Is It Okay To Be A Technologically Illiterate Teacher?
Update 12-9-07: I'd like to thank the Academy . . . this post won for most influential post of 2007. I'm not sure I agree (no, I didn't vote for myself), but I guess the voters have spoken. I think this really is a case where it's more of an honor to be nominated (because several somebodies noticed and nominated the post in the first place) than to actually win. I don't mean to sound ungrateful, I know the Edublog Awards folks put in a lot of time and effort, but I guess what I like the best about the awards is all the new (to me) blogs I get to go explore.
If you're visiting this post for the first time, please read the comments as well - that's where most (all?) of the good stuff is.
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Update 11-26-07: This post has been nominated for "Most Influential Post" in the 2007 Edublog Awards. Thanks to the folks that nominated it, whoever you are. For my thoughts on the nomination, read this post.
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Warning: Grumpy blogger alert. Do not read the rest of this (especially if you’re on my staff) unless you’re in the mood to be provoked.
One of the things I love about the edublogosphere is that when I really annoy my staff with something (which is pretty much daily, if not hourly), I can rest assured that there’s an education blogger out there that’s written something recently that will probably annoy them more. I ran across this post today by Terry Freedman over on the Tech Learning blog where he talks about whether it’s acceptable for teachers to be technologically illiterate and lays out a set of proposed “standards” for teachers.
I had to smile because it reminded me of something I wrote in February of 2006 – wrote, but decided not to post on the blog. At the time, I felt like it wasn’t the right time for my building to post it, and that it would be counterproductive. But, after reading Terry’s post today, I think it might be time to let it see the light of day. Here’s what I wrote on February 10, 2006 (it was part of a longer post, but this is the part I edited out):
Keep in mind that was written after a particularly frustrating day. I’ve gone back and forth on this issue myself. At times completely agreeing with Terry (and myself above), and at other times stepping back and saying that there’s so much on teacher’s plates that it’s unrealistic to expect them to take this on as quickly as I’d like them to. But then I think of our students, and the fact that they don't much care how much is on our plates. As I've said before, this is the only four years these students will have at our high school - they can't wait for us to figure it out.
The more I think about it, the more I think it’s analogous to the 20th century. In the early 20th century, people who couldn’t read or write could be pretty successful. By the middle of the 20th century, that was still true, but it was getting harder to be successful (and certainly those that could read and write had much more opportunities available to them). By the end of the 20th century, there was very little chance of being successful if you couldn’t read or write. (Note that I’m defining “successful” both in economic/employment terms, and in terms of citizenship/personal fulfillment.)
Now at the dawn of the 21st century, I think the same can be said of technological literacy. And – since we’re living in exponential times – I think the timeline compared to the 20th century is very much compressed. In the late 1990’s (I know, still 20th century, but go with it), you could be successful if you were technology illiterate. In the first few years of the 21st century, you can still be successful if you’re technologically illiterate, but it’s getting harder (and those that are literate have many more opportunities available to them). And by the end of the next decade, I think there will be very little chance of success for those that are technology illiterate. (Don’t forget, those Kindergartners that started school in the last month or so are the Class of 2020 – we need that 2020 Vision.)
I go back to my rant from our first staff development session of the year, where I talked about developing personal learning networks (for both ourselves and our students). One of the things I said was basically:
Or something like that.
So, let me repeat the last part of what I wrote back in February of 2006:
Extreme? Maybe. Your thoughts?
If you're visiting this post for the first time, please read the comments as well - that's where most (all?) of the good stuff is.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Update 11-26-07: This post has been nominated for "Most Influential Post" in the 2007 Edublog Awards. Thanks to the folks that nominated it, whoever you are. For my thoughts on the nomination, read this post.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Warning: Grumpy blogger alert. Do not read the rest of this (especially if you’re on my staff) unless you’re in the mood to be provoked.
One of the things I love about the edublogosphere is that when I really annoy my staff with something (which is pretty much daily, if not hourly), I can rest assured that there’s an education blogger out there that’s written something recently that will probably annoy them more. I ran across this post today by Terry Freedman over on the Tech Learning blog where he talks about whether it’s acceptable for teachers to be technologically illiterate and lays out a set of proposed “standards” for teachers.
Before I give my list, I should like to say this. The first step in establishing a standard is to state what that standard is, and/or what it is not. Just because you may not know how to go about achieving it is certainly no reason not to state it. For example, in my classes I always had expectations in terms of acceptable behaviour. It would sometimes take me three months to achieve them, despite teaching them every single day, but that's besides the point.
Here is my list:
1. All educators must achieve a basic level of technological capability.
2. People who do not meet the criterion of #1 should be embarrassed, not proud, to say so in public.
3. We should finally drop the myth of digital natives and digital immigrants. Back in July 2006 I said in my blog, in the context of issuing guidance to parents about e-safety:
"I'm sorry, but I don't go for all this digital natives and immigrants stuff when it comes to this: I don't know anything about the internal combustion engine, but I know it's pretty dangerous to wander about on the road, so I've learnt to handle myself safely when I need to get from one side of the road to the other."
The phrase may have been useful to start with, but it's been over-used for a long time now. In any case, after immigrants have been in a country for a while, they become natives. We've had personal computers for 30 years, and I was using computers in my teaching back in 1975. How long does it take for someone to wake up to the fact that technology is part of life, not an add-on?
4. Headteachers and Principals who have staff who are technologically-illiterate should be held to account.
5. School inspectors who are technologically illiterate should be encouraged to find alternative employment.
6. Schools, Universities and Teacher training courses who turn out students who are technologically illiterate should have their right to a licence and/or funding questioned.
7. We should stop being so nice. After all, we've got our qualifications and jobs, and we don't have the moral right to sit placidly on the sidelines whilst some educators are potentially jeopardising the chances of our youngsters.
I had to smile because it reminded me of something I wrote in February of 2006 – wrote, but decided not to post on the blog. At the time, I felt like it wasn’t the right time for my building to post it, and that it would be counterproductive. But, after reading Terry’s post today, I think it might be time to let it see the light of day. Here’s what I wrote on February 10, 2006 (it was part of a longer post, but this is the part I edited out):
Some of the tech questions I answer from staff members are really rather depressing. But it's the bigger picture I'm more concerned with. I think there's a general feeling among teachers (not all teachers, but many) that it's okay to be technologically illiterate. It reminds me of when I was a math teacher. In about 80% of the parent conferences I had with students who were struggling, at least one of the parents would say "I was never any good at math either." While I don't doubt the truth of the statement, it was the fact that they said it and almost seemed proud of it that bothered me (and of course the message it sent to their student). I can't imagine a parent saying "Oh, yeah, I never learned how to read" and being proud of it. It seemed like there was a different standard for math - not knowing math was socially acceptable, not knowing how to read was very unacceptable.
I sort of get the same feeling today about technology. It's acceptable to say "I don't really get computers" - and many people appear to be rather proud of their technological ignorance. And let me be clear, I'm not saying that technology is the end all and be all of education. As I think I've always tried to say, it's just a tool to help us teach and learn and grow - but an indispensable tool. Technology is the underpinning of just about everything we do today - and especially so in relation to how we communicate with each other. And isn't communication one of the essential ideas that runs through all of our disciplines? The fact that a large percentage of our staff is not only fairly comfortable in their ignorance, but apparently unwilling to make any effort to learn new things (I'm not just talking about Infinite Campus, I'm talking instructionally - and even personally), is really worrisome to me. So let me make a rather extreme statement for you to comment on.
If a teacher today is not technologically literate - and is unwilling to make the effort to learn more - it's equivalent to a teacher 30 years ago who didn't know how to read and write.
Extreme? Maybe. Your thoughts?
Keep in mind that was written after a particularly frustrating day. I’ve gone back and forth on this issue myself. At times completely agreeing with Terry (and myself above), and at other times stepping back and saying that there’s so much on teacher’s plates that it’s unrealistic to expect them to take this on as quickly as I’d like them to. But then I think of our students, and the fact that they don't much care how much is on our plates. As I've said before, this is the only four years these students will have at our high school - they can't wait for us to figure it out.
