Think Like a Teacher

Last week, the folks in the international space station had to duck and cover as space junk came dangerously close to their orbiting haven. It seems that debris from various objects humans once shot into orbit continues to plague any active space mission. This danger clouds each advancing endeavor while, as NPR puts it, “experts continue to debate what can be done about all the trash that’s orbiting our planet.”

I sit at a traffic light, listening to this story, wondering…

…as experts continue to debate what can be done about all the (trash?) that has been shot into the orbit of education?

Is outdated school curriculum the space junk of  learning? Sometimes we see kids excited about what they are learning as they orbit the earth at 20,000 miles per intellectual hour. They experiment, discover, communicate and enjoy learning. Add the power of sharing this experience with others at a distance, and the process becomes even richer. But the shards of old, broken curriculum are a  constant threat. Just as young writers create their own interactive online books or narrate and annotate the uploaded images they have created, an alert sounds:

Warning: Incoming Space Junk. Change course to avoid collision! The curriculum says you need to be able to diagram a sentence and identify parts of speech. Course correction requires that you immediately stop and demonstrate these skills in regulation format to avoid catastrophe. Fire one number two pencil –oops, retrorocket — with bearing 1A 2E 3C in precisely 60 seconds.

Can you think of an instance where space junk nearly took out a viable learning mission? Have you ever taken refuge in an escape module as the debris whizzed by? What can be done about all the trash that’s orbiting?

OK, so my ego bounced this week at being named a “DABA” (Deserves A Bigger Audience) blogger. As I thought about it, my mind rolled over to all the kids I taught and the ways they reacted to unexpected feedback. They were changed people. And so I muse:

Doesn’t everybody deserve a bigger audience?

I started rewinding the reactions I saw when students absorbed just one little bit of extra recognition– even just from a quiet teacher comment. But when they approached projects with a broader audience, they REALLY became porous sponges to the flowing reactions, in turn creating better products than I ever imagined. There were kids who sweated for weeks, perfecting scripts for student-made TV shows worthy of a “Televiddy Award,” our middle school’s equivalent to the Emmys. There were kids who spent hours creating bald eagle, turkey, and vulture costumes and the accompanying “National Bird Pageant” script for a Bicentennial Minute that actually DID win a local Emmy once televised. Simply seeing it aired on TV was what they cared about. There were little second graders who, when they found out their inventions would be judged by an actual patent attorney and several high school “judges,” suddenly cared about whether their gadget truly worked (not required, but it sure mattered to them).

Is it any wonder that their achievement soared? Is it surprising that I find myself carefully revising my words in this post-DABA post?

We read the research about authentic learning, but how often do we remember that every kid is a DABA in some way. And most of us still perk up and suck in feedback from respected sources as adults. We just forget to give it as often as we should.

Whom will you dub a DABA today?

Twenty or thirty years from now, electronic libraries will be full of cyber-volumes about the opening decade of the 21st century and the confluence of events that turned the world sideways like an iPhone display: the flood of web 2.0, September 11, wars, and unprecedented economic distress. We certainly have no satellite view today. We cannot even feel the tilt well enough to know which end is up. We have all this information, and we can find out nothing.

I just finished editing another set of small tidbits to throw into the Web of information and ideas about the economy: some pages for parents on how to help children and teens cope during tough economic times and some for teachers on how to help all of us learn more about these complex systems. But even collecting and synthesizing good information from reliable sources is a slippery reality. When it comes down to it, nothing we write is any better than the reliable sources we trust — trust just because someone else we trust already trusted them. Even a savvy web user can only use the tests of reputation, references, credentials, and (gulp) Google ranking to decide who to believe. If my network says it’s reliable, I guess I can trust it.

As educators we know that we must help our students learn to compare information, assess it, compile it,  and convey it, but there are days like today when I wonder if we are simply helping them build a false sense of reality. I watch the news and I wonder which “authority” or “expert”  will fall tomorrow, which economic scheme will prove false, which report on the stateus of Afghanistan will be mistaken. I especially wonder what the state of the economy really is. No one knows. And this time Google does not help. There does not seem to be an algorithm for ranking such a total abstraction.

I am afraid I am left simply wondering what they will say in twenty or thirty years about all of us who are driven by the shepherds of the news media and the Internet. Reality is slippery, and we are supposed to help our students navigate it when we do not understand it ourselves. But someone trusts us because someone else they trust trusted us.

Scary.

Apologies for no new posts recently. Family-member health and wellness trumped everything for a bit, but things are back on track for now…and so I have time to post.

I did something new and risky last week and the week before. I ran the first few sessions of TeachersFirst’s OK2Ask: free, online, self-directed professional development sessions for teachers. I learned at least as much as the attendees did. And I am left with more questions.

