The Edge of Tomorrow - Standing on the verge of a technologically educational revolution.

What if…

Nov 17

What if we stopped for just a moment, took a step back, and asked why? Why are we engaging in education the way we are right now? Why is it that the modern construct of education not only looks the way that it does, but why are we using it?

Maybe a better way to frame this would be, if we were to stop and start over entirely, what would that look like?

I was sitting with a group of educators recently, and I paused for a moment and looked around at who I was with. There were teachers from different districts, different grade levels, different experience levels, and different philosophies, but they are all working toward a common goal. At least I assume they are. They are trying to educate our youth. But what exactly does that mean?

I recently read a tweet by someone I can’t currently remember that said students of today are more equipped and prepared now than at any point in history to be successful in the Industrial Age. I believe that’s both true and alarming. And it means something. It means we might not be getting it right.

I return to one of my original thoughts. If we were to start over, what would it look like? We’re currently so stuck in our paradigm that I fear we can’t remove ourselves and look objectively at this question. We are so entrenched with our current infrastructure, our teaching structure, and even our institutional structure, that to really move away from what we’re currently doing might turn out to be too large a Goliath to fell.

Focusing briefly on American education, and I don’t mean to be too American-centric, but that’s the system I’m most aware of, we see how change has happened quite incrementally over the past 350 years. In the mid-1600′s, the focus of education was almost exclusively on writing, reading, and religious education. From there, we can see a history of slow, incremental changes from a system where students were largely taught by one schoolmaster, who focused on the aforementioned subjects, to the system in which we currently find ourselves immersed.

This time line accentuates the point nicely. I think it’s quite telling that there were several attempts at reform throughout our history, but I’d argue none were truly successful. Of interest is the founding of the Progressive Education Association in 1919, where a major effort was launched to create an educational environment in which students were the center of education, and by so being, should be allowed to express themselves more creatively and independently. Sounds like we’re still working on that 90 years later.

When looking down the time line, it’s readily apparent that despite all the efforts, research, hours of labor, and investment in improving our educational model, all we’ve really accomplished is the perpetuation of all that we’ve previously done. There hasn’t been a true reform. There’s been no revolution. There remains largely that which has always been.

The most difficult part of all this is determining what has value and what has been done because that’s what we’ve always done. If we really started over, what would we keep because it’s worth keeping? What would we cast away because it doesn’t have relevance in our emerging system? And most importantly, what would be our goal?

I think that’s the starting point. It all begins with a question. What’s the goal of education? I don’t ask that flippantly, but rather quite honestly. If we have any hope of making true change, this is where it starts. At the core. At the foundation. At the very center of all we do.

So I say we try it. At least in conversation. Let’s rebuild our educational system. And let’s start with a question.

What’s the goal of education today?

Thanks to CoryMarchand for the Flickr image.

The Ability Paradigm

Nov 12

When I was a kid, I wanted to be a professional baseball pitcher more than anything in the world. I’d go outside and throw a tennis ball against my front steps and play every ricochet as if it were a batted ball. I’d write out a lineup of the Cubs vs. whomever they happened to be playing that day, and I’d play out a full nine inning game. I even recorded the stats for every player. If it rained out, I’d wad up a pair of socks and hit them around my front porch with a wiffle ball bat – still keeping copious stats. Now that I think of it, this is the first time I’ve ever admitted this in public. I imagine my wife has never been prouder of me.

When I got older, I graduated on to pickup games at the schoolyard near my house. I played little league, high school, and eventually college baseball. I worked as hard as I could, and I always kept the goal of becoming a professional front and center in my mind. I worked out six days a week (wish all that work was evidenced a bit more obviously now days), and I went to pitching lessons in the offseasons. I knew what I wanted, and I worked with every bit of who I was to get there. There was only one problem. I wasn’t good enough.

I always had visions of throwing a baseball 95 miles per hour, but despite all my concerted efforts, I never managed to break 82 on the radar gun. I just didn’t have the physical ability to do so. I could have tried harder, I guess, but I’m not sure there was much more with which to try. I could have gone to more clinics, lifted more weights, done more drills, ran more miles, or even watched more tape, but in the end, I don’t think it would have made a difference. My body just wasn’t made to throw as hard as I wanted it to.

I believe there’s something very significant here. We all have obvious physical limitations. When we look at kids today, it would be absurd to expect them all to perform the same on any given physical task. Think of what would happen if we said that every kid in 8th grade had to run a 6 minute mile. Or that every 5th grader had to be able to do 25 pull-ups. Or even 5 pull-ups. It would be absurd. Now think of the obvious parallel to learning.

