“Shopping” with Hawkgirl

My son has a collection of Hawkman comic books from the early 1960s. They’re goofy and grand, filled with morality and primary colors and a Kennedy era feel that DC Comics thought was appropriate for younger readers.

Hawkman smokes a pipe, for example, villains ply their trade “for the thrill of stealing,” and our heroes travel through space to foil evil doers from Earth to Thangar …while wearing giant feathered wings.

Paging through the comics, I was struck by what the writers and illustrators in the early 1960s imagined as futuristic technology. Visiting their technologically advanced planet of Thangar, Hawkman and Hawkgirl (Hawkwoman would have been just too much for those swinging ‘60s comic book creators) have to readjust to a world far more wondrous than the third planet from the sun. The proof of this technological superiority: debit cards, recorded news on a big screen TV, and online “shopping,” so imaginary in 1962 that the word was put in quotation marks.

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Half a century ago these must have felt like big dreams, but today even the images seem quaint. Whither then our 21st century ideas of what the future will bring?

In education, as much as in comic books, comes the question: “What next?”

Just last night my wife and I were talking about our own experiences in school, complete with the clicking whir of film projectors and the tape recorded beeeep that prompted the AV Monitor to turn the knob on the filmstrip projector. (For my younger readers, those were days closer to 1962 than to 2017, in a time when the notion that every student could pull up their own video, educational or not, on a personal device would seem as strange as a half naked man with green pants and enormous wings. Strike that; YouTube would have seemed farther out than Hawkman.)

Today in schools we talk about cell phones and tablets and Chromebooks. We agonize over students being off task, nearly forgetting the days when we tucked comic books in our Trapper Keepers to read during class.

We talk a lot about paradigm shifts and technology changing everything, and I suppose that’s right, though when I walk into a classroom and see a great teacher connecting with students the common denominator is humanity, not technology.

Rather than frame the discussion in terms of “should we block Facebook?” I’d like to take a couple of paragraphs to wonder how we’ll look back on our behavior around technology in another fifty years.

Maybe fifty is too grand; I’ll be in my early 100s then and probably out of the education game. So… in ten years, what will our technology discussion look like in schools? I hope to still be a principal then, and I wonder what I’ll be talking with my students, parents, and staff about.

For perspective, ten years ago the hot topic of the day was this new portable device from Apple.

Ah, the iPhone.

It seems like this changed things a bit. To imagine what technology will look like in another ten years, both the technology we sanction in schools and the technology our students sneak in like comic books in a 1980s junior high, would be a fool’s errand.

To imagine why the students will use the technology, so magical and strange to our contemporary sensibilities, feels, well, possible. They will use the technology to learn.

…and play.

…and distract themselves from school when they get bored.

…and get in trouble.

…and communicate.

…and transport themselves from the classroom to the world beyond.

Just like we do.

I don’t know exactly what conversations I’ll be having with my staff in 2027, or how many on that staff will be cyborgs. Just kidding. I’ll guess that we’ll be talking about how we engage students, how we support them, and what we can do to spark curiosity.

Some will worry aloud about “kids today” and their fascination with the latest technological toy; others will ask themselves how they can harness those same devices to propel learning forward.

Socrates worried about writing, but seemed okay once he got the lads talking about big ideas. John Dewey was skeptical of direct instruction, but dug it when the kids started asking questions. Calculators, clickers, and Franklin Spellers all had their champions and detractors, and education has survived them all somehow, thank you very much. Some might even argue that students today have even greater opportunities to engage with school than they did when Hawkgirl was sitting on a Thangarian divan “shopping” on a TV screen.

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It’s our willingness to take the quotations off the unfamiliar that will allow us to think broadly enough to see that we learn as humans have always learned, in the context of our environment. That the environment changes is neither threatening nor sinister; it is a reality that we do well to accept. Doing so can do more than lower our anxiety about whatever technology will stream into our classrooms. It can help learning soar …like a hawk, of course.

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It’s Simple

ComplicatedWhat we do as educators and what we do as parents is support kids.

At our best, when stress, or anxiety, or frustration doesn’t cloud our actions, we approach that even headed wisdom of Atticus Finch, who told his boy: ““There’s a lot of ugly things in this world, son. I wish I could keep ’em all away from you. That’s never possible.” I’ve been a dad for a great many years and I seldom come anywhere close to living that kind of perspective.

Even so, it helps us all to reflect on our work with students and ask ourselves the questions that make us the best contributors to these young lives we can be. For me, that means reading books that challenge me, and engaging in conversation with others who care.

