Think Like a Teacher

I am following up on my previous post about TagUrIt, my mythical tool to pull all outside feedback and response into a single place for a learner to synthesize feedback received from all products and projects, no matter what the medium. Lifestream apparently does this. (I have a vague memory of reading about Lifestream a couple of months ago….so my “dream” tool in the previous post may really have been a figment of foggy memory.) Once again, somebody already thought of my great idea. I wonder if it can pull a feed from tagged email, as well. For a TRULY one-stop shop, I’d want to be able to include feedback emails, too.

 Of course, I don’t see Lifestream rushing to market themselves as a tool for education or personal learning network/professional development. If they are interested in a powerful use of their tool, they should talk to our team at the TeachersFirst Edge. We know how to learn from web2.0 play: bridging the gap from web2.0 into learning. I guess there’s a better market in building customers’ egos or helping them track their social web presence than there is in making webworld a wide-open classroom. Or maybe they never thought of it?

Thank goodness for teachers (like those on our Edge team and the earlyadoptereducators who hang out in places like Twitter) who see the freebies and find amazing power in applying them in new ways. I can’t wait to see them all at NECC where the bloggers cafe and laptop users seated on the floor in public spaces are always abuzz with new toys. It’s hyperstimulation of the highest order: Thoughtstream.

Last Friday I spent the day at a conference in Princeton on Children and Electronic Media: Teaching in the Technological Age. There were presentations on current research concerning the impact of electronic media on children and youth, innovative uses of technology in classrooms, and professional development using electronic media (synchronous and asynchronous). The presenters were all recognized voices; many in the auditorium were also recognized “eyes and ears,” as well as practitioners. Kevin Jarrett, one of the presenters and “Mr.  Second Life” of education [my nickname], blogged the event today, and his reverence for the minds in the room is quite appropriate. It was an energizing gathering — one that seems destined to echo in orange.

I spent a good part of the weekend letting the conference incubate in my head. The issues of implementing teacher professional development in rigorous, differentiated, yet supportive and respectful formats are so critical to the future success of our students, and there is simply SO much for so many to learn, and never “be done.” The ProfDev concerns I have been mulling:

1. Time. How can we streamline the start-up and personalization of PD in a one-size-fits-all mindset? So many administrations simply want “all staff” to “complete” this or that Prof Dev “training,” whether it is on special ed procedures, a new language arts program, or –oh yeah– we have to do the technology stuff (Why so many do technology “training” in isolation is a major issue, as well!)

2. Respect and expect. How do we shift to a  model that allows differentiation hand in hand with rigor: respect where teachers say they are (“I need to learn more about teaching xxx in a project-based approach but am also nervous about doing anything with technology”) yet expect them to step outside of their comfort zones with respectful support and encouragement. Without both, you waste your money and their time. With both, change can actually happen.

3. Hanging together. In a standard, hierarchical arrangement of admin and teachers, there may well be administrators placed in the position of evaluating and approving personalized Prof Dev plans who know the topics no better than the novice participants. Shouldn’t they simply do it together as part of the cohort,  just as we would like students and teacher to be able to work together as learners? What better way to model a new way of “building learners”?

4. Real life. Different teachers have varying degrees of “free” time. There are stages of life when doing anything after 4 or 5 pm is extremely difficult for a teacher: infant at home, aging or dying parents, carpools and coaching for their own kids, moonlighting jobs to pay kids’ tuition, and innumerable other pressures spread and stress so many teachers. This is where the asynchronous options actually make a difference, assuming the 3 concerns above have been resolved wisely. Kevin says

Who has time for PD? We all do. It’s a matter of deciding what’s important. When you’re personally vested in the process, somehow, it gets done!

It’s the “personally vested” part that is tough to achieve in stressed people. We need to respect the limits of real life and expect progress without expecting the same level of expertise from all in the same time frame (NTLB?). If  life’s pressures are unreasonable, teachers will never be “vested.” Humans protect their own survival by fighting.

