On the Use of Technology in My Future Classroom

My goal is to teach a secondary level creative writing program.  I think that the value placed on the creative elements of writing is not keeping pace with the expressive mediums available to our modern society.  The blogosphere, the twitterverse, and the various other forums, newsgroups, and comment sections of the internet offer uncountable settings for fiction, poetry, memoir, advice, and more.  The abilities to critically assess, appreciate, and understand a text are incredibly valuable, but with no well-crafted texts to work with, those skills atrophy.  The digital world of words is infinitely broad, but its landscape is sparsely lit by few and far between lighthouses of heartfelt good writing.

I plan on helping students develop the tools needed to write well, to communicate effectively with the written word.  And the vast majority of that communication, for them, will take place online, and with digital tools.  Future writers will not only need to understand how different expressive techniques can be used to generate content that expresses their thoughts, experiences and beliefs, but will also need to have an understanding of the rules of conduct when creating and posting that content online.  They will need to know the formatting techniques necessary to prepare a document that will be part of a website.  They will need to know what can be done with cloud-based word processors, vs. what can best be done on a hard-drive based program. 

And I, as their teacher, will be using any and all tools available to me to develop those skills.  I will be using spreadsheets to teach vocabulary, I’ll be using presentation tools to share texts with the class.  I’ll be using web-based video programs to give the students a venue to share their work with the world.  I’m hoping to use tablet PCs to create a peer-review environment that gives student reviewers the tools they need to comment on a piece of writing, but preserves the “face-to-faceness” of an old-school writing workshop.  It will be my responsibility to teach students how to protect their writing online, and how to recognize what digital media is available for them to incorporate in their own work, and what is not.

Much of this territory is just now being explored in English classrooms, and it makes for an exciting, frustrating, and, above all, open, frontier for young writers (and teachers of young writers.)  In developing the best way to teach these skills, I’ll be modeling them to students as well. 

The most challenging part may be addressing the fact that, in two or three years, many of the terms and tools I’m describing here and now will be passé at best, and more than likely completely obsolete.  I will be constantly given opportunities to explore new tools, new norms, and new venues.  With any luck, my students will be exploring them with me, and together we’ll find ways to fill them with poetry.  Poetry and spreadsheets.

Pax and Petra,

Ben Geile

On Motion Games

I've been asked to play some motion-based games, and then give my ideas of what these games might bring to the table in a creative writing classroom.  I would advise you to read the previous post on rhythm games, as we'll be heading down the same road.
But first, A haiku:

Every Kinect Game Ever

artificial hip

seventy pounds overweight

wildly flailing limbs

Don't get me wrong, Kinect Adventures is a blast.  I'm just saying that the catlike grace I can display via Solid Snake in a Metal Gear game does not translate to my gaming performance in the 'real world.'  The Wii, on the other hand, forces me to focus my real-world motions on simply my hands, and occasionally my feet.  I am an absolute ninja at Wii Fit Yoga.  Something about the whole-body capture of the Kinect brings out my Inner-Marrionette-Caught-In-A-Ceiling-Fan. It is just so cool in the way it works that I can't bring myself to loathe it the way I do rhythm games.

How would I use it in a classroom?  Well, like rhythm games, many mo-cap games are twitch-based.  And when it comes to poetry and short fiction, the initial drafts are also pretty twitch-based.  Sudden, improvised word choices often create literary gold, and need to be indulged when drafting.  Haiku throwdowns operate much like rhythm and twitch games, and when a group really gets into them,  they just sound cool, too.  

Another way these can be useful is as a sometimes necessary distraction when writer's block hits.  The two methods to get past WB are pretty well summed up as "Just write until more good stuff comes out" or "Go do something else for a while."  And there is absolutely nothing farther from poetry than they way most poets look like when they are playing Kinect Adventures.

Pax and Petra,

Ben

On Spreadsheets

I've been asked to evaluate a classroom project that involved the use of spreadsheets.  Before I get into the project, however, I need to explain that the Geile side of my family is genetically predisposed to view any project, large or small, as an opportunity to create a spreadsheet.  We have been creating spreadsheets since before coming to the US from Germany in the late 19th century.  If you did some reasearch, you could probably locate a handmade collection of rows and columns detailing the rate, severity, and date of occurance of scurvy incidents during the trans-atlantic journey.  And in the corner, it would read "Property of F. Geile."  Spreadsheets are in my blood.

But then, so is poetry.  Shall ever the twain meet?  More on that in a bit.

