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tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-58671069433323685042017-11-16T20:15:32.629-06:00iTeach and iLearnThoughts on teaching, learning, technology, students, faith, and school culture.Dave Mulderhttps://firstname.lastname@example.com:blogger.com,1999:blog-5867106943332368504.post-71717775970064808152017-11-16T16:16:00.000-06:002017-11-16T16:16:03.667-06:00Learning to Teach Again: Testing TrialsI am a big believer in closely matching my assessment vehicles to what I want students to know, understand, and do. I think that they way we assess students matter, and I try to use a variety of different kinds of assessments to help me understand what my students understand. This means I use some very informal in-class assessments like quick-writes, Padlet boards to capture their questions, and even monitoring the conversations in small group discussions. But this also means I use a variety of formal, summative assessments that require students to synthesize their learning.

In other words, yes, I give tests.

But here too, I try to match the kind of tests I write to the demands of the content being assessed. I do use objective questions (e.g., multiple choice) sometimes, and I use free response questions (e.g., essays) sometimes as well. Typically I give tests in class, but I have been known to do "take-home" tests as well if it seems like a better fit.

But I think I've stumbled on to an in-between of these two approaches to which my students responded very favorably. It's a tech-mediated middle ground of an in-class and a take-home.

A conference in Florida in November? Sounds like a plan!

I tried this out pragmatically in World Regional Geography last week, because I had scheduled an exam on the syllabus for a week I was going to be out of town at a conference. I debated having one of my colleagues just proctor the exam in class, as I've done before. I also debated just giving them a take-home exam, which I have sometimes done before, but haven't always been happy with, because it feels more like another paper to grade. (Not that this is all bad, mind, but if I advertise it as a test on the syllabus, some students feel like being assigned a paper to write is a bit of a bait-and-switch.)

So I looked at the quiz feature in Canvas, our course management system. After some thinking and tinkering, I settled on an approach that I thought might work well. I wanted students to spend the time in preparation going through a review of the topics that they had studied. For a traditional take-home test, I don't always get the sense that they do this. I also wanted them to have to synthesize on the fly, as they would in a traditional in-class test. But because I value getting students to think geographically (rather than a memorizing a million facts) the structure of a take-home exam made sense to me. So here's what I did...

I created a review guide to help them organize their thinking about some of the big themes we've been thinking about through the semester in light of the regions of the world we have been considering lately. I gave prompts for review along the lines of, "Be prepared to describe the different types of governments you would be likely to find in different regions of the world. For example, what would you find in North America? How about Central America? Western Europe? Have some examples ready to explain each region politically." I had similar prompts about the economics, population dynamics, levels of development, international relations, and unique features of each of the regions we have been exploring.

In Canvas, I prepared a question bank with about 20 different questions included. Some of these I bundled together in sub-groups.

I then created a "quiz" (Canvas calls them all "quizzes," even if they are tests...) comprised of five short essay questions. Then the fancy part: I set up the quiz to pull questions randomly from the question bank. For some, I used the designated sub-groups to ensure that every student got one question about economic geography, one about political geography, and one about population dynamics. Thus, each student only had to answer five questions, but each of them would have a unique set of questions to answer.

For the actual test, I set the quiz to have a fixed time limit (which I told students ahead of time.) This was to help replicate a bit of the face-to-face test-taking experience, with a finite amount of time to write, demanding some synthesis on the spot. But to equal the playing field, I specifically told students I expected that they should have their text, notes, and other resources at hand as they answered the questions, as they would for a take-home test. The idea here is that they had to prepare well in advance, but they could also leverage their resources just-in-time as they were crafting their responses to the questions.

For the test time, I set limits on when they could take it. The availability of the test was limited to a window of a few days, but students could take the test anytime that worked well for them within that window. Since I can check on when they take the test, I found it interesting to see that some did it in the morning, some in the afternoon, and some in the evening. (And...of course...there was that one student who did it at 1:00 in the morning...) But I thought this might be a real benefit for students as well: they can choose the time to write the test when they feel they are at their best for it.

How did they do? Overall, outstandingly well! They didn't have choice in the exact questions they would answer, but they had freedom of support (through their resources) for responding to the questions that were assigned to them.

I surveyed students about their experience of taking the test this way, and here's what I learned:

74% thought the test was about as difficult as they expected. (17.5% thought it was harder than expected, and 8.5% thought it was easier.)

91% reported that they thought this test was an appropriate way to demonstrate what they been learning about these regions of the world.

96% reported that they reviewed substantially before they began the test.

I asked them if they would like their final exam to also be offered in this format, and overwhelmingly they agreed (all but 2 responses were "Yes," and these two were "Yes, but..." and offered suggestions for changes, which I'll be considering for the future.)

It was a good learning opportunity to try something new for me in terms of a tech-mediated assessment option. I'm so thankful for such good natured students who are willing to try new things along with me! Based on this experience, I think I'll try this approach again in the future.
Dave Mulderhttps://firstname.lastname@example.com:blogger.com,1999:blog-5867106943332368504.post-13309413226923872492017-10-31T08:43:00.001-05:002017-10-31T10:51:24.426-05:00Semper ReformandaI've had people ask me sometimes where the inspiration for blogging comes from. Most of the time, it's something that recently happened, or that I recently read, or a recent conversation that sparks a post. Most of what I'm writing here on the ol' blog is just my way of thinking things through, honestly. But once in a while, I have a post that I've been ruminating on for a long, long time. This is one of those posts.

About a year and a half ago, I was in Iowa City at a conference, and my friends and I stopped in to a coffee shop to grab a cup. It was one of those wonderfully hipster places--definitely catering to the university crowd, you know? But I was surprised and struck by the artwork on the walls. In particular, there was a fantastic update to the classic portrait of Martin Luther that I'm sure you've seen before. But in this piece, Luther is decked out in fashion not that different from the barista who served my pour-over that evening. I pulled out my phone to snap a pic:

Hipster Luther?

I chuckled when I saw this--it just hit my Reformed funny bone. But, as I said, this is something I've been thinking about for some time.

Today is the 500th anniversary of Martin Luther's stand, when he nailed his 95 theses to the door at Wittenburg Castle Church and changed the world. I don't say that lightly; I believe that Luther's action really was a world-shifting event for the western world. He challenged the status quo of the Church in his day, called the leaders to get back to the truth of scripture. He stood up--was counter-cultural--and began a movement.

I love this "update" to the Luther's portrait, because it makes me think of one of the Latin phrases the reformers used to describe their work. The short form is semper reformanda, "always reforming." Here's a "reforming" of our vision of Luther, that Roman Catholic priest and professor, and brewer of beers, according to the history books. (Homebrew? He's definitely hipster!) But semper reformanda is only a segment of a longer phrase, which is--I think--important to remember:

Ecclesia reformata et semper reformanda secundum verbum Dei.

In case you haven't studied Latin lately, the common English translation for this is, "The church, reformed and always reforming, according to the word of God." That last bit is, I think, crucial: we are always reforming...but how? According to the word of God. The truth of scripture is timeless. We, the members of the church, are bound by living in a particular time and place. But Christ's Body, the Church, spans history and spans the globe. We are reforming even today...in the time and place where we find ourselves...to live out our faith more fully "according to the word of God."

And that's why I love this hipster Martin Luther so much. It's been 500 years since Luther posted his message, using the norms and technology of his day to nail 'em to the church door. Do you think that today, he might have turned to Facebook to put his ideas out into the public sphere? How would a contemporary Luther respond to the church and the world today? How would a contemporary Luther spark a message of "always reforming, according to the Word?"

Happy Reformation Day, friends.

Dave Mulderhttps://email@example.com:blogger.com,1999:blog-5867106943332368504.post-4479819946390826922017-10-26T15:21:00.005-05:002017-10-26T15:21:43.007-05:00Learning to Teach Again: Teaching ControversyI don't generally think of myself as a rabble-rouser, but I wonder sometimes if my students perceive me this way. I know that I do sometimes speak passionately about topics I care a lot about, but I also try to listen at least as much as I speak. The challenge: sometimes the curriculum involves content that is (or could be) controversial, particularly if there are a variety of viewpoints present among the learners.

I had a bit of that feeling in my geography class today. We are examining Latin America right now, and today we were focusing on Mexico. In particular, we were thinking about contemporary issues in Mexico--and, since we are here in the U.S., about Mexico's relationship with the United States. On the docket were things like NAFTA, drugs, and migration. Migration, in particular, has the potential to be politicized very rapidly, so I wanted to handle with care.

HOWEVER...

I'm afraid I stirred the pot a bit. I could tell from my students' body English that I had upset at least a few of them. The problem was that I critiqued the idea of building a wall along the border between the U.S. and Mexico, as has been suggested loudly by some contemporary American politicians. I explained my position: I suggested that there is no way this wall is going to actually get built, for at least three reasons:

The border is too long, and over treacherous and forbidding terrain. The border between the U.S. and Mexico is almost 2000 miles in length; parts of it are separated by rivers, or deserts, or mountains...which brings up point #2.

The cost will be absolutely prohibitive. The U.S. government would have to buy up a significant amount of land right along the border (much of it is currently privately held), not to mention the cost of actually building the structure.

Even if the wall were actually built, I don't believe it would actually stop illegal immigration. People are ingenious, and if they are determined, they will find a way. About a decade ago, I remember reading the news of a lengthy tunnel connecting Tijuana and San Diego--running right under the border crossing--which was being used for smuggling drugs and people into the U.S. A quick Google search will bring up plenty of reading material for you about how many of these tunnels exist.

(Ugh...I worry about being perceived as "that liberal professor" sometimes. It's weird...I think of myself as being politically moderate, a centrist...which means I probably am a bit left of many of my students, if they are towards the conservative side of the political spectrum...)

Summing up, I suggested that such a wall would be a political statement at best. And...unfortunately...I don't think this was well received by some of my students at least. I use Padlet in this class to get my more reticent students to speak up. And shortly after this exposition, a new card popped upon today's Padlet. Here's a screenshot:

I took the bait. I reminded my students that the Great Wall of China was built over a L-O-N-G period of time (hundreds of years!) and largely by slave labor (that doesn't sound so great...) and that was a defensive measure, not a social and political statement (as I perceive this to be.) I humbly suggested to my students that this is, however, a perspective I hold personally, and it's informed by my own experiences, beliefs, study, and thinking. In this regard, I'm pretty-sure-most-of-the-time about my thinking...but always-open-to-revision and somewhere-on-the-road-to-sanctification.

