I visited an elementary school today.
An elementary school that will go unnamed in a community that I will not identify other than to say it is in one of the most economically challenged communities in the country.
I was at the school to meet with a kindergarten teacher. A beautiful human being this teacher; a living, walking testament to all that is good and noble about public education. Her classroom is overcrowded and yet she starts every day by addressing each student by name, looking them in the eyes and cheerfully saying "good morning." She ties shoes, wipes noses and tucks in shirts. Although many of her students come from families that are poor, some almost destitute, she refuses to compromise her standards; she expects her students to pay attention, to be polite, to remain on task and to complete their homework (yes, homework!) each and every day. She expects her classroom to be a place of learning. She pushes, but with kindness. She encourages, without ever, to my knowledge, being condescending.
But more than that, she treats her children as though they are someone. In a place of so much despair and so few role models, in a place where so much says to these children, both explicitly and implicitly, you're nothing...you'll never amount to anything, she regards each and every child as precious.
And that means something.
Her name is Ms. "G."
Ms. G has, on more than one occasion, gone into her own pocket to buy resources for her classroom. Books on tape, tape recorders, used books, pencils and pens, posters for the wall, decorations for her classroom....basic things, simple things. Things she should not have to buy. But she does. She wants to make her classroom as personal and as appealing as possible. She wants to make school fun and engaging for these children. For her, this isn't just a job; its almost a moral imperative. "If we don't get to these kids now, we'll lose them," she once told me. "Mike, when a lot of these kids start school, they can't write their own names. They don't recognize letters or colors. They're loved but they're just not prepared. They need so much but often get so little."
But when we talk, she's never downbeat. I can sometimes tell she's a bit tired, and I can certainly see the impact of time; of a lifetime spent in the service of children other than her own. Her face is deeply lined and wrinkled, she looks older than her years and her hair almost completely gray. But her eyes shine. Her spirit seems undiminished. She remains hopeful.
She still believes, as much now than ever before, in the value of education.
But she also knows that something must change. She knows that we can't teach children today the same way she was taught. She doesn't claim to understand exactly what I'm doing, or how technology should be used in the classroom, but she supports my efforts.
"It's a new day," she said. "A new time."
Yes it is.
A new time that requires new tools.
But as I feel my way through this new life--my life as an education technology advocate--I find that this journey is taking unexpected twists and turns. It has certainly, if nothing else, been an organic process. When I started down this road just over two years ago, I was so impassioned about the transformative power of technology that I titled my first white paper "1-to-1." I didn't think that technology should simply be present in our classrooms, I thought that every student in every school should have 1-to-1 access to technology.
I so clearly remember attending NECC for the first time. It was stunning. I remember being astounded by the dizzying array of educational applications for laptops and whiteboards, document cameras and interactive educational software. I was inspired by a speech by Bruce Dixon. I was touched by Tim Tyson's stories about the incredible movies produced by his 6th grade students. I got to shake Gary Stager's hand! It was as though I'd stumbled upon a whole new universe, a universe existing within the shadows of my existing reality; a universe of infinite possibility powered by these extraordinary tools.
It was as though a veil had been lifted and I saw Oz in technicolor for the first time.
Two years later, I still believe in that universe of infinite possibility. I still believe in the transformative power of technology. I still believe that every child in every school in every school district, whether large or small, rich or poor, should have ubiquitous access to these extraordinary learning tools. Technology is to the 21st century what books were to the 20th century and the printing press was to the 19th century. But I find, as I move forward, my focus has shifted, perhaps softened, a bit. It is now a journey tempered between embracing the transformative power of technology and recognizing the transformative power of people.
Because that's where it all begins.
With people.
With teachers.
And with the simple act of caring.
School should be the great equalizer. Irrespective of where you live, who you are, your background, religion, race or culture, you should, in America, be able to attend the school of your choice and know that you will receive an education that will equip you to compete and succeed in the world as it exists now.
That, as so eloquently written by Thomas Wolfe, "is the promise of America."
And that, I think, is the ultimate power of technology.
The technology that we have at our disposal right now, technology that anyone can purchase or lease at virtually any electronics store, has the power to render time and space irrelevant. It allows children from every part of the globe to rise above everything they know and to access the sum of all human knowledge anywhere, anyplace, anytime. It makes direct and unobstructed access to facts and information, once the province of the few, the right of the many. That has power. So forget about whether you're tech savvy or not. Forget about whether you like technology or not. Forget about whether you're old school or new school, democrat or republican, mac or pc. No other learning tool in the course of human history, not books, not the printing press, not radio, not television, can make the same claim.
