new jersey: land of corn and tomatoes

Claire Thompson, the eleventh person to comment on Jeff Utecht's (educator, consultant, presenter) blog post, "Confusing Parents", asks:

...if anyone has tried rewriting the letter?

regarding a New Jersey middle school prinicpal's letter that asks parents to ban social-networking sites.

Why, yes, Claire!

Dear Parents,

Take away the cell phones. Yours, too. Go landline. Rooted, intertwined with the land. Like the Na'vi.

Remove the computer. And the other one. There be no use for such a device. Return to the cave. Make fire, abundant and crackling. Set down a log between the fire and the wall of the cave. Seat your cherubs upon its bark-festered surface. Stand betwixt flame and thy seated younglings. Hold carvings and whittled items in such a fashion that shadows present themselves upon the cave's wall. Invite curiousity and response from the seated off-spring. All will be well.

Additionally, please insure that the following occur daily at home and on your way:

• Cook breakfast. Things lean and protein-y.
• Sit, eyes and ears affixed to your children, and solicit today's goals and dreams that each may have. Encourage persistence. Offer extra soy milk.
• Walk to the bus stop with your children. Label plants and foliage along the way. Urbanites: discuss zoning and sprawl.
• Discourage adjectives. Adjectives hurt, damage, and describe. Promote nouns. Celebrate onomatopoeia.

Or another possibility, shorter, terse:

Dear Parents,

Please home school.

dilettantes of a single domain

They've rehearsed their script. They're ready to record. The microphone is plugged in. MovieMaker is open.

They're staring at the screen. They're immobile, the entire group.

I walk over and inquire about their statue-esque manner.

They respond in unison, chanting, as if they've been in front of this altar before:

It's not working. It's not our fault.

They tell me they plugged in the microphone and nothing happened. I want to stop right here. I want them to repeat themselves, but with passion and conviction. Instead, I direct their attention to the icon bar at the bottom of the screen:

They're staring at the screen. They're immobile, the entire group.

I ask:

Which one?

They're staring at the screen. They're immobile, the entire group.

And this is where I tell you that they are not tech savvy. They are not light-years ahead of us. There is no techno-gap that separates them from anyone in my demographic. They don't know more, and even more apparent to me is the fact they don't do more with technology.

The class is bound in an 87 minute capsule. Time is ticking, and I point to the clock. Then, I direct them to look at the microphone.

And one of them asks:

But what happens if we press it?

where's my yearbook?

Two quotes, seemingly unrelated, but you know better:

Michael Scott:

Truth be told, I think I thrive under a lack of accountability.

Anonymous Caller:

Some educators are running into the 21st century landscape of teaching and learning; others are walking; most are crawling, and many need to be carried. And then there are the ones who brag about not moving at all...

filling a cavity

As he's about to leave your class, here is the best line to use if you want to gut the thoracic cavity of your Tech Coach:

Thanks, coach. Now students, let's get back to some real work.

Can someone pick up my inferior vena cava, please?

phew! he said 'university'

Thank goodness. For a minute there (literally), I thought we (read: high schools) would have to change.

Just for poohs and chortles:

Good message, timely, no doubt. But everyone 'learning' outside - on the train, on the roof, in the kitchen - seems, oh, what are the words here?

Isolated.
Alone.

ijohnpederson...thank you. You inspire me with your embedding.

reports from a sorta-sub

Mrs. Teasher,

Are you tan?

Even though a substitute was in your room, we agreed that I would be in your classes as they worked on their research / multi-media projects. Here's my report:

Your C block worked quite assiduously (I rarely get to use that word). They created Google Docs so they could work on their scripts and storyboards outside of class without having to deal with emailing a file.

They gathered their research, but they had some questions along the way. One that kept popping up was, 'do we need to use the ten images in our video?' followed by, 'and if not, then why do we need them?'. I told them to help add some concrete understanding / visual anchors to their study. I think they rolled their eyes. A limb fell off. It was all quite creepy.

I implored / urged that in the development of their storyboards they have a lot of shots; that a minute's worth of video should probably look to have, minimum 25-30 shots. 'Our eyeballs be bored,' I told them.

Groups are like, totally like, hung up on the we-can't-use-people-in-the-video thing and it really, like really seemed to confuse and anger them. I noticed an effigy. There were some students who told their peers, 'get over it and move on', but they were deemed losers and shunned.