After making this point, I turned the conversation a bit, and reminded them of our main emphasis in this course. The title of the course is "World Regional Geography: Peace and Justice on the Global Stage." We've been talking about fostering shalom in the world this semester. "Shalom" is often defined as "peace," but I think it's a lot more than just the absence of conflict. Shalom is more about wholeness, and justice, and making things right. I wrapped up by asking them if they have ever actually talked to immigrants from Mexico, whether here in the U.S. legally or illegally. Only a few expressed that they have. We were running out of time--always an issue!--and so I offered a few concluding thoughts. I encouraged them to remember that my deep hope for this course is NOT to tell them what to think, but to help teach them to think about these huge world problems. On the board, I jotted four reminders:

These are words of encouragement that I think all of us need to hear when we are encountering (potentially) controversial topics in the curriculum, such as the huge problems we are tackling in this course.

I encouraged them to remember that most of these huge problems require a lot of study to understand the nuance of the situation. People often make bold claims and paint with a broad brush.

I encouraged them to recognize that most huge problems are not the black-or-white issues that people might like to make them out to be. Hard as it is to live in shades-of-grey, I invited them to explore these issues from this perspective.

I encouraged them to ask a lot of questions, even if we don't always have good answers, or answers we can agree upon. A willingness to wonder--to accept that questions are good!--is essential for real learning to take place.

I encouraged them to check their own assumptions. All of us have blindspots. All of us have presuppositions based on our deeply held beliefs. Learning often means being willing to admit that we don't know it all, that we might understand part, but not the whole.

I'm trying to help my students learn how to think. It's been a fascinating semester for me so far, and I know I have learned a lot already. These words of encouragement for my students are also words of encouragement for me as the instructor, teaching the course for the first time. I don't have it all figured out just yet. But I'm willing to keep learning...Dave Mulderhttps://email@example.com:blogger.com,1999:blog-5867106943332368504.post-27224536708098465762017-10-19T14:25:00.001-05:002017-10-19T14:25:35.798-05:00Learning to Teach Again: Quizzing Basic KnowledgeOver the past 20 years I've served as a professional educator, my thoughts on basic knowledge and skills have fluctuated.

Early in my career, I know I focused a lot on "just the facts." Students in my math classes learned algorithms for solving particular kinds of problems. Students in my science classes memorized a lot of definitions for vocabulary. The idea for me: they have to know the facts! And...perhaps cynically...it's easier to assess their factual knowledge than the deeper understanding that I hope they will also develop.

Looking back, I now realize that about five years in to my teaching career, a shift began to happen. As I matured as a teacher, I began to de-emphasize basic factual knowledge and instead began to focus more attention on ensuring that students could actually do something with that knowledge. Eventually this meant I embraced standards-based assessment practices for my science classroom, focusing on giving students multiple opportunities to both learn concepts as well as demonstrate their understanding of the concepts. I remember having a (somewhat heated) conversation with a colleague during this time in which I said something like, "If they can find the answer on Wikipedia in under 30 seconds, they don't need to memorize it!"

But sometime after that, I began to swing back towards the center of this range. I realized that I still did want my students to have knowledge of basic facts, because this knowledge is often important and helpful for understanding. For instance, I still had students memorize about 30 of the names and symbols for different elements on the periodic table, because it made it much easier for them to work with the symbolic nature of the chemistry we were learning. It's inconvenient to have to look it up. ("What does N stand for again?") In this case, memorization was helpful, because it was in the service of understanding.

I'm at a similar place in my world regional geography course right now. I want my students to have basic knowledge of the map, to know where different countries, major cities, and geographic features are located. I want them to memorize these things, because knowing it off the top of their head is more convenient for them than having to look it up all the time. But the point isn't the memorization of the basic facts--its that I want them to be able to use this knowledge as we are working to understand the different regions we are exploring. Knowing the difference between Brussels and Bulgaria is helpful when you're discussing the European Union, and the history of Western and Eastern Europe!

As a result, I decided that I would have map quizzes as a part of this course. That is probably not surprising to you if you've ever taken a geography course--it's a pretty common expectation to know the places on the map! But I confess, the thought of grading a map quiz every week sounds pretty awful to me, and perhaps pretty awful for my students to take them too! So how would I quiz them on this basic knowledge?

Here's what I decided to do:

I grouped several regions together for each map quiz, so we could have fewer quizzes over the course of the semester.

I give students a list of places (countries, cities, rivers, seas, mountain ranges, etc.) that they should be able to identify on the map. They have a week or so to review these (or perhaps learn them for the first time!) before the quiz.

When quiz time comes, I have a set of maps for those regions ready for their use with the different places labeled with letters and numbers. For example, today my students had the opportunity to show what they know about the maps of Europe and Russia. I had given them a list of European countries; European cities, rivers, seas, etc.; and Russian cities and geographic features. For the quiz, they had to be prepared to identify different locations indicated on the maps. But...

Rather than asking them to identify every single place on the map, I figure a random sample is probably enough! I have little slips of paper with each of the locations noted on them, and I dump them into a tub, and randomly pull out slips one by one.

I have an answer sheet with 25 blanks prepared for them. As I pull the slips from the tub, I say "Number 1...Italy." And they find Italy on their map, and write the number or letter for Italy on the first answer space.

This process makes scoring them quick and painless (rather than trying to sort out their chicken-scratch on a map) because I can just scan down their answer sheets quickly.

Also, because I actually want students to learn these places on the map, I have set a "floor" that they all have to meet: everyone must get at least 80% on these quizzes. If they don't get 80% of them right, they must retake. And, honestly, this strategy for quizzing them makes the retakes a snap--we just schedule a time for them to come, and I pull another 25 slips. Basically, I can create a different quiz every time, and it's quick and easy to do so.

This whole approach has been applauded by my students so far. After class today, one student stopped by to say, "I know I didn't do well on this one, because I didn't study enough. I'm planning to review them...when I can I schedule a retake to show that I've learned them?" How great is that? Vested interest in actually learning, and demonstrating learning?

It might not be an approach that works for every teacher, or for every content area, or for every course. But I wonder what would happen if this sort of assessment for mastery of basic knowledge became the norm. Would students slack off, because they know they can get a re-do? Or would they actually work to learn it on the front end, but if they fall short, know that they will have more opportunities to learn and demonstrate their learning?

My fellow educators, what do you think? Could you see yourself using this kind of quizzing? Why or why not?
Dave Mulderhttps://firstname.lastname@example.com:blogger.com,1999:blog-5867106943332368504.post-75837474175396469782017-10-13T11:46:00.000-05:002017-10-13T11:46:21.933-05:00Learning to Teach Again: Daring Acts of PedagogyLast week I enjoyed attending the Heartland Christian Teachers' Convention held here at Dordt College. They keynote speaker was someone I deeply respect (and...let's be honest...I'm kind of a fanboy) and have followed on Twitter for years: Rick Wormeli. Rick is a gifted presenter, a passionate educator, and an intellectual pot-stirrer. He is unafraid to challenge teachers to rethink their classroom practices, and to not do things just because "we've always done it that way." (Not to say we need to crave novelty...but that we need to be reflective, introspective, and willing to adapt.)

It was great to have Rick here on campus, and I confess, I attended every session he presented. (And live tweeted them...) It wasn't necessarily "new" material for me--I've been reading things he wrote since the mid 2000s when I was doing my Masters degree. But it was good reminders of the things I believe to be true about assessment, about differentiated instruction, about meeting the needs of students, and about teaching for understanding.

As an added bonus, I got to help out with a tech issue, and then took this awesome selfie with Rick:

The significance of hearing Rick for me was mostly a chance to recommit to teaching in a way that I sometimes lose sight of now that I'm higher education instead of middle school: I want my classroom to be "learning centered," as my friend Al Bandstra has put it.

Some teachers have subject-centered classrooms. The subject being studied is central.

Others have teacher-centered classrooms. The teacher, as a knower-of-the-things is central.

Still others have student-centered classrooms. The student takes precedence and is central.

But in a learning-centered classroom, learning is placed at the center. Rick's presentations at the convention were a reminder of this for me. I clearly care about the subject being studied. I clearly care about my role as a teacher. Obviously, I care about the students who are learning in my classroom--without them, I'm not actually teaching! But I am keeping learning at the center, and the learning is for my students...and also for me. All of us are learning; learning the content, learning each other, and learning ourselves.

Throughout this semester, I've been blogging this series "Learning to Teach Again," and really this is the heart of it for me: I want my classroom to be fundamentally about learning. To do that, I definitely need to know my subject matter. (I mostly have this down now...but I'm still working on learning more all the time.) I also need to get to know my students. (Working on that too!) And, while I think I know myself pretty well, I'm definitely continuing to reflect on my own role as a teacher, and as a learner.

One quote that jumped out and smacked me among all of the good stuff Rick shared throughout his sessions that has kept on ringing in my head through the past week: "We must commit to daring acts of pedagogy." Pedagogy, as I often mention to my Education majors, is the "art and science of teaching." Committing to being "daring" in our pedagogy means being willing to risk trying new things, to risk changing what we've "always done," to risk...continuing to learn, instead of acting as if we know it all. I'm working on this...and reflecting on how I'm doing...and, hopefully, ensuring that my students are learning through this process.

I'm brave enough to try...and I'm committed to keep experimenting.

If you're an educator, I invite you to join in this process as well: commit to daring acts of pedagogy!

Dave Mulderhttps://email@example.com:blogger.com,1999:blog-5867106943332368504.post-42212736648817870012017-09-27T14:41:00.001-05:002017-09-27T14:41:43.572-05:00Readiness to Learn: A Reflection on the Silage PileLast night I had a new experience: I helped cover a silage pile.

You should know that I'm a city kid through-and-through, and even though I've lived in the midwest for quite a few years now, I know next to nothing about farming. But when I had the opportunity to help out with a church fundraiser that involved heading out into the country, I was up for it.

My view from the bottom of the pile, where I was holding down the tarp.

Silage, as I learned, is chopped up plant material used for feeding animals. This was a huge pile of corn silage that would feed cattle through the winter. Our job was to cover it with huge sheets of plastic, and then cover the tarp with tires to keep everything secure. (It's windy out here on the plains, after all.)

There was definitely some technique to it, but it was also the sort of project where there were jobs for people of all skill levels, even a city slicker like me. Yes, I got dirty. (I think it was mud I got on me...) Yes, I slipped and fell one time on the tarp while slinging tires. Yes, I tripped once while helping pull out the tarp. But I also learned quite a bit. I was willing to learn.

I was there to help out and serve and do my part, and I came into the experience fully recognizing my lack of knowledge and skill. But I had some great people around me ready to teach me what I needed to know, and I was willing to listen, to try it out, and to do my part.

