Surprise! We're Leaving The Classroom

A funny moment today: students were presenting plans for designing an authentic learning environment. After one pair explained their idea, we began discussing which stakeholders should be contacted first.  The class was pretty evenly split between "administrators first," "teachers first," and "students first."  Ultimately, I gave some reasons why I thought it would be wise to start by interviewing other students, including that it would be less intimidating than going to adults first.  At the mention of adults, the mouths of a couple of the students who were sitting across from me just dropped open.  At first, their stunned expressions confused me.  But what I realized is that they thought this was all a hypothetical exercise.  Essentially, for them the planning was the endpoint.  It was something to discuss in a circle and then be done with.  

Why this assumption?  Because it is what they are used to.  

I am as guilty as anyone for reinforcing the idea that projects end at the classroom door.  Plenty of times I have had students produce work, whether a piece of writing or a multimedia project, with the implicit or explicit direction that it is for our eyes only.  If not solely for mine.  

So the response was not surprising, even though earlier in the week I tried to emphasize the very point that we would be moving this project out of the classroom.  It is entirely possible that students did not grasp this key factor because I explained it to them on a Monday or because I was unclear.  Then again, I also think some of them stopped listening to the details of the project because they thought they knew the drill.  And usually they do.  

I enjoyed seeing their faces as they looked back down at their planning notes.  I'm going to guess that most likely they focused on what had seemed like an insignificant phrase: "interview the principle," or "talk to the school board," only to realize now that it was not so insignificant.

But I was also dumbstruck by this moment as the implications became clear for me, the teacher/facilitator.  It's not just about helping them to arrange an interview.  It's about making them see the value of this whole project, even if (or when) their ideas inevitably are met with a friendly nod and slightly patronizing, "wow, great ideas.  Thanks for sharing them with me.  This is really important."  

Because it is important for them to follow through on this no matter how "unlikely" their ideas.  I just need to make sure they agree.  

Designing a Learning Environment

In my Media Collage class, students took turns presenting meaningful learning situations.  The activities they discussed ranged from learning to dance, to learning to see people "as people." One student explained how he learned to be stern with adults at his job at the local ice center, while another explained that he learned how to be a good boyfriend.  The presentations were energetic and sincere, and the students clearly cared about these moments.

The next day, it was post-it time.  I had a simple statement on the board: Learning Is. . .Their goal: fill up the board with as many words and phrases as possible to describe this activity.  The attacked this task and pretty quickly the board was filled with words like "endless," "creating," "becoming who you are," "hard work," "making connections," and so on.

One word surprised me more than the others for how out of place it seemed: "brutal."  It's not that the other words were all idealistic.  After all, "struggle" made the list.  Yet, all of the other words framed learning as something worthwhile. So after the post-its had run their course, I asked them about the word "brutal."  The person who wrote it said that she was referring to learning as it typically takes place in school.  Ouch.  Others nodded in agreement.  Opening a Google Doc., I asked them to give me some reasons why they would use this word to describe learning in school.  I assumed we would spend five or ten minutes and then move on to the next activity.  Thirty-five minutes later I had a list of 20+ reasons as to why "brutal" described their typical school learning experience.  And, while they started to run out of explanations for the Doc., they wanted to keep talking about their experiences.

The next day, we decided to embark upon a project to design a school learning environment or situation that would emphasize the characteristics that made their personal learning situations so meaningful.  Highest among these qualities were choice, the room to fail and improve, collaboration, and activity.  My direct challenge for them was this:

Decide on something that needs to be added to or changed in the school day or school environment to make learning at GBS more meaningful.  Keep the focus as narrow as possible.  You are not being asked to remake the entire day or physical space.

So now we are in the midst of working on this challenge. Among their tasks: they must consider what they want to change or add, justify why this would make a difference in what it feels like to learn at school, interview stakeholders representing different groups, and figure out how to turn this information into a short multimedia presentation. Finally, one of the hardest decisions for them is audience because a key stipulation is that it has to be people from outside the classroom. Who will this turn out to be? With the internet, who knows. But I am sure looking forward to the result.
               

