I've found a blog — The Reading Zone — I think will be really useful to revisit.
The most recent post is a book review:
http://thereadingzone.wordpress.com/2012/07/30/the-fault-in-our-stars/#comment-7642
I'm also very interested in the archives. The teacher behind the blog is currently in a high-school setting, but there are posts in the archives from her days as a middle-school teacher (which is where I'd like to teach).
Really excited about this one: http://thereadingzone.wordpress.com/2008/07/21/my-middle-school-language-arts-classroom/
Tuesday, July 31, 2012
The Nerdy Teacher: The Epic @Evernote Experiment #edchat @EvernoteSchools
The Nerdy Teacher: The Epic @Evernote Experiment #edchat @EvernoteSchools
In poking around the world of Edubloggers, this caught my eye since I just learned about Evernote. I'm not sure at this point even what to write about this post. My head is spinning.
Randomly organized responses:
This is being done in a high-school setting. The teacher fielded a question about whether students have their own devices/access to the Internet; most do. I'm wondering whether it is a reasonable assumption to think that high-school students are more likely to have laptops, iPhones, etc. than middle-school students, which is the age group I would like to teach. In other words, are there more reasonable uses of technology in the classroom with older students?
I think it's worth gathering data on the extent to which students utilize resources made available to them electronically. In the comments, there is discussion of this. One teacher says she can't get students to look at resources on a class Web site unless they can earn credit for doing so. While The Nerdy Teacher acknowledges this is a problem with both students and parents, his response is that, at the high-school level, it is his responsibility to make resources available and students responsibility to utilize them. Does the way resources are delivered change that?
It's reassuring to see how the teacher heading up this "experiment" is willing to share and support other teachers by answering questions, etc. That type of collaboration makes me more inclined to believe I could be successful with my own experiments with technology in the classroom. (Disclaimer: Just as with Evernote, where there is a free version and a paid version, I noted that The Nerdy Teacher, in addition to providing excellent information on his blog for free, does consulting.)
Although it was brought up in the comments, I'm not clear on whether students are incurring costs (having to purchase the paid version of Evernote).
Like I said, my head is kind of spinning.
Is this the future?
Or is this already outdated in terms of what teaching with technology will look like by the time I have my own classroom?
Do I have to embrace this or not have a future in teaching?
In poking around the world of Edubloggers, this caught my eye since I just learned about Evernote. I'm not sure at this point even what to write about this post. My head is spinning.
Randomly organized responses:
This is being done in a high-school setting. The teacher fielded a question about whether students have their own devices/access to the Internet; most do. I'm wondering whether it is a reasonable assumption to think that high-school students are more likely to have laptops, iPhones, etc. than middle-school students, which is the age group I would like to teach. In other words, are there more reasonable uses of technology in the classroom with older students?
I think it's worth gathering data on the extent to which students utilize resources made available to them electronically. In the comments, there is discussion of this. One teacher says she can't get students to look at resources on a class Web site unless they can earn credit for doing so. While The Nerdy Teacher acknowledges this is a problem with both students and parents, his response is that, at the high-school level, it is his responsibility to make resources available and students responsibility to utilize them. Does the way resources are delivered change that?
It's reassuring to see how the teacher heading up this "experiment" is willing to share and support other teachers by answering questions, etc. That type of collaboration makes me more inclined to believe I could be successful with my own experiments with technology in the classroom. (Disclaimer: Just as with Evernote, where there is a free version and a paid version, I noted that The Nerdy Teacher, in addition to providing excellent information on his blog for free, does consulting.)
Although it was brought up in the comments, I'm not clear on whether students are incurring costs (having to purchase the paid version of Evernote).
Like I said, my head is kind of spinning.
Is this the future?
Or is this already outdated in terms of what teaching with technology will look like by the time I have my own classroom?
Do I have to embrace this or not have a future in teaching?
Sunday, July 29, 2012
Organizing My Electronic Life
I have just downloaded Chrome and set it up (with bookmarks,
etc.). And I have (finally) migrated my school e-mail. So now Google owns my
graduate-school experience.
Seriously, there has been a pretty steep learning curve for
me lately. And trying to navigate these new tools and ways of doing things is
especially difficult when I’ve been overwhelmed with what I think of as the
content part of the program.
After looking at various online storage options (Dropbox,
Evernote), I’m still not sure which, if any, of these tools I will use either,
in the short term, as a student or, in the long run, as a teacher. Although, a colleague
made what I thought was an insightful remark: that, whether I choose to use
these tools now or never, it is better for me to keep a pulse on what
technologies are out there in order to make those choices. I pledge to try.
