Though now I realize it was something of a collusion between the students and him, we kids thought we were so bright. We learned, early, how to get a teacher to birdwalk. You know, those random stories that seem to come from nowhere, where the teacher talks about their childhood, their theories on life and their pet snake. His stories were the best, not because they were that interesting, though they were, but because he was not talking about math. Oh, how smart we thought we were to get him off the topic of math and onto real life.
Collusion. Only we didn't know he was in on it.
So much of what goes on in a classroom now consists of a kid and a computer. Now, don't get me wrong, I love what happens when kids and computers get together. In fact, way back in the late 80's, I was the first teacher at our school to bring in a computer. The kids played "Reader Rabbit" and they loved it. I loved what happened to my writing when I became proficient on the keyboard.
This might seem unrelated, but give me a minute and I will tie them together. I have had many parents, in my teaching career, take their kids out of school for a prolonged amount of time. Okay, it happens. If grandma and grandpa live in the Philippines, I can see a yearly visit or so. But when mom or dad tells me that they won't miss anything in class because, "they can do their work before they go," or, "they can do the homework on the plane," I blanch.
What does computer interaction and doing the classwork on a plane have to do with the other?
Both are leaving out something important.
The birdwalking.
Well, not just the birdwalking, but the person behind it. The teacher.
You see, there are two main components to what your kids do in school all day, one is the curriculum, that is, what the kids are expected to hear, see, read, do, and learn; and then there is the teacher.
More and more, it is becoming possible for your children to go to school without ever seeing a live teacher. There are classes they can take online, programs like Khan Academy, and even whole public schools, all online. They don't need to ever encounter a teacher in real life.
Sometimes I wonder, why don't we just write curriculum that is
self-paced, hand it to kids, and let them turn it in when it is done? We could easily, and more efficiently, cover all the curriculum the kids are supposed to learn and know.
Makes taking those vacations easier, doesn't it?
So, after teaching since the late 70's, have I become anachronistic? Have I lost my usefulness?
But remember. A computer can't birdwalk. And in that, I place my, and every other teachers', value.
Today in class, the kids drew names out of a bag-- names of poets about which they will do short reports. It could have been computer generated. Susie-- you drew Langston Hughes. Nathan-- you have Frost, Gwen-- you have William Carlos Williams. Go write a report.
Or, it could have been like it was in class. "Oh, I LOVE Hughes! Let me tell you about the Harlem Renaissance and why he was so important..."
And, "What is a beat poet? Oh, you have William Carlos Williams, don't you? He was one of my favorites when I was your age. Have you ever been in North Beach in San Francisco and walked down the Jack Keroak Alley? Well, he was one of..."
It is, though, in our humanity, and even, in my case, my insanity, that teachers take the curriculum and turn it into a vital, living and breathing, fascinating entity. We make the connections between reality and theory. We make it real and necessary, not just something to check off the list as "knowing," but we make it relevant. Those "aha" moments are fewer and farther between with a computer, and less so with a worksheet. Teachers use curriculum to reach a goal, the goal is not the curriculum. We are the ones who light the fire and the curriculum is the wood and kindling.
So, yes, I will keep using computer based programs to teach, and, if you really need to take your daughter out of class for a week for a family emergency, I can give her some work to do to help her keep up. But remember this, it isn't a replacement for that flawed, sometimes charming, sometimes frustrating example of humanity that sits at the largest desk in the classroom. She might tell stories that seemingly have little to do with the subject matter at hand, have papers all over her desk, and she might forget important dates. She is anything but perfect, but, with luck, your son or daughter will have one of the crazy ones, one that tells stories, one with passion and vision, and one of the ones that ignite flames that will burn for a lifetime.
