EDTC Module 4 Post

Module 4's reading was like getting doused with an ice cold bucket of water. I never would have expected a week's worth of material from a Technology class that cautioned against the increasing prevalence of technology! However, in hindsight, I appreciate the objectivity this converse view provided us with. We have been moving forward into the technological era with leaps and bounds, seldom asking questions. People in my generation accept new technological toys as though they're gifts from Santa Claus. We've raced from LiveJournal to Blogger to Myspace to Facebook to Twitter to I-Phones, to all of the above ON I-Phones... And oftentimes, these new tools are able to give us an improved experience of life, oftentimes they ARE good. But the speed at which we accept them is perhaps reckless, and I think Module 4's readings led us all towards that realization. Perhaps we should encounter these new technological advancements with a degree of skepticism, critically examining them and asking whether or not they really improve our quality of life.

When I first heard about Facebook, I dismissed it as a vanity project and as a waste of time. "Why do I need to be friends with people I already see all the time?" I remember asking my friend. Then, one boring day at work led to the creation of a profile, and I've been hooked since. My aunt and uncle asked me the other day how long I spent, per day, on the networking site. I hemmed and hawed at first: "Well... I'm in online classes, so I've got the internet up pretty much all the time, and just check in periodically." But then, considering the hour or two I'll spend on Facebook in bed before falling asleep... I answered with embarrassment, "Probably a couple hours a day." Their widened eyes and "Seriously??" responses made me check myself. Do I ACTUALLY spend that much time on a networking site every day?

I wrote my discussion post on "Unplugging"-- suggesting that teachers assign students to "unplug" from all electronics for a week. People responded that it was an intriguing idea, but I have to wonder if I would be able to unplug for a week. Could I check email just once per day...? Could I peace out from Facebook for a week? Could I avoid texting my friends, and call them instead, even if it was just to communicate a minute detail? I'm honestly not sure... But reading "The Machine Stops" made me want to try!

EDTC Module 3 Post

In reading this week's assigned reading which addressed where U.S. students' are at in the global scheme of technology comprehension and use, I found myself reflecting on the different countries I've been to, and whether or not that claim seems to line up. Certainly, the students that I worked with last year impressed me to no end with their technological savvy; from that perspective, U.S. students seem to be hanging in just fine. I've visited a number of countries in Europe, and I remember feeling that my tech know-how seemed pretty comparable to the people I was meeting. In Africa, I would say that technology was much less a part of every day life; the U.S. would be considered "at an advantage" in comparison there. However, when seeing the steps that countries like China, Australia, and South Korea are implementing to ensure their students achieve technological prowess, it seems as though our own American attempts are a bit lackluster. Furthermore, when reading articles about the hours that students spend in classrooms in countries like Japan, I admit, I worry about our kids keeping up in general-- in technology, or any other subject.

Is this okay, I wonder? Does America need to continue being the BEST in everything? Certainly, I think, we should try to achieve that excellence in our kids' education. But unless we agree to longer hours in school- something that no one likely wants to agree to-- and until education starts getting the funding it needs and deserves, I question how competitive our educational system will be in the global scheme.

Do Your Homework, then Throw it Away

Blog post for Module 2, EDTC "Learning with Technology"

As I read through my education books, I'm constantly encountering new descriptions of methods and philosophies and lesson templates and unit plans and approaches and ideas... And inevitably, about every SINGLE one, part of me will think, "Yes! Want to do that too!" For instance: in reading about wiki sites and online networks and blogs and so on for this "Learning with Technology" class, I come up with ideas of how to incorporate that into my English teaching curriculum. I think of how a whole UNIT could be shaped around a class wiki site-- students could post daily reflections and build projects within the site. Then however, I work on my "Survey Instructional Strategies" class. I read chapters about Inductive learning and Inquiry Method-- and think, "Yes! That too!" I imagine how I could incorporate those strategies into introducing literature, or making hypotheses about characters. In my head, once again, I've got several lessons planned out, using these methods. Then I work on my "Moral Issues in Education" class and read about instilling values in students, and discussing ethics, and raising deep questions, and leading students to form moral character, and think "Yes! Of course that one, that is IMPORTANT!" Once again, my hypothetical class is suddenly consumed in a flurry of activity: this time, engaging in deep discussions, getting into heated debates about moral issues, and wrestling daily with matters of the heart and soul.

But what actual teacher could manage all these things in one unit, for one class-- in one year?? And what kind of superhuman student could possibly process all the different directions these frenzied activities were taking him or her in?

Of course, some of these different activities can be done simultaneously-- kids can reflect on philosophy and moral quandaries ON a wiki site-- but the basic problem remains. After all: these are just the three classes that I'm working on this QUARTER. If I tried to pack every learning theory and method into my teaching that I've learned through this entire graduate school program (not to mention every other lesson I've ever learned in my life)... I imagine I would end up being astoundingly terrible at teaching. There would be NO time for basic processing.

One of my favorite theatre directors in high-school used to tell us, "Do your homework, and then throw it away." After being cast in a play, we were expected to do extensive script work and character analysis-- forming a character background and history... examining "objectives" behind different lines, and so on. This all was meant to enhance our performance. However, if, every time we were on stage, we were thinking, "Do THIS objective now. Remember the moment of your character's childhood that relates to this line! Make sure you move to the correct place on stage!"--- the performance would inevitably be stilted and jarring. It would be wooden, contrived, forced. Therefore, our teacher told us: "Do your homework... but then throw it away." The idea was to have all these tools at our disposal-- but in the actual performance, we had to just let it go. We had to play it IN the moment, and go with our gut, and our heart, trusting that the work we had done would guide us in the subtle way it needed to.

I conclude-- I think-- that teaching must go the same way. I have learned, at this point, MANY different methods of teaching, all which promise to be effective. This week's inductive and inquiry learning are two more "tools" to add to my teaching arsenal. But I think, after learning all this, what I'll ultimately need to do is "throw it away." I will need to go into my classrooms with open eyes-- I will need to analyze what my students need most, what their responses are to different types of lessons, how they seem to process best, and what teaching method will work best with THIS particular group, to accomplish THIS particular learning objective. I'll need to play it IN the moment, and go with my gut, and my heart. I've done my homework-- and I'll continue to do it. But I think-- in order to really teach effectively-- there comes a point where we need to throw it away.