Why is it when it comes to learning that we expect every kid to be able to perform at the same level? When will we realize that kids are just as different mentally one from another as they are physically? Not all kids can think at 95 miles per hour.

I know some people will disagree with me. There are those who think all kids have the capacity to pass all of our given standards on performance assessments, but think about how fundamentally wrong that is. If all kids can pass the standard, then what kind of rigor is built into the standard? It would be an obvious sign that our expectations were too low as there would be at least 25% of the students who wouldn’t even have to try to achieve passable marks. Conversely, if the standard was more rigorous and required much more effort of the students, there would be a percentage of the population who couldn’t possibly achieve passable marks. It’s an indefensible notion to think that we can build tests that are appropriately difficult for all students and that all students can potentially meet the standard.

Some would say that I’m advocating for lower expectations for our kids. I would counter just the opposite. I expect every student in our world has the potential to achieve and perform at the very best of his or her abilities. That he or she can apply all of his or her skills and thinking to any problem at any time. To me, that is the absolute highest expectation there is.

If my goal in playing baseball had really and completely been to throw 95 miles per hour, I would have been a complete failure. I would never have measured up, and I would have grown to resent the game. Instead, I gave every bit of what I had, and I just enjoyed playing the game. I believe we need to be very wary of setting up expectations that all students should be expected to perform and strive for the same goals. If we do, too many students will think themselves complete failures, and they will grow to resent learning. Instead, I think we need to let kids give every bit of what they have and just enjoy the process of learning.

Thanks to Anne Ruthmann for the Flickr image.

Building Better Backchannels

Oct 30

I remember the first time I heard the term, “backchannel.” I was at NECC, and I was immediately struck at how the word seemed somehow geekily mystic. It took me a bit to realize the term was really just synonymous with chat.

According to the define function of Google, a backchannel is, “the practice of using networked computers to maintain a real-time online conversation alongside live spoken remarks.” In practice, it is simply a chat room established to carry on conversation during a presentation.

I absolutely believe the concept of a backchannel has an inherent dual-edge sword nature to it. As mentioned in my last post, there is a distinct danger to utilizing a backchannel. The danger is that if not executed in the right fashion, the distraction and bifurcation of attention can potentially lead to a complete dismissal of the content being presented at a given venue. I’ve seen occasions where there are no less than eight backchannels for a room of scarcely over 20 participants. The result is noise. Distracting noise that leads to a great missing of the point.

I could go on about my perceptions of the negative regarding this topic, but I’d rather not. Because I think there’s more good here than bad. I actually think creating a backchannel in the right way has the potential to be one of the biggest game changers we’ve seen in recent memory. I’m quite excited about it, to be honest.

One of the most oft cited educational edicts in the past ten years is that we shouldn’t have our students sitting in their seats listening to a presentation of information for too long. I believe this applies to adults as well. Interestingly enough, this edict is often espoused by a speaker or consultant who has come in to spend a day teaching teachers this highly valuable bit of information, and they do so by having teachers sit at terribly uncomfortable lunch tables or folding chairs for hours without breaks. I believe therein lies the definition of irony.

Think of the possibilities of establishing a backchannel. People interact with the information being presented in a way that allows for an expansion of learning and information retention. This could happen anywhere information is being presented for a prolonged period of time: inservices, classrooms, even churches. I came across this article recently discussing how a church in Texas is using Twitter during their service as a form of a backchannel, and it simply solidified and validated how important this could be and how widespread this practice could extend.

Allowing people to interact with each other and the information in a focused way affords participants the opportunity to learn more and focus more on the content. Instead of sitting passively, succumbing to the temptation to take mental meanders, participating in a backchannel brings a collaborative element that actually increases mental attentiveness.

This summer I started utilizing a backchannel with the courses I taught for my district, as well as for the graduate class I teach for Judson University. That experience, along with my recent experience at the IL TechCon, has led me to conclude there is a right way to go about doing this. I believe the following 3 guidelines should be followed when setting up a backchannel.

1. Have a moderator. I don’t mean a censoring, dictator-type moderator who is trolling the room looking for people to bust for saying inappropriate or perceived off-topic statements. I mean a moderator who helps facilitate the conversation. Maybe you want to call this person a facilitator instead of moderator, it’s up to you. I think having an open-minded administrator take on the moderator role at a teacher inservice could help keep the discussion somewhat on topic, while also giving the participants at least a moderate level of accountability so the conversation doesn’t digress into a “Wow, this is cool.” “Yes, it is.” “I think it sucks.” Don’t scoff, even adults can be reduced to this level of astute prepubescent intellectualism given the opportunity. The moderator should also post frequent statements summarizing main points the presenter is saying. Wes Fryer did this at TechCon, and I found it extremely beneficial.