Diigo certainly seems like it will help me get through grad
school — especially getting used to all of the electronic reading that is new
to me. Realistically, though, I don’t see using it in this last week of summer
session. I simply don’t have time at this point to explore how to use it as I
cram for finals. It would have been useful to learn before starting classes.
Live and learn, right? Then — since the tools are
ever-changing — learn again.
Monday, July 23, 2012
What Are We Sacrificing?
Recently, I heard a young math teacher share his experience
using Angry Birds in the classroom. He explained that his students were coming
off of a very difficult unit, suggesting that many students felt defeated. So
in introducing the next area of study, he decided to try another tack. He let
the kids play a video game. This got even the most disengaged students
interested and participating. Of course, this also provided the jumping-off
point to explore the math concept at work in the game.
I was struck by the word choice he used in saying that he
“sacrificed” instruction time. Clearly, he didn’t think this was a poor choice;
in fact, he said if he did it again, he would let the kids simply play longer
before bringing it back to math.
I think this way of framing the situation speaks to the
pressure that teachers are under to cover so much content in very tight
timelines. One of the biggest challenges as a new teacher is being savvy and brave enough
to know when — and how — to put students needs above the demands of the calendar. If we don't, and we are delivering content for content's sake (that we know isn't reaching students), we must ask ourselves: What, really, are we sacrificing?
Thursday, July 19, 2012
“Good” Video Games
For someone
who doesn’t play video games, I’m really interested in the idea of using gaming
models in education.
Maybe it’s due to poor hand-eye coordination, or maybe it’s because flashy noisy objects coming at me really fast raise my blood pressure in a way I simply don’t find fun, but I don’t like video games that involve rapid action. And I don’t find the point of SIMS-type games; after all, I’ve got actual demands on me to gather and manage resources and a “real” house to take care of.
Certain elements that can be translated to
education are obvious. First and foremost, the game centered on inquiry and
strategy, and offered quick feedback. To be successful, players needed to
educate themselves (learn the variables and the rules); in other words the
premise inspired motivation to learn and improve. Also, and very importantly
for the education of adolescents, there was a community aspect to the game.
This is a pretty simplistic investigation. But it’s enough to convince me that
the idea of gaming in education is one worthy of taking apart and rebuilding — and running through the paces.
Maybe it’s due to poor hand-eye coordination, or maybe it’s because flashy noisy objects coming at me really fast raise my blood pressure in a way I simply don’t find fun, but I don’t like video games that involve rapid action. And I don’t find the point of SIMS-type games; after all, I’ve got actual demands on me to gather and manage resources and a “real” house to take care of.
Yet there
was a moment in time, circa 2005, when a particular online game was something I
bonded over with older son in a way that I’ve not experienced before or after.
The game was Drome Racing on the
LEGO Web site. It was a strategy game. Players built cars, which the program
ran through races. To be clear, it was not a driving game (a la Mario Kart). It
was, in effect, a car-racing artifice for testing a hypothesis. How would a
particular build perform versus various competitors in a selected racing
environment?
Despite my aversion to video games
(and my at-best neutral feelings toward cars/car racing), I thrived on the
strategic challenge of Drome Racing. It was much like my happy discovery, in learning
to play Pokemon with my son, of the hypothesis-testing aspect of deck-building.
So before the game was shut down, I
explored this computer world — with all of its rules and conditions — with my
son, where he picked up the language intuitively, and I found myself keeping
up, in spite of my self. It would not be an overstatement to say Drome Racing
marked an era in our lives.
Apparently,
I’m not the only one.
A
self-represented hooded ninja Minifig who goes by “edwins94” wrote on the LEGO
message boards:
“I logged
into my old Google Docs account … and there was the Maverick Constitution my
teammates and I had drafted together three years ago … exactly as it had been
left when the team disbanded two years ago.
I can't
describe how I felt … scrolling through the parts that I had typed myself. It
was the most truly awful feeling to feel all the great memories and know I
would never experience them again. I thought about the team HQs, the MHOZ, and
the good times we had together as teammates there. But I didn't just think
about what racing in DRC was like, I also thought about when I was 10 years old
and how different my life was back then. But DRC would never come back, the
MHOZ would never reopen, and I would never be 10 years old again.
I know the
game can never come back. It's old, buggy, LEGO sold the rights to it, and its
only memory is a bunch of random kids posting in the forums. But … I'm still
hoping that one day, maybe in 10 or 20 years or even more, LEGO will somehow
put it back. It would be more than just some racing game to me. It would mean so
much more.”
The impact
this game had on this child’s life is what we, as educators, are aiming for.
