Using Twitter in Class-That Was My Hope

At the beginning of the school year, I made some goals. One was to "be an advocate for connected learning." Recently, I did an experiment with my students towards this end: I asked them to participate in a Twitter chat using #noquogbs.

My rationale:

Let students hear from a broader range of their peers. This includes not only the typically silent voices in a particular class, but students in the other classes, as well. I teach three sections of Humanities, so I thought they could respond across classes. And maybe even to others not in Humanities. Or, at least this was my hope.

Let students control the direction of the conversation. I gave them the broad topic: status quo thinking. But, because this is such an expansive subject, they had an opportunity to use this as a springboard to move in any direction they chose. Unlike in class, where a small group of students intent on probing a specific thread might dictate the direction of a conversation, on Twitter, each student could choose to build off of what somebody else said or introduce a new area to consider. Or, at least this was my hope.

Let students use time to their advantage. This seems like a big advantage. Typical conversations are limited to the times that classes meet. If a student is absent during that time, oh well. If a student is feeling tired, unmotivated, stressed during that time, oh well. Classroom discussions demand performance regardless of extenuating circumstances. Because this was an asynchronous chat, students could join in when ready. Or, at least this was my hope.

Let students experiment with using social media for an academic purpose. This is a biggie. I implore them constantly to think about how social media platforms can and should be used to establish an academic and even professional persona. But I had done little to help them move in this direction. This chat could be an initial way to experiment with this possibility. Or, at least this was my hope.

Finally, I wanted them to enjoy connecting with each other in a different way. While many of them tried to fashion 140 character tweets that sounded similar to the voice they use in class, I did see some informality sneak in. Of course, we all know that speaking with an authentic voice is critical for feeling connected to an idea. Similarly, the ability to shape the way language gets used builds a sense of agency. To this end, I thought Twitter would allow students inventive ways to respond with energy, humor, and personality. This way my hope.

With the tweets written, I asked students to turn their attention to their blogs and write in more depth about a question, issue, or idea regarding status quo thinking--the topic of the chat and the 3rd quarter material. This step cannot be deemphasized. By moving from micro-blogging to a long form response, students hopefully experience for themselves the benefits and uses of both. 

I have read the criticism of social media platforms like Twitter: they erode attention and reward shallow thinking; in a culture lacking deliberation and thoughtfulness, Twitter exemplifies the desire for narcissism, summary and speed. Sure. This happens. But is it the fault of the tool? Or is the real issue that we have a penchant for embracing technology without taking time to see its possibilities and pitfalls, without learning how to use it in refined, powerful ways? I am going with the latter.

In any case, as a teacher, I must do what I can to help my students become confident, creative thinkers. This includes helping them navigate their culture and know how to best leverage the tools available to them. Within this context, understanding how to use social media for professional and academic purposes becomes central, not superfluous. 

As you can see, I had a lot of hopes going into this experiment. Of course, I am not about to argue that all were achieved. But when is that ever the case? To be sure, it proved successful (and popular) enough to try again, which I will do. The risk was well worth it. Besides, if our technological and cultural status quo favors superficiality, small bites, and inattention, then sign me up as a disruptor. I, with my students, will do what I can. And learn something along the way.

1:1--A Semester In

Back in September, I wrote a blog post about my students' initial impressions of their 1:1 experience with the Chromebooks.  At the end of the semester, I asked them to consider how beneficial the Chromebook has been.  The views are very much the same as they were at Day 10.  Some specific comments:

     Writing papers on the chrome book is awesome because I can have my teacher comment on it. Also, I like being able to make a copy and annotate all over it.

     I have used my chromebook in this class every single day and I have been able to take notes and participate very well by using it.

I think it's hard for everyone to pay attention in a class when we are on our laptops. However, I do think it's easier to share ideas and do interesting projects with this kind of access to technology.