2. Have only one main backchannel. Some people don’t like this idea. They want everyone to have the freedom to create their own channel, but I think that is quite problematic. I want as many people participating as possible so the greatest potential for added value and diversity in thinking can occur. I think it would be great if a conference set up one main backchannel, with individual rooms for each of the presentations at the conference. This way, everyone would know where to go for discussion, and there wouldn’t be too much cross-pollination of separate presentations creating too much noise in a single room. Conferences could publish the url of the main backchannel site in the literature handed out at the beginning of the conference, and people could commence discussing at the outset and continue until, well, forever.

3. Use a site that can be archived. If done well, people will be dropping links, references, and suggestions in the room, and it would be most beneficial to be able to return to the room to access those resources again in the future. It would also allow people to be held accountable for things being said, and positions could be defensible should dissenting opinions be presented.

I think the idea of a backchannel is very difficult for some people to embrace as they fear allowing people to discuss during a presentation will draw attention away from what is being presented. As I stated above, that can certainly happen, but if this is all done the right way, I think that risk is greatly reduced. In fact, I absolutely believe this could help our attention-deprived culture get more out of sitting in seats listening to the dissemination of information for hours on end. I think doing this in the right way will most certainly lead to a reinvigoration of inservices, and dare I even say, classroom lectures. Just think about it, and try it out for yourself the next chance you get. I think you’ll find the results might just change everything.

Thanks to Wesley Fryer for the Flickr image.

Ed Tech Goes to Eleven?

Oct 21

*One author’s note for this post. I began writing this prior to attending the Illinois TechCon 08 conference, and that experience resulted in a major clarification in my own thinking about this issue. I’ll explain near the end of the post.*

Sometimes I feel like being in the Ed Tech community is a bit like being in a scene from Spinal Tap. Specifically, this scene.

I’ve noticed this growing phenomenon of people trying to get “that extra push over the cliff” lately. Any conference I’ve attended in the past year has been so over live streamed, live blogged, Twittered, Plurked, backchanneled, and podcast, that I’m starting to wonder if people are catching any of the content being presented. Seriously, how multi can people possibly task?

Now let me be clear about something, I absolutely believe in the power of participation and collaboration in today’s learning climate, but I also think we need to find a bit of balance. How about just keeping the dial right around 6? Your voice added to the voice of the presenter can certainly bring greater understanding and depth to a conversation, and of course every conversation is made better when it is more than one person talking to a flat wall. The problem comes when the voice of the crowd overwhelms the voice of the content.

This phenomenon isn’t restricted only to conferences. I think it’s growing increasingly more evident in podcasts as well. The last three podcasts I’ve listened to have had classic moments of pregnant pauses as someone reaches the conclusion of a several minute monologue where he/she spills their soul about something he/she is very passionate about, only to be met with silence. And then a profound statement of affirmation from one of the other hosts like “right on” or “yep.” The noise of a chat room or the lure of the web was too much temptation, and the attention of the other hosts was whisked somewhere far, far away from whatever it was their counterpart was just espousing.

I think this push to hit 11 is also an issue with emerging tools. It seems that many people are working hard to make sure they know a tool, or even a list of 100 tools in some cases, that no one else has heard of, and they present the list as such at conferences, workshops, etc. There is all this noise added, and the result is that people end up feeling overwhelmed and inferior rather than empowered. I saw a presentation by Dave Jakes recently that I think was much more fitting to the way we should be engaging all this. He spoke of the organizational approach we should be taking to collaborative tools rather than listing all the specific tools he thought we should be using. By so doing, he effectively kept the focus where it should be, and he kept the dial right around a comfortable 5.

Here’s my point. When does the use of all these amazing, emerging technologies become counterproductive to the goal? Do we really need to have 20 backchannel chat rooms for a session with 35 participants? Should you as a podcast host be trying to read everything that is happening in a chat room, while searching the web, while trying to focus on what your co-hosts are saying?

As mentioned at the outset of this post, I did have an experience recently that I feel really helped bring clarity to this issue for me. Specifically, the idea of having a backchannel set up for people to utilize. In fact, I think using a backchannel in the right way can absolutely make a conference, workshop, classroom, a much better place for learning. Wes Fryer recently set up a Chatzy chat at the IL TechCon 08, and I think the way that he did it was dead-on perfect. I plan to write more about this in my next post, but for now, I can say the way Fryer set up the backchannel at TechCon made all the difference in the way I experienced and learned from the conference. I think it could possibly be the same for students in education.