Think Like a Teacher

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?

The last 24 hours in my email/RSS/real people world has brought reminders of difficult realities:

1. Web 2.0 tools die (or are left to suffer a slow death by weeds) as rapidly as the seasonal harvests of farmers.

2. Teachers are in a hot kitchen with far to many required recipes these days.

Compounding  this situation:

3. The most imaginative minds are generating exciting scenarios and fabulous examples of an entirely new way to cook up learning. Call it School 2.0: Nouvelle Cuisine for the Minds.

So how is the teacher (in #2) supposed to reconcile all this? Let me elaborate…

1. TeachersFirst Edge reviews web2.0 tools and suggests ways to use them safely and effectively in the classroom. We are, essentially, offering  the 20-minute recipes for the Nouvelle Cuisine for the Minds.  We visit the Farmer’s Market of web2.0, select the current cheap (free) ingredients available, and give teachers ideas for a quick family meal that brings new taste to their classroom and lets the kids get involved in the actual cooking.  The ongoing problem is that a farmer simply won’t appear one week. No one knows what happened to his produce. It simply went out of season or was left to die on the vine. Free web2.0 tools die. Fact of life. And the teachers and kids have no clue where to look for a substitute ingredient. Can you make a timeline out of another kind of fruit?

2. Meanwhile, the same teachers, and their 10,000 other colleagues who never even VISIT the Framers Market, are being told what to cook, how many minutes it should take, how to measure it (at least 3 times), conduct a scientific taste-test, and still turn out at least three dozen new dishes a day. The directions are explicit and the consequences of one dropped cupcake are dire.

3. The same teachers that were involved in #1 (and #2, since ALL must do the required recipes) read about those in #3 and simply want to cry. They long to approach Nouvelle Cuisine, but they do not have the time to look for replacement ingredients or even learn to read French.  They don’t Twitter, might blog, and have not found the store where they can buy the TechCrunch they have read about. Their market is local, so they must shop accordingly.

 What is a teacher to do? Some say, “If you can’t stand the heat, get out of the kitchen.” If all who are frustrated (all those in #2) do so, our kids may starve. Certainly, there are some cooks in #2 who won’t even read about Nouvelle Cuisine, but how can we reconcile the desire of the better ones to reach #3 with the requirements of #2 (and the transience of the ingredients in #1?).

What we need to do is throw out the recipes. We need to be sharing loads of ingredients, maintaining awareness of what is available at the web2.0 Farmers Market (and perhaps asking some farmers to grow a little more of this or that), sharing what we know about tasty substitutions for missing ingredients,  granting permission to generate unique concoctions, and encouraging  kitchen-sharing with anyone who walks in. The Nouvelle Cuisine folks would welcome the collaboration and gladly relinquish the haute in favor of rich potluck. The Cookbook Writers in #2 MIGHT be convinced to permit change, as long as, ultimately, there is a taste test to assure that what we cook up is “good food” (most likely a regional or even personal taste).  Ultimately, what we want is food that satisfies: “cognitive nutrition” (term adapted from Tom O’Brien and Christine Wallach. And perhaps a new ventilation system for that kitchen heat would be a good idea.

Imagine a flexible triangle, three sides made of grudgingly stretchy material, with pivot points at the vertices, so the triangle can change from right to scalene to equilateral, extending and contracting its sides in the process. For a couple of years, I have stood inside  such a triangle between teachers, web2.0 developers, and policy makers. The sides of the triangle and the degrees of the angles constantly change, the elastic sides never staying the same for long.

The clearest side for me, of course, is that defined by teacherworld: seeking positive learning, managing logistics and hours in the day, attending to parent concerns, etc. I know this world well and can paint it for anyone. I also know that teachers can stretch their side when motivated.

I act as liaison between teacher-world and another side: web2.0 tool developers. I explain the culture of schools to developers, especially the barriers to free and open use of their tools in schools. The toolbuilders are rarely aware of the protective policies and logistical limits a teacher faces in facilitating student-created content online.  The most common response from developers on issues teachers face: “I never thought of that.” They know their own side of the triangle. Fortunately, most developers offer a degree of “stretch” in making the tools more useful or less convoluted for teachers to use. There is no such thing as a totally philanthropic developer, however,  seeking to do good for the benefit of students everywhere. Their elasticity conforms to the practical limits of business.

The third side is the group I broadly name “policy makers.” This includes everyone from the local principal and tech coordinator to Congress. Their priority has little to do with looking for the best new tools for learning. A litigious society and thirsty media assure that technology innovation, for them,  is a dragon to be slain — or at least safely contained.

As I pass along web2.0 tools to the TeachersFirst Edge review team, I wonder, Who do we push hardest> Teachers to learn and try new things? Developers to remove barriers? Or policy makers who do not realize the implications of their fearful approach to technology policies? Should we push at all?

I’d like to think that we are better off pulling at all the angles of the triangle than pushing on its sides: luring teachers to try, luring developers to tweak, and luring policy makers to actually LOOK at what kids do with the tools.

My old blog home had some great connections: people who left behind comments or  linked to me there. I feel as if I moved out of my home and left no forwarding address. So what do I do? What everyone does (or used to do before RSS feeds): Since it’s holiday time, I send everyone I ever knew a “card” to let them know where I “live” now. Here is hoping that blog-magic will get the word out.

So, to all of you, this is my invitation to visit this, my new blog home, whenever you wish. I will refrain from writing an annoying holiday letter that describes the trials of moving a blog and instead mention these bloggers or commenters I consider to be “gifts” who have made me think, made me angry, made me laugh, or simply motivated  me to respond. What better gift could I receive than thoughts sparked by a fellow blogger?

Thank you notes and address-change Christmas cards, therefore, go to:

Drapes Takes, MatthewKTabor.com, Rambling Reflections, Herman Wood’s EdTech Blog, Cathy Nelson’s TechnoTuesday, Chris Lehmann’s Practical Theory, Krysia, Ryan Palmer, Wes Fryer’s Speed of Creativity, David Warlick’s 2 Cents Worth, Jim Gates’ TIPline, Karl Fisch’s Fischbowl, KJ’s NCS Tech, Andy Carvin’s Learning Now, and miscellaneous others who arrive via Google Reader.

Now if I could just avoid cleaning my real house for the holidays by having everyone visit vis RSS feed (?!)

Merry Christmas to all!