I've been incredibly impressed by a conversation going on at Dan Meyer's "Dy/Dan" blog that grew out of a post entitled "Where are the Next-Gen Math Teachers?". As a non-math teacher (lord help us all if I jump to that camp and have to show what little I picked up in high school and college), I find the focused topic intriguing. As an admitted School 2.0 proponent, I find it stimulating and challenging. And as someone with much to learn, I'm holding on tight and paying attention.
From the original post, Dan wrote:
I only ask on account of my impression that math, maybe more than any other secondary subject, lends itself least to this self-directed, participatory culture promoted by the next-gen crowd. Not unrelatedly, liberal arts bloggers (English and Social Science, specifically) outnumber us by a pretty wide margin.
It should go without saying that lecturing isn't necessarily an effort to make the teacher feel smarter, more powerful, to subjugate her kids, or any of the other whack motivations next-gen teachers throw around in an concerted effort to get uninvited from my birthday party.
I lecture — and by "lecture" I mean short bursts; five animated, image-heavy minutes max before I have my Algebra kids getting dirty with numbers — only because I believe it's the least frustrating way for them to learn a wide breadth of material well. Nothing more sinister than that.
Points well taken. On many fronts. My brain is playing catch-up and enjoying it.
From within the comment stream, Dan replied to a series of comments in 2 ways that caught my attention:
Dan reply #1 (taken slightly out of comment conversation context):
I feel like I would be a much less grating presence on the blogsphere if I taught English. Or Social Science. ‘Cause the value of blogging/wikiing seems so much more obvious there and the opportunity cost so much lower. Like, instead of assigning an in-class paper/pencil quick-write, I could have them post it to their blog (assuming we all had blogs) and make the peer review process part of the assignment. Everything you would’ve done in class plus tech engagement.
Basically, I can see the value of next-gen technology in other content areas. The bummer part of participating in this global conversation is that those content-area teachers don’t have a lot of empathy for (or knowledge of?) the limitations of a remedial Algebra class.
Dan reply #2 (taken slightly out of comment conversation context):
I find the lecturing backlash to be a predictable but regrettable moment in the schooling revolution. The fact is that both exchanges — learner-to-learner and speaker-to-learner — are utterly different and utterly essential.
On the one hand, you can’t put two below basic math students or below basic School 2.0 teachers in a classroom or a café together and expect them to develop. Learning doesn’t happen in a vacuum.
Lecturers are great for lending perspective, experience, knowledge, and inspiration to a large group. School 2.0 is so eager to chuck it, I imagine, because so many of those offered the lectern do so little with it.
On the other hand, learners have to be given time to process new knowledge whether we’re talking solo practice work, blogging, wikiing, essay-writing, speeches, group projects, videos, or whatever.
Whereas I admit the necessity of both, School 2.0 would kinda like to see lecturing slip and fall off the boat and then disappear into the waves without any witnesses to call the Coast Guard. Which is a bummer because, from my experience, good lecturing is the difference between kids understanding math and kids hating it.
Both his post and replies have me paying attention. Here is what I wrote -- a limited attempt to admit that I find both "School 2.0" and "lecture" to be red herrings if we get too serious. But both are vital if we choose to explore "future of learning' ideas with a bit more open-minded curiosity. For what it's worth, but nobody is forcing you to read this (he smiles). Perhaps fresh air or Twittering might be better fuel for ya:
******
My response to Dan's post (left as a comment there):
Here's my personal ball/strike count from the last 2 years that frames at least a hint of my own biases as I prepare to return to the classroom in less than 2 months for the first time in 3 years, Dan:
1. Started blogging 2 years ago. NOTHING prior to it in my experience came close to fostering debate, conversation, introspection, research, and radically self-challenging even my own ideas for me as a learner in school or life. Parts of grad school came close, but the end-game had a boundary. Blogging (and other 2.0 elements) has no end-game. It just evolves. And for learning, that counts big in my book. The vast majority of what I seek I am NOT an "expert" on. My desire to learn, however, or at least to be in the conversation, necessitates that I scramble for footing constantly.
2. Started consulting and speaking on a national and international level 2 years ago. Suddenly move from being a teacher with 10 years of classroom experience on a wide # of fronts (and socio-economic kidscapes) in solitary classroom settings to being a hired 'expert' in front of large and very diverse professional audiences all focused on the future of education. The fees and ego-strokes and travel opp's were humbling and stimulating. At the end of the day, however, boredom or ennui eventually sets in. Simply being the 'expert' with an audience mixed with less-than-interested to extremely-engaged 'learners' listening and taking notes and trying to figure out the 'solution' begins to lack value if you remain the "expert" only. Where the real value lays is in the conversations off-stage, in the collaborative ventures that grow out of such conversations, in the exchange in roles between 'expert' and 'learner' at all turns.