They know that they have to bring scripts / storyboards / props December 1 for the beginning of filming. I have a sense that some groups are thinking, 'oh, we don't need to bring that b/c our teacher will have it.' They are adamant about the fact that you have gavels and robes. Is that how you roll? If so, fine, it's just judicially skeevy.

And now...

D block...

Two groups finished, like finished. Everything done, time to spare, used time appropriately, focused, and what not. Connor and Madeline's groups represent the two completed. To note: Frank did awesome work. On Tuesday, he spent the better part of an hour insuring that audio and video tracks aligned. I didn't get to watch it yet, and it could be smelly and fetid, but he clearly took a lot of ownership over the project and deserves some kudos, if not granola.

"The Group" lived up to their predominantly vowel-inscribed educational tag...something with an I and an E, perhaps a P. They made mountains out of mole hills. They made Rubik's Cubes out of Munchkins. They made the Eagles look good. They blamed every aspect of technology for their lack of completion, but I'd blame their happy-go-lucky button-pressing fingers; fingers that pressed and pressed button after button without a moment's thought as to the consequences. I think they bombed Guam.

Unfinished groups claimed that they didn't finish because they were penalized for only having three group members. Groups of four that didn't finish, well, they bombed Guam. I'm not sure what their excuses were. They waved flags.

In the final three minutes on Tuesday (class, not the calendar day), unfinished groups first presumed amongst themselves, then decided to presume in front of me, that I would stay after school so they could finish. And while my heart is nowhere near three sizes too small, it is encapsulated in a tiny 5'7" frame. I shall not stay, not today, no way, you'll all have to find another way. Rhymes aside, the Instructional Aide and I felt that students had been giving plenty of time.

Yes, computers froze periodically, but nowhere near the debilitating frequency that I'm sure you'll hear about upon your return. In truth, the Instructional Aide, the substitute, and I told students almost every minute to 'Save! Save! Save!'.

The two groups that did finish followed that three-pronged platform of advice.

One group still needed to take photos on the last day because they didn't realize that their video needed to cover all aspects of the assignment sheet. This group, I think of three, made the three-person handicap excuse.

None of the groups were able to delineate tasks out to each other, so I took the initiative on this and let them know that while some people edit images, other people could be on another computer recording their script. This was an earth-shattering moment in their lives. Someone fainted.

While completion is key, students did work; not as focused as their C block counterparts, but I'd give the whole group a 7 out of 10 for effort. And an 8.5 out of 10 for exceptionally dark-colored clothing choices. There were slackers and such. Clearly, they're a part of our societal fabric. Hell, even movies have been made about them. Knocked Up! Dazed and Confused! Classics, one and all.

Pale and land-locked,

Ken

paralyzed by multiplication

The coupon will save me twenty cents off per gallon, maximum of fifteen gallons.

At a participating gas station, the attendant, a young girl wearing a necklace with a class of '02 pendant, instructs me to pump, pay, and bring the receipt and coupon to her when finished.

I hand her the receipt and coupon. She looks at the computer monitor to her right.

"Oh, you pumped fifteen gallons."

She's cheery, happy for me. I've maxed out the coupon, I'm taking it for all it's worth.

She stares at me. She looks back at the monitor. She's clinging to the coupon and receipt. And it hits me:

She's powerless, ill-equipped, paralyzed by multiplication.

There is a solution, and it's sitting on the shelf behind her. It's laminated (the company must know its employees). It's a spreadsheet. Her right index finger moves across the x-axis.

She's found the 15. She proceeds down the y-axis, finds the field that tells her how much money I'm owed, and exclaims:

"You get three dollars!"

She's so happy for me. And I'm filled with educational sadness.

crappy motivation

They clamored, We want to learn how to integrate the interactive white boards in our teaching.

I responded, I shall schedule a day.

They emailed, Great, we look forward to a meaningful day.

And the day came. Amazing participation. Actively engaged, one and all.

An email the following day, whittled down and paraphrased:

The day was great. I'm just not motivated to do any of this in my classes.

Here's hoping the Pennsylvania State Legislature approves funding for year three of the Classrooms for the Future grant.

question of an interim nature

The interim principal has left the building. In fact, he's fishing. But before he left, he met with each teacher. Standard end-of-year professional goal reflection review.

Here's my one memorable comment from my meeting with my interim principal:

I feel like we've been living above a fault line.

But then, just as the meeting was approaching its predictable ending, he asked:

What would be the first thing you would do to make this place better?

