Huh? Whah?

Julian Treasure, an advertiser whose expertise is sound, fears we are losing our listening skills and wants us to teach listening in schools. In his TED talk, he gives a few tips after he explains the dynamics of listening. He begins by noting that our ability to record (writing and sound waves) has drastically reduced the premium on listening.

Julian Treasure gives some sound advice

Inattention isn't just a problem in the classroom; for those of us who make a living through communication, it's the quintessential obstacle we must overcome. And today we have more competition for attention than ever before. Ever deliver a lesson to someone whose head was bobbing and fingers were drumming, and realize he is listening to a song in his head, and you'd have to repeat everything? Ever try to get someone's attention only to notice that she was wearing earplugs, forcing you to flap your hands about, and then feel as if you are an intrusion?

These past five years as a teacher, I've noticed a shift in the level of imagination that kids bring to the table. They are as exuberant as ever, as intelligent as ever, but when you turn the thinking over to them, many seem truly lost. Are we also losing the ability to listen to ourselves? Isn't that what thinking is?

I have a friend who said she couldn't fall asleep unless the radio was on. Her eight hours were infiltrated by all kinds of lyrics and commercials that seeped into her brain at some level.

I have a friend whose television is always on, loud enough to compete with our conversation, though no one is watching it.

My uncle leaves NPR on in the car, even though he has lively conversations with his passengers.

Mr. Treasure suggests three minutes of daily silence and notes incidentally that nearly every spiritual tradition has contemplation as a component of its practices. Three minutes off the grid with only our thoughts to occupy our minds--could you do it? Could our kids? Would that be "a waste of time" or part of a true education?

The Only One: Pepsi and Morgan Freeman

I show only one movie to my history class.

(Despite conventional wisdom that says history teachers show a movie a week.) (Or daily.) (I like parentheses.)

Sure, I show clips from others.  I show the ten minute "Small House of Uncle Thomas," a Thai-style adaptation in "The King and I" to show the impact of Stowe's tale--plus it is unbelievably beautiful and exposes tragically literal students to another culture's spare, lovely sets and dancing. I show a few clips from "Roots":  Kunta on the slave ship, Chicken George finding one of the slain participants of Nat Turner's failed slave rebellion. I show some short pieces for fun--like JibJab's Founding Fathers Rap and Lin-Manuel Miranda's piece on Alexander Hamilton for President Obama.

Full disclosure:  if I am unexpectedly ill or don't have the time or brain to make lesson plans (as happened once when I got the sad phone call that my Nana had passed away and I was on a plane that day to be with the family), I will have the guest teacher show a stand-by video--either the appropriate volume of "Roots", or "Nightjohn" (soooo goood).

But movies are too long; kids' attention spans are too short; California's history standards are too plentiful; the state history test, inexorable. History movies in particular tend to be too violent, and Hollywood seems to think Americans need to watch other people having sex in every movie.

So: the only movie I show is Edward Zwick's "Glory." It is rated R, but God bless Pepsi--Pepsi issued an edited-for-classroom-use version and distributed them free to schools across the United States. One landed in my hands, because God loves me.

And despite the fact that I have seen this movie an average of five times a year for almost twenty years, I do not tire of it. I still tear up when the soldiers march through Boston for their send off. I still am struck with the weight of the story, the quality of the acting, the cinematography, the moving score.

And despite short attention spans and less and less background knowledge every year (today, S. gasped, "They had newspapers back then!?"), despite the fact that I have to wrestle them into paying full attention for the first day, by the end of the film I believe the kids are better people, deeper people, and Lord help us, better educated people.

(Plus Morgan Freeman's in it, so you know it's chock-full of avuncular goodness.)

Love and hate, burritos, and Andrew Jackson

February in a middle school means love is in the air. And when love is in the air, fights happen at lunch, because while love is passionate, so is hate, and middle school relationships last about as long as it takes to reheat a burrito. Today as I wrapped up the War of 1812 (much like a burrito is wrapped up), I experienced the highs and lows of middle school passion.

PERIOD ONE (note written in class when the teacher played Aretha Franklin's anthem to spell out the only thing the US really got from the War of 1812)

Dear Promethean Board,

I am so glad you are in my life. You make everything seem so important, and you make life so much easier. Thanks for everything, and by everything I mean the ease with which I can show an oil painting of the Battle of Fort McHenry, the lyrics to Jimmy Driftwood's "The Battle of New Orleans," and Cornell notes, all with a click. I love you. So glad I dumped that doc cam/computer projector.

Love, Lola

PERIOD THREE (note written while the teacher looked really unprepared for the lesson)

Promethean Board--or should I just call you "The Beast"??

You froze me out today. And then you ate two of my flipcharts. I thought we had something special, that I could count on you. I would kick you out, except you weigh ten thousand pounds and are expensively wired to the wall and I would get a referral. An overhead projector would have been better than you today. A chalkboard would have been better!!

