience of being a Writer as essential to building a classroom community of writers.

For the U.S. (or any country) to thrive, we need not only the scientists and innovative thinkers. We need them to be able to communicate their work clearly and with passion. Have you ever tried to read what an engineer writes? It’s a wonder that many new inventions get beyond the lab. If you can’t explain it, no one will ever know about it. Every scientist needs to be a writer. Without  teacher-writers to model the process of shaping ideas into words, we are destined to have great ideas that gather dust.

Almost 20 years ago, I was a writing fellow of a NWP-affiliate at a nearby university. I watched a kindergarten teacher get so excited about writing, she almost tackled community college prof with her ideas for writing together with five year olds. I learned the power of metaphor. I learned to visit and revisit every word I write. I learned to listen for voice. I learned to have a voice.

I know that only a small fraction of  teachers have experienced a NWP summer. But I also know that ending funding for NWP is as dangerous as stopping funding for cancer research. It may never be enough, but we should not underestimate how far each dollar goes. The one mistake we have made as NWP fellows may be that we did not tell enough people where our personal writing force began. This benevolent tsunami may soon be gone, and the high watermarks will fade. What is left without the force of the NWP will be a stagnant, waveless pond.

Jennifer Northrup’s post about a visit to her media center by teachers-to-be (T2B) raises very important questions about today’s teacher ed programs:

…the discussions of the day really made me wonder if pre-service teacher education is neglecting to prepare students for the role of technology in the classroom. Is it fair to say that we have to hope that these students have a cooperating teacher that utilizes technology in the classroom or that they will be forced to learn it on their own in the end?

My short answer: NO. It is not fair to simply hope a cooperating teacher will have time/expertise/motivation/experience with technology to make this a part of student teaching.  I know from sharing TeachersFirst with T2B in OK2ask sessions that the T2B desperately want to know what to do with technology long before student teaching.

In this case, I think of teaching as a bit like cooking.

A true cook (master teacher) has the expertise to work from available ingredients, create a recipe, adjust the recipe to a different number of servings,  combine it into a broader menu of compatible offerings, adapt for possible food allergies, set the table, and time all the food so it arrives at just the right time to be eaten piping hot or refreshingly chilled. The learning meal then takes on a life of its own through conversation and involvement of everyone around the table– and facilitated by the food prep. If he/she is  smart, the master chef will include students in the food prep for a broader, richer menu. An experienced, tech-savvy teacher integrates technology the same way, using what is available at just the right time to bring every student around the learning table together. If a T2B is lucky enough to be souschef with a master, he/she will at least learn the fundamentals of collecting ingredients and managing simple menu planning. He/she will not learn every utensil or technique, but he/she will be able to serve up a shared learning meal.  The students may even try some foods they would have otherwise avoided when not included in the menu prep.

One problem with teacher ed is that the time limitations and inequities among the kitchen (student teaching) experiences and facilities make consistency very unlikely. We cannot assume that the cooperating teacher or student teaching school will even have essential technology ingredients or expertise. Some will have state of the art appliances and 1:1 computing, while others will have the edtech equivalent of one microwave oven to feed a class of 30… with past-date groceries. To  make it worse, the T2B may arrive having experienced teacher ed faculty who themselves use edtech solely as a drive-through meal: something you grab and go — without looking at the nutritional value!

To steer today’s T2B beyond the drive-through toward solid nutrition in their use of edtech as part of total menu planning, we need to deliberately take them out to “eat” in a variety of schools. We cannot assume that today’s T2B have ever even tasted this food before. Let them taste-test the marvelous things you can do by starting with a simple menu item, let’s say telling a simple digital story. After tasting it, let them try cooking up one of their own–even if it’s a little too crispy around the edges. Then ask them to envision a full menu where it might fit. Show them sample menus.  They may be tempted to simply re-create the comfort food lessons they had over and over as a child. Give them some nutritionally sound starting points they may never have savored.

I recently read a strategic analysis  of the teaching profession (see page 8 re classroom teachers) that described a “divide” between younger teachers entering the profession and old-time union-placard-wielding teachers. Historically, teachers have certainly been as guilty of them vs. us as fifth graders picking teams on the playground. On a bad day, a  teacher might have a parents them, a policy makers them, and/or a media them. But I really do not believe that there is a “divide” between younger and older teachers enough to be a them vs. us. What I do see is a growing isolation built out of self-preservation. As good old Maslow said, we have a hierarchy of needs, and personal security/safety come far before respecting others. Today’s fiscally risky climate builds fear in any teacher’s heart. And some teachers, fearful that they will fall prey to the budget axe, may speak out loud in broad generalizations about a teacher them. As teachers who know the veracity of good ol’ Maslow, we should have the wisdom to hear insecurity speaking when we hear it. We should also be able to point it out as insecurity when speaking to the media them.