I was willing, but was I also ready to learn? I'm thinking about the difference between willingness to learn, and readiness to learn.

I didn't really need a pre-assessment for my ability to learn to help cover the silage pile; I knew that I had never done this before, but I was willing to learn, and the demand was relatively low. Honestly, a lot it was learning by observation, and learning by doing. But if I was going to be plowing, or planting seed, or spraying, or harvesting, or feeding livestock...I would probably need more instruction, and I know that my knowledge gap would be much, much greater. I mean, as a former science teacher, my background knowledge about a lot of the science is probably adequate, but I don't actually have any practical experience with farming. Anyone who would be teaching me more about agriculture would probably want to check my readiness to learn--gaps in my background knowledge, my existing skill level, etc.

Maybe a silly example? Maybe. But I'm thinking about the work we ask students to do in school. Are they ready for the work? How do we know? Are we pre-assessing them in some way? Are we assuming things about their background knowledge? About their skills?

I think that readiness to learn is more than just willingness to learn.Dave Mulderhttps://email@example.com:blogger.com,1999:blog-5867106943332368504.post-6028204795178139392017-09-25T16:44:00.005-05:002017-09-25T16:44:48.063-05:00Learning to Teach Again: Writing TestsIt's time for our first test of the semester in World Regional Geography. I've spent quite a bit of time over the past few days working on writing it. This perhaps something the non-teachers out there don't realize: writing a (good) test is actually a lot of work!

Yes, I know there are lots of pre-fab tests that come with curriculum materials. In my experience, these vary in quality quite a lot. Some of them are pretty good. Some of them are pretty awful. Most are somewhere in between, perhaps with some great questions and some...less great questions.

I generally prefer to write my own tests though, and in this course in particular--while I do have a great text that we're using--I don't have a teacher's manual the way I did when I taught in K-12. And, honestly, I really prefer to write my own test questions anyway.

I've shared my strategies for writing test questions before on this blog, and I'm putting them into practice as I've been working on this test. It's been a timely reminder for me about the challenges of writing good questions: questions that get at what I most highly value, and not just what is easy to measure.

Image by Alberto G. [CC BY 2.0]
(Funny, because I never use Scantron sheets for tests I write...)

Here's the thing: I really want to know what my students know, and understand what they understand. It's easier to write questions that just demand basic factual recall, such as, "Which of these is the correct definition for 'military dictatorship?'" It's more difficult to write test items that gets at deeper understanding. Here's one I'm trying out: "Where in the world are you most likely to find military dictatorships? Based on demographic, social, and economic factors, why are military dictatorships more likely there?"

Of course, students would probably prefer to just answer the former type of question, because they are less demanding for them. And, honestly, as a teacher, it's easier to grade tests made up of the former type of question, because they are more objective and straightforward. For the latter question, is it equally correct to answer "Africa," or "Southeast Asia," or "in developing nations?" And what if they talk about demographic factors, but not social and economic factors in their response?

What I'm getting at here is my belief that tests--and all forms of assessment, really--should be opportunities for students to demonstrate what they know, understand, and are able to do. Unfortunately, I know I've written tests in the past that have more like a game of "gotcha!" than a real opportunity to demonstrate learning.

If I'm serious about students' learning, I believe I need to also be serious about the kind of tests I write. I need to be mindful of my own biases in test-writing, balancing what is easy and what I value. I need to ensure that the content included on the test matches what I've identified as the goals of the unit. I need to be careful that the test I write is responsive to the needs of the students as well. (Note that I did not say the desires of the students.) Ideally, the test I write should embody my philosophy of education; what I believe about teaching and learning, about my role as a teacher, about the identity and integrity of my students, about creating an environment conducive to learning...all of this ought to be reflected in the test that I write.

A tall order? Yep. But it's what I'm aiming for, at least.Dave Mulderhttps://email@example.com:blogger.com,1999:blog-5867106943332368504.post-65276647363855786352017-09-21T17:08:00.001-05:002017-09-21T17:08:38.672-05:00Learning to Teach Again: Leading Them to WaterAs I continue to reflect on my experience teaching a brand new course, I have come to realize how much pressure I put on myself to be excellent.

This isn't entirely surprising to me. I have high expectations for myself as a teacher. I take my work very seriously--even though I don't take my self too seriously. I count it simultaneously a blessing and a burden to be tasked with ensuring that students learn. Yes, I use the word "ensure." This is dangerous, I know--can I really ensure that students will learn? It would be safer to say I "provide them with opportunities to learn," wouldn't it? But that's not how I see it.

One of my professors in my M.Ed. work (the inestimable John Van Dyk, who has had a profound and pervasive impact on the way I think about my role as a teacher) reminded us:

I take that seriously. Yes, my students have to do the hard work of learning. I can't make them drink. But...am I doing what I can to make them thirsty?

The trouble with this is that I start to put a bit of a burden on myself then, you see? I want to do my best to make class for my students; I want to structure the learning environment in such a way that it supports them, encourages them, challenges them, engages them, and--dare I say it?--makes them a little thirsty.

I'm working on it. I know that I'm not the most engaging lecturer. I think I'm better as a storyteller than a lecturer. The emotional engagement from a story gets them "thirsty" in a way that just the fact never will. But it's harder to tell stories the first time you're teaching a class. And there is so much content in this geography course! While I'm confident in my ability to teach it, it's my first time through. Planning a lecture--even though it might be more "boring" for the students--feels safer.

But...

Lecturing (for me) doesn't seem as effective at leading them to water. (It's not that lecture is "bad" as a methodology...but bad lecture is THE WORST.) So even though its a little scary for me, I'm trying to get students more actively involved. I'm asking them to help direct my class presentations by asking questions to clarify what they've read. This has been pretty successful so far, but it's definitely still a work in progress for me. I'm also trying to do in-class projects and collaborative work that gets them more actively involved than just sitting back and listening.

Today, for example, we were exploring intergovernmental organizations, like the UN, EU, NATO, NAFTA, G-8, SCO, BRIC, WTO, IMF, and more...it was alphabet soup! And rather than me lecturing my way through all of these organizations, I figured we could collaboratively generate a database.

So I made a Google Doc and populated it with a list of 20-ish supranational organizations, and shared it with my class. Basically we were seeking to answer three questions about each of them:
1. What is this?
2. Who are the major players?
3. Why should we care/be concerned about this?

The students partnered up and launched in, and after about 10 minutes, we had a solid beginning. I then directed them back to it to read through others' responses, adding to them, tweaking, modifying, updating...trying to get the best responses we could. I read through them too, and made a few tweaks myself, adding some info, correcting a few (very slight) errors. And there it was: a database of organizations, developed collaboratively and vetted corporately (and by me.) They were actively involved throughout, and the "why should we care?" question really worked for them--this was part of the running them around the waterhole, I think.

Can I ensure that they all will know about the African Union, and DR-CAFTA, and the Arab League, and OCED? Hard to say, I suppose. But were they actively involved in learning about them today in class, with a sense of "need to know?"

Yep.

I marked today's lesson as one of the most successful of the semester so far.Dave Mulderhttps://firstname.lastname@example.com:blogger.com,1999:blog-5867106943332368504.post-3659916916508160462017-09-15T16:01:00.000-05:002017-09-15T16:10:08.503-05:00Learning to Teach Again: Getting Them to ReadI've really been thinking about reading this week. A big part of the prep work for college-level course work is reading. I assign a fair bit of reading to my students--generally at least a chapter to prepare for each class meeting. (This varies a bit, of course, depending on the subject matter or the course.) And I think it's pretty important for students to do this reading.

I mean, if it wasn't important, I wouldn't assign it, right?

But I'm also a little cynical. I know that as a college student, I didn't always do all of the reading assigned. (Gasp! This feels like true confessions...) I suspect that some of my students are in this boat too. It's not like they deliberately set out to not prepare for class. But I wonder sometimes if there are things I'm doing as an instructor that make it less likely that they will do the reading I want them to do?

For example, there have been times that I assign a reading, and then I lecture on exactly what I had students read, point by point. I suspect that savvy students who are strapped for time will realize this quickly, and decide that they don't really need to do the reading, since I'm just going to tell them what was in that reading anyway. (I think that is probably what I would do in this situation, anyway. True confessions again...)

Or perhaps I selected a really, really expensive text for the course. Students--frugal as they are--might get together with a friend or two and purchase the text in cooperation, and share a book between them. I actually applaud this approach, but the problem is, what if your book-buddy doesn't get it to you in time to do the reading? I suspect that this happens quite a bit.

An aside: I actually had this situation in a course a few semesters ago; I picked a REALLY GOOD TEXTBOOK but didn't give any consideration to the cost of the book. Students mentioned to me that they had to pay around $130 for the book, and even though they recognized it as a good text, it was hard for them to stomach that price. When I discovered this, I spent a lot of time looking for a cheaper text that would accomplish the same thing. And I did find one that was much, much cheaper--only about $25--that did almost as good a job explaining the content as the very expensive book. Yes, it might be a little more work for me to teach using a not-quite-as-good-but-much-cheaper text, but to me, this was worth it, if my students would actually read the book. And that was the reality: some of them weren't reading the REALLY GOOD TEXTBOOK, because they didn't have access to it.

One more scenario: there have been times where I assigned a particular text because it was a good one for students to read in the discipline, but because we had so much on the syllabus, we didn't actually do much with that particular reading in class. Without some accountability, students were not likely to actually do the reading. So...do I assign them a reading quiz to make sure they read it? Shoehorn in a little more content into an already packed class meeting to touch on the reading? Just hope that they make the connections on their own, whether they actually read it or not?

With all of this rolling around in the background, I was really deliberate in selecting texts for my World Regional Geography course this semester. Here's the main text I decided to use:

The Plaid Avenger's World, 6th Edition. Best geography book I've found!

This is the best geography book I've found. Hands down. The author is brilliant, and explains things well, and leaves plenty of food for thought about the content, calling us to reflect on our own responses to what's going on in the different regions of the world. He writes in a vernacular style that is almost the antithesis of most geography texts: zesty, clever, funny, and occasionally crude (he uses some profanity that I'm not fond of, honestly) where most geography texts are dry, clinical, facts-and-figures oriented tomes. My students have responded positively, for the most part--though some have expressed their concern about the saucy innuendo he sometimes uses. (Yep, I know, kiddos...)

But most interesting, they report that they are really reading this book. One student told me she often winds up sharing things with her roommates from each reading assignment. Another told me that she surprised herself by telling her mom on the phone that she can't wait to do her geography homework each week. (Okay, that surprised me too!)

