I and Eyes

Today's struggle while teaching with digital technology: not having their eyes.

As a teacher, I have not really considered how important it is to see my student's eyes.  I mean, stopped to reflect on how much simple eye contact transmits: engagement, understanding, confusion, unity. . . Of course, like so many things, I have suggested this importance thousands of times.  After all, how often have I said, "look up please," or used physical proximity to make someone with his head down engage me?  It is so common, I do not even notice anymore.  And there's the problem.

When students are not looking at me because they are looking somewhere else--intently at a book or mindlessly into space--I can make a quick read of the situation, determine if I need to get them reengaged, and, if so, consider how best to do so.  But when they have the laptop open while I am using my computer to explain something projected onto the screen at the front of the room, it is a bit more confusing.

I know most people would say, "just tell them to put their screens down when you are talking."  Of course I do this.  Sometimes.   On one of the first days of class, we decided that I would say "Acute" when it was time for them to really look at me--acute representing the angle that their laptop screen should at (their suggestion).  I realize that I am ultimately in control of the technology, not the other way around.

But what about the numerous times that they could be looking at a document just as easily on their own computer?  And what about the times that I share an article that includes hyperlinks that they want to check out?  Or the times when I tell them about a helpful website, and they want to explore it?  Or bring up a name I think they should know, and they want to learn about the person on the spot? This is when I struggle, because to deny them these moments could be to deny them a moment of genuine curiosity or engagement.

When I ask students about these moments, they assure me that they are listening, that disengaging eye contact does not mean they have lost the thread of what I am saying.  I know others have studied, discussed, and experimented with this element of the technology-enabled classroom: Rheinghold, Davidson, Turkle.  But I am also finding that it is much easier to read about and ponder over than to actually encounter.

Getting comfortable with the ways that students use devices in class is going to take some work.  As well as the help and cooperation of my students.   

Attention! Why write?

I’m thinking about two things after today’s Media Collage class: first, the importance of making clear to students why I ask them to read, write, and speak about certain ideas.  Obviously, this idea is important regardless of the subject matter.  But teaching this new course has reminded me of all sorts of basic instructional practices.  For instance, in my mind I know exactly why we should read, write, and talk about attention and distraction: it has become an increasingly important subject for people who use, research, and critique digital technology.  And, in fact, these topics came up in our conversation after the first round of student presentations.  

When considering the benefits of audience members using computers during presentations, some people commented on how it proved to be an exercise in self-control and how it made paying attention easier.  Interesting comments.  In my mind, then, this topic became worthy of “more attention.”  However, just because I see a clear link from one activity to the next does not mean the same link exists for students.  As I said, it was a good reminder.

The second thing I’m considering revolves around why writing, particularly for a blog, is useful. Consider the little experiment we did in class: everybody closed his or her eyes and tried to focus on a particular idea.  After three minutes, we opened our eyes and wrote down what we thought about. As those who shared their lists made evident, distraction appears to be the brain’s standard operating mode.  Here's an example:

And one more:

Whether it is external stimuli--coughing, ring tones, loud computers--or the way our thoughts naturally flow from one idea to another-- “I’m hungry. How are machines made?”--it is hard to achieve deep, sustained focus on an idea by simply “sitting and thinking.”

But why is deep, sustained focus important?  After all, we have lightning fast connections and a wealth of information that is only a click away.  

Although a student posed this question to me, other students answered it quite well: deep sustained focus allows for growth, for increased understanding of those things for which we are passionate, for making interesting connections, for making important realizations and discoveries, and for allowing ideas to flourish.  

The next question, I fielded: But how does writing fit in?  Because writing well requires concentration and focus, or, to come back to one of the key terms, it requires attention.  In short, the attempt to articulate an idea in an interesting and coherent manner requires dedicating one’s mental faculties to this sole task.  

I recognize some of the arguments made in favor of distraction: it is akin to divergent thinking and allows for surprising connections and novel ideas.  I find these arguments convincing.  But distraction all the time is as detrimental as attention all the time.  At some point, we need to delve into one idea and learn what we think.  This is what writing offers.  As for blogging in particular, the writing can then become part of an ongoing conversation with people anywhere.  And they, in turn, can distract me with their own fantastic, thought-provoking ideas.

Resistance is Not Futile

The latest from my adventures in teaching digital technology.  The students are giving group presentations focusing on learning experiences.  While one objective of this activity is to examine helpful ways to use technology, particularly Google Presentation, and create engaging slide shows, my main interest is in what they do when not presenting.  I am interested in how they fulfill their roles as audience members.