These three comments mirror my own experience of working with students. For most of them, it has become second nature to take out their Chromebooks once they are in their desks. Typically, by the time I have the weekly schedule projected onto the screen, most students have already logged onto it via Google Drive. The same goes for any docs I have shared in the Drive folder. Most often I try to have docs hyperlinked on the daily schedule; however, sometimes I forget. However, if they see the name of a doc listed on the schedule, they will go find it in our shared English folder. It's always a bit surprising to find people already logged in--like getting home and already finding guests milling about.  

As for "paying attention," that's the big question with which every teacher struggles.

When the devices are open, how do we keep students corralled? How do we know when they have wandered away from the ranch? Some schools have dealt with the attention/distraction issue by employing an LMS that gives teachers an omniscience and omnipotence over the devices in the room. Stray doggies grazing on their own pastures? Rope em and bring em back home.  

Theoretically, this may sound great. But it raises some questions: are we teaching students to be responsible users of technology?; are we instilling a sense of mindfulness when it comes to using devices; are we helping students to create a digital routine that allows them to leverage their devices in beneficial ways? Unfortunately, the answer to all of these questions is "no."

But here are two more comments that raise a different question for schools going 1:1:

English is basically the only class that I use my chromebook in, other than when we work on webassigns in physics.

I've really only used the chromebook in this class. It's been useful in here though.

Other English teachers and I have heard similar statements from many of our students. So, the question is this--should teachers be expected to make some minimum amount of use of the devices? There will always be teachers and classes that integrate technology more fully into their curriculum, with positive and negative results. But should there be a required baseline? If students used their devices more readily in all classes, would it help them to become more responsible and mindful?

But Is It Really 'Resolved'?

This exchange makes me smile:

Maybe I'm just happy to see that Goodfellas is not a completely dead reference yet.  For sure it is teetering.  And when I mention particular names associated with the film, like Scorsese or DeNiro? Forget about it.  Nevertheless, if this 14 year old knows the movie, there must be others roaming my school's hallways who also know media created prior to 2010.

But there's more to it than just a mutual love for this 80's gangster story.

The screen capture above shows a brief conversation on Google Docs. Typically, I see Google's default "Marked as Resolved" accompanying my comments. In this case, however, the student decided to use my comment as a way to extend the conversation. See how Tommy ends his question with "one of those classic scenes?" That refers to a discussion he and I began in class. As we talked about visuals, we agreed that it would be wonderful if he could find an appropriate to clip to play. People familiar with the film understand what a challenge this can be.                                                                

So here's a pretty big benefit to having students use Google Docs: in this one brief reply, I see this student continuing to process what we had discussed earlier.  I do not mean to suggest that using Google singlehandedly makes kids more recursive thinkers.  That ability existed before Google. But this brief conversation makes Tommy's reflection visible.  If in the past I had to assume that kids internalized conversations I had with them about their writing, this exchange provides a small but telling insight into how Tommy processes and tinkers with ideas.
                                                                                                                   

I also think this reply tells me that Tommy is engaged in what he is doing.  He wants to find the perfect moment to highlight the film for his peers.  The assignment itself requires Tommy and his peers to select a piece of media they find worthwhile, but that is a "hidden gem" for their classmates.  Instead of choosing at random or going with the first clip he can find, Tommy has sifted through telling moments in the film and arrived at what he considers to be a classic scene (and he's right, of course).
                                                                                                                   

All of this leads me to wonder about "Mark as Resolved." On the surface, this phrase appears perfect: informative and succinct. In essence, it tells me, the commentator, that my suggestion or question or feedback has been acted upon. There has been "resolution".  However, after seeing this phrase standing by itself on doc after doc, my view has shifted. 

It is totally hollow.  It resolves nothing. It feels more like a statement of "dis"regard. The very choice of italics seem to add a layer of irony or sarcasm to the visualness of the phrase.  Actually, there is no indication that my thoughts even have been read.  A colleague of mine requires students to say something when they resolve her comments, even if that something is "thanks for the comments."  I like this and plan on adopting the practice.

But this leads me to a different, albeit related, topic--as we think about helping kids establish digital routines, what do they need to know to be productive collaborators? One answer: be appreciative, thoughtful and deliberate. The same qualities we want them to exhibit in their face-to-face relationships.  And this will be the topic of another blog post.