The more I think about it, the more I think it’s analogous to the 20th century. In the early 20th century, people who couldn’t read or write could be pretty successful. By the middle of the 20th century, that was still true, but it was getting harder to be successful (and certainly those that could read and write had much more opportunities available to them). By the end of the 20th century, there was very little chance of being successful if you couldn’t read or write. (Note that I’m defining “successful” both in economic/employment terms, and in terms of citizenship/personal fulfillment.)
Now at the dawn of the 21st century, I think the same can be said of technological literacy. And – since we’re living in exponential times – I think the timeline compared to the 20th century is very much compressed. In the late 1990’s (I know, still 20th century, but go with it), you could be successful if you were technology illiterate. In the first few years of the 21st century, you can still be successful if you’re technologically illiterate, but it’s getting harder (and those that are literate have many more opportunities available to them). And by the end of the next decade, I think there will be very little chance of success for those that are technology illiterate. (Don’t forget, those Kindergartners that started school in the last month or so are the Class of 2020 – we need that 2020 Vision.)
I go back to my rant from our first staff development session of the year, where I talked about developing personal learning networks (for both ourselves and our students). One of the things I said was basically:
In order to teach it, we have to do it. How can we teach this to kids, how can we model it, if we aren’t literate ourselves? You need to experience this, you need to explore right along with your students. You need to experience the tools they’ll be using in the 21st century, developing your own networks in parallel with your students. You need to demonstrate continual learning, lifelong learning – for your students, or you will continue to teach your students how to be successful in an age that no longer exists.
Or something like that.
So, let me repeat the last part of what I wrote back in February of 2006:
If a teacher today is not technologically literate - and is unwilling to make the effort to learn more - it's equivalent to a teacher 30 years ago who didn't know how to read and write.
Extreme? Maybe. Your thoughts?
Labels: 21cliteracy, PLN, staff_development
posted by Karl Fisch at 10:15 PM
51 comments
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Karl,
I've observed several related phenomena which may be taken into account when addressing the issue of technological competence.
Reluctant users often know exactly what to do in a computing situation, but either fail to retrieve that understanding, or don't even bother - acting on the assumption that they aren't "good" at this stuff.
Related to this is resistance to learning based upon the assumption that it's "beyond" them.
The second phenomenon is age-induced-timidity. It's more likely that this factor truly explains differing facility between generations.
Observe a child "learning" how to work a game, video game device, computer, computer program, and you'll catch the key to success.
Fearlessness.
They couldn't care less about "breaking" something. Rebooting is just a button press away. They poke and prod and peek everything on the screen, and when they do this, something wondrous happens.
Discovery
What develops from this "natural" approach to learning an unfamiliar concept or area of knowledge is two things of great power.
Authentic learning.
Comfort and peace of mind.
Reluctant age-inflicted tech/comp users suffer from imposed learning and residual discomfort, never achieving that "natural" piece of mind required to be fully productive.
Frank
Karl, I agree with you, even tho I can see both sides too (busy teacher etc). But the way I look at it is that we don't have the moral right to not give the younger generation our best shot. Or at least, if there are compelling reasons not to (too busy, too many government initiatives etc), AT LEAST LET's not tolerate people being proud of their illiteracy.
Thx for defending me as it were against Deb Holt. I'll respond myself later this evening!
Incidentally, in case u r interested, I'm conducting a survey of web 2 projects being run by teachers, on my website, and hjope to share the results with the community.
Can we stop for a moment and define technologically literate? Is the teacher that uses power point in the classroom technologically literate? Is the teacher who merely uses the web as "another resource" technologically literate? Or are we looking for educators who are really encouraging kids to jump into the read/write web and create, connect, discuss and explore. Are we just talking about the teachers who are showing students how to make the web work for them by using tools like google reader to organize research. Are we just talking about teachers who encourage kids to blog and create social networks using tools like wikispaces.
I agree with your post wholeheartedly, but I fear that too many educators think that using power point to deliver instruction everyday is enough to pass as literate.
Thanks for the discussion starter!
Brad
Karl,
I think I would say it is not okay to be unwilling to learn... I recently blogged my own list of what I think are the basics for teachers. And if you haven't read Greg Farr's most recent post on Leaderstalk it is well worth a look. Make sure you click through to his brochure. the post is about ( in part) making explicit our expectations.
I am posting tomorrow on Leadertalk and I think all of this is going to figure into my post..My ideas are not solidified yet...
I think that this is an excellent question. I have been confounded many times before when someone has professed their technological ignorance and flaunted it like a badge of tradition and steadfastness.
I think that b.davis brings up a very good point about where we draw the line between literacy. But I think that illiteracy, whatever it may be, can be easily overcome if the person has a willingness to learn.
As a student, it troubles me when a teacher is technologically illiterate (at times it is obvious whether someone is or isn't) because I also believe technology is an essential educational tool.
Sometimes it is hard to tell how a teacher's lack of technological ability impacts their teaching, but it is all a big "what if?" What things could we have done if the teacher had used technology? What things could I have done if the teacher had accepted it?
For the most part though, I forgive those people. But I am always baffled by those who take pride in their inability. Not only am I disturbed by their seeming disdain for technology and those who use it, but at times I encounter people who seem to view themselves as morally superior for it.
In my opinion, there is nothing admirable about ignoring change, and doing so can be dangerous in society at large as well as in education. Perhaps especially in education.
Karl –
I think your handy analogy is a little too pat. Thirty years ago it would have been impossible to teach students about literature and writing without being able to read or write myself. But today, I can still teach those subjects without knowing about blogs or Skype or wikis or YouTube. Pen-and-paper assignments and group discussion can still get the job done. Writing is writing whether it’s on paper or on a screen. However, I agree with the spirit of your assertion. If the “language arts” are all about communication, we aren’t really teaching students to communicate if we ignore the connected electronic world of today. If we redefine reading and writing as fully communal, interactive acts, as current wisdom seems to dictate, then teachers certainly need to be technologically literate.
By the way, English teachers receive comments similar to the ones you’ve heard from math-phobic parents. I’ve had people – adults and kids – flatly state “I don’t read,” in the same way they might state, “I don’t smoke.”
As an integrator that deals with this issue daily like yourself, and the best solution that has worked for me is to leverage the use of my students as teachers.
When a teacher comes to me with a tech question they should know or one who is willing to learn but needs tech support, I send one of my 'Tech Sherpas' to help them. A student to help guide them from Immigrant to Native. (I know Terry doesn't like the Immigrant and Native tags, but they seem to apply here.)
I have 5th-12th grade students that are the first line of tech support. They help manage class websites, troubleshoot problems and are more readily available for staff. The most Luddite teachers I have worked with, now have active websites. Not that the teacher is learning all the tech as they probably should be, but I'm less concerned about that than providing my students this opportunity for this authentic teaching/learning experience. What a role reversal. A model of how the teacher is no longer the fountain of all knowledge, but someone to work with toward a mutual goal.
The students also are getting the experience of teaching someone else which is always the best way to learn something. So far it's been a win-win, the teachers have help more readily than I could ever provide, and students are a crucial part of the educational process here.
When I get into a similar funk and start my rant I will often say, "For those teachers who refuse to learn even the basics of a computer and who are proud of it, I say it borders on malpractice!"
Terry – admittedly the analogy is too simplistic. But let me say something even more provoking. I fundamentally disagree with the example you gave.
Here’s one of my goals for AHS. My goal is that in the very near future, if any AHS teacher is asked what they teach, they do not answer,
“I teach Math.”
“I teach Social Studies.”
“I teach English.”
My hope is that every single teacher at AHS would automatically say,
“Students. I teach students.”