Joining the Community

Today's question to my kids was pretty straight forward: "Do you see potential for our Google+ community to become a relevant part of your online landscape?"  And some of the reaction was also pretty straight forward: "Hell no."  OK, they were slightly more diplomatic and not quite so profane.  But a few of the students lodged some pretty forceful negative reactions.  But let me back up.

Our school is exploring the potential for our district to go 1:1, and the teachers in the digital pilot decided it was important to have an online space where the students and we could register our opinions, ask questions, and make recommendations about technology in the classroom.  Because our district has already made a heavy investment in Google's suite of education apps, creating a Google+ community was a no-brainer. 

A day after the students created their profiles and joined the "community," I wondered exactly what that word meant to them and if they saw the relevance of our fledgling group. We started with a discussion about the word "community" in general.  According to them, it is usually naturally occurring, but not always; it provides a sense of belonging; it typically has a common goal; it is collaborative; and it is usually meaningful for its members.

Now, back to the beginning.  

       Me: "Do you see potential for our Google+ community?"

  One student: "Actually, I hate it.  I don't know any of the students on it. Why would I want to share with kids I don't know?"

       Another student: "I see potential for conflicts and confrontations."

       And another: "I just don't get the purpose.  Why would I go there?"

Of course, these points of view in no way represent the perspectives of all the students.  There were some students who immediately nailed down the point that a "community" like this can be incredibly beneficial because not only will it foster collaboration, but this collaboration can occur with people you might not know, even though they go to the same school.  

So here's my take-away from this discussion: it brought into focus the way a lot of them see social media as strictly a social outlet.  When I dug a little deeper, the most vocal critics were basing their judgments on their experience with a limited range of social media that they use for a limited range of purposes, i.e. Facebook to stay social.  While I am talking about a small sample, my gut feeling is that most teens regard social media in the same way.  And this is an important reason why they cannot be left on their own to understand how to harness these tools.  The fact that there are many uses for social media is not something they intuitively know simply because they are young.  They need our help to understand this and to make the most of the technology that will have such a great impact on their futures, regardless of what they decide to do or be.

Who's Teaching Here?

I asked my students to complete the following statement, "Digital learning means. . ."  A sample of their statements:

• Digital Learning means being able to share your ideas and thoughts with whomever you want, whenever you want.
• digital learning means being inspired by other's ideas.
• Digital learning means president Obama will answer YOUR questions on Reddit.
• Digital learning means instant access to information.
• Digital learning is when sensei and student become one with each other..

That last one is particularly interesting because it so closely mirrors my own statement:

    Digital learning means I am no longer the only teacher in the room

It is easy to look at the picture above and assume that I must be referring to computers as the "other teacher" in the room.  Sure.  After all, I certainly do not have all of the answers.  Never did.  The increasing presence of the internet and digital technology allows students to seek information and ideas beyond my knowledge base.  However, this is not really what I mean when I say I am no longer the only teacher.  In fact, I didn't really have machines in mind at all when I wrote my statement.  I was thinking about all of those other people in the room.

A good example of how teaching is suddenly more diffuse occurred when I introduced my students to Google+.  I projected onto the screen in the front of the room my Google Drive page and began walking them through creating a profile.  Two things happened almost immediately, both of which I expected.  First, students navigated through the profile set-up at varying degrees--some rocketed through it while others moved more tenuously, making sure that they were not missing any vital steps.  Second, there were questions.  Most of these revolved around the fact that I wanted them to immediately log into a community I created for the Digital Pilot we are taking part in at our school.  Now, here is where the other teachers come into play.

I am not that experienced with Google+, and I have no experience in creating a community.  As I bounced around the room, trying to find the most direct way for them to access the community, other voices began informing us of where to go.  Undoubtedly, I eventually would have figured out and clarified the process.  But that's the point.  I did not need to because a number of students in the room already had the information and were motivated to share.  While this might seem insignificant, I believe it is a crucial development that technology facilitates.  