The project I looked at was aimed at 4th graders learning about volcanos.  Their teacher, Mrs. Pishl, crowdsourced a set of data that the students thought they could learn about volcanos, narrowed that list down to a list of four, and then had her students work in groups to gather the actual data.  Students then input the data into a spreadsheet, and watched as their data was translated into a graph via MS Excel.

Based on what I could glean from the videos and notes, the project was succeful in a few ways.  It gave the students the opportunity to learn the process by which data is collected for graphs, and also let them be a part of the process, by allowing them to enter the data they had collected themselves.

In my experience with short stories and poetry, identifying what makes a piece good or bad is at best tricky, and often can lead a peer-review quickly from elevated discorse to a seven-way screaming match.  And nothing takes the passion out of a problem like that infinite field of empty boxes.

I would ask students to bring me a set of objective criteria by which we could judge the "goodness" of a piece (ie.  clever use of rhyme, setting, etc.) and create a survey that the writing students could give their peers to determine what "weight" any criterium has in relation to any other (ie. realistic endings carry twice as much weight as clever titles.)

We could build a set of formulas in a spreadsheet, and then simply apply the logarithms to a piece of writing to determine an objective level of goodness, that can be represented by a graph. 

Of course, this would then lead into a discussion of whether or not our classroom "goodness" logarithm has any relation to, say a "qualitative" logarithm, or a "likeability" logarithm, and we'd need to build more spreadsheets.

Spreadsheets also give a great opportunity for practicing concrete poetry.  In a college poetry writing course, a professor led a discussion on whether a simple data set could be emotionally moving.  I pointed to this (warning: N always SFW) as my response.

Pax and Petra,
Ben

On Netiquette

I've been asked to post a set of Netiquette rules for the hypothetical classroom I'll be teaching in once I complete my English Teaching degree.  I'm dressing for the job I want here, so these rules are aimed at middle-school youth in a creative writing class.

Mr. Geile's rules of Netiquette:

1.  Remember That the People Reading What You Just Wrote are Actual People.
          Remember that while the computer you are using to communicate is a cold, unfeeling machine, there is a warm-blooded person just chock full of feelings receiving that communication.  Don't hurt their feelings.

2.  When In Doubt, Don't.
          If you find yourself unsure if you should post something, whether it is because you're not sure if it is appropriate, safe, offensive, or understandable, don't send it.  At least, don't send it until you've asked Mr. Geile about it.

3.  Using All Caps is Always Lame.  Unless Used to Type SCUBA LASER, Which is Awesome.
          If you feel that you must give a word or phrase in your online communication some emphasis, try italics, or bolding, or underlining, or "quotation marks", or anything but all caps.  Exceptions can be made for acronyms or initializations.  Especially SCUBA LASER.

4.  Read Twice, Send Once.
          Double-check your spelling, grammar and word choice before sending or posting anything.  Assume that I will be grading every piece of writing you produce this semester.

5.  Log Out. 
          Make sure to disconnect yourself from whatever device you are using when you are done using it.  This spares us some confusion when commenting on each other's work, but also prevents unscrupulous people from pretending that they are you.

On The Classroom of the Future

I was told to watch these videos.  I was told that they were best viewed while wearing parachute pants.  I found my parachute pants and was dismayed to find that they now just fit like regular pants.

The videos nailed the idea that research would become much faster, and the average high school student would have access to a greater number of resources.  They even had a proto-Siri/J.A.R.V.I.S.

The most obvious element they got wrong were the class sizes of the future.  They also placed a bit too much faith in the endurance of 1980's hair styles.  Apparently they felt that they had truly nailed it, and future generations wouldn't want to change a thing.

If you can get past the thick crust of 80's cheese, they are fairly accurate.  Online collaboration is on the cusp of being the norm.  Accessing the records of universities and film archives not be unusual.

I think that the arc that these videos is predicting will continue.  More and more coursework will be done independent of the classroom, using digital search and multimedia tools.  Teachers will become more and more responsible for educating youth in how to find information, rather than how to remember information.  The challenge of how to make that information relevant to the youth will, however, remain.

On Rhythm Games

I've never gotten as into rhythm games as other genres.  The only type of game I've played less is sports.  Actual sports and virtual sports.  I think the reason is that there was a great deal of music in the house as I was growing up, and PaRappa the Rapper didn't always jibe well with the classical piano my mother was playing.

After playing the games for 20 minutes, it became clear that the skills I developed learning the guitar, piano, and clarinet absolutely do not transfer.  And that is frustrating.  For example, while playing Rhythm Fireworks 2, I had a moment where I was playing perfectly.  I thought that maybe, just maybe, the part of my brain that made me terrible at these games had finally woken up.  I was quickly proven wrong when the arrows changed color and my brain completely shut down.  I had a similar, but slightly funnier experience while playing Adventure Time: Rhythm Heroes.  I didn't perform any better, but at least when I screwed up, I got glared at by some really cute bears.