To this end, each student has a laptop in front of him or her during the presentations.  On that computer screen, they are supposed to have open a shared Google Doc on which they make comments in real time.  I stress the word supposed because I am not sitting behind them;  I do not have a handy mirror reflecting back to me what they are doing while their classmates present; I can not eavesdrop on their activity with a big brother screen on my computer.  As I told them, this is an experiment to see what benefits, if any, a computer has for them as audience members.

When the presentations are over, I told them we will discuss the degree to which it was helpful to have a device open during presentations.  We will also look at the comments on the Google Docs and evaluate if the feedback is constructive and purposeful.  I look forward to these discussions, anticipating some honest conversation concerning whether the computer became a distraction.  Honest because I have allowed them, even mandated, that they have computers open.  They do not have to worry about the kinds of consequences that result in furtive device usage.  Hopefully this conversation will prove to be a learning experience in and of itself.

Regardless, I have already learned something about changing habits.  It has been extremely difficult for me not to admonish them as I have watched them type some silly-seeming comments:  

WOO. very cool. Trombone=awesome. MURRKAT ROCKS!!! meoowWwWwWw great presentation by all the ladies. <3.

After the first presentation, I was on my way to making an announcement when I realized, "this is what I am asking them to do."  After all, if I want an honest discussion about their use of technology, the students and I need to start from their natural inclinations.  Which has meant restraining my own.

Learning, So This Is How It Feels

I'm only five days into teaching Media Collage, a brand new class offering at Glenbrook South HS.  On the fourth day, I dropped the following message into the class's shared Google Drive folder:

While we are only 4 days into this brand new course, I wanted to say a few words about why we have been doing the things we are doing.  As the teacher, I realize I am probably thinking about this class a lot more than most of you.  But it is likely that you have asked yourself “what exactly are we doing in here” over the past few days.

My intention is to establish a few things early on:

1. A sense that we are working together and that we need to share what we know, particularly about digital technology and tools.
2. A basic knowledge of some tools that we can then use throughout the quarter (and, hopefully, beyond).  In essence, to figure out the possibilities that digital tools offer us.
3. A sense for what it is that people are interested in.

In order to achieve these 3 goals, I am asking you to complete a number of activities over the first 2-3 weeks of class.  In some ways, it might feel like a normal English class.  For example, completing the “Something I Learned” survey probably felt like other short essays you have written. But my intention is that we get to a point where you can take an active role in your learning--where you can decide what it is you want to think about and do and know how to employ digital tools to engage meaningfully in this passion. As I write this, it seems like a pretty daunting task. Still, I am excited by it and I hope you are too.

Finally, as I have told you already, this is my first attempt at “teaching” this course. As such, I am actually much more of a learner. This is incredibly energizing. But also pretty nerve-wracking. If you have suggestions for activities or questions about our approach, please let me know. I need your help to make this class something special, which I know it can be.

It has been a challenging first week--one that has me stretching in completely new ways.  I was not lying or trying to create a bond with my students by writing that I am a "learner."  It is simply the position from which I am now working.

We educators enjoy talking about "life-long learning" and how this draws us to the profession.  This well-worn phrase is as ubiquitous as standardized tests.  Check out any site for any school in the country and there is a good chance that some version of this goal will be included in its mission statement or philosophy.  I know I have used it in one form or another in conversations with other educators and with people outside of education.  I do not mean to suggest that my use, or anybody's use, is hollow or insincere.  It's just that now I feel it. Teaching students how to be a contemporary learner means being a learner right along with them.

Where's the Focus

As I have been preparing a curriculum for my new class on digital learning, I have become increasingly disconcerted over the focus of education in general.  There is so much students need to understand about the ecology of the digital landscape--it has been overwhelming to me.  Of course, adults like to believe that young people have the internet and digital technology down cold.  But a growing body of research and anecdotal evidence disputes this view.  Check out this piece by Brian Proffitt from ReadWriteWeb for a compelling perspective.  Yes, young people spend a considerable amount of time online.  However, they are also lacking in the necessary critical thinking skills for navigating through the info rich environment. 

