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The authors of Disrupting Class describe the goals of education in this country as:
- Maximize human potential.
- Facilitate a vibrant, participative democracy in which we have an informed electorate that is capable of not being “spun” by self-interested leaders.
- Hone the skills, capabilities, and attitudes that will help our economy remain prosperous and economically competitive.
- Nurture the understanding that people can see things differently—and that those differences merit respect rather than persecution.
For me these ring true, in terms of my experience of my own education, of my values for our nation’s children, and of my hopes for my own work as a teacher. Nevertheless, it’s not clear that it is possible to succeed at all these goals at once, or even just one of them.
Dana Goldstein‘s history of teaching in the United States shows the roots of these goals and how they played out over time in our public education system. It’s a fascinating look at the evolution of the profession and the expectations we have of our schools.
Goldstein is decidedly sympathetic to teachers, who often feel trapped in an at least three-sided vice of parents and students, administrators, and governmental mandates — many unfunded. Read The Teacher Wars if you want to understand some of that feeling and how teaching got to be that way. You might also gain insight on conflicts between teachers’ unions and school boards, between neighborhoods and education reformers, between testing and accountability, and other education-related controversies.
Educational culture in this country does not have to be the way it is. Reading this book will help you understand it better. And that should be the beginning of changing it for the better.
In no particular order:
The Teacher Wars — Dana Goldstein (I’m about 3/4 of the way through, but haven’t found the time to finish.)
Creative Schools — Ken Robinson and Lou Aronica
Thinking, Fast and Slow — Daniel Kahneman (I’m somewhere in the middle of this brilliant book.)
Three by Cain — James M. Cain (I’ve finished one of the three short novels in this compilation.)
For White Folks Who Teach in the Hood . . . and the Rest of Y’all Too: Reality Pedagogy and Urban Education — Christopher Emdin
How We Learn — Benedict Carey
The Underground Railroad — Colson Whitehead
How to Win Friends & Influence People — Dale Carnegie
Mathematics in Western Culture — Morris Kline
Mathematics: The Loss of Certainty — Morris Kline
Something by Elmore Leonard
The Round House — Louise Erdrich
Scorecasting: The Hidden Influences Behind How Sports are Played and Games are Won — Tobias Jacob Moskowitz and L. Jon Wertheim
Michelle Pacansky-Brock had my attention from the first paragraph of the introduction, where – in response to comments like, “Students today are so unmotivated,” “Students today don’t care about anything but their grades,” and “Students today feel entitled and aren’t willing to work hard” – she asks, “Are our students the problem? Or is it our [higher education’s] instructional model?” By shifting the responsibility to us, teachers and colleges, she wins an ally with me.
The foundation of her work is the idea of moving from “teaching to learning,” a phrase taken from a 1995 article by Barr and Tagg that, in part, means students learn more when they are active participants in their learning, rather than passive listeners to their professors. In addition, Pacansky-Brock leverages John Medina’s Brain Rules, focusing on three that she believes are “relevant for 21st-century college educators”: exercise boosts brain power; sensory integration; vision trumps other senses.
Not only, she argues, can technology help make learning more “brain-friendly” through strategies like those, it’s also the language that today’s college student speaks. Citing numerous statistics – like, 85% of 18-29 year olds in the U.S. have a smart phone – Pacansky-Brock supports the idea that “’online’ is a culture to young people. Yet to most colleges, it is a delivery method.” In sum, teaching with emerging technologies makes sense on a lot of levels and most colleges are behind the curve.
What follows is mostly practical advice for getting on the technology bus, based in experience and experiment. As a classroom teacher at both community college and state university levels, Pacansky-Brock been willing to try a lot of things. Readers benefit by learning from both her successes and failures.
Chapter one discusses the basics of preparing your students for a participatory classroom that uses significant technological tools. Because “students are trained to expect” a hierarchical classroom environment, “when an instructor embarks upon an instructional model that assumes a flattened relationship between student and instructor, like the flipped model, the must be communicated and discussed so it’s clear to students.” They need to understand why you are doing what you’re doing and how the pieces fit together to create the community of learners that you are trying to create.
This first chapter also includes issues like classroom philosophy, community ground rules, student privacy, copyright in the electronic world, and even a bit on the linking versus embedding in your online materials. Chapter two spends more time on participatory pedagogy and some basic tools you can use to foster it. In chapter three, she spends time on the “essentials” – smartphone, webcam, microphone, screencasting software, online content hosting, and more. Chapter four goes into more detail about tools for creating compelling visual content, from infographics to video conferencing to a “liquid” syllabus. Chapter five delves into the tools for participatory learning, including social media, online bulletin boards, online meetings, digital polling, and more on content curation. Through it all, Pacansky-Brock shares what she does, elaborates other options, and discusses the pros and cons of both. Her ideas, tips, and stories make what might seem like a list of apps into something like an annotated bibliography.