So, at this point (3 weeks into the semester) it seems that choosing an engaging text has been a good strategy for getting them to read. (Yay!) There are a couple of other things I'm trying this semester to be deliberate in helping students actually read the text:

I specifically picked an older edition (2012 copyright) of this book, because it was cheaper for the students than the latest edition. Yes, there have been a few maps that were out of date, and a few tables of population figures that are now incorrect. But we're even using this as a learning opportunity: "Here's how the world has changed in the five years since this book was published..." Some students are still sharing copies, but that's fine with me, and they are making a point of getting their hands on the book to actually do the reading.

Since it's my first time teaching this course, I am doing every reading assignment right along with them. I have often talked a good game about reading, and taking reading notes, but this semester I'm being really deliberate about this. I usually handwrite notes as I read, and I've been scanning my own reading notes and sharing them with students on our course website so they can see a model of what this looks like. (One student confessed after class the other day that she has never actually taken notes on something she has read for class, ever. And she is a Junior in college. Makes me wonder if she's the only one? She said she is doing this now, and seeing a model was helpful for her. I think there's a lesson there for us...)

Since this is my first time teaching a strongly content-oriented course since I was a middle school teacher (see this post for more on that idea) I've been thinking a lot about how to support students in getting the most out of their reading. And...I've turned back to a strategy I used a lot for my middle school students--not because I want to treat my current college students like middle schoolers, but because it's a really helpful way to encourage students in the reading. The strategy is called "clink/clunk." Here's how it works:

Ahead of time, I go through the text and make a list of all the different sections of the reading, important concepts, key vocabulary, maps and charts they should examine carefully, etc. I turn this list into a table with columns labeled "clink" and "clunk."

As students read, they use this clink/clunk sheet to keep track of their thinking as they read. If they read a section and think, "Yep, I think I've got that," they check "clink." If they read it and think, "Hmmmm...I have a question about this," they check "clunk." There is space on the sheet for them to jot down their questions too.

I usually also leave a space for them to summarize the whole reading: in a nutshell, what is the big take-away from this reading?

Here's one of the clink/clunk sheets, if it helps you picture it...

I didn't come up with this strategy, by the way.
(Thanks to Dr. Pam Adams for sharing with me years and years ago...)

When we meet up in class then, rather than just lecturing on everything, we start by talking about what went "clunk" for them. They are more invested, because I'm tailoring my teaching to what they need clarified. And I'm not just holding forth, whether they understand it or not.

Is it perfect? Foolproof? Nope. In the end, I still don't know if they really read it. They could just go clinking their way down the page, and fake their way through. But based on the level of discussion and interaction we have in class, it sure seems like they have been reading and thinking. (Questions like, "Well, on p. 76 he says..." sure make it sound like they've been reading and thinking deeply!) The trick is still getting students to actually open up and admit that they have questions...

But I'm working on this too. For our last class meeting, I set up an anonymous Padlet and invited students to partner up and decide on a question that they would really like to have answered in class. The anonymity--and the fact they they could collaboratively agree that they had questions to ask--made this last class discussion go really well. They asked great questions about what they were reading. We were able to clear up muddy points, and we wound up talking about things at a deeper level than we probably would have if I had just lectured on the topic, because they asked a lot more follow-up questions to ensure that they were understanding the concepts.

Am I "there" yet? Nope. But I've been really pleased with how the reading, reflection, and responses have been going so far this semester. Let's keep in mind that this is week 3...we'll see what things look like by week 13.
Dave Mulderhttps://firstname.lastname@example.com:blogger.com,1999:blog-5867106943332368504.post-46250548993700621852017-09-05T16:10:00.006-05:002017-09-05T16:10:59.174-05:00Learning to Teach Again: Trusting StudentsI was agonizing about class today.

The title of my geography course is, "World Regional Geography: Peace and Justice on the International Stage." And that's really our emphasis: not just knowing places on the map, but rather, "Who cares?" and "What can we do about the issues in the world?"

So on my syllabus today, the topic was "Developing a Biblical Framework." Since I'm teaching at a Christian institution, and I have the freedom to give full voice to my faith commitments, I wanted to frame the way we're thinking about geography--aiming to emphasize peace and justice--in light of a biblical perspective. But my fear was that it would come off as, "So here's the biblical perspective, and once we have talked about this, we can check it off the list and go on to the next topic on the syllabus." Since I'm really striving to teach Christianly--to live out my faith in all aspects of my teaching practice--this is not what I'm about. In terms of the curriculum for this course, I want to challenge my students to own their faith, and not just parrot back what I think.

Agonizing about class: would they actually discuss things?

How to do this? I confess, I think it would be easier for me to just lecture on the topic, tell them what to think, and try to indoctrinate them into a particular way of thinking. But if I really want them to do the authentic intellectual and emotional work, I feel pretty strongly that they can't just listen to me talk. While I definitely have a role to play as a professor ("professing," right?), they also have to be actively involved in making sense of things.

And here's why I was agonizing about class: I had to trust them.

I had to trust that students would actually do the massive reading assignment I gave them to prepare for class today. (It's a rare thing thing that I would ask students to read 100 pages for one class meeting, but I did for today's lesson.)

I had to trust that my students wouldn't tune out during the relatively brief framing lecture I used to set some guidance for how we'd proceed in class today.

I had to trust that my students would actually speak up and engage with the ideas we had read about.

I had to trust that my students would think deeply, share their ideas graciously, and discuss appropriately.

I had to trust that my students would do the work!

The way I structured my lesson:

We started by brainstorming a list of HUGE PROBLEMS in the world today.

After this, I presented a relatively brief lecture (I was aiming for 10 minutes; it ended up more like 15) to explain what I see as the ground-rules I'm operating within, and understanding shalom as a way of thinking about responding to the HUGE PROBLEMS.

Next, about 30 minutes of small-group and whole class discussion. (This was the part I was agonizing about!)

Finally, a brief wrap up for how we can use this (developing) framework as we continue in our study of world regions.

Our brainstorming about huge problems in the world...

You know what?

I have amazing students.

If I had planned a lecture on a biblical framework for addressing the HUGE PROBLEMS in the world, I don't think I could have done a better job.

I framed the discussion as:

How can/should Christians respond to today's huge problems? (Seeking shalom.)

Here's what we came up with:

Pray! (I love that they started here. The student who mentioned this seemed almost apologetic, as if this is the "good Christian answer," but we agreed that this is a totally appropriate starting point!)

Not just Christians worry about these huge problems. How can we influence others? Solidarity with others; majoring in the majors.

Educate ourselves. To help, we have to know!

Start small. Are there things we can do here and now?

Practice loving our neighbor as ourselves.

Remember that Christ is the Redeemer, and He is in control. We do not need to despair. He is making all things new!

Pretty impressive list, isn't it? I was encouraged anyway.

My take-away for today's lesson is that I can trust my students to do the hard work of learning. Yes, I have a responsibility to create the conditions where learning will happen. Yes, I have a responsibility to have materials ready to go, and a solid lesson plan. Yes, I have a responsibility to be prepared for class, and facilitate both in-class and out-of-class learning opportunities.

But I also can--and should--trust my students to be active participants in their own learning. Education is not something I do to my students, after all. It's something that we do together.
Dave Mulderhttps://email@example.com:blogger.com,1999:blog-5867106943332368504.post-5848110729595436632017-08-31T11:19:00.001-05:002017-08-31T11:19:18.788-05:00Learning to Teach Again: Pre-Assessment

An old gradebook from when I taught middle school...

Time for me to practice what I preach, folks. If I tell my Education majors something is good practice for teachers, I better be doing it in my own teaching, right?

In my pedagogy-oriented courses, I often emphasize the role that assessment plays in teaching. I often talk with my students about the importance of setting objectives, aligning appropriate assessment vehicles to these objectives, and then ensuring that our instructional moves will actually support students' learning of those objectives. When I say "assessment vehicles," students often jump immediately to tests and quizzes, but there are, of course, lots of other possible ways to assess students' knowledge, understanding, and skills.

When we're talking assessment, we often distinguish between "formative" assessment and "summative" assessment. Formative assessment is sometimes called "assessment for learning"--it's assessing students while learning is in process, checking in on their developing knowledge and skills. Formative assessments are usually small-scale check-ups, things like a quick-write at the end of class, or even a thumbs-up/thumbs-down check for understanding in the middle of class ("Do you think you understood that last part? Thumbs up for 'yes,' or thumbs down for 'no.'") Summative assessment, on the other hand, is sometimes called "assessment of learning"--it's a way of summing up learning that requires them to synthesize and demonstrate what they have learned at the end of a lesson or unit of study. Chapter quizzes or unit tests might be the most familiar examples, but many times projects, papers, and presentations can be summative in nature as well. An analogy I've heard before that I think is helpful is that formative assessment is like the chef tasting the soup while it is cooking, and summative assessment is, "Dinner is served!"

Both of these forms of assessment are valuable, and I would argue necessary in a formal educational setting. Though when I say this, I should also note that I think we teachers tend to emphasize summative assessments and not give enough value to formative assessments. And this is a tragedy, because if we're not assessing our students while we are teaching, we really don't know whether or not they are learning. If we aren't assessing along the way, it's like Wiggins and McTighe said in Understanding by Design: "Teach, test, and hope for the best."

All of this said, there is another form of assessment that I think is valuable, but when I'm honest about it, I don't always use in my own teaching practice. It is called Pre-assessment. Pre-assessment is assessing what your students know, understand, and are able to do before you start teaching at all, and--this is the key--using the information you glean to guide your instruction. It's sort of like the spelling pretests I used to take in elementary school: at the beginning of the week, we took a test on our spelling words for the week. Ideally, the ones we got right on the pretest were the ones we definitely knew, and didn't have to study. But the ones we got wrong were the ones we would know that we needed to learn during the week. And then, at the end of the week, we had a posttest (summative assessment) to demonstrate that we had learned them.

In my own teaching practice, I feel like I'm pretty good at summative assessments, and I've grown over the past years in becoming more effective at collecting formative assessment data and actually acting on it. But pre-assessment? It hasn't had much of a presence in my teaching practice.

So. Knowing that pre-assessment and acting on that assessment as a guide to my teaching are best practices for teachers...why do I not do this more regularly?

My honest answer? I'm afraid it's this: I think that I know better than my students what they already know.

So...