In less than a week a group of such kindred spirits will gather for our first San Dieguito Book Club of the year, when we’ll discuss a topic on many minds of parents and teachers of teenagers: technology.

Specifically, our discussion will center around It’s Complicated, a book by danah boyd (no caps, her idea) subtitled “the social lives of networked teens.” For any of us who have been around a teen with a phone, this is ground rich with relevance.

I suppose I should have spotted the irony that when I introduced the book, and the idea of living in an age when folks (not just teenagers) are glued to phones and other electronic devices, at a “Coffee with the Principal” it was a parent who raised her hand halfway through my talk to let parents know that they could get a copy of the book for free by downloading the PDF at http://www.danah.org/books/ItsComplicated.pdf

Point proven.

…and point expanded upon, as we all realized that this parent had not only underscored the idea that we’re all more connected than we’ve ever been, but that sometimes that kind of immediacy and connection is a very good thing. Heck, it just saved parents $10.95.

It’s Complicated takes an equally positive view of the “social lives of networked teens” as it describes the world our students live in, virtually at least, in a way that doesn’t alarm, but does inform.

The book’s eight chapters are formed around questions: “Why do teens seem strange online?” and “Are today’s youth digital natives?” to name two. They’re questions many educators wonder about and parents spend time struggling to find answers to.

As I prepped for Tuesday’s book club, I asked some of my students what they thought the answers were to the author’s eight questions. A sampling looks like this…

“Why do youth share so publicly?”

“We share a lot, but not a lot that is meaningful. That’s kind of the beauty of social media.”

“A lot of the time when adults see us on our phones we’re just communicating with another person, a private message to them, not social media.”

“What makes teens so obsessed with social media?”

“No more than adults. It’s just part of what we do.”

“Is social media amplifying meanness and cruelty?”

“It amplifies the negative and the positive. I go to social media for inspiration and find it.”

“People who are going to be mean or cruel are going to be mean and cruel in person too.”

These are just a few thoughts; I’m hopeful more students will come on Tuesday and be willing to share. As a parent and a principal, I found their points of view honest and thoughtful.

In addition to individual students, I was able to talk with a couple of classes about their relationship with social media, and the result was …reassuring.

Certainly social media plays a part in many of the students lives, often providing information, inspiration, and connections to friends near and far. There are downsides too, and they were quick to identify that seeing some posts made them feel bad about themselves, and that on occasion the anonymity of the internet allowed people to be negative in ways they wouldn’t if their name was attached to comments.

The thoughtful conversations I had with these students inspired me, and reassured me that kids today have more poise than my own generation had when we were in high school.

I look forward to our discussion next week and the possibility of leaving the evening a little more informed and a little more connected to people who are all working toward the same simple goal: helping students.

The San Dieguito Book Club will meet on Tuesday, October 18, from 6:00-8:00 pm in the media center. Students, parents, teachers, and all members of our SDA family are welcome to attend.

“Have a go…”

ComplicatedPart of a healthy school community is the ability (and opportunity) for parents, students, and educators to talk together about the big issues, ideas, challenges, and opportunities that swirl around our shared experience. Whether we’re moms and dads trying to help our kids navigate a world so different from our own growing up, students faced with a thousand choices every day, or teachers, counselors, and administrators dedicated to helping kids learn, we all benefit from time to connect with each other not in reactionary ways, but proactively identifying topics about which real conversation can yield positive results.

With this in mind, over the past two years I’ve had the pleasure of hosting book clubs at school that give all of us a chance to talk. Those opportunities for parents, teachers, and students have been informative, renewing, and fun. As this new school year begins I’m excited to announce that our first San Dieguito Book Club of 2016-2017 will be on October 18th at 6:00 pm when we’ll talk about It’s Complicated by danah boyd (the lowercase, ee cummingsesque choice of spelling her name is hers, and while the former English teacher in me cringes, I’ll honor it).

The risk of choosing to talk about a book, a real live book, about social media is that it will be outdated before it comes to print. It’s Complicated, however, smartly looks not at particular apps or social media platforms, and instead takes as its starting point the teens that use those apps and platforms. Writing with a great empathy and understanding of those adolescents, boyd presents and addresses typical presuppositions about “kids today” and does a nice job of speaking to issues of privacy, safety, and community.

