The Tempered Radical

What I’d Buy Instead of an Interactive Whiteboard

This week was a real humdinger for me.  I spent the better part of it buried under hateful emails from a district technology director in Louisiana who had read my recent post arguing that Interactive Whiteboards were a waste of money. 

I was really taken aback by the venom and spite in his words.  His first email expressed “shock” that “someone like me” could ever be named Teacher of the Year in any district.  He called me “self-centered and self-serving” and suggested that my writing was a “poison” corrupting conversations about technology.

He went on to suggest that my resistance to learning “modern technology” was failing students and that I should be ashamed of myself for my ignorance.

Me?  Resistant to learning modern technology? 

I’m assuming he’s never looked through my Digitally Speaking wiki, my monthly column on technology in Educational Leadership, or the stand alone articles that I’ve written on technology for Educational Leadership and Solution Tree.

I’m also assuming he won’t be buying my upcoming book—Teaching the iGeneration:  Five Ways to Introduce Essential Skills with Web 2.0 Tools—which is due to be published in June. 

Now, his central argument throughout the week was that Interactive Whiteboards can revolutionize learning in the classroom for students with learning disabilities.  I’m just not going to rehash that argument, considering how many times I’ve written about it recently (see this post or this post—and read the extensive comment sections in each—if you want to learn more). 

Instead, I wanted to show you how I’d spend the $5,000-$6,000 that a good IWB package—including a board, data projector, set of student responders, mounting kit, and a tablet for the teacher—will cost you.  From that point, you can decide whether IWBs for every classroom are worth your investment.

New Slide: Digital Storytelling

Few people could argue with one simple truth:  There's something inherently powerful about a good story.  Think about how many times you sat mesmerized on your grandfather's knee as he wrapped you in words or that you listened intently during story time as your grade school teacher wove a tale of surprise and adventure. 

There was nothing better, right? 

From the time that we're born, we connect through stories.  We sympathize through stories.  We understand through stories.  We communicate through stories----and if we're really good, we influence through stories.  In the high-touch world that Daniel Pink describes in A Whole New Mind, storytellers hold kind of hold the keys to the kingdom, don't they?

But here's the hitch:  Storytelling is changing. 

Paralleling the rapid expansion of broadband Internet access, the availability of mobile devices, the rise of digital video recorders, the growth of the gaming industry, and the decreasing costs of personal video and photography equipment, access to—and engagement with—visual content has exploded in the first decade of the 21^st Century.

Download Slide_ModernStoryteller

Companies----recognizing that consumers are increasingly plugged in and far less likely to pick up printed material than previous generations----are investing in digital advertising campaigns built around short,  interesting stories.  Whether it's Evian's roller skating babies or Zappo's super-fast nudist, clever marketing directors are tapping into the attention of the 75% of online Americans who are watching 17 billion videos on sites like YouTube and Hulu each month  (Lipsman, 2009, Lipsman, 2010).  

What implications do these changes hold for educators?  Given that digital storytelling has become commonplace beyond our schools, should lessons on visual influence begin playing a more prominent role in our classrooms? 

How do we balance the skills necessary to craft a good story---which haven't changed in generations----with the skills necessary to produce a final product in a medium that will reach the most listeners?  Are we doing enough to introduce students to the changing nature of storytelling or is this another area where schools and teachers are falling behind the times?

Finally, what are the barriers to integrating digital storytelling projects into our classrooms?  Are we limited because we don't have access to the right equipment?  Is pressure to produce results on standardized tests the demon in the closet yet again?  Are our own skills and preferences getting in the way?

Interesting questions, huh?  

Work Cited:

Lipsman, A. (2010, January 5). November sees number of U.S. videos viewed online surpass 30 billion for first time on record. comScore. Retrieved from http://snipurl.com/uinjd

Lipsman, A. (2009, March 4). YouTube surpasses 100 million US viewers for the first time [Web log message]. Retrieved from http://www.comscore.com/Press_Events/Press_Releases/2009/3/YouTube_Surpasses_100_Million_US_Viewers

Learning from The Met: Collaboration Killers

Being a bit of a data junkie, I really look forward to the release of the MetLife Survey of the American Teacher each year.  Working to collect the kinds of tangible information that policymakers can use as a window into our profession, I see The Met as one of the most important tools that us teacher-types have when advocating for change in our profession. 

Part one of this year's MetLife survey was released this week and it covers a topic likely to be near and dear to the hearts of anyone working in a school:  Effective teaching and school leadership.  Collecting the perspectives teachers and principals working across grade levels and social demographics, the results paint an interesting picture of the state of collaboration within the American schoolhouse.

While there were dozens of findings that caught my eye, none was more important than this:  Principals and teachers STILL see core issues like "empowerment" and "teacher leadership" quite differently. 

Need proof?  Then check out the response rates to the following two statements:

Download Met Survey Table

Talk about shocking, huh?!  Anytime you've got perception gaps ranging from 20 to 30 points, there's DEFINITELY a problem.