I'm trying to be a more intentional pre-assessor. One example: in my Geography course, I gave students a "Geographic Awareness Quiz." (See my last post for more about this.) It was interesting to go through these and see what students know and don't know. The average score? Eighteen correct answers out of forty questions. Almost all of them knew that Moscow is the capital of Russia. Only a few of them knew that Jakarta is the capital of Indonesia. While finding places on the map is part of geographic awareness, it's not the whole story, of course. But it is an important part. So this quiz gives me a baseline, a starting point, a general picture of my students' mental maps of the world.

A few things I've already noticed: they know Europe and North America better than Africa and Asia. They know some world capitals. They know some facts and figures of population and economics and politics.

One thing I'm thinking about right now: I'm using this pre-assessment data in the aggregate, at the whole-class level. It would be interesting for the future to track individual students' progress. I am not there yet in my pre-assessing, but I'm confidently going to do more of this in the future.

Dave Mulderhttps://firstname.lastname@example.com:blogger.com,1999:blog-5867106943332368504.post-23873779961993932672017-08-29T16:06:00.002-05:002017-08-29T16:06:50.717-05:00Learning to Teach Again: Day One

My wife calls this my "first day of school"
outfit. (She's not wrong...)

It's the first day of school for me for this academic year. Ah, the beginnings: the excitement, the nervousness, the joy, the fun of meeting up with new students, the even-more-fun of meeting up with students I've taught before who already know me...

I love this about teaching: the rhythm of the year with beginnings, middles, and endings makes it feel like a new journey each time. Today was stepping out at the start of a new expedition, and it was a joy, honestly.

The first day of class is a challenge though. How deep can we go on the first day, when they haven't read anything, or written anything, or prepared anything? Do I just have introductions and go over the syllabus? And who wants to do that for 75 minutes? (Ugh!)

I'm thinking especially about my new course, World Regional Geography. We had our first meeting a little earlier this afternoon. It was a new experience for me, teaching more than only Education majors. (Though, to be fair, the class is mostly made up of Education majors--many of whom I've had for one or more courses.) I want my students to like me, and to like the subject, but more than that, I want them to like learning the subject. The nature of World Regional Geography is such that I can't actually teach them everything about everything--we are studying the whole world in one semester!--so I want them to come away with enough of a geographic awareness and the tools of geography that they will be able to continue to learn more in an informal way once this semester is over.

So, how to begin? Well, we tried a few different things, some more successfully than others.

I began with a little personal introduction--about me, my interests, my professional background, my own love of geography.

We played with Google Earth a bit--and I learned a few things about what works and what doesn't work so well (note: in the newest version of Google Earth, we need to use the Chrome browser.)

I decided that in order to teach this course most effectively, I needed to get a sense of my students' current level of geographic awareness. So I gave them a quiz about geography with a variety of different kinds of questions, such as...

"What is the capital of the United Kingdom?" (London)

"What Canadian province is this?" (showing them an outline of Ontario)

"On which continent would you find the Nile River?" (Africa)

"What is currently the most populous nation in the world?" (China)

"Which of these is not a real country?" ("Latveria" is not a real nation, but Azerbaijan, Timor L'Este, and Montenegro are.)

I'll be interested to go over the results, and get to know my students a bit this way.

We did spend a little time at the end going over their syllabus and talking about assignments. This course has the shortest syllabus I've ever written. It's only four pages long! I explained that I want their input into several of the assignments and projects, and students seemed interested in that. We'll spend a little more time doing just that next time we meet up.

I am a little concerned about my choice of a textbook for this semester. I am using The Plaid Avenger's World as my main text. It's a really engaging textbook; I dare say that most students will actually look forward to reading it. (No, really! It's that good!) The problem is...the author writes in a..."saucy vernacular," shall we say? It's not your typical textbook, for sure. Now, my students are adults, and I would hope and expect that they can handle a little language with the trade off being a really excellent text by an author who clearly understands the issues in the various regions he is writing about. I did explain this all to my students, but we will see if they push back against the occasional innuendo and off-color language choices the Plaid Avenger has made in his excellent, engaging exposition of World Regional Geography.

But with that concern aside, I think it was a really good first day of the semester, and I'm excited to see where we will go on this learning adventure. Time to work on lesson plans for our next class meeting!Dave Mulderhttps://email@example.com:blogger.com,1999:blog-5867106943332368504.post-21993649617528650822017-08-28T22:13:00.003-05:002017-08-28T22:14:08.564-05:00Learning to Teach AgainTomorrow morning I will enter the classroom again, beginning my 20th year as a professional educator. I am excited! And...I have the jitters again, as usual.

This fall I'm teaching a new course. I'm adding World Regional Geography to my repertoire, and I'm really excited for this! I love geography, and I'm grateful for the opportunity to help my students expand their view of the world.

But I'm anxious about it too.

It took me a little while to figure out why I'm anxious about it, but I figured it out: I realized that this is a content course. It's been a few years now since I've taught a straight-up content course. Eight years ago, I moved from teaching middle school science and Bible classes to the computer lab, where I served at Technology Coordinator. I still taught, but the computers and media courses were much more process oriented. And five years ago, when I began teaching in higher education, as an instructor in a teacher preparation program, all of my courses have been pedagogical in nature. ("Pedagogy" might be described as the art and science of teaching. In other words...the courses I teach are about how to teach. Kinda trippy, right?)

Even the most content-oriented course that I have been teaching (Introduction to Education) is really pedagogical in nature, as it is aimed at helping potential pre-service teachers discern whether they are being called to join the profession, to help them see education through a teacher's eyes, rather than a student's.

And so this shift has me feeling a little nervous. Oh, I know...I'm definitely up for the challenge of it, and honestly, I know it's going to be a lot of fun for me.

The nagging anxiety though...I think it's that I'm a little worried that my students in this course (many of them are Education majors who have had one or more of my pedagogy-oriented courses) are going to be judging my work as a teacher. Just how effective am I at guiding them through the learning process? What kinds of decisions will I make as I unfold the curriculum? How will my assessment practices enable them to show their mastery of the material?

Instead of just stressing about this, I decided that I'm going to use this as a learning opportunity for myself. The title of this post is "Learning to Teach Again." After the past eight years of teaching process- or pedagogy-oriented courses, I have the opportunity to teach a straight-up content course again. I'm going to make the most of this by practicing what I preach to my Education majors: I'm going to actively reflect on my teaching practice, because reflection is where growth happens. I anticipate regularly blogging throughout the fall semester--on my first trip around the globe as I teach World Regional Geography--about how I'm doing. I'll be thinking out loud here on the blog, if you will. I'll tell stories of my planning, instruction, and assessment. I hope that those who read this might find it helpful, if they are teachers or teachers-in-training, but that's not really why I'm writing it. I'm writing it for me, for clarifying my own thinking, for understanding what I did and how it worked, and for my own professional development.

So here's to the new beginning, the new school year, and the new course! You're welcome along, if you want to read over my shoulder: I'm taking a journey of discovery into my own teaching practice, learning to teach again.

Dave Mulderhttps://firstname.lastname@example.com:blogger.com,1999:blog-5867106943332368504.post-32357430854969597912017-08-16T16:59:00.001-05:002017-08-16T16:59:12.471-05:00I'm Not SupermanFacebook is a weird partial record of parts of my life that I decide to show online. It's always a little interesting to see what pops up in my personal "this day in Facebook history" each day. For instance, this one was today, six years ago:

The comments in response to this post (there were 20 of them!) were pretty funny to read through. Some were encouraging, like a former student who said, "People ask you for help cause your AWESOME!!!" Some were a little more pointed, such as the family member who said, "Build a bridge and get over it..." Others were empathetic, along the lines of a friend from church who responded, "I had that too!" And still others were just a little weird, like a college friend who suggested, "Just duct tape your thumbs down and explain it can't be down without opposable thumbs." (I love that last one...)

I'm reflecting back, trying to remember exactly what the context was. I know I was serving as Technology Coordinator in a K-8 school at that time, and given that it was nearing the first day of school, I suspect this was in response to a whole slew of, "Hey, Dave...can you help me a minute with ________?"

There were a lot of those kinds of questions, honestly. And it's in my nature to try and be helpful. This comes out of a sense of obligation to doing excellent work at my professional commitments, sure. But, when I'm honest about it, it's also partly out of a drive to want people to think highly of me, to see me as some kind of Superman who can swoop in to save the day.

That's insidious, isn't it? But, as I've written before (here and here), the challenge for me is that if I can do something, it's often a quick slide to I should do something. When people come asking for my help and I can help, does that automatically mean I should do the thing they are asking me to do?

I'm not Superman. I cannot do all of the things. I should not do all of the things.

And yet...there is this awful pull for me that somehow I feel like I'm letting people down if I don't.

So this year, I'm practicing saying "no." I am working on making my default response to requests a kind, gentle "no." After four crazy years of grad school while working full time, my hope is that I'll be able to better prioritize in my life. By saying "no" to most things--even the good things--I'll be better able to say "yes" to things that I really need to devote my attention toward, and be excellent at those things. Call it a year of Sabbath...or a Year of Jubilee, even.

So, if you ask me to help out and I say "no," please don't be offended. It's not you. It's just that I'm not Superman. :-)

Image by Cia Gould. [CC BY 2.0]

Dave Mulderhttps://firstname.lastname@example.com:blogger.com,1999:blog-5867106943332368504.post-3837990051112326792017-08-15T14:36:00.002-05:002017-08-16T14:55:10.979-05:00Worry and Trust: A Reflection from CampLast week I again had the privilege of serving at Royal Family Kids Camp, an annual, one-week camp for kids in the foster care system. Each summer I've served--this was year 3 for me--I feel like I need to process the week in writing, to make sense of the things that I've experienced, felt, and learned through my service. This summer is no different, though it's taking longer for me this time around.

Image courtesy Royal Family Kids of NW Iowa. All rights reserved.

We returned from Camp on Friday afternoon, and I was wiped out. I suspect most of us were, actually. We had 53 campers, and almost 100 staff members working with them both in 1-on-1 roles as Guides ("counselor" often has a different connotation for kids in foster care) or, as I was serving, in a supporting role. It's a demanding week, no matter the capacity in which you serve. Our goal is to lavish love on the kids who are there, being fully-present, nurturing influences in their lives for a week. But that kind of "always on" takes a toll, and by Friday I was wiped out.

Saturday was a low-energy day, just getting caught up around the house after a week of being gone, and getting caught up at work, since I had to lead a meeting first thing on Monday morning.

Sunday was a busy day for me leading worship at church, which always is demanding in it's way too.

Monday was back to the office, leading a meeting with new faculty members and catching up (or trying to) on emails and other communications from being away from campus for a week.

And now, it's Tuesday, and I feel like I finally have time to think through my week and sort out my feelings.