The book’s last full chapter is an extended argument for the potential of the internet to innovate and create new and better learning opportunities for students. Pacansky-Brock advocates against using your college’s Learning Management System (LMS) and describes her own evolution on this topic:
When I started teaching online in an LMS, I was disappointed in the quality of the learning environment I had developed for my students and felt constrained by the features available to me. By experimenting with new tools, I discovered different ways of engaging my students and opportunities for being present in their learning. But I still felt the need to use an LMS, largely because of concerns about violating the license for the images included in the textbook I was using, as well as my (former) institution’s expectation for faculty to teach with institutionally supported technologies. I imagine many instructors can relate to that experience.
I certainly can. But there is more. The extensive use of the LMS in higher education, she writes, “may be contributing to a gap between the skills college graduates need and the skills they have.” The LMS provides privacy, control, and less distraction, but it cannot keep up with the speed and scale of innovation on the open internet. Using an LMS also prevents students from developing a professional web presence. In fact, content developed by students during the course disappears when the course is over – essentially, their work inside the LMS is disposable. Working in the open internet can motivate students to produce higher quality work, because after all, “the internet is forever.”
Pacansky-Brock does not think the internet is a panacea for educating students. She sees the advantages and disadvantages of learning through the internet and believes that technology can be used to make learning more human and more participatory. She is thoughtful and thought-provoking – as a teacher, I was constantly taking notes for my own classes, sparked by ideas and stories in the book. I will be referring to it frequently as I continue to refine my teaching practice.
You can find out more at: http://teachingwithemergingtech.com/
Only one of the authors of this book come from an education background. The other two study and write primarily about business. Their idea is to take the insights they have about the way businesses change and apply them to education.
To me, their most useful insight is that big breakthroughs in innovation first develop in a markets that were not previously being served or were being served poorly. In an example they use a few times in the book, the first makers of the minicomputer didn’t try to market their product to the government or businesses that were already invested in mainframe computers. Instead, they marketed to smaller businesses and individuals who could not afford and didn’t have the space for mainframes. Trying to compete with the mainframes directly would have been a losing cause, since the companies that made the mainframes were already good at it and already had large market shares. In addition, even though the first minicomputers didn’t have all the power and functionality of the mainframes of that day, the early minicomputer users were happy with the product because without it they didn’t have access to computers at all. That is, people in new markets are willing to accept some less than ideal circumstances, because they had no service before. As time goes on, and people become accustomed to the new product, they expect higher and higher levels of service — note that minicomputers got increasingly powerful to match those expectations.
The same is true for educational reform. Educational innovators are going to have a very difficult time being successful while fighting against a well-entrenched system. Unless you serve a new market, your innovation is almost certain to function mostly at the edges and to last only as long as you have “extra” money to pay for it. You aren’t going to truly “disrupt” the system.
The book’s authors believe that educational technology can serve previously unserved or underserved markets and eventually change education as we have known it and they believe that the unserved markets are in places like: small schools that cannot afford to offer “enrichment” courses; credit recovery for students who have to take regular classes, too; providing individualized instruction for students who do not learn well in traditional classes.
The authors think the last example is especially important and suggest that, as the software improves, much of school can be transformed into an individualized environment for students, with teachers guiding and assisting as needed — improving education for all students because they are being taught in the style in which they best learn, rather than in the relatively monolithic, one-size-fits-all methods that most schools employ. Based on their observation of disruptive innovation in other areas, they predicted (when they published the book in 2008) that “by 2019, about 50 percent of high school courses will be delivered online.” Whether or not this is accurate remains to be seen, but the vision they provide is of a student-centric learning environment that is enabled by technology, while remaining very much human and humane.
Disrupting Class is at it’s best when talking about the potential for change and how that change could happen. It’s much less compelling when talking about educational research and policy. I appreciate the authors’ vision, if not always their specific recommendations for moving toward it.
As Kurt Squire notes in the forward to Video Games and Learning, educators and gamers don’t often talk to each other — “game people think educators are lame, and educators think that game people are hyperviolent misogynists destroying all that is good in the world.” Squire and other educator-gamers (see, for example, Keith Devlin) are trying to change that, because they believe that gaming not only has something to teach educators, but that gaming may be a significant part of the future of education. Squire asks not, “Can you learn from games?” but “How do we make good learning games?” and “Can games help transform education?”
Squire is pretty critical of the current educational culture in our country. He argues that it is based in “passive knowledge reception,” with a structure that isolates “students by age ability, filters all information through the teacher, and features few opportunities to interact with experts, much less to become one.” He sees school as all too often full of failure that reinforces the idea that students know little or nothing – stand back and let “the experts” tell you how it is.