Monday, July 16, 2012
Modeling Modeling
I found it made all the difference
— in my motivation — to watch a demonstration of creating a podcast. To be more
explicit: watching someone else walk through the steps.
I also appreciate having
step-by-step written instructions featuring screen shots. I did refer to them
as I did my independent work. But I think had I only been given this
instruction, I would have felt inclined to give up — which is not the same as
actually giving up, because I wouldn’t have seen that as an option, but the feelings would be have been present.
It’s worthwhile to pause and
reflect on this experience and its implications for teaching.
I consider myself a highly skilled
reader. I’m experienced at reading “difficult” texts. I’ve got a stable of
familiar strategies for confronting unfamiliar words, comprehending complex
syntax, unpacking dense ideas.
Despite this, I get overwhelmed
with written instructions when it addresses a subject completely new to me. In
other words, it’s difficult for me to learn how
to do something new from written information. Even with recipes, feeling
insecure leads me to constantly check and recheck steps. This feels
inefficient.
In a classroom setting, when
students are facing learning how to do something new by relying on written
instruction, I shudder to imagine what it must be like for students who don’t
have the same reading skills and strategies, extra years of life experience
(i.e., background knowledge), and perhaps even motivation to try (giving up
might be a very valid option).
The last part of that, motivation,
is something I’d like to explore.
Motivation is comprised of three
parts:
1.
self-expectation & self-efficacy
2.
performance orientation & mastery
orientation
3.
intrinsic motivation & extrinsic motivation
In learning a process, modeling can help with all of these aspects
of motivation. By making a process familiar, students have a better grasp of
what is expected of them and a better sense of their ability to meet these
expectations, both through the opportunity to recognize strengths (“I can do
that!”) and weaknesses (“I know I will need to get help for that.”). Hopefully,
as students feel more secure, their intrinsic motivation will be stronger; that
is, there will be less of an inclination to see giving up as an option. I will
also argue that modeling may boost extrinsic motivation in that students may
feel a sense of obligation to try out of respect for the person who has
invested his or her own time and effort modeling the task.
This has got me thinking about
situations in a middle school language-arts classroom where — using a SMART
board (or an old-fashioned projector) — I might model a task or skill to students.
Here’s a few ideas:
·
Talking to
the Text: I can model to students what Talking to the Text looks like.
·
Resume:
I can create a profile of an example student. Having prompts filled out
(interests, experience) would model to the students how I want them to compile
their personal information. In class, I can then model to students the process
of taking that information and formatting it into a resume.
·
Bibliographic
citation: I can show students where to look in text for the information
required in a citation and model formatting.
·
Editing/Proofreading:
I can demonstrate how to go over one’s work for spelling, punctuation, grammar,
etc.
This (short) list (I encourage you to add your own ideas)
begs two questions:
2. Isn't that what teaching is, anyway?
Yes and yes!
My point is that sometimes we need to be reminded. As the
adage goes for writing, so should it be for teaching: Show don’t tell.
Thursday, July 12, 2012
What's DEAR to me
In “Why Don’t Students Like School,” Daniel Willingham
asserts: “Do whatever you can to get
kids to read.” He says this because reading “expose[s] children to more
facts and to a broader vocabulary than virtually any other activity.”
He also explains how important background knowledge
is for learning. He demonstrates this fact by explaining a study in which
junior high school students were asked to read a story about baseball. Half the
students were deemed “good” readers, the other half “poor” readers (according
to standard reading tests). Some knew a lot about baseball; others knew very
little. The results showed something I find astounding: Regardless of whether
they were “good” or “poor” readers, the students who had knowledge of the
subject area (baseball) demonstrated
better comprehension. Even the “poor” readers who had prior knowledge did
better with the reading than the “good” readers who didn’t have the content
knowledge!
Willingham offers an interesting cognitive science
explanation of how this all works, but the take-away is not to underestimate
the power of background knowledge, which is increased most easily, in
Willingham’s view — and most enjoyably, I might argue — by reading.
Naturally, I’ve been thinking about that imperative, “Do
whatever you can to get kids to read.”
One of the first ideas that came to me was to require
students to regularly read newspaper articles and, as evidence of this, bring
in articles to class, prepared to summarize or otherwise discuss them. I
vaguely recall having to do this in high school (back in the era of actually
clipping stories from a daily paper delivered to our home); unfortunately, I
don’t recall exactly what the engagement with the articles looked like (e.g.,
bringing in written summaries with the clips?).
My thinking then took a detour down doubt drive due to the
demise of the daily (print) paper, although I know that’s silly. Supposedly, we
have access to more information — and more sources of information — than ever.