So what should we be debating?
We can certainly debate how technology should be used in our schools. We can certainly debate when technology should be used in our schools. What we should not be debating at this point in our nation's history is if technology should used in our schools. The world has changed, we're not going back, and as fondly as I remember pounding out term papers on my old IBM select typewriter and fax machines that used thermal paper, I wouldn't try and open a business with one.
So to everyone, and I do mean everyone, debating the need for 21st century tools in 21st century schools, I once again extend a challenge. Quit your job. Open a business. And try to pay your mortgage for one full year using only the tools found in most inner city public school classrooms. I'm not trying to sound harsh or unfair, but I think if you're being intellectually honest, many of us, including me, would have to say, "I can't do it. I don't have the tools."
Exactly.
Neither do they.
The difference is that our students can't do anything it.
But we can.
In School That Learn, MIT educator and best-selling author Peter Senge writes:
So why are we here? Why do we fight this fight? Why do we make the case for technology? For change? For School 2.0?
The point of technology integration isn't about technology any more than investing in textbooks is about books. It's not about the product, it's about the purpose. It's about pushing away from a pedagogy that focuses on "knowing" and the rote repetition and regurgitation of facts to a thinking pedagogy that focuses on understanding, comprehension, communication and the ability to apply information and data in real world contexts. Knowing "what" electricity is, for example, or being able to identify its elements for a standardized test, is one thing. Understanding how it works has led to advances and innovations in science, medicine and technology that have forever reshaped and redefined every facet of our world.
In A Whole New Mind, author Dank Pink writes: “The last few decades have belonged to a certain kind of person with a certain kind of mind–computer programmers who could crank code, lawyers who could craft contracts, MBA's who could crunch numbers. But the keys to the kingdom are changing hands. The future belongs to a very different kind of person with a very different kind of mind–creators and empathizers, pattern recognizers and meaning makers. These people—artists, inventors, designers, storytellers, caregivers, consolers, big picture thinkers—will now reap society’s richest rewards and share its greatest joys.”
Now I know there are some who debunk the importance of Dan Pink's "soft" right brain skills. I am also away of pedagogues who dismiss the idea that critical thinking and analytical skills can be developed independent of specific course content. I say let the pedagogues debate. But it's 2009 and long past time that we got beyond the second level of Bloom Taxomony. Because in the age of information technology, the "Digital Age," it doesn't really matter what you know. Memorizing facts is not a terribly marketable skill. What's needed is the ability to find, make sense of, and use relevant information for specific purposes. What's needed is the capacity for lifelong learning. What's needed is a 21st century pedagogy for 21st century schools and, like it or not, technology is a critical component of that pedagogy.
So, to quote the Morgan Freeman character from the Shawshank Redemption, "We can get busy living or get busy dying." I choose life. I choose hope.
I choose change.
But I promise, I won't forget you Ms. G. Because the educational foundation upon which we all stand was built by people like you.
No computer, no matter how fast, will ever replace you.
But maybe, just maybe, 21st century tools in the hands of 21st century teachers will help the next generation of Ms. G's do their jobs, and reach their students, just a little bit better.
So I dedicate my efforts to you.
To Ms. G and to Ms. G's everywhere who are fighting the good fight for the hearts and minds of our children.
An elementary school that will go unnamed in a community that I will not identify other than to say it is in one of the most economically challenged communities in the country.
I was at the school to meet with a kindergarten teacher. A beautiful human being this teacher; a living, walking testament to all that is good and noble about public education. Her classroom is overcrowded and yet she starts every day by addressing each student by name, looking them in the eyes and cheerfully saying "good morning." She ties shoes, wipes noses and tucks in shirts. Although many of her students come from families that are poor, some almost destitute, she refuses to compromise her standards; she expects her students to pay attention, to be polite, to remain on task and to complete their homework (yes, homework!) each and every day. She expects her classroom to be a place of learning. She pushes, but with kindness. She encourages, without ever, to my knowledge, being condescending.
But more than that, she treats her children as though they are someone. In a place of so much despair and so few role models, in a place where so much says to these children, both explicitly and implicitly, you're nothing...you'll never amount to anything, she regards each and every child as precious.
And that means something.
Her name is Ms. "G."
