Let's Remember Who We Are Teaching...

Tomorrow, we end our second graduate course. And tomorrow, for two of my classes, after they complete their exams, I will say "Good-bye." These are students I have had for two years. Perhaps I should add here that they are no longer my students -- not because they have finished their work for my class -- but because, after having spent two years together, they are no longer my students. They're my kids. I know that, in this era, it may be the politically-incorrect thing to say. I don't care. It just may be that in this climate where we don't want to show others that we care about our students-- why? -- because it may be misconstrued, we need to do just that.
Recently, I found a YouTube video that underscores the powerful roles of teachers upon their students - how students can "Learn Helplessness." In a poem that I wrote for my students, I expressed my concern for comments I may have made that may have hurt I students I have taught. Who can say, after all, the impact words can have on another?
Many years ago, my grandmother died. At the time, I worked in a restaurant where I worked as a manager. I didn't attend the funeral. The owner was away, and I felt I had to work. It was my responsiblity. Ever since, every time I see that picture of my family at that funeral -- that is, of everyone except me -- I am reminded of what really matters in life: family. I vowed to myself never to let that mistake happen again.
And yet, few years ago, I was recognized as "Teacher-of-the-Year." I attended a lucheon with others who were recognized. I wondered who they were and what made them great teachers. I didn't know any of them, and didn't really care to. In the back of my mind, I thought of my kids, who were at the Activity Day picnic I would miss. Subsequently, I realized that the people I was spending my time with were meaningless to me -- not because they were not good people -- but because they were not important in my life. And the ones I should have been with, I wasn't. History, sadly, had repeated itself!
Tomorrow, I say "Good-bye" to kids I have had for two years. Tonight, I have more work that I can do for my graduate course. My work for this course, I feel, is inadequate. It does not meet my standards. That, however, does not define me. I can do better -- indeed, I know I will. Tomorrow, some of my kids will be leaving me. I need to get some rest.

As We Head for the FINISH!

Tuesday, June 7th.  It's 5:00 AM.  Toward the east the day brightens, nearly sunrise.  I love this time of year.  The days are getting longer and warmer as we near summer break.  And yet, with one week remaining in our second graduate course, I am aware of all I have yet to do.  Endless strings to pull together to stitch up the products I've been working on.  In education, we frequently hear the term "learning styles" bandied about.  What we hear less frequently is "working styles."  Over the years I have come to realize my working style: it's a mess that all seems to come together in the end.  Whether it's writing I produce or a lip-sync production with umpteen million kids for Competition Day at school, it always looks like a train wreck until it pulls into the station.  This is comforting to know since, six days away from the end, my work looks as if it will never end.  With all this technology, I envision making popcorn -- old-school style, where you'd have to wait for the oil to heat first, then the kernels of popcorn to reach that magic temperature, then "BANG" -- popcorn's there!  My creative process works similarly.  There's a gestation period where my ideas "hang out" before somehow taking shape and form.  Most of my best pieces of writing I've written overnight...and usually the night before they were due.  This was true of a eulogy I wrote for a colleague who passed away as well as a reflection I wrote on one of my students who died tragically.  Now 5:55 and there it is:  the sun!  Time to get ready for school, six days to go, time to go!

One Small Step for Man?

As I reflect upon the history of instructional technology and all that I have learned in my research for our MAITS presentation, I realize just how incredibly our world has changed in such a short time -- from the launching of Sputnik in 1957 and the start of the "Space Race" to our landing of men on the moon and Neil Armstrong's historic words, "One small step for man, one giant leap for mankind." Perhaps more unbelievable yet unnoticed is how much more technology has advanced since that time. Indeed, it is hard to imagine that the computers that drove the powerful rockets of our early space program had the power of a hand-held calculator today. The so-called smart phones that are quickly becoming ubiquitous have certainly brought the world to our finger tips. Last week, Austin Whitney took historic steps of his own at his graduation from Berkeley -- not because of any learning disability, mind you, but because Austin was paralyzed in a car accident in 2007. By drinking and driving, Austin played a significant role in his own accident; however, Austin also recognized the pain he caused to those who loved him and resolved to make something good out of this tragedy. Such happened last week as Austin walked the stage to receive his diploma using an "exoskeleton" to support him while he walked. The distant walk of Neil Armstrong on the moon in 1969 and the recent walk of Austin Whitney before his friends and family last week reveals the wonders that technology offers and serve as reminders of the phrase, "Where there's a will, there's a way."

Tech-Know? Or Tech-No?