I am not saying that students refuse to help each other in other classroom contexts.  In my literature classes, students have plenty of opportunity in small and large groups to help each other understand some idea or nuance in a novel.  More often, however, those discussions have an implicitly competitive nature instilled by me even if I don't realize it: discussion time becomes "I need to score points" time (in a figurative and sometimes literal sense).  Yes, there are those classes with just the right mix of personalities so that every discussion becomes a group effort at thinking deeply and engaging with provocative ideas.  But these are unfortunately rare.  More typical are the classes where a few students dominate and the rest require heavy-duty cajoling.  And, while the talkative minority are usually lovely, thoughtful people, their comments are directed at me, which I then repeat, paraphrase and generally rebroadcast for the class as a whole.

The significance of students helping each other with technology issues is that they did it without my prompting, directing the comments, or calling on people.  In fact, I could just as easily have not been in the classroom.  Instead of their communication passing through me, they spoke directly to one another.  

I can't help but think of how this student-student interaction that bypasses me, the "teacher," mirrors the "Read-Write" model of media production that Larry Lessig discusses in Remix and in his Ted talk, "Laws that strangle creativity."  Just as the internet and digital technology disrupts hierarchies and traditional gatekeepers in cultural production, it can have the same effect in the classroom.

This did not happen without a little anxiety on my part.  I have been teaching for 16 years; I have learned my role well.  But as I relinquish control, my students acquire ownership.  They become more genuine owners of the classroom and the learning that takes place.  This is why it is significant when one student offers assistance, advice, and recommendations.  The subtext of this kind of move is that they have something to contribute, they want to contribute, and they care about the smooth functioning of the class.  In short, it is the opposite of passively waiting to be told when and how to respond.  

And I love my role as a genuine learner.

Creativity: It's Personal

Students just finished working on an iMovie project in Media Collage.  They started by writing a story, which they read and edited in small groups.  The story did not need to revolve around some major event, but could tell about a much more prosaic moment--something that could happen anytime, any day.  Now we are watching each other’s movies, and they are about what one would expect, given that many of the students are 1st time iMovie makers.  The narration can be hard to hear, the cropping can seem a little off or questionable, the images can be a bit pixelated.  Still, the students’ comments to each other have been very positive.  After viewing a half dozen of these, I asked them to reflect on whether these are really all that important.  By and large, students saw quite a bit of meaning in what their classmates constructed.  

For example, one student decided to tell the story of the first time he went out with friends.  According to this student, he was the stereotypical gamer: his social life revolved around playing video games in his basement.  The story he wrote and iMovie he created documents a "moment of crisis" when he realized that he had to be missing out on some pretty fun and important stuff by voluntarily locking himself away.  Without sounding unduly harsh, the video and storytelling have some moments that could probably be handled better: there is some overly-descriptive, over-wrought phrasing and questionable imagery that does not help push the story forward.  But what mattered to this student’s classmates is that he created something that “documents this important moment in his life.”  Whether any of us or anybody else ever views it again is insignificant compared to the fact that he now has this work that preserves this moment.  The meaning is personal, which might just be the case for all creativity, whether done by pros or amateurs.  In any creative pursuit, the meaning must always be personal.  From a teacher’s point of view, the truly great part of this whole experience is that many of them have arrived at this exact conclusion.

The entire process, including our conversation, reinforced points made by David Gauntlett in his book Making is Connecting.  He has articulated these ideas in an interview Henry Jenkins as well as in a presentation available on YouTube.  Here’s a great statement:

acts of everyday creativity are extremely important. You can cast them as just ‘a nice thing’ for individuals, and normally they are a nice thing for individuals, but they are much more than that. Every time someone decides to make something themselves, rather than buying or consuming something already made by someone else, they are making a distinct choice, to be an active participant in the world rather than an observer or a shopper in the world. And through the process of making, they get to enjoy, as I’ve said, that sense of purpose and connection, and satisfaction.