5. Making it meaningful. We are supposed to do this with our students and should expect that our own learning should be the same way. It is our own responsibility to be sure that our OWN prof dev is meaningful. If it isn’t, speak up and ask if you can adjust it (respectfully of course).

6. Vastness. We will never be “done.” We can’t even stay even. We can sift, sort, listen, and ask questions. David Brooks wrote Saturday about The Cognitive Age:

The central process driving this is not globalization. It’s the skills revolution. We’re moving into a more demanding cognitive age. In order to thrive, people are compelled to become better at absorbing, processing and combining information. [my italics]

Teachers need to not only do this absorbing, processing, and combining and with their own skills; they must do it well enough to teach it to tomorrow’s adults. The vastness of this task is huge.

Bright orange is the color of fire, of lively energy and hope, and of sunsets. I hope the fire from this conference will burn brightly as we who were there light some flames in others,  and avoid sunset.

As teachers, we sometimes forget how large a public window opens into our lives. The Washington Post today tells tales of intrepid teachers in the Washington suburbs who apparently think frosted web-glass obcures all public view of their web presence. Wrong. I wonder, though: Is it wrong to provide a consciously open window, even to keep it crystal-clear on purpose?

Thinking about any web presence requires the same approach as your bathroom blind:

• If I keep it open, who will see?
• If I do reveal something, it implies that I want it to be seen by anyone.
• Is there a good reason to share?
• What others will inadvertently see it?

As a lifelong teacher, however, I ask one more:

• What can I teach this way that I cannot teach any other way?

My first decision would be to post a “See next window” sign on the outside of the bathroom blind, directing people, instead,  to a slightly-less-voyeuresque view of my living room. Now, I ask:

• What can I teach from my web “living room” that I cannot teach any other way?

I can teach that I am an art quilter and a writer, a side of me that splashes into  view immediately on the walls and in this blog window. My visual-spatial students and colleagues ask: how does this connect with what she does all day? Should I connect art  and/or writing into what I do all day?

I can teach that books  and TV can share a space in my life. Can they in YOUR life?

I can teach that family is at the center, and a dog closeby. My students and colleagues ask themselves what forms the center of their world.

I can teach that teaching and work sometimes make me tired (is that me on the couch, asleep?). The voyeurs ask: What is it that drives her to work so hard? What drives me?

I can teach that nothing is finished, even the space for the imaginary fireplace still down the list on our “ten year plan.” They ask: What am I willing to wait for? Are time and imagination as important as the final, tangible item?

I can teach that I don’t mind being honest and human, but that I will always try to present my best. A little dust is OK, though.

I even wash the windows (inside and out) occasionally. My windows are frames for viewing both ways, and I welcome the voyeurs. I have thought about what I will show them. I hope other teachers will do the same.

Why frost the glass when we can shed such light?

I was away at a conference for several days over last weekend and early this week(LONG hours in the exhibit hall). But for the last two days I have been mulling over my plans for a pre-conference workshop for teachers at Pennsylvania Association for Gifted Education’s (PAGE) annual conference. Back in the days when I taught gifted (for over a dozen years), our group of teachers often talked about our role as “guide on the side” and on gifted ed’s propensity to try out new ideas before general ed and teacher ed picked them up. We were, many  times, a proving ground, and we pretty much exclusively taught using constructivist, project-based models. I was a “general contractor” on site as my classes built learning. The students did the heavy lifting, crafting everything from the actual foundations to the cabinetry trim of learning. I planned the schedule, made sure the materials were there, and gently but firmly redirected the process when it appeared that the structures might fail.

This week brings me a new chance to promote the model of teachers as general contractors: both at the PAGE workshop and in the announcement of a FREE cooperative pilot project from TeachersFirst and TRIntuition’s workBench: The Building Learners Project. (Actually, the logo image for this project was what got me started on the contractor analogy.) I could not be more pleased to see such opportunities for teachers to act as general contractors for the learning in their classrooms– even some learning of their own. Learning new tech toys/tools is part of being a good contractor, and it’s OK to figure them out along with the craftspeople on the job site. I am looking forward to getting my hands a little dirty, as well.