I think it’s the same problem I saw with our sample mission statements for AHS. They included things like “extracurricular activities” and “safe and orderly environment.” To me, that shows a fundamental misunderstanding of what a mission statement is. We do not exist to offer extracurricular activities or a safe and orderly environment. Those may be values or goals we have, but that’s not our fundamental purpose. They are simply means to an end. The mission statement is supposed to be what we are about, who we are, why we exist as an organization.
You see, I don’t think it’s your job to teach literature, that not why you “exist” as a teacher. Literature is just a means to an end. We don’t teach Macbeth in order for kids to understand Macbeth, we use Macbeth so that kids can understand good and evil and trust and betrayal. Our goal is not for kids to be experts on Macbeth and know who Malcolm is, our goal is to explore some of the universal themes of humankind and help make those themes meaningful and relevant to our students’ lives. To help our students better understand those big ideas so that they can apply them to their own lives and to the lives of those around them. And it doesn’t matter whether we use Macbeth, or some other piece of literature, or no literature at all.
So I fundamentally disagree because I don’t think you should be teaching a “subject.” You shouldn’t be teaching “literature” or “grammar” or even “writing” per se, you should be teaching students. And it’s not about “assignments” or “getting the job done,” is it? If your goal is to teach literature, then you’ll undoubtedly be successful. In fact, you’re successful right now. But the problem is, it’s not about what you teach, it’s about what students learn. And what students need. If one of our goals is for students to learn and understand how to communicate effectively in the 21st century – Language Arts in all its many forms – then there is no possible way to do that without technology. So, I have to disagree with your statement. Today, I don’t think you can teach – or more importantly I don’t think our students can learn - without it.
Karl, I've commented on my blog about this. I think it is a very thought provoking idea. I agree that technology literacy is essential to all members of our society, and I agree that teachers need to take it upon themselves to learn and change. However, we need to create an environment in which learning and changing is looked upon positively. Often we tell our teachers in subtle ways that change is not encouraged. We do this by valuing test scores that don't assess students' use of technology, by tying school goals to areas that do not use technology, and by economically prioritizing other things. I'm not excusing teachers, but others must change as well.
http://www.wayzata.k12.mn.us/elem_tech_integration/
Getting teachers to adopt technology is about how you sell it. In our college we have a policy of ownership. Teachers have complete control of their laptops and we support any issues they have regardless of whether they seem related to school. If a math teacher gets comfortable with his computer through organising and editing his photograph collection, he is more likely to adopt work related computer skills.
Although we shouldn't have to, it is more productive to see technology illiterate teachers as students rather than employees.
Karl –
As I said, and you acknowledged, it’s just the particular analogy I disagree with. Elsewise, I think we agree. I said:
If the “language arts” are all about communication, we aren’t really teaching students to communicate if we ignore the connected electronic world of today.
And you said:
If one of our goals is for students to learn and understand how to communicate effectively in the 21st century – Language Arts in all its many forms – then there is no possible way to do that without technology.
(Hey, I just used technology – “cut and paste” I think it’s called.)
And “language arts” above is in quotation marks because I didn’t mean it in this case as a discipline necessarily, but rather as something we do.
I do think it’s at least part of my job to teach literature. To me, there’s a difference between literature and communication. Literature is something you can read over and over and find something new every time. Literature is something that touches you on a level beyond logic or mere communication. Literature is saying something in a way that it’s never been said before. Without literature we lose a part of our human identity and culture. Precisely because we can communicate so much faster and so much more with technology, teaching literature is more important than ever. You can read blogs and rss feeds all day and never read any literature. (Of course, people have always been able to avoid literature, but now we have more opportunities to avoid it.) I disagree with the idea that we can teach kids about the universal themes of humankind without literature. Literature is the quality stuff – and I don’t mean just classical literature here, I’m not saying we have to use Macbeth or “The Waste Land” or (heaven forbid) The Scarlet Letter as exemplars – the quality stuff, I say, that by its excellence jolts or cajoles or lures us into thinking about those universal themes. Can you read literature on a blog? Sure. On a MySpace page? Probably. In an email? Possibly. In a text message? Well….
One of the 21st century’s challenges is sorting through the overwhelming ocean of information and choosing what’s useful; a subset of that is sorting through writing and recognizing quality stuff (if it quacks like a sonnet...). All teachers should be concerned with teaching evaluative thinking – it’s one of the higher-order thinking skills. It just happens that some teachers are interested and well-versed (no pun intended – or is anything unintended…?) in literature, just as others are tuned into visual art or physical movement or math (take note, by the way, of the math term earlier in this paragraph). I still think it’s OK to be something of a specialist.
But, darn it, in case you didn’t notice, I’ve typed myself into a corner, because if I acknowledge that literature can exist in cyberspace, then I have to acknowledge that teachers – particularly those who see it as their responsibility to provide their students with the possibility of encountering literature – must live there. Actually, I acknowledged that all along, but it’s a pretty daunting idea. I cling to the notion of literature being important because it’s always been important to me, and I still tend to think of literature as a book I can hold in my hand. To open myself to the vast infostorm of cyberspace is to be King Lear on the heath, cursing the wind and lightning and “hurricanoes,” wishing I were back in the hut with the Fool. But I know what comes next: I have to cast off my clothes and cry out, “I have taken too little care of this.”
Kern's comment is really important. Having students involved in a major role is more than just a nice thing to do in your spare time. There is good research showing that putting students in these roles contributes to the increase in technology use school-wide.
We keep hoping that teachers will one day wake up and bring technology into their classroom. Or we take them out of their classroom, show them cool stuff and hope that they "get it". Then they go back to their classroom alone and try to change things by themselves. It won't happen this way.
By working with students to create a community of practice surrounding the teacher in their own classroom, you help them accept it without making it their fault if it doesn't work. It's up to the whole community, staff, teachers, and most importantly, students.
Everyone, but particularly Kern and Sylvia, I agree that getting students more involved is key. I’ve found that hard to do formally in my school, our schedule – and perhaps culture - tends to get in the way. But I have said many times to my teachers that they shouldn’t be afraid of using technology they aren’t completely comfortable with, that’s it’s okay to struggle and make “mistakes” in front of the students, and to ask for help. And we’ve had many teachers take that risk, to use blogs or wikis or whatever (and non-technology things as well) and say to the students, “Here’s what we want to accomplish. Here are some technology tools that might be really useful – or might not. Figure out how best to utilize them – or not – to accomplish the goal,” and then turn them loose.
It’s just really hard for teachers to give up that control, I think both by nature and because of the pressures of the current educational environment. We’re in an age where every minute counts not because every moment is precious, but because it might mean the difference between partially proficient and proficient on the CSAP. So far my school has not completely succumbed to the pressure, but I worry. I worry that soon we’ll be like other schools, where we identify “bubble” kids and make special efforts to move them to the next level. (For those of you unfamiliar with the term, “bubble” kids are those that are close to the next level on whatever test you are using to measure them – or more accurately measure the school – with.) Don’t get me wrong, I want to help those kids too, but I don’t want to focus my efforts on raising a few kids scores by 5 points so they pass the next cut score and consider ourselves successful, yet if we move hundreds of kids 50 points – but it’s from the bottom of the level to the top of the same level – we’re considered a failure.
So, I need to do some more thinking about how to overcome the obstacles (or at least the things I perceive as obstacles) in my building to more formally help include the students in a “community of practice” as Sylvia so nicely phrases it.
Terry – first, I didn’t mean to suggest that literature has no value. It certainly does, and I’m not advocating we ignore it or stop using it in a variety of meaningful ways, but I would still argue that it’s not what we’re here for. It is certainly one way to explore those universal themes, and a really good way, but does that preclude the possibility that at some point it will not be the best way? And, just because it’s the best way for you, because it resonates and touches you, does that mean it’s the best way for your students? So, again, I would ask the question, what do we as an organization exist for? Is it to teach literature? My answer would be no.
Of course, much like other comments talked about the need to define what technologically literate is, perhaps we need to better define what literature is. You talk about literature typically being a book (and I imagine most folks, including myself, think of literature this way). But, as we’ve talked about before, the book is simply an earlier piece of technology, one that was incredibly disruptive – and hated – in that earlier time.
