Do you know what that’s a picture of? It depicts the 426,000 cell phones that are retired in the US every day. Here is the detail:
And here is the project:
Statistics can feel abstract and anesthetizing, making it difficult to connect with and make meaning of 3.6 million SUV sales in one year, for example, or 2.3 million Americans in prison, or 410,000 paper cups used every fifteen minutes. This project visually examines these vast and bizarre measures of our society, in large intricately detailed prints assembled from thousands of smaller photographs. The underlying desire is to emphasize the role of the individual in a society that is increasingly enormous, incomprehensible, and overwhelming.
Amazing set of photos and amazing creativity from chris jordan. Take a few minutes to take in the rest…
I’ve been watching the flow of content coming out of Illinois, and it’s obvious we have officially jumped the shark (my bad use of phrase) reached a tipping point in terms of distributing ideas once held only in ballroom walls to the rest of the world. Wondering what future conference organizer is gonna get smart and only allow attendees who:
Have their own Ustream channels and broadcast live facial reactions of attendees as the session is in progress
Can Tweet out the best quotes, engage in lively back channel repartee, and live blog the session to their own sites at the same time
Create a VoiceThread story of the presentation within 10 minutes of finish by incorporating photos taken during the session and uploaded to Flickr, adding voice over narration to contextualize the event, and soliciting video comments from virtual attendees
Put together a wiki page for the session that collects dozens of various RSS feeds compiled from keyword and tag searches on the presenter’s name, the general topic, del.icio.us bookmarks, YouTube videos and more
Create a Google Map that identifies where all of the virtual attendees live and helps them upload photos of themselves watching the UStreamed, Tweeted, VoiceThreaded, wikied presentation in progress.
Conduct a live Skype call with other experts who challenge the ideas being presented and scream out provocative and borderline insulting questions
Have their own conference space in Second Life where live video and audio of presentation is being streamed and where they have organized a post session social featuring virtual local microbrews and coffees
Jeff Jarvis riffed yesterday on “Google U,” the idea that there are all sorts of new ways to think about a college education aside from the 4-year, right outta high school model that most kids go through. Jeff and I both have kids and are staring the college decision game (and the subsequent payouts) in the face, so his post caught my attention. Reminded me on some level of my “Dear Kids, You Don’t Have to Go to College” post from a couple of years back. (Funny to think how much things have advanced even since then…)
So, seriously, as Jeff asks, “Why should my son or daughter have to pick a single college and with it only the teachers and courses offered there?” In eight years when my daughter gets to this point (if I haven’t convinced her to travel the world and “find herself” first, or, if she hasn’t started her own business), I’m hoping she’ll be able to cobble together her own coursework from whatever the “best” options are at that point. And, as Jeff asks, why shouldn’t professors be able to pick their own students from among the best of the bunch, not just those from his or her institution?
Which leads us to the nub of all of this disruption:
Once you put all this together, students can self-organize with teachers and fellow students to learn what they want how and where they want. My hope is that this could finally lead to the lifelong education we keep nattering about but do little to actually support. And why don’t we? Because it doesn’t fit into the degree structure. And because self-organizing classes and education could cut academic institutions out of the their exclusive role in education.
I know, I know. There is more to college than classes. I’m a poster child for that. And accreditation is a huge issue. (I’m sure Gary will be along shortly.) But I just see this more and more as a coming reality. As Jeff says, the “internet is unforgiving of needs to preserve old models and methods. It disaggregates ruthlessly.” The whole idea of scholarship and expertise is changing. (Watch Sir Ken Robinson on that concept.)
Not saying I know what the answer is. But I am saying that whether we like it or not, these structures, both higher ed and K-12, are starting to bend as the alternatives are becoming more and more pervasive. We’re modeling that every day in this network, those of us who are learning just as much if not more about the things we are interested in without signing up for a program. That’s not anti-intellectual as much as it is shifted-intellectual, if that makes sense.
That quote from a teacher at one of the schools Sheryl and I are working with pretty much sums up the scale of the shift that a lot of educators (and others) are facing these days. And since I heard it last week in one of our sessions, it’s stuck with me as a testament to how isolated and how local teaching as a profession still is. At various times, some of us have called these network connections we’ve created something akin to a virtual staff lounge or pd on demand, and I think most of us ensconced here know the real power is the ability to find others who are equally as passionate about learning and doing in schools and with kids as we are no matter what we teach, no matter what our role. My ongoing awakening to the possibilities of networked learning continues to be one of the most transformative experiences of my life (nothing tops parenting, however) and I simply can’t imagine functioning in the world without it.
But I would still venture to guess that 75% (maybe more) of educators in this country still don’t know that they can have a network. While most of our kids are hacking away at building their own connections outside of their physical space, most of their teachers still don’t have a firm grasp of what any of it means or what he potentials are. And even for many that do know it, there are still legitimate fears and obstacles to creating professional connections online, time and technology at the forefront. If we really come to the point where we want our teachers to learn and teach with technology, we need to do as my old school did and provide them with technology that works, and what Carolyn‘s school has done in terms of beginning to give them the time to learn it and use it well. And, beyond all that, we need an environment that supports real teaching, not simply curriculum delivery. Unfortunately, very little of that is happening in any systemic ways.