We’ve been pretty busy planning a new project at TeachersFirst called Building Learners. We’re working together with a new web2.0 tool developer to offer an amazing project. The announcement is scheduled for about ten days from now, and I am actually pretty excited. It’s free, it’s creative, and it’s open-ended. I would love nothing more than to have it grow beyond what we have imagined (or are capable of “managing.”) It really is intended as a launch more like a solar-powered passenger balloon: theoretically self-sustaining and destined to go where the wind takes it and the passengers steer it. We’ll stay on the ground, ready to radio up help and tracking via every means possible. But the kids and the teachers will be driving this puppy. In a very real sense, they ARE the pilot(s). Can’t wait!

Recently, I have had several conversations with teachers and the TeachersFirst Educator Advisory Board about school Internet filtering. I even dreamed about it one night (ARRRGH!) Today I find that Teachers Teaching Teachers has a terrific (though long) podcast on Locating the Tyranny of Filtering, including interviews of several people who hold the reins on web filtering in  schools of various locations and sizes, even New York City schools. For a teacher who has no idea how sites magically “disappear,” the podcast gives an intermediate level explanation of how the technology works. It also provides a few examples of HOW teachers can request an “unblock” of a web site in some schools. One especially productive discussion occurs about 26-27 minutes into the discussion, addressing teacher perceptions and feelings about finding a resource blocked and the feeling of powerlessness that comes with this “hand slap.” Several bottom lines from the podcast:

1. Teachers balk at any barrier that adds bureaucratic steps to their day (see the principal to request an unblock).

2. Timeliness matters.

3. Teachers do not understand the technologies behind the filtering and may assume that sites that only work partially do so because they (the teachers) are doing something “wrong.” Voicethread, for example, may SHOW on the screen but not actually play the sound, all because of filtering settings.

4. More enlightened filtering models favor the judgment of actual educators over technology experts.

5. The philosophical issues behind filtering run long and deep (Do we limit students’ vision with blindfolds or teach them how to look critically and decide? Is filtering merely a substitute for classroom management?).

6. There has to be a PROCESS in place (thank you to this voice on the podcast–Lee Baber?).

7. Teachers leave workshops (or web sites, or new articles) having learned about web2.0 tools, only to find that these very tools are blocked.

8. The power to make decisions locally is quite legal and practicable. Teachers need to ask questions and ask for transparency in the processes. As the speakers put it, teachers need to “be brave.” That includes less tech-savvy teachers who are not entirely comfortable with computers as well as those who traditionally speak first and loudest.

TeachersFirst plans to follow up with this discussion, trying to help teachers:

• understand what is magically happening in the filter (in a 30 second explanation)
• be aware of the legal requirements and how far they do/do not go
• be able to share examples of filtering models that work for instruction
• know how to advocate positively for flexible, responsive filtering
• remove emotional reactions from the barrier-lowering process
• be able to access the terrific tools reviewed in the TeachersFirst Edge!

As always, we’ll try to make it quick, understandable, and practical. Watch for this discussion, coming SOON.

Will Richardson’s post (rant) on 21st century skills and getting educators onboard has drawn copious comments. He is so right in describing the conference venue as  frighteningly dull and disconnected. The sheer commercial nature of how conferences happen is study in slime. Exhibit halls are filled with the latest buzz-word wrappers on the same old products, and EVERYONE is “for sale.” The conference organizers, logistics companies, and convention center management each take a cut of the commercial pie, and Internet access is just another costly “add-on” in Edu-make-a-buck Land.  Been there, done that. As an exhibitor from a non-profit, I have enjoyed marvelous reactions (“Wow, you’re like Robin Hood!”)…but that is another post.