So, did literature exist before the printing press was widely adopted? There are certainly some pieces of literature that we have our students read that pre-date that time (The Odyssey comes to mind). Didn’t many pieces of literature like The Odyssey come from an oral tradition? What about Shakespeare? Definitely post-printing press, but certainly there weren’t a lot of Barnes and Noble’s (or Amazon’s) around at the time, and therefore not a lot of people reading his work. His literature was mainly conveyed through live performance, was it not? Or, given your interests, what about 2001: A Space Odyssey? Wasn’t that pretty much simultaneously developed as a book and a movie, with the movie being far more successful in conveying the themes to a large audience in the long run?
As far as whether literature can exist in a text message, that makes me think of a story I heard attributed to Hemingway. In response to a contest to write a story in exactly six words he wrote, “For Sale. Baby Shoes. Never used.” Perhaps there’s an idea for an assignment utilizing texting for you . . .
So, I think there are some questions to think about there. And in no way do I mean to suggest that I have all the answers to those questions. But if Homer, or Shakespeare, or Arthur C. Clarke/Stanley Kubrick, or Hemingway were just getting started today, what medium would they choose?
BTW, thanks for the image of you in the role of King Lear casting off your clothes – sleep will be a long time coming now. But, “there is a time for many words, and there is also a time for sleep,” so I guess I’ll post this now.
I don't know. I agree with the immigrant/native dichotomy, I think. I just don't believe that being an immigrant precludes becoming familiar with the language or culture (ex: the Gubernator!)
I see the big difference between immigrants and natives as comfort with playing. One teacher was trying to learn to use tables in Word, and "had to play with it for ten minutes before figuring out what to do." This was AFTER asking a few other teachers who had the same planning period, and they didn't know.
OTOH, I actually prefer to mess around to see how things work. Only AFTER I've been unable to come up with a solution on my own do I go ask for help.
Then again, maybe that's just a difference in personality.
Like several others commenting on the Fischbowl I would be interested to see – or rather, help form (“to answer is to author” – Zolli) -- a definition of technological literacy. While it might have looked like I initially disagreed with the central point that teachers have a responsibility to be technologically literate, I was really just sniping at the edges of the idea. There is no doubt in my mind that, were I not conversant with contemporary technological tools, I would be doing my students a disservice. In fact, as technologically savvy as students are today, I think some of us (in educational parlance) have gone from being the “sage on the stage” to “the guide on the side” to “the hack in the back.” We can’t afford to be near the back of the herd. The cheetahs will get us.
As to the importance or even the definition of literature, I did a little reading on the Internet to help me codify my thoughts. I actually liked Visuwords’s succinct definition the best: “creative writing of recognized artistic value.” (Perhaps equally interesting were some of the “topic domain” connections, which included “tempest,” “carven,” “filmable,” and “longueur” {“a period of dullness or boredom”}.)
Most of the sources I consulted implied that literature has to do with the written word, though Wikipedia in particular pointed out that through history the definition has been stretched to include even sculptures, and mentioned digital media as another form. Most definitions also suggested that there’s something special about literature that distinguishes it from other forms of writing. The phrase “recognized artistic value” implies that a creative piece has to exist for at least a little while before it can be “recognized.” There’s always a bit of a time lag before something can be deemed “literature”; a piece has to be around long enough for people to talk/write about it until the court of public opinion can come to a consensus. At least, that’s been the case so far; now, with blogs and Face Book and email, the court is always in session, and judgment can come much faster. At any rate, each new generation has the chance to judge “artistic value” based on its own standards, so our students will define “literature” for themselves. Perhaps it will be a blend of print, HDTV, MySpace, YouTube, and podcasts. Literature is all about telling stories, which seems to be an innate human interest, one which I hope will persist. If telling those stories is going to take place in a post-literate world, we need to help our students be ready to run with the herd.
I became a teacher because I love books. I have continued to teach for over 30 years because I love young people. I believe a teacher must have passion for a subject. Karl is passionate about technology. I am passionate about the words and ideas my students and I discover in books.
Karl, I am eager to read the great writers who are currently appearing on blogs and MySpace. Would you direct me to their URL's? Show me the new text-messaging Dostoyevsky, please.
Hi Cheryl – it’s about time you joined us. :-)
Let me note that once again the comments have gone in a slightly different direction than the original post. I would hope that folks would go back and think about the original post as much as they think about the literature discussion we’re having, but I’ll do my best to address that as well.
I want to clear up one thing, though. I am not passionate about technology. Technology is – literally – just a tool. What I’m passionate about is what technology enables – the learning and the communication and the creativity. It’s the transformative powers of technology that I go all ga-ga about.
And I would assume the same is true for you about books. It’s not the books themselves (simply an earlier technology, yes?) that you are passionate about, it’s the ideas contained in those books. And that was the point I was trying to make. While I know how much you love books, my hope would be that you love young people more. And that what you want those young people to have is the ideas contained in those books, not so much the physical books themselves. And, again, I am in no way advocating getting rid of books or literature, or that those are bad things to be using. I would continue to use them as long as they are the best method to help children understand those ideas. The point that I’m apparently not making very well is that I still don’t think it’s about the “literature”, it’s about the ideas. And that we shouldn’t be teaching the “literature” per se, but the ideas. We don’t care so much if students can spit back the important characters and plot lines of Macbeth, but rather whether they delve deeply into the meaning and truths contained in the story and relate it to their own lives and experiences. I know some folks will view this as simply semantics (“we shouldn’t teach literature, we should teach students”), but I think it’s more than that.
As far as directing you to their URL’s, I can’t. That’s something that you – along side of your students – need to search for and discover yourselves. That’s the point – you need to be developing these Personal Learning Networks together - nobody can simply point you to them. They are personal, and personally meaningful, and ever-changing, and it’s going to take persistence and hard work to develop and maintain them. I see that as a huge part of our role as teachers, and I just don’t see too many folks doing any of this with students (or even personally) at this point. So, to tie this back to the original post, that’s why I think teachers need to be literate – 21st century literate – if they are going to successfully help our students become 21st century literate.
Terry – that’s an interesting idea, that a creative piece has to exist for a while and be recognized as having artistic value before being considered literature. So, if someone read a work by Shakespeare before it was recognized as having artistic value, was that person still reading literature? Or did it only achieve that status – and therefore actually have artistic value – once the court of public opinion deemed it so?
And, of course, that makes me ask the obvious question, who decides? Who decides what has artistic value and is therefore considered literature? Or is it akin to the famous phrase by Supreme Court Justice Stewart, “I know it when I see it.” On a planet with over six billion people, and – as you said – with the court of public opinion always in session – what constitutes a consensus and who decides when it’s been reached? It certainly can’t be based simply on numbers, or Britney Spears and Professional Wrestling would have to be considered literature. Can the same piece be literature for one person and trash for another? If it’s based on artistic merit, then it’s in the eye of the beholder.
Then, of course, there’s this whole can of worms. Since I believe that the we’re in a period of transition where in the near future very few pieces of writing will ever be either isolated (because they will link to others) or finished (because it will be so easy – and necessary – to edit them), can something be considered literature for a while, but then stop being literature as it is subsequently modified?
Karl--Sorry for straying away from the original post a bit, but I'm fascinated by the literature discussion (Of course....). And besides, I think I'm beginning to understand you. (!!!!)
In the past, teachers could offer students samples of the "best" literature--books that had passed through the hands of editors, publishers, critics, and generations of readers. This sifting process assured us that our students (whom we loved) were receiving good quality. True, some writers weren't appreciated initially--were discovered long after their deaths--but the long and laborious test of time brought the best works to the surface. At colleges, professors sifted through old, forgotten manuscripts and sought "new" authors. (That's how we have come to read and appreciate such previously ignored African American female writers as Zora Neale Hurston, for example.) And true, there were probably some damn good writers who have been completely lost to us, but nonetheless, this crap detecting and eliminating process worked pretty well...
