A Big Fat Felt-Tipped "F"

inhale. exhale. inhale. exhale. inhale. exhale. AND remember this is a public genre as I am uber tempted to go say far too much, "dear diary" style. This summer, as I put in my spousally-testing, parentally-guilt-inspiring number of hours preparing for my iPad classroom, I had grandiose visions of students sprinting to class in anticipation of what's next, scholars creating and thinking and writing beyond anything I'd ever seen before, even (ha, ha) teaching being a tad less exhausting.

'twas the height of utter foolishness.

After a day of technological challenges, stacks of other responsibilities and needs floating my way, and a mixed bag of classroom fair, I sat down after 8th hour to make sense of it all - the many emailed papers to me, some sent to the right place, some not; some with clear headings in the subject line (which hour? which assignment? which student?) others not; I was organizing my desk when I noticed movement on the screen; I looked at my monitor to discover the last 6 days of emails systematically disappearing from my inbox. I was not touching the keyboard, nor was any random object touching the keyboard. Once this cryptic robbery ceased, I discovered that all emails sent between 5:14 p.m. on 9/8/11 and 2:54 on 9/15/11 were nowhere to be found, not even in the trash, student work included.

Tomorrow, I shall grovel; tonight I shall regroup, This year, I shall survive; next year, move ahead. Professional growing pains, called growing pains for a reason. They feel like big fat felt-tipped "F's"

I was never very good with non-A's, much less F's.

Revising "The Snoozer"

So, here's my lesson in revision, dear scholars. My blog post yesterday was a snoozer. It was me thinking aloud while disregarding my legion (lol) of followers (as if).

So, instead of editing it down, I'll attempt to make this a teachable moment, leaving the original snoozer in tact, and revising it for today (with a few editorial comments):

I've often said I'm a manic-depressive by trade. Teaching has extraordinary highs and staggering lows, often in the same day, sometimes in the same hour.  I'm finding this year to be no exception. So, today's extraordinary highs: (opening's not bad: will stay as is; but soon, I shall chop):

• read my Freshman blogs today: they're funny, smart, oozing with voice. I'm excited about where this is going...
• my Juniors were brainstorming and writing and helping each other come up with good ideas for college entrance essays. The flexible seating this year is incredibly conducive both independent work and collaboration. Every teacher and every student deserves this kind of space. 

And now for today's staggering lows, which are not exactly staggering (I tend to fixate on the negative):

• my Sophomores were squirly. I had them go "old school" and write a shape poem - easier to do with pencil and paper than an iPad. But they weren't as engaged as with iPads in hand: less energy, less focus. I need to think more about this - is it that iPads are so engaging that students keep writing while pencil and paper are so two-thousand-and-late that they hang it up early? Maybe the music IS in the piano. 
• my APES were heady today - smart stuff was uttered, but having ten more bodies in the room hampers discussion. I'm rushing them in order to hear from others. I have to figure out a way to cut this class in two or three or four chunks, so groups of 10 or 15 react within themselves instead of everyone vying for a voice. 

But now, this manic depressive needs sleep, and so, a bit more correcting and then, a well-earned pillow.

(Conclusion: this revision is only slightly less snooze-worthy than yesterday's original. Blogger lesson-of-the-day: perhaps a blog post is like a class period: some are rather brilliant, others rather snoozy, appropriate fair for a manic depressive).

Still, pillow earned.

Manic Depressive

I've often said I'm a manic-depressive by trade. Teaching has extraordinary highs and staggering lows, often in the same day, sometimes in the same hour.  I'm finding this year to be no exception. So, today's extraordinary highs:

• read my freshmen blogs: funny, smart, oozing with voice. It was apparent that many students expanded their blog entries on their own time, even adding extra posts. Blogging is truly their genre. I know we'll be great partners working out the logistics and kinks in the process.
• last two hours of the day saw my juniors brainstorming and writing and helping each other come up with good ideas for college entrance essays. The collaborative seating and flexible seating in my room are incredibly conducive to both collaborating with others and finding your own space. Every teacher and every student deserves this kind of space. No redirection needed. All were on task. I was able to conference at least briefly with every student in my last two hours of the day. I can't remember that happening. I think the space and the ipads are two contributing factors.

And now for the staggering lows, which in hindsight were not staggering (I tend to fixate and amplify things that go as well as I'd like); still, here are two issues I want to resolve:

• my sophomores were squirly today. I had them go "old school" today, to write a shape poem - easier to do with pencil and paper than an iPad. It was obvious that they weren't as engaged as with iPads in hand. There was less energy in the room and more talking than with the iPads. I need to think more about this - is it that iPads are so engaging that students keep writing, keep rephrasing, keep futzing with language and form while pencil and paper are so two-thousand-and-late that they finish it, put their pencils down, and call it a day? Does technology make that much of a motivational difference? I shall fill their hands with iPads tomorrow and see.
• AP English was heady today - great points made, SMART Board dissection of page one of Poisonwood Bible. The only problem was that I wasn't satisfied with the amount of participation I was able to get, due to the size of the class. Ten more students than I'd normally have in AP has changed the class dynamic. They have LOTS to say, but I feel I'm rushing them in order to hear from others. This was the first whole-class type period I've had with them. I normally try to maintain a balance among various types of discussions: whole class, small group, and presentations. I have to figure out a way to cut this class in two or three chunks daily, so groups of 8 or 10 or 15 react within themselves instead of everyone vying for a voice. 