I disagree with Will, however, on the “network.” While he is fortunate to have the network (and respect) of reform-minded and creative people, many teachers do not have that network. Many teachers do not even have the facilitators or coaches or general support that is being offered by the “in network” commenters on his post. Yes, the process of changing teachers and administrators is glacial, but without some very basic barrier-removal, they have too many good reasons for not being a part of the “network.” Blogs are blocked. Anything that requires a log-in or “sucks bandwidth” is suspect or prohibited. How would you expect them to know a world that is truly invisible from inside those walls?  Yes, they should at least have enough GUILT to ask about these “new-fangled things” and to ask the non-educator people who control the filtering/network to at least explain why Google Earth  and blogs are “bad.”

The best thing our “network” (and I don’t know if I’d be considered “in network” or not) can do is to simultaneously support those teachers by shoveling the paths they CAN take, applauding them for building learning networks in their classrooms, and realizing that they do not have time to toot their own horns. We may not even know about some of the finest teachers who have engaged in connections outside their classrooms with little fanfare and even less awareness by higher-ups so busy with test scores.

I knew a teacher who facilitated a virtual classroom created by HS kids for over 3000 kids from gr 3-12  over 5 years ago — when wikis and most web2.0 tools were not even in existence. They interviewed, shot pictures, answered and asked questions, connected to concepts from gr 12 calculus to gr 3 reading. A HS sophomore wrote all the code (Cold Fusion), and the team uploaded images and video until 2 a.m. from a “borrowed” hotel connection in Alaska. No acclaim, no network, just great stuff. I truly believe there are others out there doing terrific, Constructivist projects. It is not their job to announce themselves. Let’s continue to support and highlight those who ARE doing it, and realize that their peers will learn from being nearby, as well.

At the same time, we need to continue to share visions of what it “looks like” to do education in other ways. That is what the network is for, not establishing “cred.” (end  of my rant)

I love RSS feeds, even though I rant about not having time to read them. Today I ran across Clay Burell’s discussion of schooliness. I smile as I muse.

Is it like girliness? — a term meant to demean , but occasionally value at the same time?

I can sense schooliness, even in myself. Like girliness, I try to avoid it yet do not want to push it away entirely. It has its place. On certain days for certain occasions, in certain moods, girliness is OK. Never my goal, just OK.

Now, schooliness…?

Schooliness actually cares whether the line is quiet in the hallway. Schooliness is made of  the film and chicken wire they put inside the safety glass insert in my classroom door to prevent shattering (of ideas, customs, or quiet). It blocks the view of what is REALLY going on inside (inside heads, especially those who can entertain themselves while “education” goes on around them). Schooliness is the translator we apply to technology tools so they are “safe” and comply with AUPs. Schooliness  is the substitute we LOVED to see as students because she was so much fun to fool. Schooliness  is why they invented NCR paper, then changed it to Acrobat files you have to TYPE into. Schooliness  is what prevented me from turning in what I really thought in most essays…until I trusted the anti-schooliness  of the teacher. Schooliness  is what my liberal arts degree ridiculed. Schooliness  is what Congress would use to define Highly Qualified Teachers. Schooliness  is the make-up that thinking human beings “touch up” as they leave the faculty room. Schooliness  is what makes us wear a watch. Schooliness  is what my brightest gifted students so aptly parodied as I chuckled and pretended not to hear. Schooliness  is “May I have your attention please,” which should warn, “Turn the speaker off NOW!”

I will enjoy thinking about schooliness for days …especially as I look out a non-school window, across my unfiltered computer, watching a lake with no buses or concrete in sight.

There is a definite exhilaration to leaving schooliness  behind.

How do we find the teachers and students who just “don’t know” about using technology in a classroom? If they never have it available and never see a workshop and never have access to read blogs (or know what they are), will we even know they are “out there”? Don’t tell me they don’t exist. We all know they do.

I need some help from the statmasters and storytellers among you. If you can steer me to some numbers, I will be very grateful, and you may be helping students you will never know.