Lola

Haiku: To the Newcomer

Promethean Board--

Gigantical monolith--

You hold much promise

You're yet one more screen

in my kids' overscreened life

(Almost theater-sized--)

My learning curve: steep

My exploration time: nil

The day you came, I sighed:

"My super powers

Are gone! It's like Kryptonite

For educators!"

But I accept you,

will integrate you, and soon

Will master you, yes.

But tell me one thing:

Will kids learn more? Or faster?

Impress me, I beg.

So I am pretty skeptical. I think it's the netbooks that will make the real difference in lessons. That's what will connect us to information instantly, allow us to share it and stuff. All the lessons on Promethean Planet strike me as Power Point-ish, and I never liked Power Points for lessons, just for funny pictures. Presentations delivered via PP's have generally bored me and, it seemed to me, control the presenters. History is a story at heart. I am not down on the Promethean Board--I am so glad I have one, am in love with having two microphones, surround sound, can't wait for a printer--I am just not impressed with the how technology has affected the digital natives in my class. (They know more about less than any kids I've taught in twenty years.) Watch--I'll probably fall in love with it. Here's hoping.

The Jetsons

My principal, best in the known universe, sent this to us and I need to post it here so I can remember to try to use it this coming semester. Watch it till the end to see something really killer! How can I best utilize this awesomeness? How? How? Dunno yet, but dang!

ZOOBURST tutorial

So in thinking about technology and its uses, we get really excited about stuff like this. Of course we do--the cool factor is off the chart. Each innovation feels like we are in the future, living the Jetson life. But if you remember the cartoon, everything is done for the Jetsons. They pass their time describing the problems and pressing a lot of buttons. The problem solving is done by machines. Will creating a pop-up book transform Elroy and Judy into problem solvers? better writers? deeper thinkers? I don't see how, just yet. If you can see, let me know.

I am a full-on believer that fun is important, just ask my students--I come from the Mary Poppins school of education. But as a responsible educator, I have a sacred trust to maximize our learning in our minimal time. I need to see how technology ENHANCES or DEEPENS real learning. If it is just aesthetic or entertaining, it is an expensive, time-consuming bunny trail I want to avoid, no matter how cute the bunnies may be.

Better than a raise, George Clooney, and chocolate combined

It's only been a half dozen years since Facebook's invention, way too soon to fully gauge its impact on American culture. Certainly, educators debate its merits and, like advertisers, look to exploit it for their classroom purposes. For instance, teachers have kiddos assume the role of famous historical figures and have them set up FB pages with those people in mind.

Educators also debate the pros and cons of "friending" students. I joined FB without thinking this through, immediately accepting FB friendship invitations from former students I hadn't kept in contact with. However, I've made it a policy not to accept any "FB friend" invitations from current students; I explain to the inviters that our professional teacher/student relationship needs to be intact for both of us to best do our jobs, but that I am delighted to maintain future contact because, after our school year is over, we can truly call ourselves friends.

Today I received an invitation from the nicest kid I've ever met, my own family members included. In twenty years of teaching with gigantical California-style class sizes, I've met a TON of kids. But N., in my first period class this year, really is something special. I received an FB invite from him this morning. Before I accept such invitations, I go to their pages to check them out, and look what I found on his page--it melted my heart and reminded me AGAIN about how blessed I am to do what I do:

Nxxxxx Rxxxxxx

Who has changed your life most this year?

Ms.M!!!!

June 1 at 6:36pm via Social Interview

Awwwwww!! Does this happen to mortgage brokers? Engineers? CEOs?
Money is nice, but the best things in life really are free.

Maxwell Smart Would Be Jealous

May 2010: It's the first morning of the almighty CST's test week. Kids are a little nervous; we teachers are supposed to help them be calm, but the high stakes of this test series and the many disqualifiers are enough to make anyone's heart beat a bit faster today, and we are just as nervous. The personalized bubble sheets are passed out, the number 2 pencils all pointy-tipped and the candy, er, brain boosters I'd distributed are unwrapped and at the ready.

I begin The Script, the same one read aloud to all California eighth graders. And then I hear tell-tale ringing. If anything can disqualify a test, it's a cell phone; it could send or receive answers, tips, photograph the test, and so on, and I am miffed. Cell phones are to be turned off every school day, let alone this one. I pounce.

"Are you kidding me? Whose phone is that?" D. is melting in his seat, his face as red as his Filipino heritage will allow. "All righty, D., hand it over."

He mumbles something, and I just catch, "It's not a phone, it's my shoe."

"Excuse me, D., but I must have misheard you. It sounded like you said the ringing is your shoe."

Sure enough, his left shoe is also flashing a red LED light to accompany the ringing. He squeezes the tongue of the shoe and the ringing stops. It's not a shoe phone, not this year, but next year I'll add "Wear your boring shoes" to the list of test preparation tips.