What these games to well, aside from making me look ridiculous, is developing both the physical and synaptic muscle memory.  They put you in a situation where there is a defined set of possible responses, and condition you to respond appropriately more often, and in increasingly more stressful environments.  This could arguably help prepare students for standardized testing, but further discussion on that would lead us to the Dark Side.

In the English classroom, the method can be used when developing rhyming skills.  There are hundreds of low-tech rhythm games that have been played for generations.  And what kid hasn't laid down some phat rhymes while his or her buddy dropped some mad beats? They might not have been good at it, but it was still a valuable exercise in improving word choice.

Pax and Petra,

Ben

On the Jigsaw Method

Don't you love it when, in a literature course, you look at the reading list, and realize that the biggest, scariest book on there is one you've already read.  Not only that, but it is your favorite book ever and you've read it at least fifteen times, and it is basically your personal Constitution?  I'm feeling that way now with the Jigsaw Method assignment.

My current "classroom" consists of 30-50 12 to 15 year-olds whose parents drop them off each Wednesday for an hour and a half, with the expectation that not only will their kids form a community with other Catholic youth, but will also have a comprehensive understanding of Catholic theology and social teaching.  Expectations are high, and when it comes to the faith formation of these parent's kids, the stakes are even higher.  But how can I possibly meet those expectations?  If I were on my own, I know I'd be incapable.  But I'm not on my own.  I've got an entire community of priests, deacons, other youth ministers, and parents that have been teaching aspects of Catholicism for decades.  The only way to get through this material, without reams of homework from week to week is through the Jigsaw method.  I can teach one aspect of, say, the Catholic sacraments, but if I can find six people to help out, then I can cover all seven of them in one week, and still have time to bust out the Frisbee.

Looking ahead, though, I know I'll be using it in the classroom.  I'm hoping to be an English teacher.  If I'm really lucky, I'll be a Creative Writing teacher.  I've never seen more than one computer in an English classroom.  If I had five?  Yeesh.  I'd have the poets, autobiographers, short story writers, historians, and playwrights, grouped on their own computers, looking at online videos of live performances of each of their subjects.  Afterward, we would come together as a group to discuss what makes a good performance. We could then map what makes a good video in general, versus what makes a good poetry video, or memoir video.  There is a tremendous amount of material to cover in a relatively small amount of time, and the Jigsaw method is a powerful tool to help.

The method is not foolproof, however.  If, say, the poet representative of a work group is having a phenomenally bad day, and just can't seem to take anything in, it can hobble the group discussion when everyone 'comes home.'  Generally, though, this scenario is fairly easy to spot, and can be coped with, and adjusted to.


Pax and Petra,
Ben

On Reviewing

For a quick twenty points in the EdTech class, I opted to comment on a (hopefully) staged student research paper.  I like reviewing writing.  The essence of teaching, I think, is to assist people in realizing that they are capable of more, and to guide them on the path to achieving a higher percentage of their utmost potential.  Busting out the old red sharpie is not a tool to achieve this, really, but rather gives an opportunity for a student/teacher gut check to see how the journey is progressing. 

In working on this assignment, I found that hypothetical grading is difficult.  I don't know what the assignment was, I don't know what the rubric looks like, or if this is a first draft, or eleventh hour, three extensions in, it-is-what-it-is final.  I choose to treat is as an early enough draft that there is still time to revise some key structural elements, but not so late as to need to hold back on things like spelling and comma splices.  I also have made a commitment to not write in red pen.  Ever.  I used my Wacom tablet to simulate handwritten comments, because, as a student, I always felt that seeing my teachers' and professors' bad handwriting softened the blow of comments like "And your point is..." , "Not part of the assignment." , and my favorite:  "WRONG! STOP! NOT EVERYTHING HAS TO DO WITH THE READER'S SCHEMA, DAMMIT!" It also seemed more in the spirit of the class to use a fancy gadget.  As I was writing these in, I realized that I should spend as much time working on improving my handwriting as I spend money on design tablets

 That last comment came courtesy of Tom Trusky, one of my Book Arts and Poetry professors, who truly exemplified "tough love" when it came to my writing.  I literally bear scars from a time when he wrote a scathing review of a saddle-binding that I had done.  I was so upset that I tried to tear the book in half along the spine, and the very upholstery thread that he had taken issue with sliced right into my knuckle.  It still creaks when a storm is coming.  I'm a better bookbinder and writer because of him, and the world is the worse without him.

