Real World Learning: The Test

Earlier this week I had the opportunity to meet with 8 high school students from my school division; 3 are from my own classroom. Together they form a team of student journalists who will report, in real time, the events of the Rural Education Conference being held in Saskatoon at the end of March. Between now and then we have several meetings to become a cohesive team who can collaborate and synthesize high quality digital products, under pressure, against a deadline — all the skills I’ve been teaching my students for the past year will be put to the test.

Following brief introductions, I provided a overview of the conference and our job. It took a bit for them to figure out what our role in the conference really is. I wonder if it’s because students have so few “real world” roles where their school skills really matter. We need to change that. But as they grappled with the idea, it became clear.

After establishing our role, we got to work. The first thing we did? Created a google doc, of course. This comes naturally to my students, and is what happens when students become digitally fluent.  They know which tool is the right one for the task and will maximize their productivity. Consequently, the tool fades into the background and the learning, collaborating, and creating take center stage.

To begin with, we’ve created a blog, titled Your Geek Squad, that will be populated with bios of presenters, commercial-like video highlight reels of the concurrent sessions that will be presented throughout the conference,  pictures, interviews, and blog entries.  All of these will be created and collated by my students. We also created a twitter account and hashtag for the conference, a QR code that will lead all participants to our blog, and a flickr feed.

One of the novelties of the conference will be a working QR code built out of Lego that participants can scan. It will sit in the lobby throughout the conference. In truth, some participants may not know what to do with it, but it’s one way to introduce educators to the use of  QR codes in the classroom.  We’re also going to have team shirts, which say YourGeekSquad on the front, and have our QR code on the back.  The QR code on the shirt should work too.

For the first time, the student journalism team will be completely paperless.  In the past, a daily newsletter was created.  Here’s the thing, I rarely use paper in my classroom; something about the thought of creating a newsletter that will quickly be tossed in the garbage goes against pretty much everything my students and I believe.  Instead, throughout the conference we’re going to keep a running tab of how many trees we’ve saved, which will be updated on our blog.  How will participants know how to find us? At each place setting on the tables will be a small QR code — that’s the extent of our paper use for the conference.

Secondly, it’s all going to be done with mobile, BYOD tech.  We have a couple of iPads, a couple of laptops, and a whack load of phones.  This is the way I like to work.  It’s how we do things in my classroom.  We use what we have, and it works well.  While I don’t have a problem with 1:1 classrooms, I’m not sure it’s the most authentic learning environment.  I think 1:1 classrooms are perfect for schools who are trying to bridge economic gaps and provide access to students who don’t have tech at home. However, my students love BYOD

I think this is the future of education: authentic tasks, embedded, mobile, BYOD technology. I’m excited about this opportunity for our students because, at this point, they’re so few and far between in education.  We need to change this.  While my province has a work exploration class, in many instances the tasks our students do are menial or simply observing.  And while I wouldn’t want a 17 year-old performing a root canal on me, they are competent to do much more than they’re allowed.

For me, this is the “exam” I’ve been preparing my students for.  What my students can memorize and spew back on a Biology or English final has no ability to tell me how my students will perform in a high pressure situation like  this.  But I think they’re up for the task.

Show me. Don’t tell me

Today I spoke at my first staff meeting in the role of learning consultant.  The topic? Project-based learning.  I gave an overview of PBL using the projects I’ve done with my classes.  Showing everything from our Holocaust museum, to our anti-slavery social media campaign, to the smaller Biology projects we’ve created.  One of the things I love about PBL is the flexibility and versatility of it.

Many of the teachers seemed really interested in the idea.  One teacher put up her hand and said, “I love the projects you’ve done with your students. But how do you do this in a grade one class? Until someone can show me, I can’t wrap my head it.”

My answer? No idea.  I’m not going to pretend I know how to do PBL with 25  six year-olds. The truth is I can’t fathom it. I might actually lose my mind, and I absolutely agree with her statement. I think many teachers feel the same way. The curriculum in my province is written for inquiry, yet very few teachers are using inquiry in their classrooms. Why? I honestly think they don’t know how to. We’ve told them, not shown them.