Ms. G has, on more than one occasion, gone into her own pocket to buy resources for her classroom. Books on tape, tape recorders, used books, pencils and pens, posters for the wall, decorations for her classroom....basic things, simple things. Things she should not have to buy. But she does. She wants to make her classroom as personal and as appealing as possible. She wants to make school fun and engaging for these children. For her, this isn't just a job; its almost a moral imperative. "If we don't get to these kids now, we'll lose them," she once told me. "Mike, when a lot of these kids start school, they can't write their own names. They don't recognize letters or colors. They're loved but they're just not prepared. They need so much but often get so little."
But when we talk, she's never downbeat. I can sometimes tell she's a bit tired, and I can certainly see the impact of time; of a lifetime spent in the service of children other than her own. Her face is deeply lined and wrinkled, she looks older than her years and her hair almost completely gray. But her eyes shine. Her spirit seems undiminished. She remains hopeful.
She still believes, as much now than ever before, in the value of education.
But she also knows that something must change. She knows that we can't teach children today the same way she was taught. She doesn't claim to understand exactly what I'm doing, or how technology should be used in the classroom, but she supports my efforts.
"It's a new day," she said. "A new time."
Yes it is.
A new time that requires new tools.
But as I feel my way through this new life--my life as an education technology advocate--I find that this journey is taking unexpected twists and turns. It has certainly, if nothing else, been an organic process. When I started down this road just over two years ago, I was so impassioned about the transformative power of technology that I titled my first white paper "1-to-1." I didn't think that technology should simply be present in our classrooms, I thought that every student in every school should have 1-to-1 access to technology.
I so clearly remember attending NECC for the first time. It was stunning. I remember being astounded by the dizzying array of educational applications for laptops and whiteboards, document cameras and interactive educational software. I was inspired by a speech by Bruce Dixon. I was touched by Tim Tyson's stories about the incredible movies produced by his 6th grade students. I got to shake Gary Stager's hand! It was as though I'd stumbled upon a whole new universe, a universe existing within the shadows of my existing reality; a universe of infinite possibility powered by these extraordinary tools.
It was as though a veil had been lifted and I saw Oz in technicolor for the first time.
Two years later, I still believe in that universe of infinite possibility. I still believe in the transformative power of technology. I still believe that every child in every school in every school district, whether large or small, rich or poor, should have ubiquitous access to these extraordinary learning tools. Technology is to the 21st century what books were to the 20th century and the printing press was to the 19th century. But I find, as I move forward, my focus has shifted, perhaps softened, a bit. It is now a journey tempered between embracing the transformative power of technology and recognizing the transformative power of people.
Because that's where it all begins.
With people.
With teachers.
And with the simple act of caring.
School should be the great equalizer. Irrespective of where you live, who you are, your background, religion, race or culture, you should, in America, be able to attend the school of your choice and know that you will receive an education that will equip you to compete and succeed in the world as it exists now.
That, as so eloquently written by Thomas Wolfe, "is the promise of America."
And that, I think, is the ultimate power of technology.
The technology that we have at our disposal right now, technology that anyone can purchase or lease at virtually any electronics store, has the power to render time and space irrelevant. It allows children from every part of the globe to rise above everything they know and to access the sum of all human knowledge anywhere, anyplace, anytime. It makes direct and unobstructed access to facts and information, once the province of the few, the right of the many. That has power. So forget about whether you're tech savvy or not. Forget about whether you like technology or not. Forget about whether you're old school or new school, democrat or republican, mac or pc. No other learning tool in the course of human history, not books, not the printing press, not radio, not television, can make the same claim.
So what should we be debating?
We can certainly debate how technology should be used in our schools. We can certainly debate when technology should be used in our schools. What we should not be debating at this point in our nation's history is if technology should used in our schools. The world has changed, we're not going back, and as fondly as I remember pounding out term papers on my old IBM select typewriter and fax machines that used thermal paper, I wouldn't try and open a business with one.
So to everyone, and I do mean everyone, debating the need for 21st century tools in 21st century schools, I once again extend a challenge. Quit your job. Open a business. And try to pay your mortgage for one full year using only the tools found in most inner city public school classrooms. I'm not trying to sound harsh or unfair, but I think if you're being intellectually honest, many of us, including me, would have to say, "I can't do it. I don't have the tools."
Exactly.
Neither do they.
The difference is that our students can't do anything it.
But we can.