Pax and Petra,
Ben

On Platformers

One of the greatest things about video games is that you can build your library to include one or many games to suit your ever-changing gaming needs.  For example, when I've got the kid down for the afternoon nap, and I can reasonably count on a solid hour of off-the-clock unwinding time, I can fire up Kingdoms of Amalur and do some light sagecrafting, fetch some venom sacs, or even tackle a cave of trolls without feeling rushed.  If it's the shorter morning nap, then I can dust of Blur and get some speed runs in, never knowing if the "I'mawakecomegetme" cry will come in 5 minutes or 50.

It's exhilarating.  The most pure form of gaming for me, though , is platforming.  Mario, Mega Man,  Sonic, Metroid, Blaster Master.  Run. Jump. Shoot. Win.  Early versions of these games were unforgiving, cruel beasts, killing you over and over and over and always sending you back to World 1.1. 

Recently, the demystification of Flash programming has allowed for a huge influx of new entries into the platforming world.  Couple that with the proliferation of game-capable devices, and what you end up with is an uneven wonderland full of thousands of opportunities to waste some time.

But is the time really wasted?  I can concede that a great deal of it is, but there are surely skills being developed here.  Jane McGonigal covers this idea far better than I can, but I have a few thoughts to add specifically about platformers.

Take Mario.  There's a famous video of a player beating Super Mario Brothers 3 in 11 minutes, which is awesome.  What's also awesome, is the amount of time you could spend playing the game, if your goal was instead to get as many coins as possible.  Or points as possible.  Or suits as possible. or visit as many levels as possible.  For a game that utilized four directional and two action buttons SMB3, there was a lot to do.  I know that the way I played the game, (break all the bricks, bust every box) was pretty instrumental at a pretty early age in the the development of the part of my brain that decides when a problem is truly solved or not.  I remember playing the same dungeon for hours (I was laid up with a busted hip for 9 weeks.  Getting fresh air was not an option) working out just how many bricks I could break, without using koopa shells, and still beat the clock.  I invented a 'problem' that did not exist in the game, just so I could practice solving it.  I use that skill regularly when developing games and curriculum for Catalyst, my shadow army of Catholic junior high youth.  I can't unleash a game with these young people until I've worked through the problems the same way I did when I was 10.

Mario may be the best example, but is far from the only one.  Now that we all have access to literally hundreds of thousands of games for free at any time,  who knows what skills we'll be beefing up?  In the twenty minutes or so of 'research that came before this post, I played 5 different games, most of which were clones of the cherished games of my youth mentioned in paragraph 2.  Extreme Skater was the only game that presented a 'new' dynamic, and I know that I'll play it again, trying to work out what developmental asset it can be leveraged for.

I agree with Miss McGonigal that the skills being developed among gamers could save the world.  My only concern is that we'll forget to eat and exercise in the meantime.

My name is Benjamin Geile (rhymes with guile), and I am completing an English Teaching degree that I started roughly 13 years ago.  Well, to be honest, what I STARTED was a Vocal Performance degree that became a Music Composition degree that became an English Composition degree.  Then I became a dad, and realized that even the best poetry doesn't put bananas and cheerios on the table.  So here I am.

I've always appreciated teaching.  It makes up a significant portion of my career as a Coordinator of Youth Ministry.  My job is, at its core, getting young people ready for whatever comes next.  Most of my work is done with Catholic youth, at Catholic churches and camps, and when we're not running, jumping, or climbing things, we're learning.  There's a dearth of guys involved in Catholic stuff in general, particularly in the priesthood and schools.  I'm out of the running for the priesthood, (note the above mentioned baby) so when it came time to start looking for a career that would still let me work with youth and bring home a slightly heftier paycheck, teaching became an appealing option. 

Yes, youth ministry pays less than teaching at a Catholic school.  I was surprised too.

One of the upshots of being a Music or English major in a previous life is that no advisor worth their salt will let you get a degree in singing or poetry without at least recommending that you take a few education courses, just in case, y'know, you have trouble landing that Poet Laureate position.  I have the lion's share of an English Teaching degree complete already, and only get to deal with the focused, higher level stuff.  And math.  Teachers are required to take significantly more math and science than poets.

But I'm game.  You'd be surprised how complicated some music theory is compared to Math 123 or how how simple Chemistry 100 is versus keeping track of some pentameters.

This EdTech class came as a suprise, though.  I'm 31, which means I was 4 when the NES came out, and dead center in the target demographic of every game console released since.  To look at a project-based class like this through the lens of gaming makes sense, and I believe that we'll see more of it as more of us millennials become decision-makers. 

Pax and Petra,
Ben