think:lab

Just Tap the Screen

UPDATE: The "it" I want (described below) is less this specific tool.  Paul -- see comments -- speaks very well to the fact that the process can be done in other ways, esp. if you are skilled in 'patching' it together on other fronts.  What I mean by "it" is the inevitable process being a natural part of what happens in my classroom (heck, all classrooms).  A truly integrated space where technology and wonder combine without it being a 'big deal' to do so. This tool -- or the promise of this tool -- reminds me that that is the "it" I want.  The tool below is just a provocation for wondering aloud, not an endorsement of the actual technology itself. 

***

Now.  I want it now. 

Correction.  I want it for ALL OF MY STUDENTS now.  Right now.

Okay, perhaps I can wait.  Perhaps. Afterall, rarerly do beta versions fully live up to the marketing 'story' when emerging tech products are just rolling of the assembly line -- hello, iPhone -- but the educational implications for students and teachers are common-sense stunning.  In.  My.  Humble.  Opinion.

Nah, who needs waiting. I want it now!

Psst...thanks to DK and Paul for knocking the question back and forth on Twitter a few hours ago.  A great discovery.  Certainly see it coming up at some point in time during the 'learning in the future' all-school presentation/workshops tomorrow I'll be leading.

Who Showed The Kid How to Do That?

Thank goodness we've got another 15+ years until he gets is drivers license, another 8 or so until he demands a tree house several stories up in the air, and at least 2 more (maybe?) until he's skateboarding in live traffic.  Not sure our insurance policy is ready to keep up with what is on the horizon line for the wee man now that he's clearly passed the "No Fear" line at the playground. 

And one day, when his future teachers gently suggest that he's a bit of a handful during recess, we can shrug and simply say, "We could have told you that ages ago!"

Oh, What Did Sesame Street Do To My Childhood?

I was a child of the '70's.  And that meant a fair amount of "Sesame Street". 

What? 

You're telling me that the current Executive-Director for "Sesame Street" is saying that the original episodes weren't "safe" for toddlers back-in-the-day? 

Puppets with cigars.  Depression-prone monsters with grouchy attitudes (who weren't even green in their first episode as all of our collective memories may inform us).  Grown-ups offering to walk kids they just met home on city streets. Imaginary (and 'invisible') friends. Cookie-addictions.

Anyone know a good therapist?

The TED Wait Is Over (Sort Of)

Life is funny sometimes. 

The email I just minutes ago received from Chris Anderson and the good folks at TED today reads:

I have some good news. Our creation of the Aspen Simulcast event has successfully opened up a few places at Monterey due to transfers. Because of your past support of TED, you're high up our long wait-list, and I'm now able to offer you the chance to register for TED2008 in Monterey.

After more than a year patiently holding court on the wait-list, I'm now only a blink-of-an-registration-eye away from officially heading to Monterey, CA to be part of TED at the end of the winter. 

TED. 

The TED. 

The same TED that Bono and the Google guys and Sir Ken Robinson and "just about anybody that is somebody" goes to and geeks about and all-around holds up as one of those "if only I could go" events if they could only get a ticket.

Ask me if I'm thrilled, the answer is a resounding "Yes".  Now, ask me about that pesky little membership fee (i.e. "investment") now that I'm no longer able to subsidize it as conveniently on a teacher's salary as I was back in my previous career, and I'm going to have to do something thinking before I respond:

As a reminder, the dates are Feb 27-March 1, 2008 and the membership costs $6,000. As well as the standard pass guaranteeing access to the conference's Simulcast Lounges (and all the attendee parties and other functions), you will receive tickets to attend two sessions in the Main Hall.

Perhaps there's a patron of the teaching arts that would want to foot the bill.  Perhaps my 14 month old son and I can discuss how 'important' that college savings fund is that his mama and me have been starting.  Maybe I can even return a few bottles to the recycling plant and hold a lemonade stand to cover the fee.

