Plugged . . . or Unplugged. Either Way, It's All Good

When I taught in the late 90s, we had very little technology. I had an ancient Apple computer to do my grades on, but I could never count on it to work—either it or the printer always crashed right before grades or progress reports were due. I did most of my work on my personal computer at home (which also almost always crashed or had issues right when grades were due).

I also had an even older computer that the kids could play games on if they had free time—but we usually couldn’t get it to work. I did have a great overhead that I used a lot . . . I loved that thing. I had access to a computer lab that I managed to get my classes into at least once a marking period.

Last semester, I was talking to another teacher before one of my classes started. She had had a rough day because her computer and smart board were down, and she didn’t know what to do and had a brief panic at the beginning of the day—how was she going to teach? I was shocked to be honest—if you’re that dependent on technology to get through your teaching day—and don’t have a backup plan—then maybe your technology isn’t working for you.

I thought of that interaction when reading the Tate article when he mentions that there isn’t really any proof that technology helps kids learn. For years, teachers have managed to teach without the aid of computers, smart boards, or remote control clickers, and they have done quite well. That’s not to say that there is no place for technology . . . I love the tech toys as much as the next person and can definitely see their place in my classroom. But an overdependence on them isn’t good for anyone. I often joke that all I really need to teach is paper, pencils, access to books and other materials from which to pull models. Of course, having access to word processors is nice . . . but not required.

Regardless of the place technology may or may not have in the classroom, it definitely has a place in the lives of our students. Tate mentions one of the most important things with regard to technology—that students need to be taught evaluate critical thinking skills to navigate the waters of the web and other sources. They need to learn how to evaluate links . . . where are they, who’s providing information, and so forth. I can’t agree more, and it’s one of the reasons behind my belief that teaching critical thinking—and reading and writing—is so crucial.

And there’s a lot to be said for unplugging and turning off the tech. I really like the assignment in the George article. Her visual argument was an intriguing project, and I could see using it as an assignment as is on its own or as a prewriting activity or a companion to a written piece. George quotes Selfe’s suggestion that “teachers of English composition have not, until very recently, had the means to produce communication that went very far beyond the word” (1444). I think it would be an interesting assignment to request that final draft with no guidelines regarding form. Students can pick the font, the size, the color, the layout . . . everything. They could then explain why they made the choices they did—kind of a blend of the visual argument and creative desktop publishing.

Unfortunately, until all schools are created equal, students are going to have different and varying access to technology. For me, I’ll use it if I have it and enjoy it, but I’m happy knowing that if push comes to shove and I don’t have access to all the fun tech, I can still plan engaging lessons and get some good teaching going.

Red Pen, Green Pen, Blue Pen, No Pen!

I'm sure many of us who have been in the classroom have an opinion one way or the other with regard to what you use to mark students' papers. Over the years, I heard conflicting opinions: don't use red pen, use pencil, don't use pencil, don't write on the paper, use a grade sheet, use a checklist, two praises for every push . . . and so on. And while I knew that I would be doing a lot of grading and reading as an English teacher, I was in no way prepared for how hard it would be. Not because of the time or my inability to sometimes decipher "on the bus" handwriting, but because sometimes a student would hand in something so far off from what was expected of them that it was almost painful to find a way to give meaningful feedback . . . and how to deal with the realization that sometimes you can't work with what you've been given by a student.

The reality is that as soon as students hand in their work, it has to be evaluated in some way. I really liked what Lynn had to say about grading, and I appreciated the sample paper he included. Many times I'd sit down to read papers, happily grade and comment and then reach a paper that seemingly came out of left field that I could not understand. Often, I'd go through it like the professor in Lynn's piece, starting at the beginning and correcting as I went. In my defense, we graded with Focused Correction Areas, so I wasn't marking every single error, but often I focused on what was wrong instead of trying to understand what the student was trying to do. At the same time, the reality is that sometimes you get a paper that you just can't figure out . . . and it goes to the bottom of the paper until you're ready to deal with it.

The idea of looking for meaning and having the student redo the paper makes total sense to me. To try to find what it is they are trying to say and help them put it together better. Often, I didn't have students redo papers . . . I gave them the option, but i never required it. In using rubrics when grading, however, they have to write to the assignment--which is why I'm glad Lynn included the assignment. After reading it, I can see why the writing was jumbled and hard to follow . . . I couldn't figure out the assignment either! A good reminder to always be mindful of being clear and concise.

Another part of correcting papers that really spoke to me was marking a line in a student's writing to see if they can find the error. It's a great way to encourage student accountability and learning--definitely a technique I will use in the future.

I think one of the hardest things about grading/assessing/evaluating writing is that no one ever really tells you how to do it. There are mountains of examples of rubrics and checklists and symbols and techniques, but when you boil them all down, you're left with a simple fact: you must read the papers and write back. I like some of the "real life" advice in these articles, and I think that reading them help reinforce my new thoughts on error and the importance of clear and concise--and kind--feedback to students.

No, I'm Not Correcting What You Say in my Head . . . at Least Not All the Time, Anyway

I thought of our last class and the idea that people often feel they have to watch what they say when I was reading Sarah Freedman's article "Moving Writing Research into the 21 Century." I had mixed feelings about the project they did--I thought Freedman was rather harsh and critical regarding her opinions of the teachers letters to the students, though I can see how she came to her conclusions. I also thought that the fact that it was an assignment took away it's authenticity a bit--though that's often the case in most writing assignments.

As I read, this quote stood out at me:

Center research has gone on to examine specifically how writers, from early childhood through adulthood, form social relationships with teachers and peers in ways that shape their learning and become part of their individual thinking, their cognition. (1050)

People always talk of the power of teachers--there it is. The relationships teachers form with the students have direct impact on student success . . . and it's an immense--and rewarding--responsibility to have as an educator. Freedman mentions Vygotsky and his ideas about how closely learning is tied to social relationships.

In reading the article--and looking back at my time in the classroom, it seems as if there is a wall--unspoken and unseen--between students and teachers because teachers are in a position of power. Sadly, some abuse that power, but I think most try to figure out ways to work around it. To have meaningful interactions with students while at the same time maintaining authority and discipline in the classroom. I think there will always be--and should always be--a fine line there. Maybe it's a think line. Either way, it's a socially unavoidable reality, and it's a huge task to teachers to be mindful of the power they have when interacting with students . . . especially when it comes to writing.

I particularly liked the thoughts of the British teacher who didn't plan the year before it started because "his curriculum arose out of the interaction with of students with each other and with him" (1052). Quite profound! The first year I taught, I tried to have the whole year planned out before I started. Never did that again! While I had a general idea of what I wanted to teach and when and planned lessons (they had to be on file, after all), I was always open to where the class would take me. Some things worked in some classes but not in others; some activities failed across the board. While I didn't go so far as Ross and not keep anything from year to year, I reflected on every assignment and modified them as needed depending on each class or student.

I also tried to keep things interesting and relevant to students, studying the things they were reading and using elements of their culture in our classroom activities. I did this primarily to motivate them and excite them about the content, and I can see roots of the cultural studies movement as described in George and Timber's article. I think doing this not only validates their culture as students but also contributes to the social relationships in the class that so influence student learning.

This video, especially the last line, is how I have always tried to interact with students. To impress on them that what they say is already important . . . while at the same time, teaching them strategies to get those ideas on paper--or in the air as Mali mentions in his poem--in the best way possible so that others can understand what they want to say. To do that--to validate, motivate, and inspire students while at the same time help them to be critical of their writing and find ways to make it "better" or more effective--is a challenge. A rewarding and often enjoyable one, but a challenge still.