Does Not Play Well with Others

 Yes, I entered our relationship with eyes open, and by "our," of course, I mean Apple's and mine. He seduced me with his legendary packaging and seamless processing, and after decades of suffering the thralls of abusive PCs---unreliable, erratic, indifferent at best, Apple and I became one.

First an iMac found its way into our living room, next a macbook, and then, boyfriend: a 3G 64 meg iPad with a black leather cover, filling an aching void I could only vaguely identify until we met.

If you are the tiniest bit altruistic, dear reader, when you find something beautiful, something that brings happiness, peace, fulfillment, you want to share it.  This has happened on a global scale as Apple continues to dominate the growing market; this has happened on a personal scale as iPad 2's made their way into my classroom this year.

And now (as in any melodrama worth its salt), the reversal: the Apple Turnover, if you will. My boyfriend has changed. He promised seamless processing, and he delivered seamless processing...when it was just the two of us. He promised that he'd  fulfill my needs---and he did...when it was just the two of us. He's changed. He's ornery, he's possessive: boyfriend does not play well with others.

It's complicated, you see, we're married. I thought he was the perfect boyfriend. Before we met, I dated voraciously on my quest for the perfect classroom companion. I tried a half-dozen netbooks, none of whom were the least bit attractive: some were slow: like trying to talk existentialism with a kindergartener; some were short, barely squeaking out a 3 hour charge; some were just plain cheap, destined to self-destruct within our first year together.

Then, there was iPad2.  Everyone was talking about him, digital natives and immigrants alike. He was gorgeous, intelligent, intuitive, and very, very tall---a 10 hour charge, beyond my wildest imaginings. He could do everything---word process, websearch, multi-task, shoot photos, record voice, capture video. AND exciting, boy was he exciting, sweeping me out of the ordinary to new functions, new apps, new "yes's." And so, I married him.

Then, he changed.

I've introduced him to Dropbox, FilesAnywhere, Google Apps. He hates them all. What's worse, he's passive-agressive. He doesn't say a word to them, but then rejects them outright in a classroom lab setting, refusing to import or export student work. He has decided that he is an island. And as John Donne advised, no man, nor device, is.

Somehow, dysfunctionally probably, I still love him.

Somebody get my Camera

Sounds hopeful, doesn't it? There's something good happening, camera-worthy. And there were only 30 iPads available to document the moment. I didn't have my digital camera, so I didn't take a picture.  Irony, yeah. Next time, photos will be taken and posted. So what, you may ask, was this documentable moment?

Learning Centers. So while most of my Sophomores finished their poetry terms and identification pre-test, I introduced several who were finished early to my newly-created Learning Centers. I had been inspired by our first grade teachers every since I spent some time in their rooms two years ago. I guess I was also inspired by my own third grade teacher as well who fostered my love of writing at her writing station - prompts that lead me to writing story after story about Priscilla, a name that I was fond of, for no reason in particular.

So I spent the better part of the last two weekends designing Learning Centers - extensions and practice with Language Arts skills: reading, listening, writing. I used QR codes to label the stations and as students scan the QR codes, they are sent to a google spreadsheet to produce a short verification/reflection on what they chose to work on.

And so, today, I showed the Learning Centers to six students who were done early. Two chose to explore a book of psychologist self-tests (from my "Quirky" section). Another read about optical illusions and peered intently at the book, trying to discern the hidden pictures. Another answered moral dilemma prompts from a book of questions. One listened to part of an NPR "This American Life" podcast. Another read from Sherlock Holmes on a Kindle. The choice was theirs.

There they were - in memory foam chairs and scattered about on the carpet, reading, writing, listening at their whim. It was rather dreamy to watch. From where I was standing, it looked like a love of learning, and it smelled even weirder, something like, maybe, perhaps, the early stages of life-long learning. Not necessarily measurable in test-form, but arguably in line with the district motto, and so it has been deemed "a keeper" and next time shall be properly captured on film.

The Bleeding Edge

The Bleeding Edge of Technology

So "the bleeding edge" has been getting a lot of print lately, or maybe it's just the journalistic company I've been keeping. It rang a bit melodramatic to me (bleeding edge, now really?) UNTIL TODAY.

There's the cutting edge - at the forefront, on the cusp of innovation: a good place to be: don't we all want to be "cutting edge"? And then there's "the bleeding edge," which, as the term implies, is a bit too close to the knife, a bloody ordeal. The term seems to have started in reference to early versions of software - the ones with loads of glitches that make you want to take a sledge hammer to your CPU. With new technology comes metaphorical blood. Before I expose my gentle readers to my metaphorical blood, I shall first start with disclaimers:

1. I'm crazy thankful to have iPads into my students' hands. Humbling -very- every time I stop to think about it.
2. I'm grateful for the opportunity to learn (1st-year-teaching style) about technology integration and 21st century skills. I've always been a lover of learning, something not many get to do to this degree, mid-career.
3. I realize that many to most teachers do not have the resources and support that I have.

That said,

I'm bleeding.

Following a very challenging day in the classroom, realizing that currently, I'm a less effective teacher with technology than without - that my learning curve is immense, that the dynamics of a classroom full of students coupled with persnickety technology and unchartered territory make for stressful days and loads of self-questioning.

I actually uttered the following to my husband: "I don't have time to have fun"(just before leaving him at a "fun" event to go back and work the bugs out of iPad export issue).

If a friend told me that her husband didn't "have time for fun," I'd be concerned for them both. Last night, though, that came out of my mouth. Bleeding, I tell you.

So while Malcolm Gladwell (Outliers) talks about the 10,000 hours needed for significant achievement in a field, the kind of monomania that I find myself embodying, balance and band aids must also be available.

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?