This is part of the reason I blog as I do. I think it’s great to cast the vision about important ideas such as students needing tech-embedded, 21st century, inquiry classrooms, but I’m a show me, not tell me sorta person.  I always think, “okay, but what does that look like.” To me, that’s the hard part.   I think there are a lot of teachers out there who are the same.

At the staff meeting today, I had an idea.  What if I create a multi-level, inquiry/PBL resource for teachers in my division that shows & teaches how to create & implement inquiry/PBL lessons & units in their classrooms — including video footage & interviews from classrooms, lessons & unit ideas, and assessment strategies? What if it’s split into K-3, 4-6, 7-9 & 10-12?

The truth is, I want to learn how to do inquiry in an early elementary classroom. Why? Because I think it will make me a better inquiry teacher. I think how inquiry is taught in the grade one classroom would be the foundation of all inquiry learning, regardless of grade. Often there are things I take for granted because my students are older — and sometimes projects fall apart because of it. But in a grade 1 classroom you can’t do that — or there will be chaos.

The more I think about it, great inquiry teachers likely have the same foundational habits   I admit that younger learners need more scaffolding, but so do high school students who are just learning the inquiry process.  As students grow & learn the scaffolding is slowly removed.

I am a huge advocate of PBL because of the changes I’ve seen it create in my own students. And I’ve always thought, “If only kids could learn to do this sooner.” I think the way to make that happen is to help equip teachers by showing, not telling. And I might need to learn a lot more about inquiry in order to facilitate the process.

The great thing is my school division’s learning department is built on collaboration.  Consultants in our division work on learning teams, and cross-collaborate with others based on expertise.  I know there are other consultants who are interested in this same topic. Maybe we can create this together. I’d love for us to wade into the mess of PBL with our teachers.  What if the culmination of this venture is an immersive PD experience for teachers to experience PBL as learners, not as teachers?

One week into my role as a learning consultant I have more questions than answers, but my motto has become ”Show. Don’t tell.”

picture courtesy of flickr cc: Jem

Day One: Halt

picture courtesy of cc flickr: dawkeye

Today was the first day of my new job.  How was it? A struggle, of course.  How could it not be?  As my shoes clicked across the hall floor this morning I thought, “Boy, it’s quiet here.”  Something I’m not really used to. I taught in an inquiry classroom, which was often loud and boisterous. 

For the past eight years, I’ve been a teacher at the same school.  I knew what my role was, what I was there to do, what I was good at.  So even though I took many risks in my classroom, there were many things that were safe.  I knew how I fit into the larger picture.

But now all of that is gone, and I have to figure out what is mine to do in a new place.  It’s hard.  Ironically, it’s what I tell my grade 12′s they need to do when they graduate. It’s much easier to be giving the advice than living it.

And this is part of the reason why we need to equip our students to think on their own, to trust their instincts, to figure out what they love, and how to problem-solve and critically evaluate.  This identity thing never goes away.  We need to continue revisiting it our entire lives, and if it’s not done well, developmental theorists tell us the consequences can be disasterous.  Maybe we need to talk to our students more about that.  You can’t really run away from figuring out who you are and live well.

And the thing is, I have to figure it out myself.  No one can hand it to me.  I have to do the hard work.  I’ve realized this is why school that is “real life” matters. Kids need to be involved in work that is challenging and at the same time fundamentally shapes who they are.

Rather than spending time memorizing answers for an exam, what risks are our students taking? In their learning? In their growth? Are they learning what they love and how they contribute? We must learn to risk wisely — it’s the only life worth living.