It’s Complicated gives us much to talk about, but less to fear, and I’m looking forward to hearing what parents have to say about their own perceptions of their son’s and daughter’s online activity, what teachers notice about how social media and the rise of handheld technology has changed education, and what students believe about their own behavior online. These conversations are at the heart of our San Diegutio Book Club.

The New York Times book review captures the reason It’s Complicated is a solid choice for our first (of three) book clubs this year when it notices that “Boyd’s book helps us understand our new environment.” The interconnected online world is certainly different than what most of us parents and educators grew up with, and whether we agree with what boyd has to say a little, a lot, or not at all, It’s Complicated provides us with a great starting point for a discussion of the ubiquitous nature of social media in our teens, and our own, lives.

Last spring, when we ready Julie Lythcott-Haims’ How to Raise an Adult, discussion ranged from parsing direct quotations from the book to heartfelt anecdotes from parents, who realized just how much we really aren’t alone.

I knew just how much we parents were connected by shared experience when we got to the point in our discussion about “grabbing the glue gun” during our kids’ elementary school projects. As parents talked about the successes and missteps they’d experienced helping their students gain independence, lots and lots of heads nodded. We’d all come to the book club caring, curious, and a little nervous, and had all of a sudden found ourselves surrounded by kindred spirits.

As we talked about the challenges of parenting, one mom who’d moved to our town from Australia mentioned the trepidation she saw in her kids’ friends and contrasted that to the more bold Australian attitude that looks at uncertainty and thinks: “Let’s have a go!” We have a long way to go before that spirit of adventure is commonplace, but knowing that we are part of a caring community can help.

book clubIn addition to the parents, many teachers joined the discussion. To hear them talk about the importance of students finding their own voices, gaining confidence, and being willing to take risks inspired us all to think a little more about our role in helping kids become adults.

And those kids… some came to the book club as well. Our parent foundation purchased a few copies of the book for our school library and those copies were checked out on the first day. The students who lent their voices to the conversation brought a richness that those of us who have taught English know can be profound.

I’m optimistic that discussion on the issue of social media will be just as rich, and I look forward to hearing perspectives as varied and passionate as we heard last spring.

Over the next few weeks I’ll share some articles about the topic and excerpts from It’s Complicated, and do my best to encourage us all to learn together, talk with each other, and feel comfortable enough in our shared adventure to smile. We’re not alone and one of the best things we can do is take a deep breath, find our community, and have a go.

Rock Star

He raised a finger, smiled mischievously, and told the crowd: “The next three days are going to be awesome.”

kevin…and about that Kevin Fairchild was right.

This June I went to CUE Rock Star Vista, a gathering of (mostly) teachers from around California interested in learning how to expand their use of technology in the service of learning. I knew (or knew of) a few of the folks organizing the event, and I appreciated from the start the exuberance and humor they brought to the week.

I’m a sucker for the beauty of an EdCamp un-conference, and it was a treat to see the presenters and participants bringing some of the same looseness and sense of play to CUE.

As a principal, I was in some ways an oddity in the crowd; just about everyone there taught or was a teacher on special assignment, true rock stars, but to a person everyone I met welcomed me as a peer, and the value I got from the sessions I attended is something I will bring back to my work in the fall.

I find that as an administrator I do best when I approach my work with the mindset of a teacher. I taught for thirteen years, constantly asking myself “is this good for my students?” It’s a question I try to keep front and center in my work outside of the classroom.

I loved that from the first session I attended I was shown tools that could help me right away. Daniel Bennett introduced me to Adobe Spark, and by the end of the first day I’d made a video about construction on campus that I could share with my school community through social media.

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Day two was just as good, a highlight Natalie Priester’s session on “Growth Mindset Grading.” While I don’t have a classroom of my own, the ideas from that session will inform conversations I have with the amazing teachers at my school.

A highlight each day was a two hour working lunch, the first half dedicated to making meaningful connections and the second half, after a delightful break for ice cream, an opportunity for us to slip into a little EdCamp style fun.

Our organizers set up a link where we could suggest topics, much a the board that begins every EdCamp, and we had an opportunity to gather in classrooms and talk about topics as diverse as Twitter for newbies, digital portfolios, and Breakout EDU.

The final day I sat with a group of thoughtful and fun teachers and talked about using inquiry to drive instruction. With Tara Linney leading our discussion, we spent time learning more about how we might use our students’ sense of wonder to help them learn. I left inspired, particularly around work I can imagine doing with my parent community.

IMG_5316As important as the information I took away from CUE Rock Star Vista was the feeling of renewal that came from being surrounded by passionate educators who care deeply about what they do.