Or perhaps we can start a virtual 'penny jar' here on the blog for anyone that wants to send loose change from between the cushions of their couches for a fellow blogger to head to TED.  (Or maybe a really successful colleague can send me as their personal blogger-journalist for first posting dibs on any 'insights' and networking that comes my way.  Nudge, nudge.  Wink, wink.)

Life is funny sometimes.

An Infectious Curiosity

As I prepare to fly to Kansas in 2 weeks to lead an all-day set of workshops with the teaching and administrative team of a K-12 independent school curious about where learning/teaching/schooling is headed -- with a little Dan Pink [aka "conceptual age school" kind of thing] they've all read thrown in for good measure -- I find myself daydreaming about an unexpected hook to really get the idea/imagination bees buzzin' at the launch of my keynote.

Something playful. Something enticing.  Something that works without any sort of fancy set-up.  Something the causes infectious curiosity.  Truly infectious.  And something that most definitely acts as an out-of-the-blue provocation for what is 'going on out there' as we explore ways to enhance what can take place inside the classroom (and just down hall) today and in the years to come for our students.  And ourselves.

Enjoying my latest stumble-around Ethan Bodnar's all-things-design blog, I fell madly in love the second I stumbled upon an addictive little music video by the mae shi that Ethan had posted.  He didn't offer commentary.  Didn't need to.  The video, I believe, sells itself:

Run to Your Grave from the mae shi on Vimeo.

And -- here's the intellectual tree limb I'm tiptoeing out onto as I daydream the workshops the week after T'giving -- something tells me that letting just such a video play might be just the trick.  Playful.  Curious.  Inviting.  And a dang near perfect indicator of what 'the young people' are doing these days when it comes to re-framing the rules of technology, collaboration, presentation, and publication.

Go ahead. Watch it.  And try not to grin the entire time.  Or the second/third/tenth time, too.

"Old Skool" Digital Native

The wee fella seems a bit idea curious in very unexpected ways as of late.

Something tells me he's not truly interested in a magazine article entitled "Geeks and Space", no matter how forward-thinking we may be about kids these days.  I can almost begin see the near predictable PowerPoint image allusion getting ready to spike the Idea2.0 football when the "digital native" point needs to be scored for S-n-G's at some future conference presentation.

Just Like Shelley Did

Tomorrow the kids will walk into class with pristine copies of Mary Shelley's Frankenstein. 

The first thing we'll do is look at a blank calendar.  4+ weeks until Winter Vacation will be highlighted.  The calendar will otherwise be empty 

Instead of being 'English students' dutifully following my syllabus and daily plan as is so tempting from the teacher's side of the desk, each of my 4 classes will become real-time archeologists, detectives, and futurists in an effort to co-develop a strategic plan for mastering this literary masterpiece.  The standards will be blatantly put forward: become an expert.  By any means necessary.

I'll present them with the pros/cons to all of their decisions (assigning nightly reading, what types of assessments will give them a reasoned 'final grade', etc.).  I'll present them with a 'menu' of elements they must accomplish (solo and in rotating small groups) before the project comes to an end and the semester exam is handed out.  I'll offer myself as a 'free' consultant for a specific # of days that they can 'hire' when they feel that they have exhausted their own instincts/research.  And I'll present them with a series of sink-or-swim options to allow those who are invested in learning to succeed and those who want to tread water to avoid absolute drowning along the way, all the while being a sheep dog with an eye on those that near a current they can't escape on their own. 

My bet? 

They'll come out knowing far more than they would have if I had assigned the 'perfect' syllabus.  The first-hand Mary Shelley "creation" metaphor will not be missed either, once they reflect back on the project a few weeks from now.  Forget talking about it.  Let's live it and see if a bit of intellectual empathy comes our collective way.

And I can't be more excited to bend the boundaries of the teacher/student role along the way.

P.S. Not even sure if I need a single computer to pull this off.  In fact, I'm just going back to a tried-n-true playbook from long before I even cared about email as a teacher, let alone all the digital horizon lines (that also geek me out).   

What? You Got My Future Figured Out?