I may have other things I'll share here on the blog, but one thing I've been thinking about that was a moment just in passing on Friday that has kept coming back to me in the past few days.

One of the best/hardest things I get to do at camp is ride the limo back from Camp with the boys. After saying goodbyes to their Guides, the boys climb into one limo, and the girls into another, and wave our farewells to the huge group of staff members seeing us off. We on the limos leave Camp in the hands of the rest of the staff who stay back to clean up and pack up. I'm not the only staff member on the limo, of course. There were a handful of us with the 20 or so boys heading to the church where their foster parents would be picking them up. A few were tearful, many were stoic. (One six-year-old sitting next to me sat facing the window and just cried for most of the trip--heartbreaking!) A few make jokes and try to keep the mood light, but overall, it's a pretty quiet ride. Maybe you can picture it?

Upon getting back to church, the boys pile out of one limo, and the girls out of the other. I met up with my wife, who is "the music lady" at Camp, teaching the campers the lyrics and accompanying motions for songs we sing in chapel and Breakfast Club. She was there to lead the kids in singing a few songs for the foster parents to give them a glimpse into what the week at Camp is like. She asked how the limo ride was, and I explained. I mentioned how hard it is seeing kids waving farewell to their Guides, and how hard it is seeing Guides waving back from the curb, eyes behind sunglasses to hide the tears.

After this, almost flippantly I said, "It feels weird for me to just leave my luggage at Camp, and trust that some member of the staff will grab my stuff and make sure that it gets on the trailer." And she responded, "Imagine how the campers must feel." I nodded, and we went on.

It was just a quick moment, and we were into the church with the kiddos, and singing songs, and watching a brief video recap of the week, and suddenly the campers were gone.

But I've been thinking about my wife's comment:

Imagine how the campers must feel.

It's a strange thought, isn't it? When you become aware of it? I imagine a feeling of almost constant worry.

Imagine being a kid in foster care. Imagine having to continuously shuffle from one home to another. Imagine cramming your worldly possessions into whatever receptacle you have handy for a quick packing up--probably a garbage bag. Imagine how worrying that must be to have to rely on someone else to ensure that your stuff ends up with you and where it's supposed to be.

In this brief moment with my wife, I expressed what is really a pretty small worry for me. If, somehow, my stuff got left behind at Camp, I would just drive myself back out there and get it. I have agency, and the wherewithal to do this.

But the kiddos? Not so much.

One of our campers this year had a hard time settling down at bedtime the first night. (He was not alone in this, of course. Lots of kiddos have a hard time their first night at Camp, and not just kids from foster care.) But this camper in particular had a rough time of it. He didn't want to take his shoes off. He didn't want to get under the covers. He didn't want to lie down even. In fact, he had all of his stuff piled in his bunk with him, and none of it unpacked at all. His anxiety was high. He was primed to run--ready to go at a moment's notice, and not letting his guard down. My heart ached for him, and still does. What must he have experienced that set him up for this fight-or-flight hyper-vigilance?

After my small moment of worry about my stuff, I have a different sense of empathy for this young boy. He has much, much bigger worries than I do in this regard.

But...

There is more to the story.

The second night, when we were putting campers to bed, he was still vigilant and sitting up in his bunk, but he had his shoes off. And after a few minutes of sitting there after bedtime stories and lights out, as I gently played my guitar for a little background music, he suddenly laid over, and was fast asleep in a matter of seconds, sprawled sideways in his bunk.

And the third night? He was under the covers, resting calmly, and settled in even during bedtime stories.

Were his worries evaporated? I suspect not. But...I'm just guessing here...he was able to settle in because he was learning trust. He was able to trust that we had good intentions for him. He was able to trust that we loved him, and cared about him, and were looking out for him. And with that trust came calm, peace, and rest.

And perhaps that's the lesson I'm taking away this year--the campers always teach me! I recognize that I worry more than I would like to admit. I believe that God loves me, and cares for me, and is looking out for me. But am I willing to let go of my worries enough to experience the calm, and peace, and rest that God provides? My worries might not be completely gone, but I don't have to embody my worries. I too can rest in the care of One who I can trust completely.Dave Mulderhttps://firstname.lastname@example.com:blogger.com,1999:blog-5867106943332368504.post-77974601520729785602017-08-01T14:41:00.001-05:002017-08-01T14:41:32.104-05:00Sending Work to School?Oh. Man. My twitterfriends Matt Miller and Alice Keeler recently published a book called Ditch That Homework: Practical Strategies to Make Homework Obsolete. (I still have to get my hands on a copy...hoping to read and review it this fall...)

Here's the zinger of a tweet Matt posted earlier today...

Dear teacher,

Can't get things done @ home. Sending extra for my kids to do at school, incl. laundry.

Sincerely, parents :) #tlap #DitchHW
— Matt Miller (@jmattmiller) August 1, 2017

I have plenty that I could say about this, but I think I'll just raise a few questions to my colleagues in the teaching profession...and anyone else who wants to chime in on the comments section...

What do you say in response?

Is this fair?

Is this any different than teachers sending work home with kids?

And if so, what's the difference?

Dave Mulderhttps://firstname.lastname@example.com:blogger.com,1999:blog-5867106943332368504.post-44997141887330630372017-07-26T16:22:00.003-05:002017-07-26T16:27:21.087-05:00Oh, the Humanities!Just saw this gem on Twitter...

Make your heart sing. #WednesdayWisdom pic.twitter.com/lO72Tf1tjD
— NEH (@NEHgov) July 26, 2017

I love this so much.

I am a faculty member in higher education. Traditionally speaking, we have three divisions: the natural sciences, the social sciences, and the humanities.

The natural sciences include pure and applied sciences, such as biology, chemistry, physics, mathematics, computer science, engineering, and agriculture.

The social sciences include less "sciencey" disciplines, such as psychology, political science, sociology, social work, education, and business.

The humanities include...all the things that make us human, like art, music, theater, languages, history, philosophy, and theology.

I happen to teach in the social sciences (hi, I'm a teacher educator!) and my loves within Education are most closely aligned to the natural sciences (educational technology and science education.) But even as I say that...I feel compelled to say that I think the humanities are actually the core of higher education.

Yes, I know it's a harder sell to get college students today to major in humanities fields. ("But what are you going to do after college?") College in America is not exactly a financially trivial prospect these days, and students--and parents--are hoping for some assurance of a "good job" after graduation. And so, a pre-professional program of study that seems like a ready onramp to a job in a field like nursing or engineering or computer science (okay, or teaching) might seem like a more obvious choice than majoring in English or history or philosophy.

But I want to suggest to you, dear reader, that college is not primarily about getting a good job.

I mean, sure--college is expensive, and you're going to want a job to be able pay for your education! And, certainly you're likely to earn more over the course of your career if you get a college education than if you don't. But that's not what I'm arguing here when I say college is not primarily about getting a good job.

Here's what I am suggesting:

College is less about "getting a good job" and more of becoming a good person.

I will speak personally here. My own college education was a great experience, and I'm the educator I am today due to the influence and impact of the professors that taught my Education courses. And I did get a good job, and I was able to pay back my college loans. But I am ALSO the educator I am today because I took history, and philosophy, and theology, and all the rest of the humanities courses that were part of the liberal arts core of my education. In fact, the way I was taught to reflect, and wrestle, and THINK in my humanities education impacted the way I put all of my learning from my Education courses into practice.

College was a learning experience for me, of course. And I was well-prepared to begin my career as an educator. But it wasn't just about "getting a good job." My college experience shaped who I became as a person, the way I think about the world, the choices I've made for how I want to live my life, and the kind of legacy I want to live.

This is much bigger than just boosting your job prospects.

This is about considering how you will be.

And, for me at least, even though I did not major in the humanities...my studies in the humanities were essential for me becoming who I am today.

So let's throw a little love to the humanities. If a high schooler or college-age young adult in your life is talking about studying the humanities, what if we actively encouraged this? What kind of difference will they make in the world, because of the kind of people they will become?
Dave Mulderhttps://firstname.lastname@example.com:blogger.com,1999:blog-5867106943332368504.post-37843873838717695542017-07-21T10:02:00.001-05:002017-07-21T11:08:26.618-05:00Teaching and Ramen NoodlesSeeing the title of this post might make you think that it's about teachers' compensation packages. While that is definitely a topic we should discuss sometime, that's not the point of this post.

Instead, a story in contrasts, and a thought I had in response to it.

Earlier this summer, my wife and were vacationing in Hawaii. (Yes, it was fantastic.) We enjoyed every part of it, including the food. Near our hotel, there was an area where there were many food trucks parked, and we had lunch there a couple of times, trying different cuisines offered through the window of a mobile kitchen.

Here was my favorite:

When the signs on the truck are in both Japanese and English, it's a good omen.

I love ramen. In college, I supplemented my dining hall diet with a steady stream of sodium-rich instant noodles, because this was one of the few things I could make in my dorm room with my hot pot. After graduation, I stopped eating instant ramen noodles, for the most part because of my wife's caring concern, reminding me that while tasty, they really aren't that great for me. Convenient? Yes. Healthy? Well...not so much.

But this was real-deal ramen, right? I mean, look at this:

Mmmmm... Shoyu Ramen...

This is a far cry from the hot pot instant noodles I used to eat in my dorm. Meat, vegetables, egg...and of course the noodles are way better than the instant ones, and the broth doesn't even compare. This is a real meal!

It's funny, because after we got home, I found myself craving ramen again, which I really hadn't for quite a few years. But I got a couple of cups of noodles, and I've been having them for lunch every once in a while...

Mmmm... Instant Lunch... (Is that vaguely troubling?)

Now, there really isn't any comparison between these two ramen meals. I suppose they both include noodles, and broth, and are Japanese in origin. But "instant lunch" is a pale reflection of the real deal. It's close enough to do in a pinch, but it really just makes me long for the real stuff.

How does this all relate to teaching?

Well, I've been thinking about the role of lecture in teaching. Perhaps it's because I currently teach in higher education, where lecture is a dominant teaching method? And I think we can make a connection between my ramen experiences and different kinds of teaching.

This thought has been percolating for me since receiving my course evaluations from the Spring semester. One of my students anonymously commented: "You often say that you are not going to lecture so much, and then you end up lecturing anyway. I actually really enjoy your lectures a lot! So I sometimes wonder why you don't just 'own it' that you lecture a decent amount? Just a thought!"

That had me reflecting...because I've been kind of down on "lecture" as a teaching method. I want my classes to be more than just transmission of information--which lecture often feels like to me.