It would be a fib to say that I’m not looking forward to some time off in July, but I can think of no better way to end June than three legitimately awesome days at CUE.

Smart Phone

20-Blade_Runner_AtariThe world imagined by 1982’s Blade Runner does not exist. Beautiful little details, like the neon advertisements for Atari and Pan Am, which added such verisimilitude to the movie proved to be anything but prophetic; Atari went under before the movie was ten years old and Pan Am followed suit in 1991.

Predicting the future is an inexact science, fun in the hands of creative writers, but often good for little more than a retrospective chuckle. HAL in 2001? I’m sorry, Dave, I’m afraid we can’t (yet) do that.

So without an accurate crystal ball, how should we as educators think about the digital world our students will grow into?

Theirs is already a life enmeshed in technology in ways that make our own childhood (folks like me, anyway, old enough to have taken a typewriter to college*) seem quaint. Mine is the generation who got tangled up in the cord when talking to potential dates on the phone mounted to the kitchen wall.

As technology changed around me, I entertained the truth of that Philip K. Dick quotation:

There will come a time when it isn’t ‘They’re spying on me through my phone’ anymore. Eventually it will be ‘My phone is spying on me.’”

Maybe, though any fears of sentient machines have (so far) proven unfounded.

So too, I think, are some of the fears we educators have of students and technology, particularly social media. Certainly dangers lurk online, as they have lurked at malls and in the places young people have always congregated.

Educating students to become digital citizens (or whatever the most current term might be for navigating a life online) is in many ways an extension to helping them understand how to live in the brick and mortar world we all share no matter what kind of cell phone is in our pocket.

There are lots of resources out there to help educators do this, some better than others, but it seems to me to boil down to a few simple ideas:

Present the best you. The one that doesn’t swear or show off tattoos. The one that doesn’t make that face that says: “Never hire me, trust me with your children, or let me go to your university.”

Don’t share too much. Share the right amount of information to show the world that “best you” that you want to be your introduction, the first impression before you make your first impression.

Think before you talk. If you wouldn’t blurt it out in class or at the dinner table, or if you shouldn’t, then don’t online.

Be nice. Be nice.

Know the rules and follow them. …and know the etiquette too. Learning how to be a positive contributor to an online community isn’t dramatically different than being a positive contributor to your school or in your neighborhood.

Don’t live in fear. Cautious, sure; fearful, no. You look both ways before you cross the street, but you do eventually cross it. Being safe online means being online, and bringing common sense with you just makes sense. Should I say “yes” to this friend request? Would you invite that person to meet your parents in person?

Be smart. Be as smart as you can be. We all make mistakes, and digital goofs can last forever, but thinking twice before posting and keeping the long view of things can help a lot.

Do we need to include digital literacy as part of our school curriculum? I think so. At the same time we need to show students that we believe they can make the right choices. This means showing them how to curate their own digital footprint and not blocking access to the tools they use to create that footprint.

mannySchools use Facebook, Twitter, Instagram and other social media platforms to tell their stories, and the best schools do so to great effect. Students should have the opportunity to do the same.

Educating students about technology means showing them how to use it effectively, not shielding them from it at all costs.

Sure, students are on their phones …a lot, but then again, many of you are reading this post from a similar rectangle of plastic and glass. I know this. Your phone told me.
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*For any younger readers, a typewriter is a machine that allowed users to print words, letter by letter, by pounding on keys and hoping not to make a mistake. Don’t even get me started on whiteout.

Mr. Roboto

Attending a robotics competition is like stepping into another world. Last weekend, I had the opportunity to watch San Dieguito HS Academy’s Robotics team, “Team Paradox,” participate in the FIRST Robotics Tournament at the Del Mar Fairgrounds. It was astounding.

Scores of students in quirky costumes hurried between the village of tool stocked booths, the testing area, and the competition ring. As I walked from the entrance to the Team Paradox “pit,” as our roboticists called it, I spotted students wearing matching gladiator outfits, “Pi-rate” costumes, and one team outfitted as Egyptian Pharaohs. I was happy our San Dieguito team had opted for whimsical t-shirts.

Bjorn and BotMascots strolled through the event. Safety goggles covered every eye. There were more capes than a San Dieguito lunchtime.

Not sure what to do first, I visited our home base, a 10 by 10 foot area outfitted like Doc Brown’s laboratory in Back to the Future. Team Paradox buttons lined one shelf, yellow, blue, and red vinyl flooring defined the area, and an amazing student video played on a loop. They handed me a pair of goggles, saying: “You’ll need these.”

