If there is one distinct interest of my adolescent self that dooms me to eternal nerdom, it would be my love affair with Gene Roddenberry and Star Trek. Not only was I enamoured by the intricate and very philosophical plot lines, the explosive special effects, and the development of deep and approachable characters, like many, the technological possibilities and promises spurred my imagination. Imagine, a replicator that can solve all food shortage issues, an ability to transport oneself instantly from one place to another, faster than light travel, eyes for the blind, android lifeforms, computers capable of interaction by voice command, a tablet that can instantly access the wealth of human knowledge...and there we pause. The last two are no longer science fiction; (and some quantum theorists/experimental physicists claim to be on the verge of transporting matter as well) these are now reality. In the palm of my hand is an interactive computer that can (even by voice command) access the entire digitized human experience. The immense change that this kind of connectivity will create in the world cannot be underestimated. We can call it flattening the world or leveling the playing field, but what it means is an interconnectivity only seen before on science fiction screens. And let's be honest, it scares us. When doctors can operate miles from a patient, when music and writing can be shared and not bought, when creativity is dependent only on the power of the mind and not the locale of the thinker- what does that mean? Where does that leave us?
As an educator, this is a particularly poignant concern and sometimes a paralyzing fear. How should this change the way we prepare the future of the country? What skills will students of the next century need to master to compete in a "flat" worldscape?
Many have attempted to answer this question. There are lists of 21st century skills that seem to dwarf the old industrial age skills. There are calls to focus more on Math and Science, use technology in bold and flamboyant ways, teach creativity in content vacuums, praise originality while condemning emulation, provide intense diversification and choice, and facilitate student investigation in place of being a source of information. Recycled strategies such as the flipped classroom and reciprocal teaching are being dusted off and packaged as new and revolutionary ideas, while teachers with years of experience are often ridiculed and labeled dinosaurs by the younger, more hip crowd.
WAIT!! STOP!!
Let's slow down a minute. Let's think about all of this. What is the iPad, the Smartphone, what are the new Google Glasses (due out in a few years)? They are tools. Dictionary.com is a dictionary. Wikipedia is an encyclopedia. Email, Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, Texting, IMing, Blogging are just digital forms of letter writing/journaling. Connectivity is just faster. This is not new. The train moved people at the blazing speed of 35 mph- some scientists questioned whether the human body could absorb such punishment. The telegraph flashed messages at the speed of electricity- many predicted the end to all need for travel. The first early computers were believed to foretell the end of the secretary (as were the first Blackberries). The guided missile was supposed to eliminate dogfighting, the nuclear weapon was supposed to end all war, the automobile was to replace the need for all rail, etc.,etc.,etc. Throughout history, as technology has changed, the world is supposed to magically transform; all things that were, no longer are; and, we either envision ourselves asking the replicator for Earl Grey Tea to appear from apparent nothingness, or we are fighting the machines that have taken over mankind. But this is not the way it happens.
What should and will technology look like in the classroom? I look back to Roddenberry's vision for inspiration. Despite all the blinking displays, the dilithium crystals, the transporters- there was humanity, moral dilemmas, conflict of ego, problems to be assessed and solved, every episode was underpinned by the classic issues of society and the problems inherent in being human. The tools change, but the mission of the educator remains eerily consistent from the Greek schools of Plato and Aristotle, to the paying field of Eton, to the modern classrooms of today: teach the children to think. Technology is just a mechanical pencil or an electric light. It is a tool. A wonderful tool, no doubt, but it does not change who we are. When Moby Dick is read on an eBook with an instant ability to look at maps of the route, see whale oil lamps, or read first hand accounts of 19th century whalers, does this change Ahab from a man hell-bent on revenge willing to destroy everything for the sake of his vanity, self-pity, and ego? Is the lesson muted or the message scrambled?
Technology should and will become seamless. Instant information will become as natural as instant light, as seamlessly integrated as the wall socket and switch. The fears that plague the technological immigrant are the same fears that gripped the first to watch the Iron Horse or the cowboy hearing an engine growl and tires turn. Yes there will be change, but that is all it will be.
This is not to say that educators should not use technology or should hoist it like a display during a single PBL or public project. It is more that the portable connectivity and integration that these new devices promise should be so integrated into the classroom that they are nothing more than a binder, a notebook, or a text. Technology should not be on display, students and their creations instead (as always) should be highlighted. And teachers should remember that what once worked still can. These devices are just tools to make it faster, better, stronger. But do we still need Math? Do we still need History? Do we still need Literature and Grammar? After all, we can just Google any content we want, right?