When I began my teaching career, there was an established canon of great books--and schools drew from that canon when they created their curricula. But now a teacher who teaches students (but not literature) is free. No longer does she need to rely on this sifting process. She googles "love," puts the results on her Personal Learning Network, and--voila! Learning!!!
Also, Karl (please indulge me for a few more seconds….), I simply must respond to your comment: "It’s not the books themselves (simply an earlier technology, yes?) that you are passionate about, it’s the ideas contained in those books."
This isn't true at all. It's not just the ideas in the books. It's every single word--every phrase, every image, every nuance, every character, every description. The ideas are often the least interesting aspect of a piece of great literature! Great art is so much more than an idea. (You might just as well say Picasso’s Guernica is about color…)
I'm reminded of what Vonnegut wrote in the Preface to Jailbird (a book that sits on the shelf next to my computer. I'm opening that book now to find the quote....) It’s a great passage and I love it. I think about it at least once every semester….
Here it is:
I received a letter this morning…from a young stranger named John Figler, of Crown Point, Indiana. …John Figler is a law-abiding high-school student. He says in his letter that he has read almost everything of mine and is now prepared to state the single idea that lies at the core of my life’s work so far. The words are his: “Love may fail, but courtesy will prevail.”
This seems true to me—and complete. So I am now in the abashed condition, five days after my fifty-sixth birthday, of realizing that I needn’t have bothered to write several books. A seven-word telegram would have done the job.
Seriously.
But young Figler’s insight reached me too late. I had nearly finished another book—this one.
Vonnegut, of course, was being ironic. But I think you’re telling me the seven-word text-message would suffice for the students I love.
I can see, Karl, why you hesitated to post this back in February, but I’m glad that you changed your mind. While I too, feel frustrated by any boasting of ignorance, statements that suggest technologically illiterate teachers should have their licenses suspended are likely to have the ironic side effect of turning hesitant teachers away from 21st century learning.
I graduated from Teachers College only six years ago, and technology was never mentioned nor utilized, except for Microsoft Word and the copy machine in the library. Even for a 2001 graduate like me, the 21st century is intimidating. I had never made a PowerPoint slide until two years ago, and the two things that kept me in the dark were my own guilty conscience and my fear of being looked down upon for being less than technologically proficient. Now, I use PowerPoints each day in class, but I still face the same wall of intimidation when it comes to using new technological tools, like Google documents and RSS feeds. I’m still willing to try, but it takes a little pushing.
Luckily, our 21st Century Learning team has made it acceptable for me to take risks (and even to fail) in the name of learning, but if your approach had been the one presented in this post, I would have marched decidedly in the other direction and clung to my books, pens, and looseleaf paper.
If our goal is to heighten our teachers’ willingness to utilize 21st century learning tools, then we need to focus on inclusive goals instead of exclusive ones. Criticizing teachers for being fearful of technology is analogous to criticizing a teenage student who can’t read and is unwilling to try; an accusatory approach in either situation is likely to end in self doubt, resentment, and ultimately, rejection.
Cheryl – If you’re beginning to understand me, then you’re the first.
Perhaps my word choice of “ideas” was not the best, because what I was trying to say is more inclusive than what you indicated. I’m not at all saying that the seven-word text message would suffice if it doesn’t convey the entire idea/message/theme/art/nuance that the full piece does. I seem to recall, however, my English teachers telling me to use all the words necessary to convey the message, but not one more. (Obviously a skill I haven’t mastered.) So, if the seven word telegram did convey the entire idea/message/theme/art/nuance, I certainly wouldn’t have a problem with it.
As far as your comments on Personal Learning Networks, I’m not sure what to say since you seem to be treating me with as much disdain as Vonnegut did his young fan. Personal Learning Networks have very little to do with Googling “love,” and everything to do with finding personal as well as universal truths (if they even exist), with performing your own sifting process (alongside others) and not relying solely on others to discover the truth and deliver it to you, pre-packaged and with Sparknotes attached. (Not to mention that a key piece of PLN’s is the contribution that each individual makes to help discover and further refine those truths.) While I don’t know completely what that looks like yet, I’m positive that it is much harder work than simply relying on an agreed upon curricula (“Voila! Lesson Plans!”), so let’s not disparage teachers who are trying to figure this out, okay? This doesn’t imply at all that we should toss out the “established canon” of great works, but I would respectfully suggest that the “established canon” is not sufficient in and of itself. Unless all truths have been discovered (in which case why is anyone writing anything anymore?), we need to continue to move forward - searching, thinking and evolving as a species - as we continue to try to learn what exactly it means to be human.
On another note, I’m not familiar with Zora Neale Hurston. In case anyone else is actually reading these comments, what book of hers would you recommend they start with? And, do our students get the opportunity to read her?
Kristin – Thanks for joining the conversation (and for not mentioning the word “literature” even once in your comment). Let me note for the record that my post did not suggest suspending licenses of teachers. Since I appear to be destined to play the bad guy in this scene, let me put on my devil’s advocate horns and reply to your points with some provocative statements.
1. Because your teacher prep program was negligent and incompetent, therefore it’s okay for our students to suffer?
2. Because learning in the 21st century is intimidating to you, therefore it’s okay to give you several years (decades?) to figure it out, never mind the students that pass through in the meantime?
3. How much more inclusive can a goal be – all teachers should be technologically literate. Seems inclusive to me.
4. Criticizing teachers who are professionals and getting paid to meet the needs of their students is not accusatory. And, since I’m regularly berated for suggesting that students should have a voice, that they have something to contribute, and that their feelings matter, equating teachers with students is wholly inappropriate here.
----
Now, taking off the horns, I agree with what you said to a large extent. That certainly was the intent and design of 21c, and matches my personal inclination as well. But that doesn’t change any of the things I said in the post. I really don’t see anything in my post that’s accusatory (at least I don’t see the word “worrisome” as being particularly accusatory). And I don’t see the statement about being technology illiterate being equivalent to not knowing how to read and write as being accusatory either, just descriptive. Now, it very well may be wrong, but that’s not the same thing as accusatory.
So, I’d ask anyone reading this to go back and focus on the original post one more time and think about the essential question I was trying to pose – is it okay to be a technologically illiterate teacher? Can we meet the needs of our students in the 21st century without being 21st century literate ourselves? (Yes, we need to define that better, but give it a shot anyway.) And, if your answer is no, then what do we do about it?
Karl--Forgive me for sounding "disparaging." As soon as I clicked the "publish" button, I regretted it. John Knowles (in A Separate Peace) said, "Sarcasm is the protest of people who are weak." Instead of mocking the Personal Learning Network, I should have asked you to explain what it is. Even though I'm a member of the Century 21 Learners, I still don't know what you're talking about, I'm afraid. Does it have anything to do with RSS feeds? If so, I'm intimidated by the whole thing. I guess I'm overwhelmed by the thought that I have to do all that sifting. I used to rely on the curriculum, the canon, etc. All day I've been thinking about how exciting it might be to read Crime and Punishment on line, with links to this and that. But all day I've also been thinking that I don't want to be the person who must wade through all the crap that's out there on the internet. I love my classic pieces of literature too much to waste time searching through MySpace trying to find that text-messaging Dostoyevsky that's writing somewhere in cyberspace. I regretted my obnoxious tone and now retract my sarcastic comment.
Zora Neale Hurston wrote Their Eyes Were Watching God. I believe some of the American Lit. teachers use that book with their juniors.
What a great, great post (and follow-up commentary)!
http://tinyurl.com/2g7bga
http://tinyurl.com/373kjm
Maybe the issue is being "instructionally" literate vs. a narrower definition of "technologically" literate. I see teachers everyday who are doing great things with a document camera. They're incorporating student work as exemplars, publishing student work, annotating Dr. Suess books, and working toward creating student e-portfolios. All of these very sound practices are made possible, or at least easier, by the document camera. Would these teachers consider themselves "technologically literate"? I doubt it. Yet I would be very happy to have my kids in their classes.
