18 December 2019

Stolen Life Lesson: (1) Be There!


I was told at the beginning of my teaching career that an educator is only as good as he or she steals. I like to think of it now as community collaboration. Feel free to collaborate with me any time you want. Just remember to give credit where credit is due. As our class mantra went for my final year in the public classroom, “Own it.” If it’s not yours, cite it. 

Today I am stealing a list from Roxanna Elden’s book See Me After Class: Advice for Teachers by Teachers. It is entitled “Ten Principles of Successful Living We All Hope Students Learn from Us.” A long title but worth the read. Last term I shared it with a few sections of composition students as a writing prompt, and the ensuing discussion (not necessarily about composing) was somewhat enlightening for all parties involved. So…I am going to share them here and probably discuss one or two of them over the next little while, adding my own two or three cents worth of insight or hindsight or sight beyond sight for whatever it is worth. 

First, here is the list:

Ten Principles of Successful Living We All Hope Students Learn from Us
1.       Be where you’re supposed to be, on time and prepared.
2.       Follow all steps of directions.
3.       Think for yourself, and do the right thing even when no one is watching.
4.       Think about the future and how your present actions affect it.
5.       Take responsibility for your decisions.
6.       Search for solutions instead of complaining about problems.
7.       Show respect and expect respect back.
8.       Present yourself as an intelligent person.
9.       Produce a finished product that won’t need any explaining.
10.   Put more into the world than you take out.

Now that you have the entire list, I think I am going to break these down one point at a time with examples and non-examples of students, colleagues, friends, and many people generally winning (or not) at life.
                Warning: most of this will probably have an educational slant to it, but I guess that’s what I do, right?
                Let’s begin. Somewhat disjointed rant numero uno:

1.       Be where you’re supposed to be, on time and prepared.

Students need to be in class—on time and on task. Attendance breeds opportunities to learn. If not present, the same opportunities are not available. Yes, you can gain information and knowledge through self-study or observation or reading; however, an absent student misses discussions and social connections—critical elements of constructing meaning and learning. (See Dewey, Vygotsky, Bruner, Piaget, etc.) The interaction and application of said acquired knowledge cannot be replicated in the same way when a student is absent either physically or mentally.
                I have a student (at the university) who never attends class. He submits work online, but he is prone to all the pitfalls students who attend class avoid because we work together to succeed at the assignments and the learning. He, unfortunately, has chosen to shun the class and attempt everything on his own. Now, he is smart, but he does not know everything. Besides missing the attendance/participation part of his grade, me misses what we struggle through collectively as a class. He misses the comradery and collaborative community that we construct. He is not present to receive advice or encouragement from me or from his classmates, and it takes longer for him to catch up to where we are.
                Granted, the Fitness for Life class I took my sophomore year at Ricks College was different. The academic environment geared itself toward individual learning and testing. It was not a collaborative environment at all. To earn my grade, I just had to read the textbook and show up at the track when we ran the mile and at the testing center on occasion. The lecture had nothing to do with the grade or the learning. It was simply a lecture. (I got a B+ and only went to class three times that semester.) However, I believe this type of education is on its way out the door, especially in public schools. This is now the exception and not the rule.
Online education has its place, but it is an alternative to meet the needs of self-motivated learners. I have taught online courses both at the high school and the university level, and I will only say that these deliveries are not for everyone. If a student cannot motivate himself in an isolated setting, it will not go well for him. Even in these digital environments, interaction with an instructor and classmates increases and augments the learning. I will say it once more: you can only get so far in educating yourself.
                Showing up physically can only get you so far, though. You must be mentally present as well. Teachers know all too well that a student will never learn how to implement the quadratic equation or correct grammar in her writing if she is thinking about the cure boy sitting in front of her, or the drama call-backs after school, or the zit on her chin, or whether or not her dad will ever come back.
                There are so many possible distractions these days, especially with smartphones in almost every pocket. And I could rant on, but I digress for sake of your time and sanity. I also do not need to air all my laundry regarding student attendance. Regardless of the delivery method, the course, or the peers involved, attendance is mandatory for maximum learning.

Stay tuned for the next installment. It may come sooner than you think.


05 December 2019

I Love Technology?


I always find “Touchscreen” by Marshall Davis (Soulful) Jones to be timely, even though technology keeps changing at a rate that leaves me standing on the curb thumbing for a ride. I willingly acknowledge that I am a digital immigrant. Despite my nerdy desire to program computers back in sixth grade, not much tech comes naturally to me. Just ask my own children or my students. However, lately, I am not quite sure if I want anyone speeding down the digital freeway to stop and give me a lift into the future.
(Taken from redbubble.com)
This is not a tech-bashing post. I readily acknowledge the plethora of benefits that come from advancing technology. I enjoy the advances I have seen in my lifetime, but I’m no Kip Dynamite, either.