The thing is that in almost every survey where the perceptions of principals and teachers are gathered, the same kinds of gaps exist.  North Carolina's Teacher Working Conditions Survey is a great example.  Similar questions to the Met's are asked every two years, and every two years, principals are consistently more positive about the levels of empowerment and shared decision-making in their buildings than teachers are.

Doubting Bauerlein's Dumbest Generation

Mark Bauerlein---Professor of English at Emory University and one-time Director of Research at the National Endowment of the Arts---is one of today's most vocal and visible critics of the role that technology can play in teaching and learning. 

Author of The Dumbest Generation: How the Digital Age Stupefies Young Americans and Jeopardizes Our Future, ol' Marky-Mark churns out hyperbole like nobody's business.  To get a sense for just how much Bauerlein doubts the learning benefits of digital tools, check out these two doozies, launched across the digital bow early in his scathing critique of students and schools:

On today's kids:

“Whatever their other virtues, these minds know far too little, and they read and write and calculate and reflect way too poorly. However many hours they pass at the screen from age 11 to 25, however many blog comments they compose, intricate games they play, videos they create, personal profiles they craft, and gadgets they master, the transfer doesn’t happen. The Web grows, and the young adult mind stalls.”

(Bauerlein, 2008, Kindle Location 1683-85)

On today's teachers:

“Ever optimistic, techno-cheerleaders view the digital learning experience through their own motivated eyes, and they picture something that doesn’t yet exist: classrooms illuminating the wide, wide world, teachers becoming twenty-first-century techno-facilitators, and students at screens inspired to ponder, imagine, reflect, analyze, memorize, recite and create.”

(Bauerlein, 2008, Kindle location 1900-1906)

Now, here's the thing:  There's a BUNCH of truth in Bauerlein's comments.  Left to their own devices----pun definitely intended.  In fact, I couldn't resist----our students probably WILL struggle to find ways to use digital tools to become master learners.  Instead, they'll be drawn to the kinds of mindless activities that we all look down on. 

(Can anyone over the age of 15 REALLY argue that hundreds of hours checking Facebook profiles and watching YouTube videos is a good thing?!)

But is that any different than the choices made by kids in earlier generations? 

Hail in a Handbasket. . .

The past week has been an interesting one to say the least.  On Sunday morning, I wrote a riff titled All Hail the Mighty Media Specialist that asked one central question:  Do media specialists inadvertently turn off reading teachers in their advocacy for their positions? 

Comments poured in for about 72 hours—on my blog, in the Twitterverse, in personal conversations and in countless emails that landed in my inbox.  Many were thoughtful.  Others were wholly inappropriate and hateful.  The most shocking—which came in an email on Sunday afternoon—went a little something like this:

Are you kidding me?  You really believe that you know as much as your media specialist?  How can you possibly introduce students to novels as well as we can?  What do you know about information literacy?  We do this for a living, you idiot. 

And if you don’t like your job, that’s not our fault.  Don’t blame us for your problems.  Your whining doesn’t help anything.  Get over it or get a new job. 

Thankfully, things started to settle down ‘round about Wednesday—and better yet, really thoughtful media specialists started to stop by and share their thoughts.  Unlike the knee-jerked-ness of some of their peers, they showed a willingness to listen and an ability to push back without emotional attacks.  It was cool. 

The whole experience has left me with a TON of questions. 

Your School's Most Important Resource

Much of my time and mental energy has been consumed recently by a raging debate with media specialists.  But like so many other experiences that I've had in the blogosphere, brilliance rose to the top in the form of a quote from one of my favorite media specialists, Pete Caggia.

Pete said:

Download Slide_ImportantResource

Good on ya, Pete.  I've always respected and admired your thinking...and in this case, you've put the focus of this conversation right back where it belongs:  On our students.

Alright Already, I Surrender

When I woke up this morning and decided to write about the tension that exists between the kind of instruction possible in the media center versus the kind of instruction possible in my language arts classroom, I knew that there was going to be pushback.  I've advanced this line of thinking before and been buried in angst more than once. 

What I see every time is a defensive reaction from people who have spent the better part of their careers facing budget cuts that have the potential to take their positions.  In an attempt to make sure that today's conversation was about ideas instead of emotions, I started with these words:

During the course of my sixteen year teaching career, I’ve worked with a ton of GREAT media specialists. 

In fact, one of the thinkers that I admire the most in my own school district is a high school media specialist named Kerri Brown-Parker who is doing great things to support teachers interested in integrating technology into their instructional practices.  And the media specialists in my current school are both wonderful women who work hard with classroom teachers and students alike.  They are thoughtful and innovative—and well-respected by everyone as a result.

I also believe that media specialists can play an important role in any school community.  When they’re skilled, they teach students to manage information fluently and how to judge the reliability of sources.  They help students to sift through heaping cheeseloads of content to make sense of what they are learning. 