But beyond the PR side of this, I want to dig deeper into this purported “divide.” As a teacher who cut my teaching teeth on purple-ditto-fluid-sniffing eighth graders, I am old enough to be on the old age end of this supposed “divide.” Yet why do I find I enjoy working with young teachers– and they with me? Why am I energized by their enthusiasm and are they eager to ask for my suggestions and experiences with this kind of student or that kind of parent or this difficult curriculum area. They even ask for my ideas for maximizing learning using technology. AGE and/or experience do not create a them. I don’t think of myself as “old,” nor do they treat me that way.When among teaching colleagues, I feel we are ageless. Only the moments when they refer to their high school years remind me that we are a generation apart.  As teachers, we are absolutely together. I do not fear that they talk about me behind my back, as “divided” teachers surely would. We are in this together. For the kids.

As politics and financial crises continue to take their toll and send us back to primal levels on Maslow’s hierarchy,  I hope the community of the teaching profession can avoid being split into them and us by changes to pensions, certifications, salaries, and all the other personally threatening safety/security changes that loom. Our kids cannot afford to go to school in a “divided” world of teaching and learning. Anyone who seeks to promote that divide is doing far more damage than a group of fifth graders choosing sides. We teachers — older, younger, and ageless– need to think about how we work together and take advantage of each other’s wisdom, just as we ask our students to do.

This week I watched an Oscar ceremony including Natalie Portman, followed livebloggers through the unveiling of iPad 2, and read a blog post at ASCD. They all had something in common: the confluence of technology and the humanities.

I had never known that Natalie Portman was a brilliant scientist in her own right until I read the NY Times article about her multifaceted talents. Instantly, I thought of A.M., S.R. and a handful of my other highly gifted former students  who also crossed over the perceived science/humanities “divide” as if it were a laughable piece of yellow, plastic police tape. Natalie Angier, who writes about Portman, focuses on Portman’s drive and on the odd contrast between the isolation of serious scientific researchers vs the public exhibitionism of the entertainment industry. Angier misses out, however, on the place of acting as artistic and personal expression, on film as a place where layered interpretation,visual imagery, and rich language can intrigue the mind and invite as much analysis and questioning as any science– perhaps with a bit more opportunity for ironic twist. I suspect that Portman could talk about the line between science and arts and dance along it quite well. I don’t know her work well enough to be sure, and I certainly have never talked to her. But I can envision my exceptionally gifted former students dancing the line with her, laughing.

Enter Steven Jobs.  His road sign icon for the role of Apple’s “DNA” (and its forward thinking people) marks the meeting point of liberal arts and technology. That meeting place “yields us the result that makes our hearts sing.” I know “Liberal Arts” is a dirty word (well– two) these days, and those of us who actually expended tuition dollars on them are ridiculed for our irrelevance in an era of competitiveness and the hard-driving skills needed in the 21st century. But I firmly believe that Jobs is right about technology’s place. Technology is not simply the test tube or tool we use for data, data, data. If you watch what people do with it, you quickly see today’s technology as a place to play, express, evaluate, compare, collage, question, write, answer, re-question, and enter into an iterative process of exploration and expression. Technologically-assisted exploration IS creative process if we allow it to be. Throw away User Manuals.

David J. Ferraro’s post on the ASCD blog, “Humanizing STEM: A Different Kind of Relevance,” says he “privately fret[s] over the way STEM advocacy, and current reform efforts in general, inadvertently devalue the humanistic and civic dimensions of a basic education.” He goes on to delineate the vital role that the humanities can play as a lens for viewing the intrinsic beauty of science and…

that math is beautiful, true, and good in its own way; that the development of the physical and natural sciences over the centuries has been motivated in part by a universal human desire to make sense of the world; and that technological innovations throughout history have been fueled not only by economic necessities but also by a basic human restlessness and the quest for mastery over nature.

Exploration, whether it is the how and why of science and technology or the what-if of changing a musical key or  shifting the composition of a photograph, is the common ground of the techmanities. Jobs gets it. I think Portman gets it. I know the people who dance across the yellow tape get it. I just hope that people who plan for education get it soon, before we lose the next Jobs or Portman or Ferraro… or your neighbor’s kid.