No one has ever me that. Has anyone ever asked you?

good ahead, be gluttonous

Joyce led me to the good, statistically-driven folks over at the Pew Internet & American Life Project. They put out The Internet Typology Test and it will, most likely, give you plenty of room to bend your digital self into any type of technophile or technofear persona you wish - replete with statistics to reaffirm your own sense of survey-driven identity!

Perhaps you'll find that you:

use [your] extensive suite of technology tools to do an enormous range of things online, on the go, and with [your] cell phone. [You] are highly engaged with video online and digital content. Between blogging, maintaining [your] Web page, remixing digital content, or posting [your] creations to [your] websites, [you] are a creative participant in cyberspace.

You'd be an omnivore.

But would you be doing any of the above with your students?

a drought 100 seasons and counting

If 'education' were a professional sport, it would be a Philadelphia team (close second: Chicago).

tidying up a bit

The files need purging. Reorganizing. Examination. And, for the most part, a place to reside indefinitely.

On commenting (from a could have been / would have been comment based on this post):

- Yes, I veer into verbal non-sequitirs and quips because blogs don't make valuable conversation forums. They're great for expression. They're great for widgetizing. And for me, blog stat analysis is far more enjoyable than managing fantasy football stats.

- When I really want to discuss, I'd choose a face-2-face, or something Skype-ish (decked out with functioning webcams). I'm a real-time kind of fella.

- Something tells me that the Lincoln-Douglas debates wouldn't have played so well on Abe's blog. Although I hear WhigParty.ning.com could have helped bump their numbers.

- If I take the time to comment on someone's blog, then those authors are, to me, meaningful, relevant, thought-provoking, and or entertaining. But I never presume 'comment' denotes 'conversation' or 'discourse'.

- Links are fun. Choose Your Own Adventure stuff. I'm all giddy and early 80's again. It's like middle school, but hyperlinked.

- The discovery of new resources, lesson ideas, and "vid snacks" are yummy and invigorating. Most make me want to get back to my own class because I've found that the sharing of these 'goodies' never convert to useful tools with co-workers. 'Thank you' emails pour in. Appreciation in full-throttle. But there's little to no transfer. Interesting how 'sharing' now means 'more work for the teacher'; even when shared items are celebrated as a way to spark enthusiasm and interest in students.

- It's tough times reading comment streams. If one only scans comments, is that person a bad blogger? Does the term 'blogger' only refer to the authoring of one's own posts? If you don't have a blog, but you comment on blogs, can you call yourself a 'blogger'?

- When comment tension gets going, when a 'blogger' has to constantly clarify, explain, debunk, disprove, support, regurgitate, I find myself yearning to "talk it out". Maybe on a phone. Ideally, face-2-face.

- Old School Blogger: is there such a person?

Above 'hyphen-points' composed March 6, 2008, just after midnight, five hours and twenty-eight minutes before the birth of Twin One.

34' x 29', or so they say

I like Diesel's approach to sales.

1. The jeans, while shelved, are a mixed and jumbled lot; a seemingly random array of denim fashion.

2. The staff will not engage their customers.

They wait for them. They wait for them to seek out their help. They wait for them to need help make meaning out of the perceived chaos.

When a customer seeks out an associate, conversion is staggeringly high (Read your Underhill).

Think about this model for education compared to this one.

Thanks for the inspiration, Kate.

we smart like pineapple

According to Mark Bauerlein, students spend their time on sites that:

harden adolescent styles and thoughts, amplifying the discourse of the lunchroom and the keg party, not spreading the works of the Old Masters.

I's agree!

In fact, I have proof that adolescents from the previous century lived a more academic, Old Master-filled life.

Here's a snippet from my high school treatise:

When in the course of my daily travails I stumble upon the rigorous and hearty company of my like-minded companions; of whom, I most and must readily admit oft times challenge the rigidity of my thinking, we engage in the spirited and light-hearted contest we have entitled, 'Old Master Challenge'.

Its rules, accessible to all my peers; as, for well we all know, today's adolescent collective is an inspired, collective lot of well-articulated deliverers of discourse, makes for a competitive and dare I say fun passage of the inexorable grinding of time.

October 5, 1988

Um...

I'm having a tough time coming up with:
a. Sites that "spread the works of the Old Masters"
b. Adolescents seeking out these URLs

But I did find:
http://oldmasters.com

And if Bauerlein would like to take the proverbial bull by its proverbial horns, here's two URLs ready for occupation:
http://oldmasters.org
http://oldmasters.co.uk

Adolescents are adolescents, and the infusion of technology isn't weakening their communication skills, although Naomi Brown cites an NAEP report (National Assessment of Educational Progress) that only 24% of twelfth-graders:

are capable of composing organized, coherent prose in clear language with correct spelling and grammar.