“To Risk”
by William Arthur Ward
To laugh is to risk appearing a fool, To weep is to risk appearing sentimental.
To reach out to another is to risk involvement, To expose feelings is to risk exposing your true self.
To place your ideas and dreams before a crowd is to risk their loss.
To love is to risk not being loved in return, To live is to risk dying, To hope is to risk despair, To try is to risk failure.
But risks must be taken because the greatest hazard in life is to risk nothing.
The person who risks nothing, does nothing, has nothing, is nothing.
He may avoid suffering and sorrow, But he cannot learn, feel, change, grow or live.
Chained by his servitude he is a slave who has forfeited all freedom.
Only a person who risks is free.
The pessimist complains about the wind;
The optimist expects it to change;
And the realist adjusts the sails.

Why I love project-based learning

I love project-based learning. Why? Because my students do. Some of my favourite projects are the Biology 30 projects due at semester’s end. These aren’t the only projects we create throughout the semester; we also create a number of digital products too. However, these tend to be the most intricate and hands on.

For the past week, my students have been sharing their projects.  My students don’t give their presentation at the front of the room, although that’s an important skill to learn too. Instead, we sit in a circle and share. I’ve found doing it this way creates more interaction between my students than presenting at the front of the room.

The topic for this particular project was body systems.  My students were to create a project on any system in the body– a really broad topic, I know.  I do that on purpose.  In class, over the past two months, we’ve studied 5 different systems, but students aren’t limited solely to those.  Often students are interested in things we don’t have time to explore in class. This project allows them to do so.

One of my students created a Monopoly-type boardgame based on the nervous system. Each of the different properties represented a different aspect of the nervous system.  Additionally, the Community Chest & Chance cards also contained many facts about the system, in addition to the usual penalties or rewards.

But the best part of his presentation, to me, was when he stated, “I really enjoyed doing this.  It was a lot of fun — a ton of work, but a lot of fun.”  And that’s why I love project-based learning.  It allows my students to really focus on, and learn deeply about, things they’re interested in, which often causes them to work hard, enjoy the process of learning, and produces a great deal of satisfaction once they are finished.

Another student researched and created a model of the knee.  She has knee problems, and as an athlete, she experiences the real pain of these problems quite frequently.   During her presentation, she showed the parts of the knee affected, informed the class how these problems affect her, and possible treatments and surgical options.  It took her hours to create the knee from Plasticine. This is the second reason I love PBL, it often becomes personal for my students, allowing them to understand more about themselves or others they are close to.

A third student created two cakes — each depicted the brain. The brain with large portions of yellow, shows a healthy, functioning brain. The brain that is predominantly blue shows the functionality of a brain struggling with depression. Wow. I was shocked to see the difference.  And this is one of the reasons PBL can be powerful.  It allows students and teachers to see what might often be taught as vague, abstract concepts.

This particular student chose this topic because her family has been deeply and painfully affected by depression.  She wants to understand it better.  This project was meaningful far beyond the knowledge she acquired.

We also learned about hip replacements. One of my student’s has a father who is a doctor. She was curious about how hip replacements work, and through his contacts, he was able to procure the actual implements that are used in a hip replacement. How many people actually get to see what those look like? Which is the final reason I love PBL – I learn a ton from my students, and it allows my students to experience the reality that they have knowledge to offer to those around them.  The PBL classroom allows students to learn from each other, as well as me.

My student created a playdough version of the pelvis & hip bones to show how hip replacements fit.  And then, during her presentation, spared none of the gory details of the surgical process.  Trust me, it was readily apparent by the looks on my students faces who might be successful at pursuing a medical career and who will likely steer clear of it. The detail of the process was truly amazing.  During these presentations I’m often surprised by the amount of learning that occurs and the enthusiasm my students have towards it.

While some teachers may wonder about the merits of PBL, I’m sold.  My students learn much more in an inquiry classroom, than they did when we had a traditional one. It allows them to have a say in what they learn and how they present their knowledge. Every semester I’m impressed by the hard work and energy my students pour into their projects. It’s not enough for students to learn a bunch of disconnected facts, they need to be able to synthesis them into a large whole and create something from what they’ve learned. Often they’ll connect them to their lives in ways we could never have imagined.

I love PBL and so do my students; and that makes all the difference.