I am reminded of a video I watched recently from TED. Bill Richardson was opening his discussion on "bold ideas" to promote us thinking about education. He uses an example of his daughter teaching herself how to "play piano" by watching a YouTube video and learning a song by Journey. And to him this represents the new learning, and the piano teacher who said: "no she isn't ready for that" represents the old way of doing things. The implication being that the old piano teacher has it wrong, and her way doesn't work anymore...because of technology. I cringed. Any artist, any musician, any writer, any creative person worth his salt knows the truism that "one must learn the rules in order to break them." This means something more than simply understanding the basics. To really change, create, invent, etc. a person needs to know the content, understand the connections, filter out the non-essential, pick a problem, and then solve it in a novel way. Technology can aid in that process, but it cannot take the place of the first of its steps. Students must know how and why. They cannot leave content behind. You cannot learn to write without understanding what a noun and verb are and how they work together to form the basic structure of language, even if you can Google Grammar. You cannot learn how to design new programs and algorithms to solve complex problems without knowing how numbers work together and constants and variables play in mathematical formulas, even though you can Google math. You cannot make vast judgements about how best to deal with national economic and political issues without understanding the basic system of government we live under and why we live under it, even though you can Goggle U.S. government.
Content, Knowledge, Morality, and Wisdom are intrinsically related. We are the sum of our experience. We are the progeny of excellent and dynamic personal influences. Great teachers, you are the molders of minds. You are not facilitators. You are not human robots. You are the reason the kids are excited to learn about Math. You are the reason they smile in the halls. You are more important than the tool, whatever it may be. We should not ridicule the old as we embrace the new. We should not dump content for pure process. We should not try to teach creativity in a vacuum. You cannot teach a person to be Mozart or Picasso. You provide the knowledge and the tools; you provide the practice and instruct the skills; and yes, it's okay that the piano teacher said "no, not yet." You can't really learn to play the piano by watching YouTube and emulating some one's hand positions in order to play Journey. It takes years of dedicated rote and deliberate instruction. It is the monster of instruments. It is 88 unforgiving and heartless keys mocking your every attempt to tame them. It is the perfect paradigm of life and education.
Twenty years from now, students will still need to read, to write, to discern, to problem solve, to add and multiply, to present, and most importantly to think. Tablets, devices, interactive eye wear, whatever the tech may be, it will still be a tool. It should be invisible in the classroom. That should be our focus. We so integrate these devices that nobody ever really notices them at all. We simply provide the task, the project, etc. and the focus is not on the tech, but back where it belongs.
Wednesday, January 23, 2013
Monday, January 14, 2013
The Blessings of Free Time
"Get out of the house, and stay out until dinner!"
She never really yelled that at my brother and me, but she had to be louder than Mario or Peewee or whoever else was competing for our attention. This was before late-night high school papers and study fests that would dominate later early evenings had taken control, this was elementary school, this was different. We did have organized activities. We both played sports (but only one a season), we took piano and swim lessons, we were in Cub Scouts and Boy Scouts, and there were birthdays and parties...but there were many afternoons when school was over and nothing was scheduled, nothing was pulling that grey station wagon to another soccer field, or hard-court, or pool. We were told to drop the controller, switch off the TV (wow, they used to actually have switches back then didn't they!), even dog-ear the page and put the book down- it's time to go outside.
We had three places we would usually hang out. Our first choice would be around the house. There were myriad bushes on our property and those of our neighbor that were trimmed and spaced in such a way that they made channels and trenches in which to hide, crawl, or set up ambush. We would often be found dressed in camo and pretending to fight some alien insurgency or a Russian sneak attack. Water guns (including the new and ultra-devastating Super Soaker) were our weapons of choice, followed closely by plastic analogs of favorite rifles and pistols with the orange plastic cap carefully removed or obscured.
When a more removed location was desired, we were off to the "Hidden Hideout:" a small bunch of trees and bushes located in the park by our house inside of which some resident chose to illegally dump his leaves each year. The result was that the inside was vast, hollow, and weedless, carpeted by a soft composting of oak and pecan leaves while the outside gave no indication of the perfect hideout within. We had nailed scrap boards onto the trunk of a hack berry tree and built a rude platform in the crook of a limb from where we could view the lake, the highway, and the approach through the park. On dry days in the fall when the leaves were recently deposited, we could easily tunnel through them making mounds with our backs as we moved, much like when Bugs Bunny would try to find his way to Albuquerque on Saturday mornings.
But by far our favorite hangout was deemed "The Troll Cave." A creek had been diverted by the city for some reason, and a neatly cut channel wound its way through the park yet remained largely dry through much of the year (even during light rain storms). When it cut between a grove of Pecan trees, there was a slight lifting of the terrain, and the creek had cut a few feet deeper into the earth. This was all the start we needed. We dug the bottom out deeper with smuggled garden spades and metal pipe, expanded the back and sides, and then we began the roof. Saving and scouring, we hoarded 2X4s and plywood until we spanned the expanse with a sturdy wooden roof, covered it with the earth we continuously dug from the bottom of the trench, and then topped the structure off with living green turf. We built a small trapdoor on one side that we camouflaged with twigs and dead grass, we cut shelves in the earthen walls to hold our childhood treasures, and we had a weapon or two stockpiled for the treacherous alien or straggling Russian.