Some time ago, I was on a kick making a bunch of snarky graphics at someecards.com about teaching. Here's one that relates to my wondering about the value of lecture:

Thanks, someecards, for making this snark possible.

Here's the thing: I do like visual aids when I'm listening to a lecture. And PowerPoint has potential for this. But how often does a lecture with PowerPoint slides end up not really being a true lecture, but rather the "presenter" becoming a "bullet point reader." And those listening to the lecture...are they really engaging with the material? Or are they just copying things down verbatim that they see popping up onscreen?

Why have I been so down on lecture as a methodology? I've realized that it's because it's too easy for PowerPoint and other presentation tools to become a crutch that prop up shoddy teaching, and shallow learning. This sort of teaching might be described as the "instant lunch" version of the ramen I loved on vacation. It has the basic similarity to the real deal, but it's an imitation.

So, what if we (I) commit to reclaiming lecture--real lecture--as a methodology? Not that I'm going to stop using all of the other methods in my teaching toolbox as well...but I'm not going to apologize for lecturing anymore. But--and here's the kicker for me--if I'm going to lecture, it's going to be a real lecture, a real presentation of ideas, and use my visual aids for just that...visual aids. If all I'm doing is reading bullet points so students can transcribe them, I might as well just print them off and hand them to the students. (There will be fewer errors that way!)

I've landed at a place where I think that lecturing is okay, and can be effective, and I'm going to own the fact that I'm going to lecture sometimes, and I'm going to do the best I can to make this an engaging, interactive experience for my students. (Thanks, anonymous student for challenging me to reflect!)

If I'm serving ramen, I'm going to make sure it isn't "instant lunch!"
Dave Mulderhttps://firstname.lastname@example.com:blogger.com,1999:blog-5867106943332368504.post-27621332779103260962017-07-20T13:29:00.004-05:002017-07-20T13:29:30.912-05:00American Division?Are you familiar with the Baader-Meinhof phenomenon? You've probably experienced it, even if you don't recognize this name. It's that feeling that happens when you encounter something new, and then suddenly you start seeing it everywhere. For example, when we got my wife a new car a few years ago, I suddenly started noticing that make and model of vehicle absolutely everywhere we went. Weird, isn't it? (If you want to learn more, go a-googlin' and I'm sure you'll find out plenty about this.)

I bring it up because I had a bit of this feeling just this week. I'm still thinking about how impossibly divided the American public seems to be along political lines. Every time I check my Facebook I see some political posts either decrying our President or defending him. It's bizarre to me how divided things are.

And then, I had two very different media experiences in short succession that have me thinking about the implications, and possible causes for this division in a new light. (And a little Baader-Meinhof feeling, because I encountered these things back to back...)

The first was reading a novel. The book is American War, by Omar El Akkad. It is a story of a dystopian future set in late 21st Century America, and tells the story of the "second civil war." It was vaguely unsettling, actually, because I can imagine the things told in the book actually happening, given the current political climate. OF COURSE it is a work of fiction...but good fiction is often grounded in reality, right?

What really got me about the book was the demarcation in the book of the secessionist southern states (Mississippi, Alabama, Georgia, and South Carolina) being labeled "the Reds," with the unionist northern states being "the Blues." And, of course, border states like Louisiana, Tennessee, and North Carolina are "Purple." Of course, this idea came from someplace, right? Think about where you are most likely to find "Red states" and "Blue states" in the US today...

El Akkad pulls in the idea that there is more than just geography that is dividing these regions. There are different ideologies at work. Part of what kicks off the war in the book is a difference of opinions about fossil fuels. Those liberals in the "Blue North" are going solar, and pushing legislation outlawing fossil fuels all together. In reaction, the conservatives in the "Red South" push back, proudly driving gas guzzlers, and refusing to follow the new laws of the land, beginning a rebellion. Now, that's too simple to say it's just because of the restriction on fossil fuels that there was a civil war. It was a difference in ideology in general. The difference between "Reds" and "Blues" was a stark difference in worldview. I won't spoil the book for you, but if this sounds intriguing...I'd encourage you to read it.

AND THEN...

Just this morning, I was listening to my favorite podcast: Malcolm Gladwell's Revisionist History. Gladwell is a journalist and critic of culture, and the stories he shares on the podcast are all about uncovering "events, people, or ideas that are overlooked or misunderstood." He is a masterful storyteller, and while he tells his stories with a slant, I appreciate the fairness with which he tries to share all aspects of each story.

Today's episode was entitled "The King of Tears." The key question he raises in this episode is, "Why does country music make you cry, when rock-and-roll doesn't?" And in the way he dives in to this topic, it quickly becomes clear that there are different worldviews at work in these two musical styles that goes beyond the instrumentation choices. I'd encourage you to give it a listen, if you have 45 minutes to spare.

I highly recommend that you give this podcast a try...

In a nutshell, Gladwell argues that Rock is more diverse, and as a genre is caters to a broader segment of society--and is also made by a broader segment of society. People from a variety of religious, racial, and ethnic backgrounds and from all over America contribute to Rock. It appeals more broadly, but is also "shallower"...and therefore less likely to make you cry. Country, on the other hand, is a narrower genre. Gladwell goes so far as to list the home states of the musicians who recorded the top 20 country songs (according to Rolling Stone magazine) and almost all of them are from...the South. Mississippi. Texas. Tennessee. Georgia. "Red states," if you will.

I'm grossly simplifying this--you have to listen to the episode in it's entirety to get the full nuance--but to put it baldly: Country is music by white, Christian folks from the south that is most strongly embraced by other white folks, mostly Christians, mostly in southern states. Now, is that a stretch? I mean, sure...there are plenty of people in other parts of the US who listen to Country. I spent a summer in Montana about 25 years ago, and that rural community was largely comprised of Country fans. But...they were white, conservative, and Christian, even though they weren't from the south. Interesting that they would be quick to embrace this particular genre? It makes me wonder if there is something about that particular mindset or ideological approach, that draws people to Country?

Gladwell suggests that you are more likely to cry listening to Country than Rock, because the songs are written differently. Country singers--and listeners--have a lot in common with each other, and out of their shared commonality (leading to a particular mindset or ideology?) they tell deeper stories about their times of woe, with more details about the sorrow. Rock, he suggests, feels shallower, because it's played to a more diverse audience with less of a shared common experience, or less of a shared worldview. It was an interesting argument to hear laid out, if nothing else.

Can you tell someone's political leanings, based just on the music they prefer? If you prefer Country, are you more likely to be Conservative? If you prefer Rock, are you more likely to be Progressive? My gut reaction is...well...this doesn't sound wrong to me. But just because there's a correlation certainly doesn't mean there is a causation here!

But now, I'm left wondering about this...

What if the real American division so palpable in our society today isn't just about our politics, or views on energy policy (fictional or otherwise), or our music preferences, but about a worldview underlying these?

And, further, how do we move forward? Can we get beyond division? What if we all tried to listen more than we tried to shout over each other? What if we changed the radio station once in a while, and really listened?Dave Mulderhttps://firstname.lastname@example.com:blogger.com,1999:blog-5867106943332368504.post-12351484924564703452017-07-12T17:03:00.000-05:002017-07-12T17:03:25.215-05:00QR Tour: A First Day ExperienceIn my last post, I challenged my fellow educators--and myself--to consider making the first day an experience for students. Rather than just going over the rules and expectations, to consider how to draw students in, get them engaged from the very first day, and help them understand how we care about them and their learning.

Well, this idea resonated with a couple of my former students who are now teachers, and a few of them got in touch with me, either asking questions about how to do this, or--in the case of one passionate elementary school teacher--suggesting an idea for how she would like to take this approach.

In her own words (with her permission to share here):

Dave,

As I was trying to sleep last night. Thinking about your blog post, I thought about this:

QR codes.

I could make little videos explaining things in the classroom (example: the procedure for checking out books in the classroom library). My school has an iPad cart. Each student brings headphones. They could wander around listening to videos about certain things in the classroom, at their own pace.

I think it could take a decent amount of work to set up, but how fun would that be? My little 4th graders would think it was so cool.

I love this idea!

Are you familiar with QR codes? They are those weird, blocky, black-and-white graphics you see different places. "QR" stands for "quick response." These codes are intended to be a quick way to access a website on a mobile device. (And, actually, they have a lot of other uses as well...) Here's an example:

With a mobile device (i.e., phone, tablet, iPod, etc.) that had a QR code reader installed, you can scan this graphic, and it will automatically open a link in your browser. This one links to my last blog post. (By the way, there are tons of QR code reader apps available for free. Head to your favorite app store and search for "QR code reader" and you're sure to find a bunch of options.)

So imagine you would want to create this kind of experience for your students--whether on Day 1, or some other time along the way. Here are the steps you would need to follow:

Create your videos for the tour.

Upload them to YouTube, or your favorite video sharing site.

Create a QR code for each video. (More on that in just a moment...)

Print these out and put them in the proper places in the room. (Per the example above, a video about procedures for getting books from the classroom library would be accessed by scanning a QR code near the classroom library, etc.)

Make sure students' devices have a QR code reader, and off they go!

There are lots of tools available for creating your own QR codes (just go googling "create QR code" to see what I mean.) My favorite--because it's so easy to use--is Google's tool. Here's how to create your own QR codes with Google:

1. Head to http://goo.gl/

2. Copy and paste a link into the "Your original URL here" box, and then click "Shorten URL."

3. Hover your mouse over the link you created, and more options will appear. Click on the "three dots" button, and choose "QR Code"

4. A new window will pop open displaying your QR code. Right click (or, on a Mac, hold the "control" button and click) so a menu pops up. Choose "Save Image As..." and save your QR code. Pro tip: If you're making a bunch of these, decide on a naming scheme so you'll know which one is which!

5. You can put that saved QR code graphic anywhere. I would just paste it into a word processing document (Google Docs? MS Word?) and then you can print them out as needed.

---

What do you think? Would you create a QR tour of your classroom? What other great ideas do you have for using QR codes in the classroom?Dave Mulderhttps://firstname.lastname@example.com:blogger.com,1999:blog-5867106943332368504.post-64294898006657186772017-07-10T15:45:00.001-05:002017-07-10T15:45:57.652-05:00Planning for Day OneThis one came across my Twitterfeed today (thanks to @justintarte for sharing!)...

Image by Jennifer Gonzalez @ Cult of Pedagogy. Used with permission.

Oh. Man.

What if every teacher took this approach?

What if we decided that Day 1 wasn't for going over the rules, but rather for showing students what it is going to be like to be in this class?

What if we taught a fantastic, memorable lesson on Day 1?

What if we went out of our way to draw students in on Day 1?