The questions:

How bad is it not to be perfect when sharing in an online venue with total strangers? Does it make TeachersFirst “look bad” if I admit that the tools (in this case Elluminate) are new to me as a presenter? Is this any different from what teachers do every day  when they risk trying a new way of teaching or a new tool to make learning more personal and all-encompassing for the LEARNERS?  Isn’t it good that I model a willingness to make mistakes publicly? Granted, I did practice a lot and play with the tools over and over. But the second session was ALWAYS better than the first. Was it wrong to allow myself to do less than “nail it” the first time?

Geez I hope not.

What I learned:

Teachers are supportive, eager learners and cheerleaders, even to total strangers whom they cannot see. I knew this. I have seen it over and over for years. But to see teachers willing to get excited about small discoveries and to tell total strangers about them via text chat in a virtual “room” is very cool. Most of those involved had never done  a session like this, and they dove right in. And some came back the next week.

Nothing I did was that unusual. People have been trying out online teaching and learning for several years. There is loads of how-to wisdom out there on “best practices” in online learning. I read a lot of it. I play with the tools and imagine scenarios as I swim laps at 6 am (or lie awake at 4 am). The bottom line, IMHO,  is that the learning, online or other, goes best when we do it together. This is just as much fun as the first few classes I taught as a brand new teacher decades ago. Yes, I said FUN. I just hope my fellow learners keep on coming.

In the 1940s, a young woman with a college education was often the first in her family. If she became a teacher, she worked until marriage and was then asked to leave. In some very enlightened schools, she might have finished the school year with a ring on her finger or even worked until she became pregnant. Then it ended. After she had children, she did not return to work for many, many years, if ever.

But a few women returned to the classroom sooner. This was the adventurous generation of bright, energetic women who had much to share. These were women who shared brilliance and flexed remarkable power in the lives of both their own children and the futures of thousands of “kids” before any breath of women’s rights or feminism was heard. These were working women before the term “daycare” was even coined.

Last week I attended a memorial service for one such woman and listened to her grandchildren and children tell of the school “kids” who came to the house, even on Christmas Day, to show their affection and respect, singing Christmas carols. Many of these respectful visitors were in the congregation at the memorial service, now grandparents themselves.

Now our nation has a new leader who has declared a call to service, and I stop to think about the adventurous generation of women who heard that call not long after their soon-to-be-husbands returned from WWII. Their service went unnoticed by most, except the young beneficiaries of that gentle power and willing, brilliant spirit. These women shared not only within their own families but with year after year of their “kids” at school. They were considered strange to be working full time — probably even regarded as “bad” mothers for doing so.  But the service they paid to the next generation and the next should not be forgotten.

It is so much easier to become a teacher now. Yes, the “kids,” the testing, and the political pressures are tougher. But no one kicks them out for marriage, pays them less for being female, or criticizes them for being working moms. In fact, becoming a teacher is considered “easy” (HA!), at least compared to becoming a rocket scientist or investment banker.

So I salute the adventurous generation of teacher/moms who spawned the next generation of women who broke the glass ceilings and said things out loud. So few of them are left, but those who are around are probably still befriending teenagers at church and organizing something.

I just have to give a blog-cheer from this life-long teacher to a sixth grader in California whose science fair project discovered something real world scientists and agricultural experts did not know. Science fairs are often maligned as a chance for parents to do projects for their children and gain bragging rights, but in this case it appears that a student had an idea and was lucky enough to have a parent who allowed him to pursue it. (Of course the student also had a parent who could connect him with a real world facility in which to DO the research…). The fact that the student was the son of a professor tells me that modeling is key. If students see and hear scientists thinking aloud, they will act like scientists.  What power all adults have as teachers.

So I cheer for an eleven year old who asked a question and went after the answer. Isn’t this what we want education to be all about?

And Gabriel,  I personally prefer pistachios, too.

The greatest luxury I have in this job since leaving the classroom is permission to play. After 27 years of completely scheduled or overscheduled time, I can dedicate a morning to comparing tools in search of the ideal one for a given technology task. I can play at will and seek answers: on my own, from help screens, among online forums, or from my PLN (personal learning network). What a luxury to have “permission” to learn from play.

This week I spent several hours comparing different ways to deliver the upcoming OK2Ask sessions on TeachersFirst. I started with a desire to model entirely free tools that any teacher could use without TOO much trouble. I played with all sorts of freebies, all with jibberish names that are de rigeur these days. I embedded myself, recorded myself, shared myself, chatted with myself (on several computers at once, rolling my chair back and forth), gave myself tours, denied myself privileges, gave myself control (and took it away), took polls of myself, clicked myself, made innumerable profiles of myself, moderated myself, muted myself, dragged and dropped myself, tagged myself, explained myself, reverted myself, and even broadcast myself looking stupid as I played on Mogulus.com. (I guess that was “channeling” myself.) It was pretty funny when– for a bit — I could not figure out how to STOP channeling myself.