Curious thing around here is that over the last five years, 85% - 89% of graduating seniors continued their education at either a two or four year college.

don't grade notebooks

My notebook from a week long graduate course on assessment:


















My notes from said week long graduate course on assessment:






































And here's the moment when I officially abandoned note-taking:


















And I wonder why assessment irks me.

get that out of my face

Three days of state testing. This time, science. I'm proctoring in the LGI (that's Large Group Instrucution / Institution). Fifty two kids. Yesterday, during the first test, one of the students used his test book to draw an extremely large image of female genitalia.

Then, he was all work, all business; like he needed to draw a really big vagina before he could settle down to the task of testing.

But he was too on task; taking too much time on a set of test questions that should've only taken him minutes to complete. He's that smart. Probably could be #1 in his class; worst case, with minimal effort, #4. He's that smart.

Testing is a joke for him; a big political cluster-fudge developed by morons, distributed by fools, and proctored by mental midgets.

So there was little to no surprise that the forty minutes of "on-task" writing turned out to be less-than scientific.

Oh, the vagina stories! Labia haikus. Uterus-inspired sonnets. Reports from the vulva. And every poem, every story, dealt with some form of visitation, from guests alive to guests plastic.

Needless to say, he refused to take the second test today. I doubt he would spend as much time crafting such vibrant, detailed prose about male anatomy.

I will miss you, vagina-drawing boy, but in truth, that sentiment is as sincere as your approach to every facet of school.

In the meantime, I'll think about the other fifty one students. They deserve as much attention, as much support, and as much positivism that I've seen heaped upon you over the years from every one in this building.

There's only so many times you can shove a vagina in our faces.

from noble to professional

Sometimes, I feel that Dan Meyer, a coast away, is hovering around my building. And then, with Legolas accuracy, he delivers an opinion that seems to confirm my aforementioned assertion about his omnipresence:

I aim at professional work in a job which doesn't demand professionalism. Daily, I leap at and sometimes clear a bar which exists only in my head, in the work ethic I have self-imposed, a bar which in reality hovers shin high. Can I tell you: the friction between what my job asks of me and what I ask of myself is spectacular.

A great many conversations over the past few days have dealt with curriculum development, professional responsibility, and inevitably, ego. Off the charts, running amok ego.

Nothing brings out the notion of 'surreptitious autonomy' than an administration promoting a standards-based, aligned curriculum upon its staff.

I like Dan's innate and explicit belief that teachers should push themselves into a 'professional' realm of instruction that mirrors the rest of the working world.

Additionally, I surely don't have a problem recognizing that this job...

1. Is a profession; and therefore, we should honor the notion of 'professionalism', not 'nobility'.
2. Makes us employees, governed by employers, and they can demand quality work, conduct, etc...

I think too many of us forget the second point.

Sure, you can close your classroom door, but you're still bound by a professional hierarchy.

'ownership' is a literal term

Do your students take ownership over content? Can they problem solve?

Here's the best lesson idea I've seen in quite some time.

Talk about problem-solving!

Talk about integrating technology in meaningful ways!

Talk about collaboration and social-networking!

Talk about:

what can happen when a tech-savvy victim gets tired of waiting for help!

This is the story of Jesse McPherson:

burglars...ripped McPherson's flat-screen TV off the wall and nabbed his Xbox 360 and Apple PowerBook.

Jesse McPherson takes ownership over his content:

...McPherson began his own sleuthing. He did a Google search of neighborhood pawn shops, visited the closest one and learned that someone had come in right after the burglary, attempting to sell McPherson's computer.

Jesse receives some corporate love:

Comcast gave McPherson a nex Xbox. He accessed its internet connection. A man purporting himself to be the thief demanded that McPherson buy his own Xbox back.

Jesse works to solve his problem.

McPherson had reached out to police with what clues he could gather. He...obtained a digital photo of the guy with his laptop from the pawn shop's surveillance system...

...he posted his tale of woe, along with the digital photo and one of the Xbox voice messages, on a blog post that he submitted to www.digg.com...

The power of social-networking takes over:

Within hours, the post sparked reaction from people around the world, who formed their own investigatory team to solve McPherson's case.

Using the Xbox profile of the person who had contacted McPherson...they then used an array of technologies to uncover much more info about the guy.

Photobucket. YouTube.

...McPherson's supporters flooded the kid's online accounts...demanding the return of McPherson's stuff.