Yet, what am I instructed to spend my time on in the classroom?  College Readiness Standards:  do students know how to "Make sophisticated distinctions concerning the logical use of conjunctive adverbs or phrases, particularly when signaling a shift between paragraphs."  What?  Without a doubt I want my students to be confident, clear, and compelling writers.  This is not an issue of not wanting to invest time in helping students to achieve mastery when it comes to their use of language.  It remains a crucial part of the curriculum.

Although much has been made about our culture's switch from print to image, any time spent online illustrates the importance of writing.  Of course, there are many kinds of writing employed when it comes to the internet and digital technology.  Whether updating status, leaving a comment on a discussion thread, emailing a boss, blogging about an interest, or collaborating with colleagues in a Google Doc, writing is important.  But not when it is taught ACT-editing style or when it focuses solely on the "thesis driven, 5 paragraph essay."

I want to teach writing in the context of how to be a 21st century digital learner.  This means not just teaching how to write with text.  As writing becomes increasingly multimedia, it is imperative that this becomes a part of a student's education.  And I want to feel I have time to help foster the other skills my students need: the ability to "detect crap," as Howard Rheingold puts it, the ability to think divergently and convergently, the ability to shape new ideas by using the information they find on the internet along with digital tools.  This must become our focus. 

Writing the Remix

For the past year and a half, both as a teacher and a graduate student, I have been focusing quite a bit of my energy on digital technology, the internet, and what it means to learn.  This past spring, I completed an MA thesis exploring this issue, which has led me to think deeply about the way I engage my students.  I think cognitive dissonance pretty well sums up what I have been feeling.  And this is particularly acute with writing instruction.

            I just cannot shake the concern that I am teaching students 20th century skills for the 21st century.  True, there are certain elements of writing instruction that will always require mastery: how to write compelling and concise sentences, for example.  After all, it does not matter what format students are writing in or for whom--as writers they should always aspire to convey their ideas as powerfully as possible.

            Instead, my struggles occur as I consider the types of assignments I use.  Looking over my curriculum for junior English, I am struck by two recurring attributes: most prompts revolve around "literary analysis" and the prompt language emphasizes "originality."  A typical assignment asks students to explain what a writer says about a certain theme or idea, like "love" in Tim O'Brien's "The Things They Carried," or "self-determination" in Hurston's "Their Eyes Were Watching God."  Of course, students are instructed to select the theme that they find most important and/or interesting, but essays keep a tight focus on how the author manipulates and comments on the chosen theme.  In terms of "originality," my prompts place a premium on "insightful thesis statements" that illustrate an idea "a reader might not see on his or her own."  Tall order for a 16 year old, let alone a 36 year old. The big question becomes, "what is original for an inexperienced reader with considerably less knowledge about life?"  Clearly, students should be able to move beyond a simple observation in a thesis statement, but what should insight look like for a teenage writer?  This is where I now find myself struggling the most.

            Is this fair to ask my students, a number of whom are only reading a given text because they are compelled by the need to get good grades or at least not get in trouble with their parents?  Given that the majority of my students will not be English majors, or even liberal arts majors, how often in the future will they be asked to write something resembling a thesis driven essay? Particularly one that is "assessed" in part according to the originality of their idea and how well they borrow from other texts in order to support it?  Probably not often.

            So what skills, besides the aforementioned need to write well, do people need in our information saturated digital world?

            Maybe my students would benefit the most at this point from investigating an idea by remixing or assembling what others have said, and approach supported by a number of composition theorists (Selber, Johnson, DeVoss, Porter, Webb).  According to these researchers, at least some writing assignments should ask students to focus less on their own ideas and more on how informed thinkers have engaged with a question, problem, or theme.  Whereas traditionally borrowed material provides support for a student’s argument and proves to a teacher that the student has read a given work, writing as remix encourages a different approach.  In essence, borrowed material becomes the focus as it is brought together from different sources in thought-provoking ways.   

            The curation site Storify provides an interesting model.  Writers create stories on a given topic by scouring the web and pulling together relevant information and ideas, while adding in their original commentary.  The writer weaves together these pieces of text, which can come from text based sources like blogs and newspaper articles, as well as from video and image based sites.  By considering movement between the artifacts and employing techniques like juxtaposition and divergent-convergent thinking, the writer does more than just recapitulate what others have said.  There is an editorial function that allows the writer to shape the story in dynamic ways.  As I mentioned, the writer is able to include her own thoughts and questions between the borrowed artifacts.  And this is where Storify’s remix model could be powerful for students.

