I graduated high school in 1995, not too long after Kurt Cobain found he wasn’t able to live the life he was living. When I went on the Internet in my first year of university I waited ten minutes for Acorn, The Nature Nut’s Web site to load. No one could use the phone.
Time’s they are a-changin.
And they are a-changin’ exponentially fast.
Our own Neil Young responded to Cobain’s suicide letter – which contained that opening phrase I quoted from his song Hey Hey My My - by stressing a counter-point: “Once you’re gone you can’t come back.”
Three years ago I moved from Winnipeg to the country, from people spitting at bus stops and panicking in Walmart lines to deer just hanging out munching leaves and that wonderful green slick on Lake Winnipeg’s shore rocks, and I agree: once you’re gone you can’t come back. Not really. (I’m looking out a window at Henderson Highway as I write this and man I tell you it’s just not ever going to be the same for me.)
Technology is our collective move: where we are going we cannot come back from. Not really. You decide if you think we as teachers will burn out or fade away.
In class we played a game on the iPad. Presented with random countries we selected capital cities. The intent was to show how a teacher can use technology to engage students in learning – after all, it only matters that they learn, not how. Nothing is gained in the how, right? We watched the time-bar drain down in the game, and I thought: “Is it better to burn out than fade away?” That is: I either know the answer or I don’t; or, do I need some time to think about this, to figure it out?
This is the question we as soon-to-be teachers will face: burn out, or fade away? In fact we might be feeling it right now, still multiple months from being anything more than just consumers of an educational product. Which one am I going to be: the burn-out, or the fader?
Using Wikipedia is like drinking with your smartest buddy: pretty darn accurate, but it sure can leave your head spinning. For example, in regards to transplants, Wikipedia offer’s this beaut in its history section: “Several apocryphal accounts of transplants exist well prior to the scientific understanding and advancements that would be necessary for them to have actually occurred.” (Now, this is where you, Norm, say to Cliff, “You’re an idiot!”…then Sam says, “Can I draw you a beer, Normie?” and you, still Norm, reply, “No, I know what they look like. Just pour me one.”)
Quote: “Do you understand what I’m saying?”
Now that I have used technology to research content and make practical cultural connections, I need to get to the guts of the story because a story is all this ever will be. Did you know there is actually a bionic arm?!? It is in fact one that “will offer the first hard-wired neural control of bionic body parts, whether lost to injury or neurodegenerative disease” Don’t believe me? Well, since I am not revealing any of my sources here (a journalistic privilege) you can simply Google that quote and find it on your own.
(Interesting side-bar: if in fact you can Google any quote and get the source immediately, why should the author bother with a reference list at all? Has technology made citing sources irrelevant?)
Meanwhile…there are some among us, some brilliant humans (or Vs for all I know), who know exactly how an arm works, from the physical structure of the arm itself to connections with the brain. These brilliant humans/reptilian aliens can take an arm off a man (in theory or, I guess, with permission) and make it give you the finger! Yup, they can dissociated the conscious intent of “giving the bird” from the physical action of “giving the bird.” (Well, there’s still the intent of the guy/snake in the lab coat, but you get my point.) In this way these brilliant humans/geckos, through this understanding, can now craft an arm that is like a real arm – a not-real arm that is nonetheless real. Only, it is real. It does all the real things an organic arm does: it executes all the waving and fist-making and nose-picking your real arm may be doing right now! There is no real difference, right? On one hand an ‘arm’ is grown naturally on the side of a body, fed by the nutrients of milk and bread and the odd case of beer, and on the other hand the ‘arm’ is made in a lab in a fashion that, though still probably requiring beer, uses plastics and metals and, in some opinions, hokum and witchcraft.
It’s no different than this: I say to you “hello”; or, lacking speech, I type hello and the computer creates the sound “hello”. Outside of the current quality of the orator’s digital tone, there is no real difference. (Yes, I’m still bitter that Colby and Danny thought text-to-speech was better than my O’Canada rant - I was gonna be a star I tell ya!)
Anyway, what is a teacher in the age of technology?
A teacher/iTeacher has inputs and outputs, right? You “hook up” a mouth and out comes the story of Louis Riel. You “attach” arms and suddenly math equations are being scrawled across the whiteboard. You “stuff” eyes into sockets and, after rolling a few times, they relay info to that wired mouth that then sighs, “Billy, for the love of jeebus will you just sit right in that #*%^ chair!”. That’s it. That’s the teacher. Passionate. Foul-mouthed. Concerned that a kid’ll brain himself balancing on two chair legs during class. You can’t tell the difference. Technology is as real as the real teacher right? Just less hops in the system come 3:31.