3. For the last 2 years, there arose a remarkable desire to return to the classroom at the same rate that #2 grew in reality for me. And thanks to #1 (esp. blogging across a remarkable range of networks and ideascapes), my perspective on being an 'expert' and being a 'teacher' has shifted dramatically. I have NOT thrown out the ability nor the need to be an 'expert' with my students, nor to 'lecture' at strategic moments. Both will be evident in spades whenever they further the learning curve for my students. A the same time, two things have changed since before I left teaching 3 years ago: 1) As a young teacher, ego and fear and wet-behind-the-ear-ness demanded that I prove I was an 'expert' to both student and teacher. Just not sure that matters much now. To anyone. Framed diplomas on the wall. Plenty of experience both in and out of the classroom. Always 100 exponential steps ahead of all of my students at a moment's notice in my chosen academic discipline. And I get that handy title, desk and grading book that pretty much seals the deal when I need proof...or the kiddos to hush up. While I can't deny that ego and fear won't rear their heads on occasion in the next 30+ years of my teaching career, I suspect that I'll be faster in admitting when they are driving the "must prove I'm an expert" reaction...and then switch gears to focusing on my kids' own learning and passions and questions instead. Additionally, the "expertise" will be used in ways I lacked the instinct and wisdom for during the first 10 years, and will never (within reason) get in the way of my students wrestling with problems of their own and beginning to take ownership of the class and topics/projects at hand. 2) I will walk into a teaching situation this year with no assigned classroom of my own, potentially a loaned laptop, and a school that is open to limited 1.0 technology use primarily...and do not expect to use even 5% of the digital/2.0 options afforded to me today while in the classroom. 95% of my work with students will be with books, pens, paper, and conversation. Both by choice and by default resources. The difference, however, lies in the fact that EVERY opportunity to shift from demonstrating my own "expertise" and assuming that of my kids are incapable of learning both the foundation skills and the higher-order, conceptual layers of any topic simultaneously will be at the center of any class I teach. And any chance I have to nudge, cajole, tease, or invite my students into risking creative/intellectual discovery beyond the foundation skills, I will go there without apology.
And this to me -- the drum roll, please -- is the 2.0 promise in my steep-learning-curve-still opinion.
What does it look like? Conversation. By any means (and digital or paper tools) necessary.
Now, there is an important and secondary issue of disciplines that I'm pleased has been brought up first by Dan and then by others who have taken the time to comment. Definitely worth exploring.
Dan, you've noticed that tech, history, language arts bloggers tend to have one voice -- one that dismisses lecture as an appropriate teaching strategy and student need. I can't argue for or against that. You've noticed it, so I take it as legit. Is there a difference in perspective between educators that a) either are technology centered by literal contract/position and/or b) in classrooms that revolve more around interpreting texts/voices...vs...those educators that must focus a) on the foundation skills before anything else can be considered next and/or b) are inherently more factually based vs. conceptually based more time than not? Sure. Is this echoed in the blogging (and 2.0) world? Sure. But is it new? No. this is Plato and Socrates in nature. This is left and right brain in nature. This is the great default divide found between ALL academic subjects at all times in history. And also within the various domains of each subject. And the various levels of each subject. And in various nations/cultures who see each subject slightly differently than others.
This is, however, hardly a 2.0 issue alone.
Ultimately, we as human beings first, teachers second, tend to fall into 2 camps (if we must see everything in a black/white way):
1) The point of learning the subject is to master the 'facts'/'skills' of the subject.
or
2) The point of learning the subject is to form 'opinion'/'questions' about the subject.
At various points in the process, we must ebb and flow between 'facts'/'skills' and 'opinions'/'questions' in order to have relevant skin on the table within the discipline. Certain subjects lend themselves to more of one vs. the other at any given time. And schools -- as structures, schedules, and assessment filters -- tend to exaggerate those differences in order to facilitate collective goals and to maintain social mores. At the end of the day, however, life demands that we master just enough of the 'facts'/'skills' that we can validate our 'opinions'/'questions' about any given subject so that we can a) stand a chance at moving up the academic ladder (if desired/required), b) stand a chance at being a viable candidate for some professional/social opportunity, and b) stand a change at being a reasonably interesting human being to others.
With all that said, I don't spend too much time really worrying about whether or not we'll ever achieve School 2.0 as a literal (or desired) reality. I merely use it personally as a challenge to myself to push learning forward by any means (or tools) necessary) and as a prompt for others to wage in on all sides. And I don't spend too much time worrying about the need to outlaw (or make uncomfortable/irrelevant) the issue of lecturing or skill development. I merely use such conversations/questions/examples as a challenge to myself about my own teaching style to engender something far more dynamic than just broadcasting my own "expertise" within my classroom and with my students.
The red herring lies in both the phrase "School 2.0" and "lecture". Regardless of how you use them. Using either isn't bad inherently. But it helps to see the red herring writing on the wall from both POV's. And to be comfortable simultaneously in both camps at all times.
But, as I have said all along, it is about conversation. Only. And through conversation and a constant shifting between the roles of "expert" and "learner" within our own classrooms, we all stand to gain immeasurably from the process.
Again, thank you for the post that sparked this, Dan (as well as the many that have come before it). And thanks to those -- whether math teachers or the 'fuzzy idea/skill' types who sit on my side of the language arts fence (he smiles) -- who have commented here that have helped my own mind focus in better ways.
Cheers,
Christian
P.S. Love to hear your comments here at "think:lab", but also think Dan deserves the majority of comments to come his way since he gets the original credit for inspiring conversation/debate/consideration. Either way, love to know what you think about red herrings on all fronts.
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