I make myself laugh trying to convince myself that I can even begin to predict how profoundly different his future as a learner, a student, a worker, a citizen, and a collaborator will be from all that I know 'to be true' at this point in my life and career.  Utterly in awe of his future.  And we're just getting warmed up!

Agreeing is So Yesterday. Learning, on the Other Hand...

Ah, the wacky gold rush of infinite digital tools, widgets, and democratic geek tech wow-ness, oh, my. [Feel free to snap your fingers to the obvious children's story classic allusion if you're so inclined]

Let's measure the score card. 

More plentiful than at any other in history (and seemingly free at every turn), these tools threaten to unleash the hounds of democracy and bullhorn honest-to-goodness amateur voices with utter recklessness if we're not careful.  Sure, we can dig the premise of globally flat multi-media content creation (and the Friedman-esque classroom icon to boot), but are we really prepared to drown in a sea of "just good enough" presentations and parade-celebrate the "Hey, look who has a podcast now, kiddos?" card catalogue when we really follow the digital path to its potential conclusion?

Will we let the vision of thoughtfully trained experts expire in the process?  Is it sufficient to simply be able to defend our love affair with technology minus the necessary commitment to design, presentation savvy, and at least a minor curiosity about the patience of our audience(s) while we rodeo-ride our 2.0 libido? 

Fortunately, not all edu-bloggers are satisfied with the emerging status quo.  Some are downright disappointed in the lack of attention where it may matter most.  Dan Meyer wrote quite recently:

But if they and their teachers aren't immersing themselves constantly in better, clearer work than their own (made by experts? doesn't matter. it's just clearer) work which for the first time in history is available freely and quickly, how in that vacuum can they rise to any greater occasion?

Good stuff, that. 

I only wish I wrote and explored ideas as well as he does -- daily.  I can only imagine being able to do as such at the relative 'beginning' of one's teaching career with decades of development to follow (whether in a formal classroom or in some conceptual 'learning space' as he most likely will test-drive in the coming years.  For those who keep up with his writing/questions/resources on a regular basis, you already know what I mean.  I've long since erased the A-list pundits from my daily blog reading. Dan/DY, however, keeps my brain stem humming.

I urge you to spend time (if you're not already) following his "Dan/DY" breadcrumbs -- whether they be in terms of design sensibilities, chewing on the toes of the overly self-righteous 2.0 pundits (my own toes are still a bit raw, but that's all good), or building seemingly random constellations of ideas and insights across a veritable gestalt of modern day pop cultural elements -- as often as you can. 

Occasionally I disagree with his content or tone, occasionally I even comment.  But I NEVER ignore the opportunity to learn from this 'young' teacher -- a 'math' teacher, no less (he smiles as he types that, so don't worry about waiving your calculators; the irony is intentional) -- who happens to be blog pound for blog pound one of the strongest rationalists for 'intentionality' and 'presentation clarity' that exists in the 'sphere today.

And we're all -- educator and student alike -- better for it.

Side note: Now, if only I could get my laptop speakers and internal video cam working so I could release this unabashedly as a global vodcast.  I'd skip the obvious storyboarding, of course, and leave the audience with the 'thoughtful editing is for sissies' bumpersticker.  And I'd certainly remain content that fueling an ever-present digital frenzy to "publish and they will come" sensibility will continue to give Lake Wobegon a run for its slightly above average idolatry. 

Minus the ironic tone and the ubiquitous need to launch yet another join-us Ning group and Teacher Tube slidedeck video hemmoraging with yet more photos of kids leaning over laptops to suggest 21st century learning metaphors in the process, n'est-ce pas?

Oops.  Wonder if my union card will be revoked.  Or if the literal-minded tigers will want to chew my ankles in spite of the endless rabbit holes tucked in carefully (and quite obviously) line by line.

Still Laughing (Sort of)

Is the world really a better place because of the following blog-spam censor message I just received after trying to leave a comment with my oft-used ending phrase, "Cheers from Texas!"? 

Robots are supposed to be objective, right?  Or are they?  Thank goodness they haven't x'd out the "LoneStar State" version that is my fall-back.