Back to school (or is it "schools"?) after spring break, and among the many things going on in school, I had the pleasure of seeing the Mayhem Poets, a group of three former Rutgers students who formed a traveling group of rap poets, perform for several teams of middle school students this past week.  One of the performers named Mason performed Tech-Know, which I thought was timely and appropriate for our times and our class.  You have to wait for it, but Mason ends his poem on technology with an interesting insight about the technology of our day:  it all boils down to what we do with it!

Deep Blue? Sad or Mad or Glad...

It's a beautiful day this Easter -- sunny and warm!  And I finally feel that I am grabbing hold of the hardware aspects of technology.  Amidst the nice weather, I am acclimating myself to my new iPhone, which I have tethered as a "hot spot" to my new Mac Pro, and which I can now use for the purpose I bought it for, what, two months ago:  to access the Internet.  And, yes, I have busied myself downloading new Apps (I never thought I'd do that) and all that other rigamarole.  Pretty cool.  I know, for many of you this is not-too-new.  Let me enjoy my epiphany and the excitement.  I casually Skyped with cohort Sue the other day -- I've never held a conversation with my computer screen before (my family thought I had finally and truly lost it) -- at least where it talked back to me.  (My other conversations were monologues directed one-way with a varied sort of profanity during "trying moments."  Anyway, just as a plane needs speed to create "lift" to fly, I feel that I am slowly getting up to speed in my own sweet time.  As I've said, pretty cool.
I've included a link to Deep Blue's victory over chess master Gary Kasparov.  I think of it as a son finally beating his dad at a game of hoops in the driveway -- the moment when the created defeats the creator.  There is something disturbing about a competitor you, for all intents and purposes, cannot see.  Anyway, Kasparov held up well given the massive computing power of Deep Blue, though he did seem fairly steamed and frustrated after conceding defeat.  Nevertheless, I thought it important that they stressed that Kasparov was really competing against of team -- comprised of some of the most brilliant minds, that being the team of programmers and designers of Deep Blue.  As we journey into our exploration of Instructional Technology, I feel it is important that we are mindful that with all of this theory and technology that has emerged and will continue to emerge, we have to keep in mind that it all boils down to what we do with it, how we employ usefully and artfully, and that pivots largely upon one important factor:  teachers.

The Road Not Taken

My path down Instructional Technology Lane brings to mind Robert Frost's classic poem "The Road Not Taken," in which two roads diverge in a yellow wood and the narrator must choose between them.  My decision to join MAITS was a last minute one -- I tend to get bogged down with schoolwork during the school year -- and I nearly opted out; however, I "hopped aboard as the doors were closing," and I'm glad to being "going for the ride."  I just finished reading and teaching Mitch Albom's The Five People You Meet in Heaven, and one of the more important underlying themes in the story is how small events and seemingly meaningless decisions and actions can alter one's life significantly and even the future, too.  This seems to be the case here, as well, with my going back to school.  My instruction will be revitalized, I think, and made current, perhaps even leading edge.  ( I can hope, at least.) Some educators may fear change; I embrace it, as long as I feel it benefits my teaching.  That decision to take the path less traveled was a last minute one, but, as Frost says in his poem, "that has made all the difference." (You can click on the picture to see the poem!)

Just follow the yellow brick road...

When I decided to join the MAITS graduate program and continue my education by learning about instructional technology, I soon realized that "continuing" was not the most accurate word, maybe not even in-the-ballpark accurate to describe what I would be learning.  When I was asked that first day of class what Web 2.0 tools I was familiar with, I answered, "Absolutely none," and I soon realized that what I was learning was, indeed, all new to me.  Simply said, I was learning in the fullest and most genuine sense of the word.  And it occurred to me that, like Dorothy in The Wizard of Oz who remarks in wonder to her new, colorful world, "We're not in Kansas anymore," the virtual world beyond my classroom was wide and wonderful and a tad bit overwhelming, too.  However, with that worry comes wonder, and, despite being a little overwhelmed with trying to absorb new knowledge and pondering what else is out there in cyber-land, I was able to acquire proficiency with some new Web 2.0 tools and even incorporate several of these into my present teaching -- for the betterment of both teacher and students.  I was a student again, and learning.  And learning is cool -- even for old teachers!  Our first day of our next class was, perhaps, deja-vu.  What is this?  I don't know that.  How can I do that if I don't know what this or that is?  The answer is simple:  I'll learn.  So, let's get started!  (And by the way, I am on vacation and in New Orleans right now -- did I mention how the world has changed?!)