Karl—It’s great to be back in the Fischbowl, though it feels a bit like a boiling pot right now (but in a good, stimulating way). Anyway, I should have clarified earlier that my comments were in direct reference to Terry Freedman’s comments, not yours.
I still hold, however, that Terry Freedman’s comments are borderline threatening, particularly the line, “educators are potentially jeopardising the chances of our youngsters.” The subject: educators. The verb: jeopardizing. The object (and qualifying prepositional phrase): the chances of our youngsters. While this very well might be true (though I’m still waiting for evidence), I have to say that as a teacher who works a 12-14 hour day six days a week, this is offensive to me.
Let me explain: If we fail to respect what teachers are currently doing for their students, then those teachers will, in turn, disrespect what we are trying to do. Yes, I think that it is our job to meet the needs of our students, and that the 21st century is awaiting them in all its technological grandeur (tone: serious, not sarcastic). To fail to prepare them for this world as best we can is to neglect our job, and yes, we should be criticized for this.
Teachers can and should take criticism, but we need to acknowledge that there are powerful, amazing teachers out there who don’t use technology. Their students learn to think, speak, read, write, and adapt—all skills that are precursors to technological literacy. While technology might help these teachers become even more effective, it’s not fair to suggest that they’re jeopardizing their students’ futures simply because they don’t use technology. If we want teachers to get on board and quit resisting, then we need to develop our approach thoughtfully, methodically, and most of all, respectfully. Look at what we’re doing well first, then look at how our methods can be improved with technology. I think this would help detract from the militant “us vs. them” attitude that I’ve seen on many blogs.
I'm not disagreeing with your ideas, Karl; I'm simply trying to troubleshoot the widening gap between 21C and everyone else.
As for your four comments, they surprised me. I think that we’re not understanding each other, which is unusual. Anyway, I’d like to clarify:
1. I never suggested that my teacher prep program was negligent nor incompetent, and if it were, it certainly would not be okay for my students to suffer. I brought it up only to emphasize that teacher prep programs are still struggling to incorporate technology into teaching. I don’t offer this as an excuse—just another obstacle that even young teachers have to surmount.
2. I don’t think that my students were just “passing through” my class until I decided to pick up PowerPoint, or utilize a class blog or the laptops. We had an effective class before all of these tools came into play because that’s all they are—tools. I have always had a constructivist classroom (which, by the way, was introduced to me by Teachers College), and this is what my student always have and still do respond to. And yes, it might take some teachers a few years to feel comfortable with technology. Those teachers who are taking the risk and trying should be encouraged, not made to feel like criminals. Those who aren’t trying…well, I actually don’t know any teachers who aren’t trying, but I could certainly see your frustration with them.
3. Yes, you’re right. The goal itself is inclusive, but the process as described by Freedman is not.
4. I thought that teachers were students. Why was my comparison inappropriate?
By the way, Their Eyes Were Watching God is a fantastic book, and several American Literature classes read it either as a class or in book groups. I have a copy if you’d like to borrow it.
Sorry--one more thing. I just read Mike's post, and I agree with him wholeheartedly. If we were talking about "instructional literacy" instead of "technological literacy," I think we'd be in much stronger agreement.
But what fun would that be?
Cheryl – Part of the reason you’re having trouble with it is I’ve done a poor job explaining it. The other part is that I don’t really know what it is yet myself. I see it, I sort of comprehend it, but I don’t really have a good handle on it yet. And, yes, it is overwhelming, which is one of the reasons I think it’s so important that we try to figure out what it looks like sooner rather than later. Why we need to be developing our PLN’s alongside our students, and exploring what this might look like before it gets even more overwhelming (and it will).
The basic idea of a Personal Learning Network (at least how I’m envisioning it at 8:54 pm on Monday, September 17, 2007) is simply the age-old concept of networking, but on steroids. I gave a long, impassioned rant about this at our first staff development session, but I have no idea if it made any sense. Let me try to replicate it a little bit here (keeping in mind that I’m making a lot of this up and I’m not an expert on human evolution – biological, cultural, or any other –al – so some of this is probably inaccurate, but hopefully it will help flesh out the idea of PLN’s).
Throughout history, humans have always developed networks. Home Sapiens has always been a social creature (even before Home Sapiens) – we’re hard wired to be social. When mankind first emerged from the cave our network were those in our tribe. We knew who the best hunters were, who the best gatherers were, who the best nurturers were, and so on. But we were pretty much limited to our tribe. We occasionally would cross paths with other tribes and learn from them, but geography and conflict often got in the way.
As we progressed, we slowly began expanding our networks through the use of technology. We learned speech, and then to write things down, so that we could remember them better and pass them on to successive generations. But this was only for the chosen few and not very efficient, and the repositories of information weren’t distributed equally across all the tribes. We invented wagons and roads and boats (skipping a few millennia here) and they allowed us access to a larger network, but it was slow and disorganized. And then Gutenberg came along and changed everything (eventually, it took a while). The written word was now available to many more people, but it was still scarce, because the idea of universal literacy was a long ways off. And even if you had literacy, you had to wait for the printed information to get to you, and you had to be lucky enough to get the good information.
But our culture – and our technology - continued to evolve. As our technology improved – telegraphs and telephones, trains, planes and automobiles (not in that order, but it sounds better) – it shrunk our world even more. Our networks expanded even more, but they were still limited. They were still designed on the notion of scarcity. That information was scarce, that certain experts had the right information and only the folks that had access to those experts could really get at the information. In fact, the experts themselves were a scarce resource and were therefore highly valued – and had gatekeepers that limited access to them. For most folks, you had to wait for their next book, or an article about them to come out in a major publication, or – more recently – a radio or tv special about them – to learn about what they knew. And again, you had to be lucky enough for that information to get to you in a timely fashion.
But now. Now, of course, you know what’s next. We have the Internet. And suddenly we are no longer living in a world of information scarcity, but one of information abundance. Where access to experts is no longer as scarce as it was. Sure, they still have gatekeepers, but not all of them do. And it’s much easier to learn what they know in almost real time, to not have to wait until the next book. And, perhaps more importantly, the experts themselves aren’t as scarce because we can connect with almost everyone. In an age of scarcity, a limited number of experts were needed to manage, control and disseminate the information. There was only room for a limited number. But in an age of abundance, many more people can be experts – or at least very knowledgeable – about their niche. And we can connect to those “average” folks in a way that was virtually impossible before, we can build our own learning networks.
We need to know how to access the information wherever it is on our learning network, whether it’s on a server in India or in a human brain in Indiana. To know whether I go to my trusted source down the hall, or to my trusted source that’s on the other side of the planet. It used to be that if I wanted to know about farming in Nigeria, I would consult one of a limited number of experts on farming in Nigeria (and probably the expert was at a university in England or something). Or, more likely, I consulted something they had published, because it was too difficult, or expensive, or time consuming – or I didn’t have the right connections to make contact and get past the gatekeepers. Now, I may still consult some of those experts, but not only is it much easier to contact them, but there are many more experts to contact. And the expert I contact just might be a farmer in Nigeria, not an academic in England. We live in an age of abundance, not scarcity, and that’s a whole new ballgame. And our students need practice with this, with creating a PLN, using their PLN, learning and contributing to others PLNs.
We can’t master all the content anymore – there’s simply too much of it. Our students need the skills and abilities and habits of mind to live in a world of information abundance. They need to develop that learning network so that they can be continual learners. And teachers need to be, among other things, network administrators. Not in the technical sense, but in the sense of guiding students as they create, use and incorporate learning networks into their learning. In a sense, our goal here in high school is really to make ourselves obsolete, that when they leave here they really don’t need us anymore. That they know how to learn, know how to build, expand, contribute to, and tap their learning network as needed.
And to teach it, we have to do it ourselves. We need to create our own personal learning networks. We need to experience the tools they’ll be using in the 21st century, developing our own networks in parallel with our students. We need to demonstrate continual learning, lifelong learning – for our students, or we will continue to teach our students how to be successful in an age of scarcity.
