Monday, October 4, 2010
Wednesday, September 15, 2010
A Vision of 21st Century Teachers
My thoughts as I watched this: It's not just about technology itself, that would be purposeless, but rather the relevant possibilities that it can bring into the classroom by way of the learner through the thoughtful and deliberate guidance of an instructor. One who learns, relearns, defines, redefines, engages, inspires and is not afraid to hand over the reins to the learners and serve as a facilitator of an environment of creation, collaboration and discovery.
21st century pedagogy
Can the argument that our 'teaching style' is so engrained in our teacherDNA be the excuse we give to forgo providing what our learners need so that they may be providers and supporters of the future?
Hello? 20th Century Teacher? It's 2010.
Whether you consider the message hyperbolic or spot on, it's still a fact in 2010.
Monday, August 16, 2010
Tech Learning TL Advisor Blog and Ed Tech Ticker Blogs from TL Blog Staff – TechLearning.com
It's not so much the article but the responses that intrigued me. I've had this conversation (oh, so many times) and have responded that, indeed, I, the teacher, could effectively teach with a stubby pencil and a piece of scrap paper if I had to. But that reflects my abilities as the instructor/facilitator. What about the learner? How well do I prepare this young person to be a functional participant of the 21st century. It's not about us. It's about them. We have to look out for their futures, their needs, and their ability to compete with the other learners of their generation.
Monday, June 28, 2010
From the halls of ISTE #1
OK, not really a post about the going-ons at ISTE (later). But meeting and talking with some interesting people. Another interesting thing is that as we are sitting in sessions, many of us are twittering and sharing thoughts, ideas, etc.
Had to re-post these two sites regarding obsolete products:
21 Thing That Became Obsolete This Decade
and as a follow up, a fellow attendee who I have been following on Twitter, teacherpaperless@twitter.com
21 Things That Will Become Obsolete By 2020
similar to 'buyer beware', educator beware!
Had to re-post these two sites regarding obsolete products:
21 Thing That Became Obsolete This Decade
and as a follow up, a fellow attendee who I have been following on Twitter, teacherpaperless@twitter.com
21 Things That Will Become Obsolete By 2020
similar to 'buyer beware', educator beware!
Friday, June 18, 2010
Decompression chamber
OK, so school let out on June 4th (7th if you include having to grade exams and submit grades) and as well, I just sent off my final exam and written assignment for my latest M.Ed. course.
Every year I have gone through what I can only explain as the decompression chamber days during the first several days of summer vacation. It usually entails waking up and moving my body from my bed to the couch. I then proceed to lie in a semi-comatose state for the remainder of the day. I doze in and out of consciousness, the dogs taking complete advantage of my inability to shoo them away. My first year of teaching I was in this state of Gumby for about six days. It has now been reduced to two. But no matter how long the span, the feeling remains the same. It is a combination of exhaustion and relief coupled with a physical feeling of emptiness for lack of a better term. During this time, my mind has to make the adjustment as well. It has to learn to shut off. At least temporarily, it doesn't need to stir awake in the early morning hours processing the events of the day. But that's easier said than done. After ten years of teaching, I think that it's either a reflex or an addiction of the mind to have these neurons firing so early. But as the first days of summer vacation spell 'relax' my mind is running on the octane fumes that kept it going for the last couple of weeks.
Back to my corpse laying on the couch: it feels as though my bones have disintegrated and I am now a big amoeba. Sleep and only sleep remedies this unnatural state. My partner has long since learned to quietly avoid me during this metamorphoses. The understanding is that when I emerge from this cocoon void of lesson planning, grading papers and last minute changes, before him is a fragile and easily spooked creature. I can now share in the ritual of morning breakfast, not at the speed it takes a lightning bolt to spring from the sky, but in a relaxed and casual manner. I can use a spoon for my cereal instead of tipping the the bowl into my mouth and hoping to ingest the majority of the contents. I'm offered eggs, toast and coffee. The newspaper, it's contents still valid and not eighteen hours old sitting beside me. Is it Sunday? No. Oh the small joys of summer vacation.
Every year I have gone through what I can only explain as the decompression chamber days during the first several days of summer vacation. It usually entails waking up and moving my body from my bed to the couch. I then proceed to lie in a semi-comatose state for the remainder of the day. I doze in and out of consciousness, the dogs taking complete advantage of my inability to shoo them away. My first year of teaching I was in this state of Gumby for about six days. It has now been reduced to two. But no matter how long the span, the feeling remains the same. It is a combination of exhaustion and relief coupled with a physical feeling of emptiness for lack of a better term. During this time, my mind has to make the adjustment as well. It has to learn to shut off. At least temporarily, it doesn't need to stir awake in the early morning hours processing the events of the day. But that's easier said than done. After ten years of teaching, I think that it's either a reflex or an addiction of the mind to have these neurons firing so early. But as the first days of summer vacation spell 'relax' my mind is running on the octane fumes that kept it going for the last couple of weeks.
Back to my corpse laying on the couch: it feels as though my bones have disintegrated and I am now a big amoeba. Sleep and only sleep remedies this unnatural state. My partner has long since learned to quietly avoid me during this metamorphoses. The understanding is that when I emerge from this cocoon void of lesson planning, grading papers and last minute changes, before him is a fragile and easily spooked creature. I can now share in the ritual of morning breakfast, not at the speed it takes a lightning bolt to spring from the sky, but in a relaxed and casual manner. I can use a spoon for my cereal instead of tipping the the bowl into my mouth and hoping to ingest the majority of the contents. I'm offered eggs, toast and coffee. The newspaper, it's contents still valid and not eighteen hours old sitting beside me. Is it Sunday? No. Oh the small joys of summer vacation.
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