What if we committed to carry this on far beyond Day 1?

The old saying is you never get a second chance to make a first impression, right? What if what happens on Day 1 is essential for the tone of the rest of your experience together with this class?

I am now thinking about my typical "first day" activities. What will I have to change if I want Day 1 to be about creating an experience for students? (Thanks for that approach, <complete id="goog_2041557362">@burgessdave...)</complete>
<complete>
</complete><complete>I'm not saying it has to be all fun-and-games. That isn't the point at all. (Though would it be so bad if students found learning...fun?) The point is that Day 1 is the opportunity to grab our students, to give them the sense that we care about them, and care about their learning in this class, and care about making it an experience they will remember.</complete>
<complete>
</complete>So how about it, educator? Are you willing to join with me? How are you going to be planning for Day 1?

Dave Mulderhttps://email@example.com:blogger.com,1999:blog-5867106943332368504.post-80980982872363421992017-07-04T16:12:00.000-05:002017-07-04T16:12:00.524-05:00The Importance of Considering PerspectiveHappy Independence Day! (To my fellow Americans, anyway...)

Actually, that's the point of this brief post...

I've been thinking a bit lately about the importance of perspective, about the way our own experiences shape the way we perceive the world, understand things, and interact with the "other."

My Twitterfriend, Doug Robertson (@TheWeirdTeacher - if you're an educator, you definitely should hang out with him online) shared this one on his Instagram earlier today:

A post shared by Doug Robertson (@theweirdteacher) on <time datetime="2017-07-04T19:36:06+00:00" style="font-family: Arial,sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 17px;">Jul 4, 2017 at 12:36pm PDT</time>

How's that for perspective?

And...perhaps more importantly...how do you perceive this meme? Encouraging? Subversive? Humorous? Scandalous? Ridiculous?

I think that the way you respond to a meme like this is largely shaped by the perspective you embody, which is, in turn, shaped by your beliefs, experiences, and personal history. (Personally, I found this hilarious...but I have no expectations that you necessarily agree with me about this.)

But let's push this just a bit further, shall we? How does your perspective shape the way you make your way through the world? (Because I'm pretty sure it does!) How do you approach situations or events that make you uncomfortable? How about things that make you grin, or grimace, or guffaw, or growl? I suggest that there is something about your personal perspective that prompts your response. And there's more: I think that your perspective also shapes the way you make decisions, and plan, and move forward into the future. For example, I am an educator...and I'm convinced that my perspective on my work as a calling impacts all sorts of decisions that I make.

How does your personal perspective shape the way you respond and react, teachers? How do you respond to a pushy parent? To a new initiative? To an administrator's request? To a student's need? Or, how does your perspective shape your teaching practice? We might like to imagine that our curriculum is somehow neutral, but I don't believe this is true. There is always a perspective--maybe even an agenda?--at play. Every textbook you use, every curriculum resource you choose, every instructional decision you make is embodying a perspective. How does your perspective impact your school, your colleagues, your students? How does your perspective influence your relationships? How does your perspective affect how you are as a teacher?Dave Mulderhttps://firstname.lastname@example.com:blogger.com,1999:blog-5867106943332368504.post-63822725407446366252017-06-21T18:56:00.001-05:002017-06-21T18:56:34.744-05:00Gender Bias: Girls Who CodeIt's summer camp week, and we have 300+ middle schoolers who have joined us for Dordt Discovery Days. It's an "academic camp"--designed to give kids a taste of college life, living in the dorms, eating in the dining hall, taking a couple of exploratory courses, playing all-campus games and activities, and meeting kids from across North America who have come to spend some time with us on campus. I'm co-directing, again, which I love, because it means I get to visit all the classes kids are taking, and talk with them about what they are doing and learning.

It's amazing, honestly. Every time I step into a classroom, I have kids shouting at me...

"Dave! Come see this cartoon character I created!"

"Dave! We're dissecting sharks! Come see what we found in the intestines!"

"Dave! Can you stay for a minute? Our a'cappella group is working on an arrangement of 'Africa,' and we want you to hear it!"

"Dave! Check out the pillow I made! I sewed it myself!"

"Dave! My group has been creating this awesome marble roller coaster--come try it!"

"Dave! We're playing improv games--come join in!"

"Dave! ..."

It's hard for me to pick a best moment of the week, because there have been so many of them (and it's only Wednesday!) But I had a pretty fantastic one in a programming class this morning. One of my colleagues in the Computer Science department has about 20 kids learning to create Android Apps. Mostly a "boy class" (ugh...gender bias...) but there are a few girls in there. I stopped in to see what they were up to, and a few of the kids jumped at the chance to show off what they had been doing--pretty neat stuff, honestly.

But I noticed one young lady hard at work, examining the code she was writing on her computer screen, and then at her tablet that she was using for troubleshooting her code, and then back at a reference file, and then back to her code. I asked what she was doing.

Taking the xylophone to the next level...

"Oh, sorry! I'm in the middle of debugging my code for this app. We learned to create a xylophone app today, where we can tap on the different colored bars and it plays the different notes. But I wanted to take mine to the next level."

"Oh?" I responded. "What are you doing to take it to the next level?"

"Well, I want to be able to record the songs I play on the xylophone so I can play them back later. So I'm figuring out how to code a recording routine. But it's tricky, and I have to fix all the bugs so it works right. I'll get it figured out. I just have to be patient..." and she was back to debugging her app.

I moved on to another young lady who was working on a very complex set of code blocks. I asked her what she was up to.

Creating a digital Sorting Hat...

"Well..." She looked a little sheepish. "Well...I really love Harry Potter. So I'm making a 'sorting hat' app. See, you tap to choose the words you think best describe you, and it tells you which house you belong to."

I asked her if this was a project they had been working on earlier.

"Oh, no, not really. I just love Harry Potter, and decided to figure it out for myself. I'll show you tomorrow if you come back; I should have it finished by then, but I need some graphics yet to make it really look good."

Aren't these great moments?

---

Now, three things I want to note about this.

1) These are just two examples illustrating the kind of great learning and growth that happens at this camp, and I'm proud to be a part of it.

2) These two young ladies are totally inspiring to me, and I loved to hear them so excited about the work they were doing.

3) It's a sad commentary--even to me, writing this blog--that it stands out to me that these two examples are girls who code.

Why should that be primary? I see some gender bias at play here, even in myself. And I'm calling myself out for it.

I am proud of the kids here at camp. I'm proud of the work they are doing, the enthusiasm they are showing about what they are learning. I'm proud of them using their gifts, further developing their talents, stretching themselves.

But why should it be exceptional that it's girls making these awesome apps? Because we (I?) associate hacking computer code as a "boy" activity? How sad is that? I thought I was past this somehow. My friend teaching the course is female, and I don't think every time, "Oh, she's a female computer scientist..." So why is this so significant when it's middle schoolers?

I'm working on resetting this implicit gender bias internally. I'd love to see that class an equal number of boys and girls in the future, and not because of some quota or anything like that, but because an equal number of girls and boys find coding their own apps interesting, significant, and fun.Dave Mulderhttps://firstname.lastname@example.com:blogger.com,1999:blog-5867106943332368504.post-4294116412761647562017-06-14T15:40:00.001-05:002017-06-14T15:44:50.618-05:00Access Isn't EnoughI just read this piece from Education Week entitled "Data Dive: Devices and Software Flooding into Classrooms." I think that the subtitle on the article is telling: "More access hasn't meant better use."

It's a good piece on the current state of affairs in K-12 schools. Many of devices available for students and teachers. Fast (or at least acceptable) internet access. Lots of technology use, but much of it low-level. Teachers who don't feel adequately prepared for teaching with digital tools and resources.

It's interesting to me how many people seem think that having more access to educational technologies will automatically make things happen for teaching and learning. Both the research I've been doing for the past four years in the field of EdTech, as well as my own anecdotal experience as a PreK-8 Technology Coordinator convince me that this is simply not the case. Who cares if you have a stack of Chromebooks in your classroom? Who cares if you have a 50-gigabit ethernet connection to the internet? Whoopie-ding, you have a Google Drive account, and a SMARTBoard, and an iPad! So what? What difference does it make? You have access to the technologies...but how are they being put to use? (Are they being put to use?)

Access isn't enough.

Sure, access is a factor. Teachers and students obviously need access to these technologies if there is a hope that the technologies are going to somehow transform teaching and learning. But access isn't enough.

Teachers need training--or at least time and encouragement to explore, investigate, and imagine--if they are going to incorporate tech tools into their teaching. I believe this is also true of students; modeling technology use can go a long way for developing their technological knowledge and skills. I've said before that just because students know how to use cellphones and social media doesn't mean they know how to leverage these tools, or others, for learning. I believe the same thing is true for teachers. Tech support, ongoing professional development, and just-in-time trouble-shooting are all necessary as well!

So, yes, teachers and students need access to educational technologies, if we hope to use them to change the teaching practices, to adapt the learning environment, to shift the curriculum materials. But access isn't enough.

Public domain image from Pixabay.com

Dave Mulderhttps://firstname.lastname@example.com:blogger.com,1999:blog-5867106943332368504.post-73113286783250906332017-06-13T15:56:00.000-05:002017-06-13T15:56:19.234-05:00On Liking and LearningIt's definitely summer-mode for me, and as I said to someone recently, this is the first time in five years that I'm neither taking courses, or teaching a course (or both) during the summer. Don't worry, I have plenty of other projects to work on, but I definitely appreciate the change of pace of being able to work a bit more on my own time-table.

For instance, yesterday morning, my colleagues in Education had an impromptu coffee time because one of our colleagues who had been out of the country for a few weeks was back, and we wanted to hear stories of her adventures abroad.

Through the course of our conversation, we wound up talking about different educational settings of which we have been part, as both students and instructors. We agreed that classroom atmosphere makes such a huge impact on students' learning, and even on their willingness to learn.

In response to this, I asked a question of my colleagues: "Do students have to like you to learn from you?"

They had a few initial responses to that wondering. We talked a bit about the difference of being liked and being respected. We talked a bit about the importance of caring relationships--that students have to know that their teachers care about them as people. But is caring the same thing as liking? (As in, can I care about my students even if I don't like them? Perhaps that's an entirely different conversation!)

We also talked about teachers that we liked very much but didn't learn much in their classes. So perhaps "learning" does not automatically result from "liking."

But I do wonder about this.

Can students learn effectively if they don't like their teachers? Is "liking" a prerequisite for "learning?" I'd love to hear what you think about this.

Public domain image from Pixabay.com

Dave Mulderhttps://firstname.lastname@example.com