I know that there are teachers and classrooms where there is no Internet access, where the only connected computers are in the school library or office. The official report they submit to a government survey may say otherwise — out of pride or embarrassment, but the students know it isn’t true. Perhaps the school network (or dial up) is so unreliable that teachers never even consider sharing the Web with students in class. Perhaps there is a connected computer but no projector of any kind to allow more than a huddle of students to see the screen. Perhaps the teacher has no Internet access at home, either. Or if he/she does, it is an exercise in frustration to find terrific visuals and interactives and opportunities for world collaboration when none is accessible from the actual place where the students are. Perhaps the setting is rural. Perhaps the infrastructure is poorly maintained. Perhaps the budget funds machine-scorable answer sheets  and review workbooks instead of improving Internet access. Perhaps he/she teaches in a portable classroom placed “temporarily” ten years ago and “not worth connecting” to the network.

If you were teaching in that classroom, how would you feel? A student asks what a “mesa” is as you read a story. Can you show him/her? You have amazing digital pictures from your cousin’s science lab…but can you share them? You find a site where students can see visual representations of body systems or interactive maps of natural resources. Can you involve your class?

I might have a way to bring this issue to the attention of someone who MIGHT have a way to help. But I need some statistics and stories– FAST. If you have a source for information on how many classrooms and teachers do NOT have a way to share the Internet IN the room where they teach, please comment back to me. If you know someone who might have some stats, please send them my way.  Some teachers in these situations write to TeachersFirst. But how many more don’t even use teacher resource sites? But I need stats and stories….as much as I can get. We who read this and write to blogs are fortunate to have the connections that we have. Rewind your world to the early 1990s. Don’t you think we should help the teachers stuck  back in classroom .75?

The Washington Post describes a palatial new school where technolust has run amok, dragging teachers down into negativity and frustration instead of engaging them and building learners. “Technolust,”  or technology for technology’s sake, does more damage per incident than any initiative (or lack of it) in education today. Technology attracts attention by its sheer luminescence, and the attention turns negative when the money spent carries no planning for the implementation and collaboration that would scaffold successful impetus for learning and change. Taxpayers smell waste instead of seeing success.

Or, to put it bluntly: Shove technology at a faculty without thinking like a teacher and involving the teachers, and you might as well turn on the fan next to your stack of bills.

Sadly, what I am saying is NOT new. Research backs it, and the research on successful implementation is readily available. You don’t throw hardware at people and expect them to use it or use it well. More broadly, you don’t throw ANY concept at a learner and expect them to seize it and integrate it into their understanding without some context, some involvement, some sort of connection to their own “reality.” We KNOW this.

Conversely, you could make Universal Mr. Potatohead (U.M.P.) into a successful initiative if you did it right: let teachers experience a workshop using Mr.P.  Challenge them to think of ways Mr. P. could provide connections and allow students to engage in the subjects they teach. Involve some teacher-leaders in Pilot Potatoheads. Brainstorm. Challenge creativity and reward teachers for using it: Mr. P. can provide cells for the microscope in bio, write stories from his own point of view in English, discuss natural resources in social studies, plan an ideal potato city in civics class, observe food chains in potato land, read stories aloud, make friends with fellow potatoheads on the other side of the world, calculate fractions of potatoes in math, and so on. Let teachers collaborate on their successes and problems with the new U.M.P. approach. Share the Mr. Potatohead successes with the taxpayers and invite them to participate. Do we NEED Mr. P.  to be able to teach? No. If we stop and think about ways he could become part of our toolbox, however, he might actually make some concepts “stick” (he’s starchy, after all). Mr. P. MIGHT even make us rethink ways to look at our curriculum and learning through creative eyes in general.

Those folks in Alexandria bear more resemblance to potatoheads than effective planners. And now their story will spread like melting butter, preventing deserving schools from getting anything but small potatoes in their technology budgets.