In School That Learn, MIT educator and best-selling author Peter Senge writes:
Schools may be the starkest example in modern society of an entire institution modeled after n assembly line. Like any assembly line, the system was organized into discrete stages. Called grades, they segregated children by age. Everyone was supposed to move from stage to stage together. Each stage had local supervisors–the teachers responsible for it. Classes of twenty to forty students met for specified periods in a scheduled day to drill for tests. The whole school was designed to run at a uniform speed, complete with bells and rigid daily time schedules.This industrial age model sounds pretty grim, but it is, with minor modification, the blueprint for most schools today. And it is, without question, a model that is hopelessly out of sync with our present day needs and reality. Nothing else in our society, not our businesses, hospitals, factories or farms operate essentially the same they did almost 150 years ago. Nothing, except for our schools.
Those who did not learn at the speed of the assembly line either fell off or were forced to struggle continually to keep pace. It established uniformity of product and process as norms, thereby naively assuming that all children learn in the same way. It made educators into controllers and inspectors, thereby transforming the traditional mentor-mentee relationship and establishing teacher-centered rather than learner-centered learning. Motivation became the teacher’s responsibility rather than the learner’s. Discipline became adherence to rules set by the teacher rather than self-discipline. Assessment centered on gaining the teacher’s approval rather than objectively gauging one’s own capabilities.
So why are we here? Why do we fight this fight? Why do we make the case for technology? For change? For School 2.0?
The point of technology integration isn't about technology any more than investing in textbooks is about books. It's not about the product, it's about the purpose. It's about pushing away from a pedagogy that focuses on "knowing" and the rote repetition and regurgitation of facts to a thinking pedagogy that focuses on understanding, comprehension, communication and the ability to apply information and data in real world contexts. Knowing "what" electricity is, for example, or being able to identify its elements for a standardized test, is one thing. Understanding how it works has led to advances and innovations in science, medicine and technology that have forever reshaped and redefined every facet of our world.
In A Whole New Mind, author Dank Pink writes: “The last few decades have belonged to a certain kind of person with a certain kind of mind–computer programmers who could crank code, lawyers who could craft contracts, MBA's who could crunch numbers. But the keys to the kingdom are changing hands. The future belongs to a very different kind of person with a very different kind of mind–creators and empathizers, pattern recognizers and meaning makers. These people—artists, inventors, designers, storytellers, caregivers, consolers, big picture thinkers—will now reap society’s richest rewards and share its greatest joys.”
Now I know there are some who debunk the importance of Dan Pink's "soft" right brain skills. I am also away of pedagogues who dismiss the idea that critical thinking and analytical skills can be developed independent of specific course content. I say let the pedagogues debate. But it's 2009 and long past time that we got beyond the second level of Bloom Taxomony. Because in the age of information technology, the "Digital Age," it doesn't really matter what you know. Memorizing facts is not a terribly marketable skill. What's needed is the ability to find, make sense of, and use relevant information for specific purposes. What's needed is the capacity for lifelong learning. What's needed is a 21st century pedagogy for 21st century schools and, like it or not, technology is a critical component of that pedagogy.
So, to quote the Morgan Freeman character from the Shawshank Redemption, "We can get busy living or get busy dying." I choose life. I choose hope.
I choose change.
But I promise, I won't forget you Ms. G. Because the educational foundation upon which we all stand was built by people like you.
No computer, no matter how fast, will ever replace you.
But maybe, just maybe, 21st century tools in the hands of 21st century teachers will help the next generation of Ms. G's do their jobs, and reach their students, just a little bit better.
So I dedicate my efforts to you.
To Ms. G and to Ms. G's everywhere who are fighting the good fight for the hearts and minds of our children.
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2 comments:
Very inspiring post, Michael. I enjoyed the section on the kindergarten teacher and found the term school 2.0 intriguing. I like the term and know that open source and free web applications will be important as budget cuts will surely put an end to subscription services for my district.
Michael, I enjoy your writing. I have been to some very "have not" classrooms in Chicago. My hope is that a few key schools that have some fairly good resources will point the way ahead.
As I taught chemistry last year at Englewood HS on the south side I tried to use computers, but many were broken. Most students did not know how to type. This is an incredible shortcoming in today's world. We need to start "keyboarding" in 3rd grade with 15 min. per day drills every day.
The price of netbooks are now about $300 each. Forget laptops. Every teacher that can do it should have netbooks = number of seats in the room. Also there must be a shelf for recharding and WiFi of course. Finally we must have teacher controlled firewalls with only access to White Listed sites.
Brent@brentjones.org
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