So I’m sure technology (maybe even some forms I’m not currently familiar with)
could come into play here.
The bottom line is: I want to do whatever it takes to get
kids reading in order to build their knowledge.
All of this is a long way of getting to the point that I
would be thrilled if a student brought in The
New York Times article on Mayor Bloomberg’s proposed ban on “big” sizes of
“sugary” drinks. It’s a great example of an article that I imagine would catch
the interest of adolescents and has a lot to offer in the way of getting them
thinking about current events/the world they live in.
At this point, my development of this teaching idea
(requiring students to read newspapers/magazines) is emerging. I can see the
need to have evidence that students are actually doing the reading, and that
this might take the form of having them bring in a short summary and/or written
response along with the article. It might take the form of verbally sharing a
summary or an opinion with others in the classroom (pairs, small groups). I’m
not really sure. And I’d like to solicit ideas from veteran teachers.
However that initial process might unfold, I could see the
value of having students compile the articles they bring in regularly into a
folder, from which they could draw ideas for language arts activities
throughout the year (topics for further reading, research, writing). Their own
self-selected “fund of knowledge.”
Let’s say, then, that a student selected the “Soda Ban”
article as one that was particularly interesting. What might he do with it?
- Use this topic as the basis of practice in research methods and information gathering
- Write a letter to one of the stakeholders (the Mayor, the New York City Beverage Association) or to the editor of the Times expressing support or opposition to the proposed ban
- Design and execute a polling experiment of consumers (e.g., movie-goers) or retailers (street-cart vendors) to gather and analyze various opinions of the proposed ban and write about the findings and/or present this information orally
- Take a position in a verbal debate of the issue
- Gather examples of related events in history, explaining what the student sees that these examples have in common
- Look at literature (fiction) that speaks to identified themes (e.g., government control in individual’s lives, or representations of populations struggling with taking care of themselves)
And to the think of the possibilities that began with my
thinking about Willigham’s imperative, an idea some elementary school teachers
I know call “DEAR Time.” What is DEAR to me? Drop Everything And Read!
Sunday, July 1, 2012
Authenticity
I’ve been thinking about the relevance of student work
outside of the classroom: The more it has, the more motivated students may be.
Here are some times from my own education when I felt my
work was important.
In elementary school — I think it was fourth grade — my
teacher allowed a small group of students to skip out of the classroom here and
there over a period of weeks to help younger students (Kindergartners?) learn
about counting and using money by setting up and running a pretend store for
them. My family’s Monopoly game was never the same. I stole the $1’s for the
store — to this day, I still prefer to round up in increments of five. Anyway,
this was a standout elementary experience. Why? For one, the teacher showed she
trusted us to work outside of the classroom structure & routine,
more or less unsupervised (likely, there was more adult facilitation of this
project than I remember, but that would be another hallmark of successful
teaching — when the role of the adult is in the background). Upon this
foundation, the experience had immediate and visible impact: we, the
older students, could see the “little” kids’ excitement.
Fast forward to high school, in an Econ class. The teacher
required every student to write a consumer complaint letter. I think I wrote
mine to a cosmetics company and ended up getting a refund. The particulars
aren’t as important as what I learned about the role of the consumer in a
capitalist system — particularly, that I mattered. I also learned something
that’s proven helpful in all kinds of contexts: that in making a complaint (or
in negotiating) it’s important to have a clear understanding of what you want
from a situation. That was an important part of the lesson. We had to come up
with and include in our letters a proposed resolution to our issue — and ask
for it. In addition to the writing skills involved, these were life lessons,
and they were real outside of the classroom.
In college (my second time around), I had an English class
where the professor, bless him, recognized that paradox of grading students on
the quality of their writing (vis-a-vis the traditional essay) even though
writing was not being taught; thus, he offered a “creative” track, where
students could keep something more akin to a journal. Don’t get me wrong. The
writing still had to demonstrate that we were learning. In some ways, it may
have been more work. But because we had some freedom as to how and what we
wrote, we could make it meaningful. I, for example, knew I was heading
toward teaching, so much of my journal included writing on teaching the content
we were reading.
These are times that came to mind rather readily. For sure,
the premise — that the more relevance student work has beyond the classroom,
the better — is one I will come back to as I embark on my own teaching.
For now, it’s very clear from these short snapshots that
creating authentic experiences for students involves allowing students some
autonomy and connecting their learning to who they are as individuals in their
communities outside the classroom, whether those roles are as near as who they are
as leaders within the school or as far-reaching as who they are as members of
society.
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