Think of our experiences in our recent class. We became in Teacher & Technology aware of the iPad. We saw displayed its guts: its apps. Now, since I am recently more inclined to staring at trees than sitting at a desk inputting on-on-off-on-off-on-on-off (coding joke), I may be disconnected from the actual reality as it stands – which is different from the real reality, right? But if the meal I’m fed is ‘teach them and teach them well’ then hell put those bionics on the iPad and code those apps so carefully that they can differentiate between a special needs student who just wants to get through the day with a smile on his face and the average student who learns in any fashion and the ELL student who’s caught in a maze of languages and cultures and personal self-doubt because she is different from most everyone else and let me just stare at my trees. Because though I am more tree than iPad, if an iPad can do it let it do it.
Really?
Remember that ridiculous scene when HBC Guy and American Ignoramus almost succumbed to the quicksand? If Norman McLaren had written that act I guarantee there would have been a sign that said: Teacher: Careful - Here There Be Technology. Maybe there’s nothing to it at all. But don’t students need me - they need you - more than they need an iPad? Don’t we have to be brave enough to tell them what they need? We are, after all, coming at them from the future: we are what they will be; we’ve been-there done-that regardless of the new shiny coat of paint every generation gets…
The story goes that at some point in time a cave man grabbed a stick and whacked his kid in the arse because he, the kid, was flicking bits of leaves at some other kid who was trying to figure out the lesson “poison berries versus edible berries”. The cave man thought, Grunt, grunt grunt grunt grunt. (Roughly translated: Hmm, whacking Billy with this stick means I don’t have to hurt my hand in the process. This stick is a tool I can use for a purpose. It is technology!) Fine, but now cave man there doesn’t feel anything when he hits his kid. He is completely disconnected from suffering his own consequences for hitting his own kid. (I guess a teacher candidate shouldn’t use ‘hitting a kid’ as a plot point in his narrative, eh?)
But the stick! It is no different than the iPad. There is no real difference. Give them all iPads and the connection shifts, the stick may not transfer the feeling. But heck kids need to be entertained and have content presented to them in explosions so that they can just lounge back and take it in? Or, we think that interactive dragging and dropping and pointing and clicking is how they now make those learning connections?
Someone said in a movie recently released only locally: “Yeah, I’m just…here.”
Crack open the skull of your iPad and you’ll see in there a “1GHz Apple A4 custom-designed, high-performance, low-power system-on-a-chi”. Yes, that’s right: a system-on-a-chi. Crack open my skull and aside from that marble I shoved up my nose when I was five you’ll find some real stuff. Sure, it might be something that to the average person is just as incomprehensible as the system-on-a-chi, but that’s no matter. It’s apples and oranges, or trees and iPads, take your pick.
C.S.Lewis wrote: “You don’t have a soul. You are a Soul. You have a body.”
Teacher and technology? One is the pen and one is the paper - make sure you don’t get them confused. As a wise man recently said: “If kids are getting all this technological stuff at home, why don’t we just scrap that in schools and focus on the basics: comprehension of content!” (Not a direct quote, though you can Google it and prove me wrong.) Remember that detached arm: it can give you the finger, but what does that really mean?
In the MacLeans’ September 28th, 2010 issue, the editors wrote under the heading Don’t Give Students More Tools of Mass Distraction: “Students with laptops had lower test results than those without. The reason? They were often not paying attention to their teacher.” I would add that they don’t pay attention to their fellow students as deeply either, and I think it is fair to say that we can learn just as much from each other as we can from the teacher.
So, at risk of breaking protocol: I’ve just blogged myself out. But I’m also as pumped as ever about teaching, and about employing technology under my terms. (The arm will do as I say.) Let me sign off with this as we move closer to our second practicum: I thrust from my chest a heart-shaped rainbow of light, surf, sand, and the words, “be true to your school now, just like you would to your girl or guy…”
WAIT! Actually, no, I’m not going to sign off with the Beach Boys. I’m going to sign off with my own quote, created in the very real sausage-shaped coils of my brain, said from my real mouth: “I’m not good at improv, so why don’t we just wing it…”
And now to figure out how to erase this all from the Internet…