            As I was completing my MA thesis, "The Kids are Online: writing and reading in the Digital Age," my adviser constantly reminded me that there is already a robust conversation taking place regarding my topic.  Yes, ultimately I wanted to add my voice; however, his point was that I should "be a reader before a thinker" and get a sense for what others were saying, how ideas interacted, and what questions inevitably arose.  In other words, I should not try to immediately transform the field with some ingenious and original concept.  I found this advice both liberating and reassuring.  It made me feel less pressured to be the expert and more willing to simply listen and reflect on the incredibly rich debate already in progress.  In some ways, my whole MA thesis could be viewed as a remix of ideas by some brilliant people: Larry Lessig, Henry Jenkins, Clay Shirky, Roland Barthes, Jane McGonigal, and many more.  Undoubtedly, I found places to add my own perspective.  But my role was to analyze and synthesize (remix, assemble), not revolutionize. 

            I thought about my students often and wondered if similar instructions would make them feel more comfortable and even engaged with the texts we read.   Currently, the onus for a great idea is on the student.  As I mentioned, the expectation is that the student will generate and articulate a penetrating, novel idea and usher key moments from the text that prove the prescience of the student’s reading.  Pretty high stakes stuff. For example, an intriguing question raised by O’Brien’s The Things They Carried is “how do soldiers deal with the guilt from seeing their fellow troops die?”  The “original thesis” approach requires students to analyze and explain O’Brien’s answer to this question, and to do so while being “insightful,” i.e.: not imitative or clichéd.  Hence, “soldiers use violence to deal with the guilt from seeing their fellow troops die,” will not cut it.  Instead, the follow-up question they must entertain from me is “why?”  So then most students will add a “because” statement meant to complicate and introduce some complexity: “soldiers use violence to deal with guilt because they are frightened and embarrassed to show other emotions.”  And there is a continuous back-and-forth between the student and me until “we” reach a point where “we” think the student is adequately insightful.  At which time the hunt for support and quotes begins. 

            As I mentioned, this is the opposite of the approach I have pursued in my own thinking and writing.  What if, instead, students started with a question raised by the author of a text, but then explored how this question appears elsewhere.  They would still need to practice higher order skills: analysis, evaluation, synthesis.  Not to mention what Howard Reinghold calls "crap-detection".   But it could also relieve them of the high stakes, anxiety inducing requirement to be the expert on the book.  To be the reader who has mined a novel for the hidden gold missed by other readers.  And it can give students a fuller, more nuanced understanding of a question or idea by bringing one author’s perspective into relief against what others have said.

            Increasingly, this feels like a lesson I need to share with my students.

It Begins

After pushing for a course in media literacy for the past 10 years, I have finally succeeded.  In a few weeks I will begin teaching an elective course, "Media Collage."  And I am a bit overwhelmed.  Over the 10 year gestation period, the focus of the course has changed pretty dramatically.  When I began campaigning for its approval, I envisioned a class that examined media in the age of conglomeration.  This was before Web 2.0--there was no Facebook, twitter, tumblr, youtube. . .

So now the course is much more about being a learner in the 21st century.  It is about the ways people use digital technology to engage with ideas, create content, and share their visions.  Very exciting.

But while plotting out the course, I have discovered that this is also about what it means to be a teacher in the 21st century.  In the past few days, I have realized that many of my assumptions about my role in relation to the student role are about to be challenged.  Again, very exciting.  But also daunting.

As an educator, I have read about, listened to, and discussed how learning is changing.  About how we are living in a transformative moment when our outdated education system must finally catch up to the 21st century.  The ideas are easy to repeat: we need to harness digital technology in order to create student driven, flipped classrooms that foster participation and engage learners in meaningful ways.  I haven't even taught the first day of my new course yet, but already I understand how challenging this will be. Very exciting.  But also nerve-wracking.

Even something as simple as how I will manage the online nature of the course has caused consternation.  For my classes, I am used to running everything through a Google Site, which includes a page of blog links to the blogs my students have created.  Their blogs, my platform.  However, this needs to shift.  Yes, I still want them to blog.  However, they need to be in control of it, just as they need to be in control of the content so they can manipulate it in ways that make the most sense.  In essence, using Google Drive, each student will have his or her own platform to which I will subscribe.  Course documents will still be located and shared from my account; but students will be in charge of how they use them and contribute to our investigation. This set up is my first taste of the decentralized nature of Web 2.0 learning.  I can only imagine how beautifully strange this is going to get.

Very very exciting.