Finally, they often find ways to help teachers integrate media literacy skills into their required curriculum and do the heavy lifting on shared projects that are at once motivating and essential for students.  All of that work adds value in the schoolhouse and yet it can be easily overlooked and/or underestimated.

Continuing to stress the importance of media specialists, I wrote this later in my post:

Now I get it:  Media positions are on the chopping block all the time.  Standing up for your profession is always admirable—and I’d hate to see schools lose the services of the most accomplished media specialists, who are an irreplaceable resource that can save teachers time, reach handfuls of struggling students, and support colleagues who are unprepared for the demands of a changing digital age.

And in the comment section, I wrote this:

EVERY media specialist that I've ever worked with has been INCREDIBLY willing to collaborate around projects with classroom teachers. In fact, at times, they've come to us BEGGING to help us with the work we're doing with students. I don't doubt their intentions or their abilities in any way.

But I still spent the past nine hours dealing with emotional responses.  People expressed surprise at my unwillingness to be a team player.  They questioned my intentions.  They thought my comments were hurtful and unproductive. 

Which has caused me to do something I've never done here on the Radical:  I pulled the post. 

Ask anyone who knows me how momentous that decision really is.  I'm a "speak your mind" and a "stick to your guns" kind of guy---and generally there's a good measure of truth in everything that I write, even when it's uncomfortable to hear.  I've ruffled more than a few feathers in my day and backing down isn't in my nature, but honestly, I don't need the stress.

My only goal was to talk honestly to media specialists.  I wanted you to see how comments that you often make while advocating for your profession can come across to reading teachers.  While I'm certain that the vast majority of y'all have nothing but great respect for reading teachers, that doesn't always come across in the language that you use to describe your work.

I figured that was something you'd want to know because I'm certain that I'm not the only classroom teacher who feels that way.  I'm just dumb enough to write about my thoughts openly. 

For those of you who had the chance to read my post, I hope it challenged you to think differently.  It was intended to spark reflection and to give you some insight into what it is like to be a reading teacher in a tested world----and I hope that it helped you to recognize that "teamwork" feels a whole lot different when the members of the team are not judged equally.

As long as that message came across to one or two of you, then today's drama may have been worth it.

All Hail the Mighty Media Specialist

I’ve got to start this post with a disclaimer:  During the course of my sixteen year teaching career, I’ve worked with a ton of GREAT media specialists. 

In fact, one of the thinkers that I admire the most in my own school district is a high school media specialist named Kerri Brown-Parker who is doing great things to support teachers interested in integrating technology into their instructional practices.  And the media specialists in my current school are both wonderful women who work hard with classroom teachers and students alike.  They are thoughtful and innovative—and well-respected by everyone as a result.

I also believe that media specialists can play an important role in any school community.  When they’re skilled, they teach students to manage information fluently and how to judge the reliability of sources.  They help students to sift through heaping cheeseloads of content to make sense of what they are learning. 

Finally, they often find ways to help teachers integrate media literacy skills into their required curriculum and do the heavy lifting on shared projects that are at once motivating and essential for students.  All of that work adds value in the schoolhouse and yet it can be easily overlooked and/or underestimated.

But I’m also tired of the lofty rhetoric that media specialists and their professional organizations tend to sling. 

Three Simple Lessons for School Leaders. . .

I’m a pretty voracious reader who tends to be consumed by biographies.  For some reason, studying the lives of real people—especially those who live in developing nations or who face conflict and turmoil—resonates with me. 

One of my recent reads—Tenzing and the Sherpas of Everest—crossed categories for me.  Not only was it a fascinating look into the life of Tenzing Norgay—perhaps the most famous Sherpa of all time—it also centered on the early attempts to climb Mount Everest, a topic prominent in my personal library. 

What made Tenzing and the Sherpas of Everest even more interesting was that every page seemed to carry new lessons for school leaders. 

Consider this excerpt, detailing Tenzing’s actions on one of the most strenuous parts of early trips to Everest, the tedious, months-long hike through intimidating terrain to get dozens of expedition members and porters—not to mention thousands of pounds of supplies—from the nearest accessible town to base-camp:

“Like the great sirdar Ang Tharkay, Tenzing walked with them in stages, talked to them, bought them rakshi (homemade liquor) and tea at small teahouses en route, and tended to them when they were ill or injured.

Although a classless society, Sherpas do have social strata.  Tenzing was not a wealthy man but…he was a famous sirdar and highly respected by all who worked with him or knew of  him.  When such a man physically assists and keeps company with porters and local staff it is an extraordinary boost to their morale and cooperation.”

(J. Tenzing, 2001, Kindle Location 910-917).

Interesting stuff, huh?  Tenzing didn’t have to walk with his porters.  He was the sirdar of the expedition—and a well known one at that.  No one had more experience than Tenzing in the mountains, and that experience made him the most important Sherpa on any trip. 

He could have easily taken advantage of his position, walking with light loads and spending time with European climbers instead of the human mules carrying equipment in exchange for meager salaries.  Instead, he carried heavy packs and made a deliberate choice to recognize and respect the efforts of his men.