How Do Students Learn To Be Online?

In my Media Collage class, I have started off by asking students to think about learning. While the class is concerned primarily with understanding how to use our devices and the internet to be confident, creative, generous participants in digital spaces, the early discussions about learning have not necessarily focused on the digital. For example, the first project I assigned challenged them to create a 5 image story in Haiku Deck that focuses on something meaningful they have learned to do. It appears that all of the stories revolve around the decidedly "non-digital": perfecting a tennis serve, playing guitar, riding a surfboard, knowing how to share.

Strings: A learning Story - Created with Haiku Deck, presentation software that inspires

Once the students have finished this project, I plan on extending this discussion about the Haiku Deck narrative. Specifically, I am interested in the "learning constellation" that helped make possible the meaningful activity they learned to do.  For example, after creating my Haiku Deck model, I did a Google Drawing of my "learning constellation":

So here's the question that I am sure my students are wondering: "why is MrG taking all this time to discuss learning, especially when it does not seem to have anything to do with digital technology? What class did I sign up for anyway?"

And here's my answer. 

I want to spend time thinking about something meaningful we each have learned to do as a springboard to consider how we learn to use our devices and be online. Looking back at my constellation, I see that I had some expert guidance, both in the form of friends who were willing to work with me and be role models with whom I could experiment, and professionals who released music that inspired me to pick up the instrument. Additionally, there are some things about my learning experience that I did not include on the constellation, like my passion and motivation to learn how to play, my agency in deciding I wanted to dedicate time to it, and my understanding that getting better requires mistakes. Lots of mistakes.

What it comes down to is my suspicion that our students' learning experiences regarding devices and the internet are woefully lacking. (As are most adults'.) Have they had mentors guiding them? Helping them build their online presence? Illustrating how to be curators of information? Providing opportunities to experiment as creators? Probably not. Instead, learning to navigate the digital world probably has occurred in fits and starts, with some help from peers, parents, teachers. But mostly with a whole lot of stumbling in the dark.

To consider what a true learning experience looks like, including the constellation that makes it possible, is to bring into sharper focus the haphazard way most of us, especially our kids, learn to be online. With this established, hopefully we will all be motivated to make our learning experiences with digital technology more deliberate and purposeful.

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.

Being Present: Tweeting the Talk

Recently I attended the Leyden 1:1 Symposium.  On two consecutive mornings I was fortunate enough to hear timely, thought-provoking keynotes: first by Chris Lehmann and then by George Couros. See:

@chrislehmann First Dewey and now Neil Postman: technology is transformative and schools should be so as well. #LHS1to1
— scott glass (@sglass771) August 1, 2013

@gcouros echoing @chrislehmann: schools that don't leverage creative possibilities of tech are irrelevant in Ss lives. #lhs1to1
— scott glass (@sglass771) August 2, 2013

That's right. During these engaging addresses, I was tweeting.  But not only that.  I was also recording ideas and questions in Evernote.  Is all of this really necessary?  Wouldn't it be better to have my device closed and give my uninterrupted attention to the person speaking?

These are questions that I must address because, as my school moves to a 1:1 environment with Chromebooks, the same behavior that I exhibited will be duplicated by my students. And I do not want to feel impulsive in my classroom management decisions, or like a hypocrite.

Some of my "Evernotes" while listening to Chris Lehmann 

I think explaining why Evernote is important is easier than defending my twitter use.  After all, with Evernote I was making sure to document ideas that I wanted to employ in my own classroom and questions I wanted to consider after the presentation.  Most teachers I know encourage and even require note-taking by students during presentations, whether by the teacher or peers.  I think this would fall under the category of "active listening."

So what about twitter?  I tweeted 9 times while listening to Lehmann, 4 of which were retweets. During George Couros's talk the following morning, I tweeted another 9 times, including 3 retweets. When wondering if this is necessary, I know there are people who would answer with an emphatic "No!"

I imagine one criticism running like this: chances are most of the people citing a particular twitter handle (@chrislehmann) and hashtag (#LHS1to1) at a specific time are doing so because they are all participating in a conference, presentation, or workshop together.  Since these people have their twitter streams open, they will be privy to a lot of the same tweets bouncing back and forth, like light off of a mirror.  So how does it benefit somebody in the audience to reread a dozen tweets restating what the speaker just said, only in a more concise (less powerful?) rendition?

Actually, I think there might be something to this.

As I tweeted and read tweets during the presentations, I was struck by the repetitive nature of many of the tweets.  It was also interesting to see the flurry of activity when Lehmann or Couros would say something perfectly packaged for twitter consumption.  Suddenly fingers all around me would be busy.

Perhaps it would be preferable to just listen.

What's more, some people might add, is that part of the reason one tweets is to see how others respond--to see how many times others will retweet and favorite one's work.  In this way, there is a kind of narcissism to tweeting in general, and during a talk in particular.  It's like a bunch of people continuously reminding other audience members that, "yes, this speaker is good, but I'm also here and I'm special, too."  Ok.  So maybe twitter skeptics wouldn't argue this.  (Although I think some would.) But, being relatively new to twitter, I know I have wondered if this drives my tweeting.

So as I offer some reasons for why I added twitter to my listening repertoire, let me start by owning that last reason.  There is a part of me that feels good about others embracing my thoughts about what we are hearing, just as I'm sure others feel good when they see me retweet and favorite their tweets.  Is this a bad thing?  To the degree that it does not become the sole reason for tweeting, I don't really think so.