Cultivating a Culture of Failure

Somewhere along the line we decided that failure was a bad thing — something to be avoided at all costs, as if that’s possible.  Even though we tell our kids that Edison failed hundreds of times before he invented the light bulb, we keep perpetuating  school cultures that abhor failure. Our students likely know most of what we’re saying is lip-service.

It could be all of the testing. It could be current grading practices. It could be the lack of play in many of our classrooms.  This needs to change.

On Monday, I’m going to show my students this video:

And then we’re going to talk about their experience with failure in school and our classroom.  What needs to change will come from that conversation.

I’ve been reflecting on what the most important things are for my students to learn. And none of the subect matter I teach comes to mind.

Instead, my students need to learn to embrace failure and allow it to be their teacher.

Fear of failure prevents us from taking risks.  Prevents us from reaching out to others. Prevents us from becoming who we are meant to be.

Slavery is Wrong: Wear a Barcode

Picture courtesy of flickr cc: D()MENICK

In two days, on January 11th,  it’s National Human Trafficking Awareness Day.  What are my students doing for it? They’re wearing a barcode. Yep, you read that right. My students decided to wear a simple barcode off a household object to represent that people should not be bought and sold, to start conversations with those around them that slavery still exists, and as a visual symbol that our work is not done.

We ask that you join us on January 11th to raise your voice that slavery is not okay. Start a conversation in your classroom, send out tweets using the hashtag #slaverystillexists, blog about it, or join us in wearing a barcode.  If you’re looking for resources to use my students have created a few.

One of my students sent me an article today. President Obama has declared January to be National Slavery and Human Trafficking Prevention Month.  People are starting to become aware that slavery exists, but awareness isn’t enough.  We need to do something. Do I believe wearing a barcode will end slavery? No.

But I believe teachers and students have the power to bring about radical change in this area. It’s time we stand up and make our voices heard.  We need to join together. How? Social media.  It has the power to change the world.  We’ve watched it bring down governments and help survivors in earthquakes.  With enough voices, companies like Hershey, Nike and Disney will need to change their practices.  In fact, a recent social media protest forced Kroger to cough up a $10,000 dollar prize.

Let’s join together in the fight.  Let’s show kids that what happens in school does make a difference.  Let’s change the world.

You must be the change you want to see in this world – Gandhi

The Long Goodbye

Three weeks from tomorrow, when our semester ends, I’ll be leaving my classroom.  For the next year, I’ll be the high school learning consultant for my school division. And I had no idea it would be so hard to leave.

I’ve been in my classroom for seven years; it’s my first classroom. And my students have always left me – that seems to be the proper progression of things.

It hurts to leave my kids. I had no idea it would hurt so much.  I had no idea how deeply this way of learning connects you to your students. And I keep asking myself, “Is this going to be okay? Did I make the right decision?”

I love the idea of a new challenge.  I love the idea of working with other teachers. And my biggest hope is that it will help me to become a much better teacher than I am.  But I know what I’m leaving, and it’s a big loss. I’ve learned so much from my students about teaching and learning and the power of people to make a difference. I love their enthusiasm and honesty, and they’ve been so incredibly gracious while I’ve stumbled around learning this inquiry,  project-based, technology thing.

And I think, partially, it’s hard because I can see my students are afraid too.  Shortly after hearing the news, one of my students came up to me and asked, “the new teacher that we get, are they going to teach the other way? or like you?”  I don’t know. I know what I hope.

But I also know that my students have learned how to ask for what they need, and that will serve them well.  They’ve learned how to learn, how to create, and how to speak up, and they need those skills much more than they need me.

This morning the parent of one of my students came up to me to thank me for all that I’ve done. But the most important words she said when speaking of her son were, “He’s  so appreciative of the way you allowed them to learn.”  And that’s really the key. It’s not what I taught them, but what they were able to learn when given the space to do so.  And that’s what I hope I can share with other teachers in my new position.

During the next year, I’m not sure what this space will become, or what I’ll have to share here that will be of value to other teachers.  I hope something, but if not, it will still be the space where I think and try to grow.

So for the next three weeks, my students and I will struggle with how to say good-bye.