From there, I walked over to where other members of the team were adjusting the 2102* robot to better respond to the varied conditions of the venue. Unlike previous indoor events, this arena challenged participants with wind and ever changing lighting. This meant adapting the sensors and camera on their ‘bot, which they controlled remotely through a computer and an interface that reminded me of a flight simulator.

These are, I thought to myself, talented and innovative people who will make our world better.

Beyond outrageous technical skills, Team Paradox displayed something else: an ability and inclination to work collaboratively. They needed to work together as a team to create and compete, and beyond that they understood that part of the world of robotics is working with other teams as well.

Coöpertition,” you’ll hear them call it, acknowledging that working in isolation is less effective than working together, and that winning at the expense of others isn’t winning at all.

In robotics, alliances are part of every competition, and these alliances are fluid. Teams know that the robot they’re competing against in the morning could be their ally later that afternoon.

How unlike so many of the teams we see in high school. How very much like life.

robotics tweetTeam Paradox embraced this. Leading up to the competition, San Dieguito students worked with a cross town high school to help them establish their own robotics team. As mentors, they welcomed this new team to a world they loved, seeing them not as rivals, but as kindred spirits. When Team Paradox won the event this weekend, one of the first tweets of congratulations came from this team.

Even so, robotics is much more than an intellectual carnival. Teams work hard to design and drive the best robots they can, competing cleanly with strategy and spirit.

photo 1 (7)Along those lines, on Team Paradox member explained to me that a teammate had designed an app that they used when they scouted other teams. “We enter data into our phones,” he said, “and it’s put into this program so we can pull up graphs and disaggregate data on specific teams.”

Um. Yeah.

Do we ask these same students to do less in classes? Do we recognize their abilities and help them achieve even more?

Seeing the robot, the app, the pit… seeing the students so focused and gifted, and at the same time so able to have fun, jolted my notions of rigor and engagement.

As I walked up to the stands to sit with the coach, parents, and other team members, I kept thinking about how vibrant this event was. Kids, laughing as they demonstrated an uncanny ability to put learning into practice, filled the arena. This was education at its best, and an example of so much of what’s right about youth today. It was, too, a challenge to push all of our students to achieve at their highest potential, to believe in what they can do, and give them opportunities, whether in art, English, or math, to be their own best selves.

photo 3 (8)A sea of yellow Team Paradox t-shirts greeted me when I sat down next to the coach. Among the crowd of mentors, parents, alumni, and teammates were two teachers who had driven down to the event. One Team Paradoxer offered to paint wings on my face, a show of team solidarity. A meeting later in the day precluded it; next year I’ll keep my afternoon open and leave with wings.

Then match time came and Team Paradox gave us something to see.

The students in the stands migrated to the floor, many with pom-poms, one with a megaphone, one dressed as the team mascot. They whooped. They cheered. They celebrated.

The robot began the match by taking to the air, hurdling over the obstacle on the way to its target.

The robot got stuck.

The team worked at their controls to right the problem, and the robot began again.

In all that, a metaphor for life.

I’m proud that at the end of the weekend Team Paradox won the competition and will head to St. Louis for the national competition, but even if they hadn’t I would have been just as pleased. At last week’s robotics competition it wasn’t victory that impressed me, it was students.

Team Paradox

*They explained to me that the number assigned each team, and so prominently displayed on each robot, is determined by the order in which the team joined the world of robotics. 2102 then means our team started later than 2099, but long before 3200.

Match. Flame.

Because there is still magic, even as the robots march steadily forward…

robotWhen I was young and foolish and filled with the unfettered exuberance of a first year teacher, I worked in a classroom without exterior windows. I found that utter darkness could be achieved by covering up the one slim rectangle of glass that led out to the hallway, and that even after the time it took to listen to a recording of a long poem by Poe no one’s eyes could adjust enough to see.

I stretched the time once, silencing my class, killing the lights, and playing “The Last Question,” a short story by Isaac Asimov. Familiar with my space, I walked the perimeter of the room, listening. It was so quiet I could hear breathing; nobody talked. As the story reached its end, our eyes still useless in the pitch black, I took a box of wooden matches from my pocket, struck one in a dramatic arc, and held it to a candle quietly placed on the table of a student in the front row. His face and mine, lit only by the orange and yellow glow, looked at each other as the final words of the story filled the air: “Let there be light.”

Robots can’t do that.