But the important reasons that I tweet during a presentation, and would like to offer my students the opportunity, are as follows:

1. Working the 140.  Wow it can be exacting, especially when I know I need to save 8-15 of those characters for a handle and hashtag.  But I find the discipline required an invigorating challenge. As teachers, we are all concerned with our students' ability to be concise and clear.  Twitter communication demands these qualities.


2. Making it stick.  As a teacher, I know that one surefire way to understand something is to teach it. No other activity insures that one gets to know a subject inside and out.  While tweeting what somebody else stated is not exactly like teaching it, there is value, nevertheless, in crafting a tweet that captures and articulates an idea.  In those moments when shaping a tweet, I find myself thinking more deeply about the idea and the perfect wording.  Contrary to the criticisms that tweeting reinforces superficiality, it provides me with spurts of hyper-attention and mindfulness, even if these can be brief, which, hopefully, help in the process of moving the information beyond the short-term memory.  And even if the idea does not make it into more stable memory, it has been recorded and can be revisited.


3. Joining the conversation.  Yes, that phrase is probably cliche by now.  Yet, widespread use does not make it untrue.  In the midst of tweeting about Lehmann and Couros's keynotes, I had individuals agreeing with my tweets, refining my tweets, and raising questions and sharing links based on my tweets.  As I stated in #2, tweeting is not mired in superficiality.  But neither does it encourage passivity.  As with Evernote, tweeting requires me to be actively engaged and evaluating what I'm hearing.  Unlike Evernote, however, tweeting also allows good ideas to spread because


4. Tweeting is sharing.  In the hypothetical counter-argument above, I imagined that a talk's physical audience also represented the majority of the people reading the tweets about the talk. Maybe. However, I know from experience that people absent from the Leyden Symposium commented on and retweeted my tweets.  These fellow educators deserve to hear what leaders in the field have to say.  It reminds me of this tweet, from an educator I connected with at the Leyden Symposium

If you have an awesome lesson that no one else knows about, you aren't fulfilling your obligation to education. #lhs1to1 #moedchat
— Bob Dillon (@ideaguy42) August 2, 2013

Given these reasons for why I tweet during presentations, I cannot fathom withholding the experience from my students.  Even if it means there will be times when I or somebody else is speaking, and the class looks like this:

It's About Individual Vision

What do the following have in common: curating an online presence regarding a particular topic or question, using creative commons footage to craft a video in YouTube Editor, or considering how best to employ digital technology to explain to others why a question is important?  Besides the fact that students in my classes currently are engaged in one of these activities, all three pursuits require people to be active producers of content and exercise their voices.

Take for example the work students are completing with YouTube Editor.  As a class, they decided to each film at least three clips during a typical school day, upload the footage to their YouTube channels with the title DITL (Day in the Life), and designate them with creative commons attribution.  With 40+ clips uploaded, they then searched for each other's clips and used this raw footage to each construct their own 2 minute movie of a day at Glenbrook South High School.

Of course, the trick is to take some really disparate footage and make it work like a narrative so that somebody watching the movie understands that there is more going on then random shots of teenagers at school.

One student, for example, wanted to show his weariness as a 4th quarter senior.  As he said in a reflection, he "doesn't hate school."  He just feels done after four years.  To convey this, he decided to repeat certain clips--students listening to a teacher lecture, students walking in the building. He also decided that he did not want to add audio, but, instead, wanted to retain the natural sounds captured in the clips.  This way, he could provide a truer version of the atmosphere that contributes to his apathy.  Another senior wanted to focus on how random the school day is, even though most people have the opposite view.  With this in mind, she decided on the first and last clips, but then let chance guide her decisions for the intervening material and the order in which it would appear.

To achieve these narratives, the students had many decisions to make: which clips work best?; from these clips, what five seconds are most powerful (a limitation decided on by the class)?; what order best expresses a story?; if transitions are used, which ones should they be and why (same with filters)?; what kind of audio should be included?  Navigating these possibilities requires students to maintain a focus on what they are trying to achieve and how best to get there.

Regardless of how well these movie turns out, and they are, of course, amateur creations, one might ask, "what's the point?"  After all, the amount of content uploaded to YouTube is staggering, so chances are slim that these movies will be viewed by people outside of the class.  This criticism, however, misses the point of the activity.  "Will anybody see this?" It doesn't really matter. And it's the wrong question to ask.  The right question is "how important is the creative act for the individual's sense of self?"

As I catalogued above, these students are deeply involved in every decision regarding how this film is constructed.  It should be obvious that this kind of control breeds a sense of ownership.  Once one feels ownership, there is a greater probability that one wants to make something worthy of the time spent.  And this sense of worthiness most likely fosters a feeling of pride in making something that never
before existed in this particular way.

I can't stress this last point enough.  Amateur or not, when an individual creates, even if he or she is remixing or appropriating from other sources, the process and product can only come to life in relation to the autonomy and dedication of the individual. True, there is a collaborative aspect to this YouTube assignment: students in the class are all working from the same collection of raw footage, so there are bound to be certain clips that show up in multiple films.  But in the midst of the creative process, students do not consider themselves as part of a group making a movie.

Creating, whether one is an amateur or profesional, is an act of idiosyncratic expression.  In this respect, it is the opposite of a standardized approach to education.  There is no objective test and the right answer does not appear on a form.  Instead, the right answer is the one that makes students feel they have presented their vision in the most powerful, articulate way possible.