Okay, I could probably keep going on and on, but I’m really tired, and I still don’t know if that makes any sense. But let me close with the reminder that I’m not proposing eliminating literature from this mix. Shakespeare and Dostoyevsky, Hurston and Morrison, Hemingway and Faulkner – they can all be part of someone’s personal learning network. (OK, maybe not Faulkner, I never understood him.) And I believe they will be for a long time to come. But, for me, it’s still all about the learning, and I just don’t see how we’re meeting the needs of our students if we ignore the new pieces of their Personal Learning Networks that I think are going to be critical for their success – personally and professionally – in the 21st century.
Oh Karl, you sly fox, you! You knew I’d jump into the fray as soon as you mentioned Shakespeare—and I will respond to your comments about “not teaching literature per se, but the ideas” in just a moment.
But first, I want to respond to your statement that a technologically illiterate teacher unwilling to make the effort to learn more is equivalent to a teacher 30 years ago who didn’t know how to read and write. The equation doesn’t work for me. You’ve said repeatedly that technology is simply a tool, not an essential skill. I don’t need to learn technology to read and write, but I need basic reading and communication skills to use and understand technology. If I thought that my expertise with technology defined my success as a teacher, I would file my retirement papers right now. And I don’t consider myself technologically illiterate. I have been trying extremely hard the past five years to learn new technology and incorporate it into my classes as one tool for teaching reading and writing. But using technology is time-consuming and difficult for me because I’m a very right-brained learner who has trouble remembering sequencing and technical logic. My memory is shot (although my doctor assures me this is typical for a woman my age) and last week I probably spent four hours completing a photo story that a younger teacher could have completed in a half hour. My point is not that teachers shouldn’t make the effort to use technology, but teachers can still be effective using other tools. And don’t worry—the technology will take care of itself. Younger teachers have grown up with it so they will incorporate it into their lessons naturally.
On the other hand, teachers who don’t make the effort to incorporate basic skills into their curriculum are indeed the equivalent of teachers not knowing how to read and write. Karl, have you ever wondered why so many of the 21st Century cohort members don’t blog on a regular basis? I know you’re frustrated by this lack of participation. Several people have told me they are intimidated by the bloggers who write so eloquently and passionately. Notice they are not intimidated by the technology, but by the basic skill of writing. If teachers feel this way, how do you think our students feel? As an English teacher, which should I emphasize more: writing or technology? When I meet people in the “real” world (whatever that is) and they discover I’m an English teacher, they never ask me what technology I teach. They want to know what books my classes are reading. They want to know why so many of their new employees can’t write well or speak articulately. One of my doctors even asked me recently why prospective employees he interviews can’t look him in the eye while speaking. “Is it because they’re so used to text-messaging?” he asked.
Karl, another provocative statement you made (you’re very good at those, by the way) concerned who and what teachers teach. You would rather have me say, “I teach students,” instead of “I teach English.” Karl, why must the two statements be mutually exclusive? At Back-to-School Night I tell parents my two main goals for the year are to teach students effective communication skills and to share with students my passion for literature. Notice students come first in meeting both of my goals, but what I teach fuels my desire and ability to ignite the intellectual curiosity necessary in education. I have known plenty of teachers who love kids but are not successful in the classroom because they don’t feel a passion toward the subject they teach.
Finally, you made the statement, “I still don’t think it’s about the “literature”, it’s about the ideas. . . we shouldn’t be teaching the “literature” per se, but the ideas. We don’t care so much if students can spit back the important characters and plot lines of Macbeth, but rather whether they delve deeply into the meaning and truths contained in the story and relate it to their own lives and experiences.”
Karl, literature is not just about the ideas—it’s about the delivery of ideas. I know this comment doesn’t respond directly to your original post—but I can’t help myself. If students read Shakespeare simply to relate to his universal truths and characters, why is he the most quoted author in English Literature? Why do we search for his specific words when trying to capture or understand our feelings? Why did Terry quote directly from King Lear when making one of his points? All humor aside, why was the image of Terry “casting off his clothes,” so memorable for you when he simply could have described casting off old ways of thinking?
Think of the most inspirational speeches you have ever heard. Are those speeches famous simply for their ideas or also for the delivery of those ideas? “I have a dream…” “Ask not what your country can do for you, but what you can do for your country.” “Once more into the breach, dear friends!”
When I teach Shakespeare, I tell students he will give them words (not text messages—not ideas) for feelings they didn’t even know they had until they read those words. During his day Shakespearean audiences heard the words rather than read them, but the point is that the words are an “echo to the sense” (Alexander Pope) of our feelings. Words delivered with passion, style, and eloquence intensify our feelings, motivate us to act, and illuminate our imaginations. The pen is indeed mightier than the sword, and technology sometimes obscures the power of words. Speed and efficiency replace voice and authenticity.
If I were given only one more week to teach, do you know how I would spend it? Not in the computer lab, not online, not in my classroom preparing students for PSAT exams. I would twirl in the middle of the outdoor classroom where “all the world’s a stage,” and tell my students to “Beware, beware” my “flashing eyes and floating hair” for I have “traveled through realms of gold” and on “honeydew hath fed and drunk the milk of paradise!”
Kristin – I apologize. That previous comment to you did not come out the way I intended. (After suggesting to Cheryl that she was showing disdain, I turn right around and show it myself. Bad, very bad.) The four points were a black and white response to a nuanced and complex area. They were intended to illustrate what critics outside of public education would say – as well as what many critics inside of public education would say as well. I do believe there is truth in all four of them, so I’m not completely distancing myself from them, but I should’ve made it clearer what I was trying to illustrate.
Let me attempt to address the valid points I do see in them, and your additional comment.
1. I think your teacher prep program was negligent if in 2001 all they talked about was Word and copy machines. That doesn’t mean they weren’t excellent at other things, or that many fine teachers didn’t come out of the program, but we’ve got to find a way to move beyond Word and copy machines. If teacher prep programs, who have the luxury of focusing on all things educational with students who (usually) do not have all the responsibilities of full time teachers, can’t figure out how to explore these issues, then I’m not sure how we’re ever going to meet the needs of our kids in the 21st century.
2. I never meant to imply that the students passing through your classroom were just “passing through” your classroom - I’ve seen you teach. As I think I’ve tried to say over and over again, it’s not about the technology, it’s about the learning. But I would still suggest that the students we have right now need us to figure this out as quickly as possible, or I do think we will “jeopardize” their chances.
As far as teachers not trying, well – I guess I see different things.
3. Nothing really to add here.
4. I agree that teachers are students. I also think that teachers have a higher level of responsibility at this point in their lives than students do. As far as the inappropriate bit, that was just my frustration at constantly being criticized for advocating for students and what they are capable of – it didn’t really make sense, please strike it from your memory.
Overall, I think I must not be doing a very good job explaining any of this. Because to me, it’s not about “methods that can be improved with technology” or, teachers that “don’t use technology.” It’s not really about technology at all (and, okay, that means the title of my post is pretty bad). It’s about learning. And that the world is a fundamentally different place than when we were growing up, and our schools – and too many teachers - seem to be focused on perfecting a system that is preparing our students for a world that no longer exists.
[And even as I read this now before posting it, I’m still not explaining it well. Perhaps tomorrow I’ll do better.]
Karl--
Your explanation was excellent--clear, impassioned, specific. I too am very tired, so I'll keep this short. Thank you for giving me much to contemplate, though. (I've got to go grade my papers. I've been ignoring my students terribly lately--thanks to all the blogging I've been selfishly indulging in!)
I wish only one thing. I wish I had laptops in my classroom. Without them, trying to incorporate technology is very frustrating. Last year you kept assuring Cohort 2, "It's not about the technology." After reading this blog and commentary, however, I'm beginning to have doubts about that....