Our voyages that combined imagination with reality, that stoked our creativity, that provided novel problems to solve requiring ingenuity and skill- these voyages occurred almost daily. We were observed from a distance, allowed to believe that there was total solitude, and encouraged -no, ordered- to leave the electronics, the novels, the sketch pads, and all the trappings of the typical, late 20th century child behind. Our minds invented new worlds and our hands built them. I've talked with her about those times she'd tell us to get out. About why she did it. About how (in this world) I could possibly do it with my own children. I can't think of anything in my childhood more invaluable than those times. I think about the 21st Century skill students need most when competing across an ever flatter and equal playing field. I wonder if creativity is really engendered during the club soccer game, the ballet practice, or the twenty minutes of car ride in between. I wonder how two hours of homework for a sixth grader could possibly do more for that person's critical thinking development than a couple of hours trying to construct a tree house or an underground fort. Do we want our child to be really good at taking tests and playing an organized sport, or do we want him to be able to invent his own sport or to be able to challenge himself? Surely, like everything, it is a combination of all...but there is one thing for sure. I'll be telling him to get out of the house at times, at least until dinner is ready.
She never really yelled that at my brother and me, but she had to be louder than Mario or Peewee or whoever else was competing for our attention. This was before late-night high school papers and study fests that would dominate later early evenings had taken control, this was elementary school, this was different. We did have organized activities. We both played sports (but only one a season), we took piano and swim lessons, we were in Cub Scouts and Boy Scouts, and there were birthdays and parties...but there were many afternoons when school was over and nothing was scheduled, nothing was pulling that grey station wagon to another soccer field, or hard-court, or pool. We were told to drop the controller, switch off the TV (wow, they used to actually have switches back then didn't they!), even dog-ear the page and put the book down- it's time to go outside.
We had three places we would usually hang out. Our first choice would be around the house. There were myriad bushes on our property and those of our neighbor that were trimmed and spaced in such a way that they made channels and trenches in which to hide, crawl, or set up ambush. We would often be found dressed in camo and pretending to fight some alien insurgency or a Russian sneak attack. Water guns (including the new and ultra-devastating Super Soaker) were our weapons of choice, followed closely by plastic analogs of favorite rifles and pistols with the orange plastic cap carefully removed or obscured.
When a more removed location was desired, we were off to the "Hidden Hideout:" a small bunch of trees and bushes located in the park by our house inside of which some resident chose to illegally dump his leaves each year. The result was that the inside was vast, hollow, and weedless, carpeted by a soft composting of oak and pecan leaves while the outside gave no indication of the perfect hideout within. We had nailed scrap boards onto the trunk of a hack berry tree and built a rude platform in the crook of a limb from where we could view the lake, the highway, and the approach through the park. On dry days in the fall when the leaves were recently deposited, we could easily tunnel through them making mounds with our backs as we moved, much like when Bugs Bunny would try to find his way to Albuquerque on Saturday mornings.
But by far our favorite hangout was deemed "The Troll Cave." A creek had been diverted by the city for some reason, and a neatly cut channel wound its way through the park yet remained largely dry through much of the year (even during light rain storms). When it cut between a grove of Pecan trees, there was a slight lifting of the terrain, and the creek had cut a few feet deeper into the earth. This was all the start we needed. We dug the bottom out deeper with smuggled garden spades and metal pipe, expanded the back and sides, and then we began the roof. Saving and scouring, we hoarded 2X4s and plywood until we spanned the expanse with a sturdy wooden roof, covered it with the earth we continuously dug from the bottom of the trench, and then topped the structure off with living green turf. We built a small trapdoor on one side that we camouflaged with twigs and dead grass, we cut shelves in the earthen walls to hold our childhood treasures, and we had a weapon or two stockpiled for the treacherous alien or straggling Russian.
Our voyages that combined imagination with reality, that stoked our creativity, that provided novel problems to solve requiring ingenuity and skill- these voyages occurred almost daily. We were observed from a distance, allowed to believe that there was total solitude, and encouraged -no, ordered- to leave the electronics, the novels, the sketch pads, and all the trappings of the typical, late 20th century child behind. Our minds invented new worlds and our hands built them. I've talked with her about those times she'd tell us to get out. About why she did it. About how (in this world) I could possibly do it with my own children. I can't think of anything in my childhood more invaluable than those times. I think about the 21st Century skill students need most when competing across an ever flatter and equal playing field. I wonder if creativity is really engendered during the club soccer game, the ballet practice, or the twenty minutes of car ride in between. I wonder how two hours of homework for a sixth grader could possibly do more for that person's critical thinking development than a couple of hours trying to construct a tree house or an underground fort. Do we want our child to be really good at taking tests and playing an organized sport, or do we want him to be able to invent his own sport or to be able to challenge himself? Surely, like everything, it is a combination of all...but there is one thing for sure. I'll be telling him to get out of the house at times, at least until dinner is ready.
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