One avenger, from England, even posted a recording on YouTube of a phone call he had with the kid's furious mom...

...a reporter from New Zealand, gave McPherson's story major headline treatment.

In the end, McPherson and his merry mob prompted the return of his belongings (except the TV).

The story has a fairytale ending for Jesse, and a rock-solid example of collaboration in action for anyone who loves phrases like 'collaboration in action' and 'ownership over content'.

But here's the point:

Trying to increase student ownership over content is an admirable, albeit cute endeavor, but at the end of the day, the student better have a receipt.

a paparazzi-filled future

This must be a mistake! Surely there’s been some sort of tampering with the votes. The amount of talent around me and here I am, on the stage, accepting this Educator. I’m speechless, utterly and truly speechless. I don’t know what to say. I should probably just say ‘thank you’ and walk off this stage, to my right, yes I know to go to the right, but…oh my…

When I started on this sinuous path, there was no pavement, no posted signage, no, not even a rest stop. Seriously, I had to hold everything in, and doing that within the confines of my solitary classroom was no easy task. Oh my Lord, I can’t believe this. Pinch me, Dave.


Can I call you Dave?

Oh…Mr. Warlick it is.

My bad.

My mother and father, for always believing in me and for their amazing purchasing powers. Without them, there would’ve been no Atari, no Intellivision, no Commodore 64. They harnessed the power of credit limit and technology to instill in me a technological curiosity that, to this day, still percolates with bubbles of inspiration.

Mr. Maltese, for crafting lessons that, in their writing and his oral instructions, seemed more like infomercial than educational. Oh, and for believing in me without ever having to say that you knew I could do whatever I wanted. I only hope that I can continue in the powerful conveyance of inspiration without ever having to crack someone over the head with an after-school special pep talk. Honestly, he’s the best teacher ever and there’s no way I would be here without him. Mr. Maltese, this Educator is for you, for you are ‘the Educator’.

Joyce...you know. You complete me. You had me at ‘hello’. Or was it ‘wiki’? I recommend that all of you, native or immigrant (not that kind), find a giant and stand upon its shoulders. Travel with it to NECC. And upon its clavicle, ask questions, seek information. Better yet, information fluency.

And finally, Web 2.0. You are an ever-changing entity, a tumultuous adolescent with an over-aggressive, no-quit puberty streak that keeps everyone around you overwhelmed, intrigued, and frustrated.

Oh, I remember those early days of skepticism and doubt. There was no way you could ever be worthy of my time, my students’ time. But I can’t quit you, and I won’t quit your tweets, your blogs, or your pods.

And even if some applications are too simplistic to warrant inclusion in a serious discussion of tech integration, don’t ever change. Because in truth, I would have never received this honor without your Animoto, your ToonDoo, or your Blabberize.

You remind us all that simple is, for some, a complex and scary word; a word that, when digitized and Flash-enhanced, still keeps many educators away.

But you keep creating doors. Doors for me to open. Doors for me to explore. Doors for me to consider. And doors to thresholds upon which my colleagues and I may take some of the most wondrous experiences in our teaching careers.

Thank you, thank you, thank you.

inspirational throw-away

How's that saying go? One man's detritus is another man's gem? Something like that, right?

But here's the point:

Over at Dan Meyer's tome, Christian Long posted a comment in response to the short film, People In Order:

My Hon Eng II (10th graders) classes will ALL be watching this video in the coming days.

They’ll be challenged with writing the ‘ad copy’ that will entice film festival goers to come see this wacky little idea-concept. Oh, and they’ll have to use this week’s vocab list — all from Act I of Macbeth, BTW — to help lift their text off of the generic floor.

Over at Ken Rodoff's sent email folder, Ken composed an email for an Algebra teacher in his building. After Ken moved past the metaphor and aesthetic of the film, he wondered if the video could work in a math classroom:

Here's a 3 minute video of people, ages 1 - 100, in order, banging on a drum.

It is a lot more dynamic than the above description.

Part of me wonders if it would fit in a math class.

Kids predict how many beats, total.
Kids predict which person, by age, will hit the drum the most.
Kids watch video.
Kids discuss the findings.
Kids could graph age / beats.
Kids could come up with some conclusions/findings.

Kids messin' around with numbers, probability, basic math.

What started out as distraction and menagerie turned out to jump-start some educational percolation.

Are we trying too hard to make something out of, as Dan labels it, 'show and tell'?

Or are we demonstrating the never settle-ness of innovative teaching?