Friday, February 17, 2012

Song of Myself on Location

 

We have a class mascot, and he is a chicken. Fear his toothless maw. Hear him sound his barbaric YAWP over the roofs of the world. *


(*Forgive me Walt Whitman.)
(Faux chickens are great realia for teaching prepositional phrases. For example, one can put one's poultry in a cauldron, on one's head, across the room, inside a hoodie. Many years ago, a friend of mine kept one in her purse. For self-defense? I'll never know.)

Thursday, February 16, 2012

Another Lens

A document camera, an LCD projector, and a laptop: these comprise my personal technology trinity. At any given moment of the classroom hour, I’ve got one, both, or all of them on.

My work in navigating the uses, applications, and maintenance of these three has been largely self-taught. And thanks to two wonderful colleagues – one a teacher, the other our tech support guy – I’ve been able to cobble together some pretty decent projects.

But I’d like to go deeper. I’d like to explore what media choices I make for what lesson, and to explore the reasoning behind those decisions. Education is fast on taking up the call for technology. But before I take, use, and ultimately own any tool in my teaching practice, there are two questions that need an unequivocal “yes” answer:

1. Will it enhance or improve student understanding?
2.   Will it help me more effectively and/or accurately deliver content? 

Take the document camera. Like most of my experiences with state adopted ed-tech, it was simply put on my desk. No note, no training. That’s not necessarily a complaint, by the way, because the lack of mandates allowed me to toy with its applications on my own. (This device replaced our overhead projectors, and in my more wistful moments I imagine them waking from sleep, like the Star Wars Imperial Walkers, hot bulbs, lenses, and whiny fans slogging through the backrooms of Institutional Obsolescence.)

I love the document camera. And if the medium is the message, then here’s what the document camera enables me to do more effectively:
*    Demonstrate the writing process. Both my own, and that of my students. More importantly, I can do this immediately. With the overhead projector, I’d have to make student photocopies, transfer them onto a transparency, and wait until the next day. And once a piece of writing is photocopied, it settles into permanence. The document camera offers a window into the stop-check-rethink- continue process that good writing requires, and I can have students come up and talk through their writing choices as they are writing.
·         Take pictures of primary source paintings or photos that I can’t find online. I can use these to supplement presentations.
·        Have student present graphic illustrations of new concepts they’re learning. When I use the word “graphic,” here I mean it to refer to a “visual impression in words.” Connections between literary characters, cause-effect relationships, feudalism – these are some examples of concepts I’ve required students to create graphics for.
·       Unlike a powerpoint or projected word doc, the document camera is far more immediate and alive. There’s a sense of real-time to it that permanent text can’t quite capture. In that sense, I find the document camera to be one of the more resonant and meaningful pieces of technology I’ve used.

Things I can’t do with it:
·         Have a permanent, static list of concepts or words. The document camera is mostly a device for demonstrating process. It is a temporal tool, and a little anarchic. (Cool.)
·        Get mobile. I can’t stand in the back and circle, highlight, or underline words. The kids and I are stuck up front.
·         Use sound or motion.
·         Use any kind of digital overlays. Possibly there is an app for that somewhere, but I haven’t seen it. 

Some mediums just match content more effectively. I plan to grapple more with the uses and applications of other devices in future posts. 

Sunday, February 12, 2012

Throwing the Line

To paraphase Dodie Smith from I Capture the Castle, I write this sitting near the sofa, next to a stack of CDs and a lukewarm cup of tea. Pardon the paper piles and Barbie detritus. Welcome to my blog.

I’m a middle school English and history teacher in a suburb of the Bay Area. I’ve been teaching for over 10 years and love – I mean love – my job. Its ceaseless demands notwithstanding, teaching is a condition of my being.

My commute to work is a lovely drive through rolling hills and a welcoming, eastern sunrise. This same spare early morning highway has opened my mornings for years now. And I’ve found myself thinking more and more about moments in teaching that I want to explore, open up, pause, redo, and mostly write about, as in life. So much flashes by unprocessed and unexplored. I sometimes imagine my teaching days as an upspiraling flourish of windblown papers, some heightened gust circling the room, cue Flight of the Valkyrie, I stand in the center, pencil in hand, choreographing the entries and exits, the adolescent arias and tragedy, until the denoument, when I (and don’t we all?) surrender to the inevitable, bell-ringing, uncollected snowfall.

Forgive the melodrama. I want this blog to be about my mistakes and successes. I hope to write about teaching practice and technology, pedagogy, and – this is where this thread leads me, I think – the humanity of our work. It is in the accord of both educational ideas and human experiences where I want to sit awhile, ask questions, throw out the fishing lure and  - honor the wait time, let the child be - hope for the pull.