Last week, a teacher I respect gave me an article titled “The Deconstruction of the K-12 Teacher” by Michael Godsey, a contributor to The Atlantic and English teacher in California. With wit and a well researched point of view, Godsey discusses the changes in the expectations of teachers, changes he sees rushing at us with the determination of Cylons chasing Starbuck and Apollo in a 1978 episode of Battlestar Galactica.

Godsey recalls describing the future of teaching as “a large, fantastic computer screen at the front, streaming one of the nation’s most engaging, informative lessons available on a particular topic. The “virtual class” will be introduced, guided, and curated by one of the country’s best teachers (a.k.a. a “super-teacher”), and it will include professionally produced footage of current events, relevant excerpts from powerful TedTalks, interactive games students can play against other students nationwide, and a formal assessment that the computer will immediately score and record.”

Cylons.

In all seriousness, what Godsey describes feels more than a little plausible. As he notes later in the piece, “teachers like me are uploading onto the web tens of thousands of lesson plans and videos that are then being consolidated and curated by various organizations. In other words, the intellectual property that once belonged to teachers is now openly available on the Internet.”

As a fellow who started his teaching career during the Clinton administration, I’m equally astounded by these changes. The internet has taken the sharing of resources, including teaching resources, to a level undreamed of in the 1990s or before. The rugged metal filing cabinets of teaching lore, filled with worksheets and mimeographed handouts, are increasingly losing ground to Google Docs and websites. Some call this progress.

The challenge of this increased information, for teachers in the context of lesson planning and humans in the context of …everything, is being able to discern wheat and chaff.

Godsey does a nice job of cataloging resources that purport to do just that, and he strikes the right tone of angst when quoting a principal who told him that “we’re at the point where the Internet pretty much supplies everything we need. We don’t really need teachers in the same way anymore. I mean, sure, my daughter gets some help from her teachers, but basically everything she learns—from math to band—she can get from her computer better than her teachers.”

And it’s here that he began to lose me.

As a principal myself, and teacher of thirteen years, I recognize that the world in which we teach is profoundly different than it was a decade or more ago. I also honestly believe that we need teachers, and not just facilitators, more than ever, and we need them in the “same way.”

Where that way is the same may be where Godsey and I begin to diverge.

Before students had technology that allowed them instant access to information -conveniently located on a device they could use to text their friends- a part of what teachers did was help provide specific information about a particular topic. Gradually, this aspect of education lessened and the ability to evaluate the validity of information students acquire on their own has increased. Acknowledging that, I’d argue that an even more important part of education, from 1990 to 1960 to 1930 has been to connect and inspire.

This is better done in person than any other way, and by people passionate not only about teaching, but also about the particular subject they are teaching to students.

Godsey provides an accurate juxtaposition when he explains: “I measured myself against these websites and Internet companies. It seems clear that they already have a distinct advantage over me as an individual teacher. They have more resources, more money, an entire staff of professionals, and they get to concentrate on producing their specialized content, while the teacher is—almost by default—inherently encouraged to transform into a facilitator.”

Yes, and I’d add: But teachers have the kids.

Students learn online, they learn from peers, they learn from videos and books and articles. Sometimes those resources can inspire them, just as sometimes we as adults draw inspiration from sources that are not teachers. And…

The inspiration that comes from a teacher, and the interaction between a student and a teacher, is unique. It happens in classrooms and art studios and science labs. It happens in the gym and the theater and the auto shop. It happens in those thousand human moments that make up a school.

I certainly don’t want to discount the truth that learning takes place outside of a classroom, with or without a teacher, and I think Godsey is right when he notes that “There is a profound difference between a local expert teacher using the Internet and all its resources to supplement and improve his or her lessons, and a teacher facilitating the educational plans of massive organizations.”

I’d also add that there is a profound difference between a video of a teacher lighting a match after twenty minutes of darkness and a teacher surprising a class in person with that theatrical demonstration.

I don’t worry that technology will transform public education; I accept it, smilingly. I also maintain that while there are certainly times that teachers are freed from the obligation to lecture on facts, and while students are increasingly given opportunities to collaborate and solve problems of complexity and relevance, the magic that is teaching (and by that I mean connecting, provoking, and inspiring) is as strong, and as necessary, now as ever.

robot matchI believe teachers do this best when freed to engage their own creativity, using all the resources available, to light that fire with students.

I loved that Godsey’s article made me think, and that it prompted some fantastic conversations with teachers, parents, and students at my school.

The only folks I didn’t talk with were the robots.