But now, this manic depressive needs sleep, and so, a bit more correcting and then, a well-earned pillow.

Pleasant dreams---

Help needed!

"We're all learners; we're all teachers, right?"
Well, I need to be schooled in how to attach a link to a website into Blogger via the iPad...anyone?

The Shakedown Cruise

"It's the Shakedown Cruise," he said, as if I knew what that meant.
Amazingly, he's still asking the "How was work today?" question even though my answer is about an hour long these days with an occasional pause for breathing. You see, year 18 in the classroom is feeling awfully similar to year 1 in the classroom. iPads have changing everything, or at least it feels like it.
His response: "It's the Shakedown Cruise."
Apparently, every new airplane (or boat) gets a Shakedown Cruise - a test run, a beta lap - actually, a series of them - to work out the kinks before it's smooth sailing (or flying). He suggested that I allow myself one too, that perhaps this whole year would be a bit of a Shakedown Cruise. That's not good news to a Type A, but perhaps good advice.
And so, I refer myself back to my motto for the year (posted above my SMART Board): "We are all learners; we are all teachers."
I'm as much of a learner this year as a teacher. Case in point: one of my freshman (thanks A) taught me the following today: 1) how to allow students to follow my blog 2) a new idea about turning in student work  3) notice that google released a blogger app today.
I'll survive the Shakedown Cruise, I think, with a little help from my copilots.

The Music's Not in the Piano

A good friend of mine told us, when he first saw our living room, that we needed to buy a Baby Grand Piano. It would be perfect, he explained, in the corner by the windows, overlooking the lake. We had never considered the idea before, yet we both liked it. Only problems: Baby Grands cost about $20,000 AND neither of us plays the piano. Nonetheless, interior arrogance led us to float our contact info in musical circles, asking for a shout out if a used Baby Grand became available on the cheap.

Gratefully, no leads panned out, and as a result, 15 years later, no Baby Grand resides in the corner by the windows overlooking the lake. Just lush, beautiful, oxygen-giving plants.  

(Stay with me here - the piano analogy will make itself known by the end of this post, I promise).

So today, this iPad Day 2, I am here to report a mixed bag:

The sturdy, functional part of the bag: students are completely engaged, iPads in hand; iPads are, I believe, at one with the student mind. Quick enough, responsive enough, individualized enough to maintain student attention and engagement, period.

The soggy, ripped part of the bag: iPads are certainly are most successful in a 1-to-1 environment: it's challenging having 5 different students use each iPad, saving pictures, documents, tying to push their work out of apps to their own ends.

Two Teacher lessons-learned today:

1) I'm finding myself challenged with the notion of letting go of control. Case in point: students were writing on iPads today and as I was circulating, I saw one student had taken a goofy picture and embedded it in his document. That's not what I asked them to do, but when I look closer, I realized he was writing about the picture. I need to loosen up my presumptions and allow this multi-tasking generation to max out on these machines. 

2) At the same time, I have to figure out a way to help students leverage the technology to access and develop their critical thinking skills. I had my Sophomores today exploring the question: "What is Poetry?" I presented Bloom's Taxonomy for Technology, encouraging students to answer the question using higher levels of the taxonomy. Tomorrow, I'll see the full results, but from what I gleaned in class, most were clearly at the bottom level, knowledge. My work is cut out for me, central question being: how to help students use  this technology that they are clearly crazy about - to help them access high order thinking; after all, the music's not in the piano; the learning isn't in the iPad: I need to orchestrate; they need to practice; and only then, will boyfriend sing.

I love technology; I hate technology

So, as the Internet AND WIFI were down, this, the first day of school, I was on Plan B, already. (Plan A was uber cool, of course, for Day 1 of my iPad roll-out, but I digress, and since Plan A was not in effect, it shall get no more ink).
Plan B had us writing "Six Word Memoirs," modeled after the NPR challenge. Mine was easy (and spontaneous): "I love technology; I hate technology," and now that I think more about it, isn't that true of any really serious, can't-live-without, brings-me-to-the-utter-throws-of-happiness relationship? I guess that means we're serious about each other, me and boyfriend: this relationship is real [just to review, in the event of a single-entry reader, by "boyfriend" I mean iPad].
Update: after some highly-sought attention from our I.T. department, iPads were finally up and running the last two hours of the day today. And, they were quite breathtaking in effect, I must say. From the moment they were in the anxious little hands of my scholars, it was total engagement. We used the I/W (image/word) app to create visual memoirs (take a self-portrait, add words, and play with the aesthetics). It was a great intro to basic iPad functions and helped me get to know a bit about my new batch of young charges.  I projected the iPads onto the SMART board, so we could share our creations.  They were gorgeous snapshots of their lives, a tribute to what these amazing little devices are capable of when put into the hands of 21st century learners. I'm excited...and they are too. Day in review: I hate technology; I love technology. We have a real relationship.