Over the past few terms, I have noticed more and more how isolated my students have become. Not that they travel as lone wolves or anything; they are just distant—from each other and from the world around them. Before and after class they sit zombified, staring at the small screens in their hands—most of them absent-mindedly scrolling through unfiltered garbage—instead of talking to each other.
On occasion they break out of their self-induced comas when I ask a direct question. But as soon as my initial engagement (be it joke, sports commentary, food experience, or homework reminder) draws to a natural pause, they disengage from me and flee from the faces in front of them, retreating back to their notifications and memes. They snap senseless ceiling shots simply to maintain a streak with someone they haven’t actually spoken to face to face in months or even years.
It reminds me of the mentality of the monster Cy-Bug things from the movie Wreck It Ralph:
(Taken from disney.fandom.com)
when prompted or focused they are almost unstoppable, but when the beacon of brainless light switches on, they relapse into a drone-like state, oblivious to their environment and even to themselves sometimes. These generic, mindless entities all cry out silently, together, “Look at me! I’m part of the crowd.” And the sheep wander down the hall as a pack, bumping and touching one another but not in touch with each other. I’m not even going to get into how many things Ralph’s sequel accurately depicts about our cyber society.
Recently I came across an article called “A Silent Tragedy” written by Dr. Luis Rojas Marcos, which The Educator’s Room posted to their Facebook page on November 11, 2019. I have read several similar studies regarding the effects of a screen-focused culture. You can check it out for yourself.
When I liked their page, I found another piece entitled “The Death of Reflection in English/Language Arts Classrooms,” and I almost cried. It voiced a few of the exact thoughts I had been having as of late, looking at some of the assignments my own children bring home. It also made me reflect on a previous observation of mine during a filed trip I chaperoned many years ago. Happily, the school situation is not as dire as some people think. Creativity has not completely keeled over in schools. I was a personal witness for two decades. We still have great teachers out there who engage students, who actually want them to think for themselves. The trick now seems to be getting them to surrender their portable think-for-me machines for a long enough  period of time to make a difference.
“But that’s what our society is like now” some might argue. “We could never give up our phones or tablets or computers.” And some might agree with that. I fought how to ban or manage or integrate smart phones and other tech in the classroom regularly.
A comment from my cousin Michelle, who teaches middle school in Salt Lake City, gives me some hope:
“This year at our school we have enforced an absolute ban on phones during school hours. The first two weeks were rough. Now, we have zero phones to deal with and the behavior is markedly different. I don't think it's the ONLY factor in the improved behavior at our school, but certainly it's a factor. Bullying is down, fights are down, friendships and positive relationships are up. Kids are having face to face, real time interactions.”
              And I think that’s what I am really concerned about—relationships, real time interaction. As members of the human race, we are not meant to live in isolation; we are here on this planet to be social beings (Yes, even we introverts!), to interact with each other, to teach and learn and experience life. It’s not how many likes to get; rather how many lives you touch.
I’d like to rant a little longer, but I should take my own advice and go do something with real people instead of sitting behind the computer in my office.

I'll check back in a while to see some of your thoughts about technology and learning and relationships or anything else I rambled about in this hurried post.



01 November 2019

Back from the Dead (Halloween Hater)

Like a zombie from the crypt, this blog--dead or undead--has new life breathed back into it. It's part of my efforts to get back to writing more frequently. So how should I start it off? With a little personal narrative ramble, of course.