Key within this explanation is Gauntlett’s point about being an active producer instead of a passive consumer.  Earlier in this same interview, Gauntlett criticizes the definition of creativity that specifies that it must be purposeful within a particular field.  Obviously, this kind of creativity is crucial for advancement in any field.  But Gauntlett’s point is that creativity is not solely the purview of professionals working with a prescribed field.  It is existentially important to all people, whether it is pursued on or off line.

As our discussion about our iMovies became a more general conversation about how the internet and digital tools is fueling amateur creativity, a number of the students argued that this is where schools could play a vital role.  The term “digital native” has come under some fire for its accuracy.  Still, there is a tendency on the part of adults, including teachers, to see students as skilled navigators when it comes to the internet and their devices.  My Media Collage students could not agree.  In my conversations with them I have found that most feel as overwhelmed as me.  Sure, in certain digital settings and with certain tools, they are powerful communicators and actors.  But their point to me is that they are as desperate as most adults to understand how to carve out a personally significant vantage point in the midst of the overwhelming digital landscape.  As one student explained, “Schools need to take a more active role in helping people to navigate the internet.  I want to understand how to access different levels of creativity online and within myself.”  As a teacher, I can not think of a much loftier and necessary goal.  Of course, as a teacher, I also realize that this lofty goal invariably runs up against all of the other “goals” that I must achieve: from the curriculum I must get through to the local, state, and federal mandates of which I must be cognizant.  Perhaps this is the biggest reason to have a class dedicated solely to this student’s stated need.  The curriculum is the landscape itself and how to navigate it and feel that the tools and technology empower an individual’s creativity.

Play Time

Kids need time to play.  This revolutionary idea has become apparent while teaching Media Collage.  I first noted this during student presentations.  They each took a turn introducing the class to a site or digital tool with which they are familiar.  Generally, students have responded favorably to these presentations and agree that listening to their classmates has provided them with the opportunity to see something new.  At the same time, the inevitable presentation fatigue also set in.  Hence the need for "2 Days of Play."  I wanted us to have some time to just play with the different stuff they had been shown. 

I gave my students some suggestions: experiment with iMovie, GarageBand, and Tumblr, among other sites and tools.  In short, go back to something that looked interesting or promising and mess around with it.  My role in this was not to dictate what they should do with any one of these applications.  I gave some suggestions, like create a Media Collage theme song in GarageBand.  But I wanted them to tell me what they were exploring and why.  

One student played with GarageBand.  He told me that he had been working with the night before.  Our conversations went something like this:
      Me: How long did it take you?  
      Him: I don’t know.  I lost track.  
      Me: You lost track because it wasn’t too long, or . . .
      Him: I started working on it, got into it, and I just lost track of time altogether.

I wonder how often this student feels this way about other school work.  Probably not often.  Whether reading a novel, completing math problems, or studying for a history exam, these activities are most likely completed with one eye on the clock. There is always that part of the brain that resists the work at hand and refuses to engage.  But the student working in GarageBand was totally committed.  

This reminds me of the great interview Henry Jenkins did with David Gauntlett, the author of Making is Connecting.  His contention is that any kind of creative activity, including work like the students did the last couple of days, is vital for one’s sense of self-worth.  Regardless of whether the product is a silly iMovie destined to sit unwatched on a person’s YouTube channel, the act of shaping the work affects the way the creator sees himself--he is no longer a passive consumer.  He becomes an active producer.  And it is meaningful for his sense of self. 

And so I am reminded of how vital it is to play.  It is serious business.  As teachers, we realize the need for students to be imaginative and creative.  But how do we provide these opportunities?  It is easy to feel that letting students experiment with ideas and tools is a waste of time.  There is so much to cover, so many mandates to fulfill.  What does tinkering in iMovie provide when standards must be met?  Perhaps an engaging, imaginative, all-encompassing experience of oneself as a creator.      

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.