By contrast, gaming communities “don’t survive by selling players the fantasy of being incompetent, powerless, forced to follow arbitrary rules, and impotent in the world.” Instead games give the opportunity to “become leaders, teachers, or authors in the domains they are studying.” Games clearly communicate “what players must do to become experts” and regularly give the opportunity to interact with people who are more advanced. They are engaging and motivate learning in a wide range of fields for the purpose of doing something (albeit, usually scoring more points in the game), not just learning because your teacher told you to. Games, Squires believes, can be a meaningful part of, and can influence, a curriculum that also includes, people, books, homework, and all the other things we’ve come to associate with education.
This all might sound pie in the sky. Squire acknowledges that “such a change would require revolutionizing across the entire education system – from the professional development of teachers (who themselves are treated as recipients, not producers of knowledge) to the assessment system.” But he’s not just theorizing; he’s gone out and worked in “low-performing” schools, introducing a gaming curriculum in collaboration with teachers on the ground. Together they have learned what can work and what can’t, adjusting their approach on the fly. The stories of these experiments are some of the most compelling parts of the book.
Squire does not pretend to have all the answers. While he is a reformer, he is not concerned with scaling the interventions he’s helped pilot. He sees education reform as a process, not a product. He wants to spread “reflective teaching practices that engage kids in advanced design thinking about themselves and their communities.” In this he has succeeded.
Research in math rarely generates much controversy, but the recent back and forth over the work of Rochelle Gutierrez and others is something of an exception. That work discusses the cultural roots of math, specifically the way it operates as a gendered space that perpetuates male and white privilege. Even though many professional organizations in math have supported Gutierrez and her work, people continue to demonize her.
Suffice it to say that I stand with Gutierrez. See here for more information.
(For an added bonus, check out The Liberated Mathematician.)
As part of my research, I’ve stumbled across the work of Michelle Pacansky-Brock and what she calls “humanizing” online learning. She has created an infographic summarizing “How to Humanize Your Online Class“:
Pacansky-Brock’s work dovetails nicely with the work of Drs. Luke Wood, Frank Harris III, and Khalid White. In their book, Teaching Men of Color in the Community College (there’s also an online course with the same name), they stress teacher-student relationships that include positive messaging, authentic care, and intrusive interventions. They also point to the importance of high expectations and high support in the context of relevant content, critical reflection, collaboration, and performance monitoring. While that’s a lot to take in, I thought Michael Smedshammer’s approach in his Online Teaching Conference presentation, Five Ways to Leverage Your LMS to Improve Student Equity, put it succinctly: “Put relationships before pedagogy” and use “intrusive pedagogy.”
For me, this means it’s the teacher’s responsibility to reach out to our students. We cannot just offer to meet with students or put the invitation out there. We need to schedule times with our students and seek them out if they don’t show up. This is especially important for those students who need the most help and may be most embarrassed to asked for it.
In my own experience as an online and hybrid teacher building the relationships is the most difficult part, particularly because it’s one of the strengths I bring to my face-to-face classroom. Online and hybrid instructors typically see our students much less often than our in-the-classroom colleagues. We have to create human presence through the internet. When I started teaching online, I not only didn’t know how to be “present” remotely, I wasn’t very comfortable with trying. It felt completely alien and weird and the opposite of personal. I had to learn to get over myself. No matter how accomplished I was in the classroom, I had to adapt to the new environment. I had to get out of my comfort zone and do the things that my students needed. The resulting experiments have not been perfect, but I’ve learned a lot.
Here’s some concrete ways you can make your presence more real for your students online. You can use these to show who you are and to demonstrate your passion for your subject and for teaching. (Many of these ideas are gleaned from Pacansky-Brock and Smedshammer, as well as Fabiola Torres):
- Embed video of yourself in your syllabus
- Use icebreakers
- Offer online office hours using Zoom or Google Hangouts
- Use a texting service like Remind:
Email is old-fashioned. There’s no better way to reach your students than on their phones. I now require my online and hybrid students to sign up to receive texts from me. Even though I give them the option to talk to me about why they don’t want to get those texts, not one student has asked to get out of the requirement. Far from being intrusive, most students seem to appreciate my texts and see it as sign that I care about their success.
- Post weekly or more frequent videos in your course:
Encourage students and let them see your normal or even geeky self. Torres calls these “learning nudges.” You can use QuickTime or iMovie or any number of other applications.
- Respond to student work with a video — this is really easy inside Canvas. There should be a button to press under the box for assignment comments that allows you record and post a private video right inside the LMS.