For the record, Halloween has never been my favorite holiday…even as a kid. I didn’t really get into jump scares or monsters. Truthfully, on the whole, the horror/slasher genre of lit and film bores me. Suspense, I like, but for me, horror involves no real fright—just frustration and consternation at how demented people invent such stories. The gross-out factor didn’t even make me gag (much). And yes, I tried haunted houses and corn mazes as a teen and as an adult, but they didn’t do anything for me either. Maybe I’m concerned that people actually enjoy these “scary” things. To me they aren’t scary, just lame.
Dressing up in a costume never did anything for me either. I simply don’t enjoy it much. Sure, I dressed up as the obligatory superhero or clown or vampire (I believe those were the only personas I donned for trick-or-treating or class parties.), but I didn’t really get into it. Too much work for so little return.
                The only payoff for me was the candy. And I only ransacked the neighborhood until I was ten. My parents had a rule that trick-or-treating was done after you turned twelve. I ended early, opting at age eleven to drag my younger siblings around, and by the time I hit twelve, I opted to stay home to answer the door and sugar-load the roaming hordes of diaper-sagging Supermen, pillowcase-toting Princess Leias, and demons nearing diabetic comas.
                My last year of candy retrieval we lived in military housing in Japan. I was a vampire (again): white Sunday shirt, dark Sunday slacks and shoes, a plastic bargain bin cape and false teeth that Mom had grabbed at the base exchange. No makeup. I have no clue what my brothers wore.
Dad escorted us around some familiar blocks, and I grew impatient. My younger brothers lagging behind—Marc stopping to examine his haul after each house and David was just tired. We were coming near the end of the night (Trick-or-treating was only allowed on base from 1800-2000 hours.), and I still wanted more candy. As long as we were out, it needed to be worth my time, right?
The homes were all your standard, military four-plexes, and the blocks consisted of sets of two buildings facing each other with a parking spaces between them. Each set meant eight doors to knock. Eight treats. However, the two four-plexes we approached all looked dark. Dad wanted to move past them and head for home. I wanted candy. I was out here going through the motions, wasn’t I? Maybe David’s fussing wore on his patience, or maybe I was an impertinent little ten-year-old, but somehow I convinced Dad to let me try the darkened complex anyway. The three of them moved on, and I was allowed to continue by myself.
So I ventured to the first door alone.
Nothing.
I went to the next. Again, nothing.
The third, fourth, fifth, sixth, and seventh doors all remained shut.
At the eighth and final stop, frustration started creeping in, and I felt like an idiot for wasting my time with the darkened doors. Despite the blackened windows, my stubbornness knocked anyway. As I stood with my foot tapping, tapping at the concrete floor, I heard but silence, nothing more. Yet once again I started rapping, rapping at the darkened door, wanting candy, nothing more.
When I was about to admit defeat, the porch light flicked on burning my vampire eyes, and the door opened.
“Hey, kid.” A man in a ratty Chicago Bears T-shirt and sweats stood before me, beer in hand.
“Hey,” I responded.
“We haven’t had anyone come by tonight. Probably because the light was off, huh?”
I didn’t know what to say. Fortunately, he saved my caught-in-the-porchlight dumbfoundedness by turning, setting down his bottle, and picking up a large Tupperware bowl, hundreds of Tootsie Rolls heaped above the rim.
“So, uh, why don’t you just take the whole thing?” he proffered. “Then I can turn my light off and go to bed.”
Before I could speak, sweet, chewy goodness spilled out of the bowl, into my plastic pumpkin, and onto the ground.
Caught in a trance, I mumbled a thank you, and the door closed. The light went out. I scurried about, collecting as many more Tootsies that I could stuff into my pockets. Persistence paid off that night. But that was the end of the story—no more trick-or-treating for this kid.
I figured that my siblings would always bring home candy. And if I really wanted some cavities that badly, I could buy my own sugar. It always went on sale on November 1st anyway (as long as it wasn’t candy canes or Chocolate Santas). In high school I even sold Halloween surplus out of my locker for a while, which for me, was much more beneficial than sweating through makeup or a freezing in a cracking plastic suit while hiking from house to house.

 (from http://www.disneyfilmproject.com/2009/06/skeleton-dance.html)
What? This from a guy who enjoys writing zombie haiku? I know. It’s weird. Don’t get me wrong. I’m not an absolute hater. Garfield, the Great Pumpkin, and the Headless Horseman all make regular appearances. And I’ve been known to set up a spook alley or design the occasional Viking shield, false bloody knife, or other costume accouterments. One of my favorite cartoons of all time remains Disney’s Silly Symphony “The Skeleton Dance.” When I was younger, I enjoyed helping my younger siblings create homemade decorations. One of our favorites included constructing haunted houses with working windows and doors out of construction paper. Sounds like I might (hypocritically) enjoy Halloween. Nope. I love when others enjoy Halloween. All the effort is for the kids. It does nothing for me. 


 




18 April 2019

Back with Poem in Your Pocket Day 2019!

So, those of you who noticed my nasty case of blog neglect and figured that I would forget Poem in Your Pocket Day were sorely mistaken. Yes, I am a self-proclaimed slacker, but I'm still here to ramp up the poetry madness, y'all!

 First, if you are not familiar with Poem in My Pocket Day, here are the rules:

1. Find a copy of your favorite poem...or at least one that you like...or has touched you recently...or whatever. Digital is fine, but it's more human if you print a copy or transcribe it by hand.

2. Carry it around in your pocket (at the ready) all day. You shouldn't have to search for it on your phone every time you pull it out.

3. Share your chosen poem with people throughout the day.

4. Relish the poetry of this world!

Now because I probably won't see all of you today, here is my poem for today. This year I chose to honor the late Mary Oliver, a poet I have read more extensively of late. I planned a longer blog post around this poem, and I may yet do it, but for now, here it is:

“What We Want”
(Taken from https://www.facebook.com/PoetMaryOliver/photos/)

In a poem
people want
something fancy,

but even more
they want something
inexplicable
made plain,

easy to swallow—
not unlike a suddenly
harmonic passage

in an otherwise
difficult and sometimes dissonant
symphony—

even if it is only
for the moment
of hearing it.

Now do me a favor: take time for poetry today and share with me as well. Post your poem in the comments here or via social media somewhere (#pocketpoem), or send me a message if I won't see you face to face. Happy Poem in Your Pocket day!


I think I'll post a little writing every so often...some polished...some rough. And I welcome any comments or criticisms or cupcakes you care to throw my way.