But I learned. And I found what I sought. In the process, I refined my search, defined my criteria, and even articulated them several times to  complete strangers. I was so glad to have permission to play and learn. And teacher-guilt made me feel bad that others are not allowed to do the same.

Our kids play this way all the time. They play with any available tool and toy. They may not be systematic, but they are comfortable. They know how to play. [At this point the early childhood people I work with would be yelling ,”Of COURSE they do. Play IS learning!]

As the OK2Ask sessions approach, I wonder if we should have named them “OK2Play” instead. I also wonder if teachers have forgotten how to play because they are simply never been given the time to do so.  I have a fundamental belief that teachers try to do the best they can for and with their students. They have been schooled in the Best Practices, research-based methods, etc. But I hope the denial of play time has not removed it from their repertoire.

I don’t really believe they have forgotten how because I have run innumerable inservice sessions where teachers have been as excited (and disruptive) as little kids as they have played with a newly-introduced technology.  I have always given them permission to play. This may not appear to be the most cost-effective, responsible, mature adult thing to do while being paid taxpayer dollars, but I would assert that these same teachers, give a meaningful mission such as I had in selecting a tool for Ok2Ask, would make permission to play into permission to learn. All it took was a focused goal.

I will find out in a couple of weeks whether my recent play time went between the goalposts or veered wildly out of bounds. Either way, I will learn from the experience.

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

This is an open letter blog entry to a valued colleague because she is someone who aways responds,”Why not?” when I hatch some hare-brained scheme…and she adds her own hare-brain!

Donna,

Six years ago we were in the midst of doing something no one else had done (as far as we knew and still know now). We were about to take six very bright kids to Alaska in winter and have them teach their peers via the web using what they had taught themselves through the web and real-life contacts in Alaska. Sounds old hat now. Except  that in 2002-03, there were no wikis. There were no photo and video sharing sites. We did it all by figuring out solutions using available tools and begging for freebies. If we’d had wikis and Youtube…..my goodness!

Roll the clock six years. Read what the MacArthur Foundation says this week about time spent online and how kids learn today — really about how all of us should consider re-visioning what education is, based on how kids are learning. My electronic “quote wall” pulled from the summary:

change the dynamics of youth-adult negotiations over literacy, learning, and authoritative knowledge?

“interest-driven” networks

Self-Directed, Peer-Based Learning

“geek out”

specialized knowledge groups of both teens and adults

gaining reputation among expert peers

erases the traditional markers of status and authority

outcome emerges through exploration, in contrast to classroom learning that is oriented toward set, predefined goals.

skills that youth value are highly variable depending on what kinds of social groups they associate with. This diversity in forms of literacy means that it is problematic to develop a standardized set of benchmarks to measure levels of new media and technical literacy.

New role for education? ….What would it mean to really exploit the potential of the learning opportunities available through online resources and networks?

So, Donna, if kids really learn by poking around online themselves — and we know they do– and have entirely separate networks of experts (and ways to define “expert”) on topics we, as the “adults,” do not even know about…why not invite a dozen or so of them to redesign their education and see how well they could meet two masters: the legal one that says they have to meet certain “standards” and the personal master within themselves. I would hypothesize that given the right environment, the right tools, some no-B.S. adult  mentors, and the motivation that they might actually be able to affect change, you  and I could guide a group of HS kids to redesign learning into something meaningful to them. Here is the beginning of a framework of sorts:

To start, give the kids the standards, explaining that this is the part over which we have no control-yet. Tell them to find the “expert network” to learn about it themselves (and prove it). 

The kids proceed to: (with the side-by-side participation of “teachers,” as needed and specified by law)

• Find the source/community of experts 
• Verify the knowledge level of the source Who else links to him/her? How can you tell he/she is good? Do you find this source referenced over and over again? Can you find out anything about him/her?  Would you trust him to fix/use your computer? etc.
• Engage and question
• Participate and interact with their own questions and exploration
• Show learning—turn in the URL from the online community where their learning “shows”—along with a list of the questions they still want to know. 
• Show where this fits into the “standards”- the kids do the alignment
• Maybe keep a personal RSS Reader organized by academic topics? 

They end up as content experts in their own right, with a vast network of places to return and learn more…including through their peers who are also engaged at various stages in the same process. Most importantly, the kids are involved in actually defining and evaluating this very cyclical process: Does it work? What should we change? What is B.S.? What is cool?

So, Donna, looking back on 2002-03, isn’t this what the better participants in CV/AK did? As they found connections to prescribed curriculum, they went off into their own expert networks to learn what “fit” for them—and what they thought would fit for their peers.

We won’t talk about the “management issues” of watching over 150 kids instead of 12…that’s another day on Think Like A Teacher. That’s an outdated concept, too…

Not bad for something hatched on a Friday. After all, CV/AK came out of a breakfast at (now defunct) George’s.

Why not?