You've done so much for our school, Karl. Thanks to you, we have made tremendous steps forward. I'm not complaining about you at all, but I feel left out and disadvantaged because I don't have ready access to the tools my students and I (apparantly) need.
What can we do to change that?
Marlys – I’m way too tired to do this justice.
As far as technology, see my reply to Kristin. My definition of technologically literacy is apparently way, way different than everyone else’s. Technological literacy has very little to do with computers or software (although the y are helpful and necessary). And if folks have a different definition, then undoubtedly the analogy to reading and writing won’t make any sense.
Technology won’t take care of itself (at least not yet, it’s not sentient yet). And I don’t care much about taking care of technology, and I see very little evidence that the younger teachers are that much more advanced (see Kristin’s comments about her lack of training in her teacher prep classes). Of course teachers can be effective using other tools, I just don’t think they can meet all the needs of our students in the 21st century without it. And I want to meet all their needs.
I’m still having trouble with this intimidation thing. With all due respect (and I’m trying to not repeat my mistakes from above so please don’t take this too harshly), give me a break. First, I’m blogging right along with folks such as yourself and your colleagues who can write circles around me. Second, they have the option of writing in a Word document and emailing it to me – no one but me sees it – and they still aren’t doing it. Third, they are supposed to be professionals. Teachers. Learners. Role Models. They can go to college, graduate, and be entrusted with the lives of hundreds of teenagers each year, but they can’t figure out a way to write their thoughts down – either publicly or privately? Fourth, it’s what their students need them to do, so therefore I expect them to give it a shot.
You’re right, the two statements don’t have to be mutually exclusive. But – from my perspective – way too many teachers answer with their subject area and dismiss the students. My hope is that if they truly, honestly, passionately answered students first, then things would be better.
As far as “ideas,” please see my reply to Cheryl. I thought I qualified my use of “ideas” as a poor word choice, and my definition is more inclusive, but apparently not. And, I love Shakespeare, I really do. But why is he the most quoted author in English Literature? Well, undoubtedly because he has a way with words (please do not let the following take away from that, although I fear you will). But it’s also partially because he was prolific, because he was early, and because every student in an English language classroom in the past 100+ years has had to read him. I’m not saying that’s a bad thing, but that certainly helps get you quoted a lot. And, English teachers like Terry quoting Shakespeare don’t count! If only I had some math teachers blogging here . . . :-)
Can technology obscure the power of words? Sure, but it’s not because of the technology, it’s because of how it’s used. I think hearing Shakesepeare read live, listening to recorded actors reading Shakespeare, and watching recorded Shakespeare plays are all fantastic ways to have the ideas/truths/art delivered. But, once again, what does text messaging have to do with that? I’ve never said that text messaging would replace that. And, because I sometimes feel like what I write must be disappearing, would somebody please acknowledge that books are technology?
So, if you were given one more week to teach, you’d spend it on those things. No problem, I’m with you. But, assuming from your sentence that you might not be, why the heck aren’t you doing it this week?
As part of this discussion related to Karl's originsl post, we have to acknowledge that education and educators failed to promote teacher competency.
From the beginning, computers were looked at important for students, not teachers. In fact, many schools set up computer labs for students before they gave computers to any teachers. Yet, in my experience in moving a school ahead -- and I believe my school is exemplary in many ways -- the step that made the biggest difference in changing the teacher culture was giving every teacher a laptop before we introduced laptops for students.
When teachers finally had a computer they could use at home (and many of my teachers did NOT have home computers or fought to get time on their computers), their mastery of technology skills as well as their creativity for using technology to support learning, exploded.
Today I continue to see teachers with no access to technology except for a shared computer in a school or watching kids in a lab. Is it fair, then, to ask those teachers to be technology literate?
Understand that I believe integration is a teacher RESPONSIBILITY. I wonder, though, when educational leaders will take the responsibility to ensure that all teachers have consistent, all day-everywhere access to the tools so that they can become literate. THEN it is fair to expect them to grow more literate every year.
Thank you for articulating so nicely what many of us have been wrestling with privately for a long time. When you can make the "technology" relevant to a person's life outside of school (ie "I'm sure your grandchildren will love the photos of you in Alaska, let me show you how to send them as an attachment") the risk is easier for them to take. Once they're comfortable using the stuff in their personal life, they seem to be more likely to bring it into the classroom. Especially with the promise of 20 "helpers" in their room. Teachers don't have to be experts in all aspects of integrating different technologies into their curriculum but they do have to be willing to try. At the end of the day, aren't we all "life-long learners"?
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An interesting fact I read in my 8 year old son's planner was: "Mark Twain's novel Tom Sawyer was the first novel WRITTEN on a typewriter."
I have been reading the amazing dialogue that has continued for...2 weeks? on the Fischbowl. We would have had this conversation only once, maybe a couple times catching each other in the hall, but not again as a group. Technology, in this instance has given folks time to digress, stew, think, rethink and question each other. It also has given a forum for this discussion to occur outside of our building adding in many different perspectives.
The point I thought about when I read the fact about Twain is that if one of our treasured authors risked "penning" such a story using technology, what is the worry with having our students use it today?
I guess I feel very strongly about teachers that are so willing to admit their inadequacies without a willingness to learn. Teaching reading is not something that many of us in my language arts department learned in our education curriculum, but it is a major component of what we now teach. I simply cannot say that I just don't get it or that I was never taught it, so I am past the learning stage of teaching reading. No, instead, we dig in, we talk, we teach each other, we try things and ultimately, we learn that some things with teaching reading fail and others resonate with our students.
Technology is the same. It is a part of our world and I do feel as teachers of the 21st Century, we need to learn, teach each other, ask, read, wonder, and just try technology. It is certainly not the end-all, but like Twain, why not use the "latest" technology to pen our thoughts?
I guess this thread is winding down, but I had to jump in.
I actually was at TC with Ms. Kakos, who might even remember me. I know that back then the only technology I had on my mind w/r/t teaching was the copier at my student teaching site that didn't work, and the fax machine at the stationer's on Amsterdam Ave that I used to send in paperwork for my certification.
Then again, that WAS six years ago. But this is now. I wrote a little about this issue on my blog a while ago and, at the risk of being That Guy, am going to quote myself:
Look. Here’s the deal. Hey you–yeah, you–you teachers: I don’t care if you personally think Facebook is worthwhile, or that blogs are interesting to read. Facebook’s probably a total waste of time, and the vast majority of blogs (this one included) are self-indulgent pap. But this is the world we live in–not just our students. If you don’t go home and spend hours online every evening, it doesn’t matter. Your students do. And who are we serving, anyway? Get with the times or risk doing your students a disservice.
It's a little strident. I know that. But I'm standing by it. It just doesn't matter much what you think about technology, or whether the next great writer's going to be found on MySpace (doubtful) or something like that. Because that's kind of specious and silly, to be honest.
Nobody's trying to get rid of the Great Books of Awesome Literature. I think the canon could use a great deal of expansion. I think everyone should read Their Eyes Were Watching God, for just basic starters, let alone a little V.S. Naipaul, James Kelman, Maxine Hong Kingston, etc. But I don't think you're going to find anyone who believes in Web 2.0 technology as a boon to education who wants to replace Anna Karenina with my band's MySpace page. That's an "if you don't give up your civil liberties you might as well join Al-Qaeda"-caliber argument.
The technology is a tool for our students to use to read, write, explore, communicate, etc. Just like the Wonderful Books of Amazing Insight are tools to help our students read, enhance their vocabulary, grapple with themes, learn something about how master authors use language, etc. The trick is to use both of those tools in the service of our students, based on what they need.
I'm pretty sure we can all agree on that.
Thanks for encouraging me to continue to irritate my staff. Sometimes I feel like a stone in their shoe.
A corollary requirement is instructional design literacy. I see this from my vantage point in higher education. My role is to assist the educators with technology mediated delivery. Too often this takes the form of mediated information dumps made all the more deadly and ineffective by technology. In fact, can we really call something technology that is not a useful tool for solving problems?