We’re in the “Networking as a Second Language” point in teaching, this messy transition phase that is slowly gaining traction where we are beginning to understand what this means but not quite sure yet what to do about it. It’s becoming more visible by the day, but it’s still hard for most people to wrap their brains around it. It’s different; in many ways it flies in the face of what we’ve come to believe about learning and relationships. The other day, Clarence pointed to Ulises Mejias‘ dissertation at Columbia “Networked Proximity: ICT and the Mediation of Nearness” that defines nearness not as something that is dependent on physical proximity but can now be constructed and defined in social, not physical terms. Nearness is inclusion; farness is exclusion. And I like this line especially:
A more positive interpretation would argue that networked proximity facilitates new kinds of spatially unbound community, and that these emerging forms of sociality are equally or more meaningful than the older ones. Community is thus “liberated,” unhinged from space, and can be maintained regardless of distance.
I find that to be true, that in many ways, these connections and more meaningful than the older ones. The passionate learning network of which I am a part is an amazing and important part of my life. The fact that most teachers still have no idea that is possible is distressing on one hand, motivating on the other.
Paul Allison tweeted out this update from the National Council of Teachers of English (NCTE) exec committee last week in terms of how we need to think more expansively about literacy in the context of these shifts. As a former English teacher and NCTE member, I find these couple of lines to be of particular interest:
Because technology has increased the intensity and complexity of literate environments, the twenty-first century demands that a literate person possess a wide range of abilities and competencies, many literacies. These literacies—from reading online newspapers to participating in virtual classrooms—are multiple, dynamic, and malleable.
I think that one word, “malleable” is a fascinating choice (and a fine SAT prep word, by the way.) The ideas that these literacies must now be adaptable and bendable to meet whatever comes down the pike is a pretty big shift in thinking. Literacy, in other words, just got a lot harder to measure on a standardized test.
I’ve written before about the idea of a “network literacy” that is almost a requirement these days. I want to write more about that shortly, but a lot of what the NCTE is putting out there moves toward that. The idea of “build[ing] relationships with others” and “shar[ing] information for global communities” as English literacies is a pretty wild shift on some level.
If nothing else, this goes to the heart of connective reading and connective writing that we’ve been talking about here and elsewhere now for years. Reading and writing is still about the ability to understand and to create texts of various types, but it’s increasingly more now about connecting to other ideas, other people, and other conversations.
When I first started blogging in 2001, I wrote a lot of short little snips that dealt with politics and my general frustration with the world. That was before my voice here evolved into an ongoing conversation about how traditional ideas of teaching and schooling change in the face of the Read/Write Web and all that comes with it. I’ve been hesitant to do very much blogging about my political leanings (though I think even not too close reading would make them clear) and have even thought of starting a second blog to work out some of those ideas elsewhere. (With everything on my plate already, however, that’s not happening anytime soon.)
Anyway, I’ve decided to break the “rules” every now and then in this election year when relevant, and there is an announcement I think is worth sharing. One of my heroes, Lawrence Lessig, is, at minimum, setting out to Change Congress and more, is seriously considering a run for a vacant seat in Congress for his home district in California. I’ve seen Lessig speak in person on a number of occasions, and have communicated with him sporadically over the years. Few have impressed me more in terms of their intelligence, passion, conviction and ability to push forward “Big Ideas.” So, this news of his potential candidacy is very welcomed in these parts, so much so that I feel compelled to support it with a badge on my blog as well as a small contribution to the cause.
The typically Lessig-esque video that I’ve embedded here lays out the three foundations of the Change Congress movement and his potential candidacy. Simply, Congressmen and women should 1.) stop accepting money from lobbyists 2.) ban earmarks, and 3.) support the public financing of elections. He believes that over the course of many election cycles, if we begin banding together to support candidates who adhere to these principles, that we can make change on a national level. I hope he’s right, and I’m going to participate in this process as much as I can.
Lessig says of Congress that it’s made up of primarily good people working in a bad system, and on some levels that resonates with what I’ve seen in my travels to schools and districts over the last four years. Change is a word getting thrown around a lot these days, but we need some fundamental rethinking of how we do our business in this country, and in our schools. We have to stop being beholden to the well financed interests and institutions that corrupt much of what is good about this country, whether that’s the oil industry or the textbook industry. For all sorts of reasons, I’m feeling challenged by this moment to help chart a different course for this country in whatever small, molecule-moving way that I can.
If you are compelled to do so, spread this word and engage in this conversation.
So Tess made the local paper this week, in large part to Ms. March, one of her teachers who hit upon a cool project when she started wondering what the division symbol was called. Turns out, after contacting MIT and Princeton, that there was no known name it. Perfect opportunity for a contest, which Tess entered and happily won. “Discula” is what she came up with based on the various roots which mean “division” and “mark.” (Yes, I know, it’s already a snail too.)
It makes me very happy on a number of levels, not the least of which is that the school voted Tess’s definition the best. (And that she gets her picture in the paper.) But I love that Tess is seeing her teacher be inquisitive and creative and ask her students to think and act in real ways for real purposes. I can assure you that coming up with a name and a definition for the division symbol that the teacher had been referring to as a “thingy” was not in the curriculum.
I also love that Ms. March called and asked if we could write a Wikipedia entry with the word. I told her that unfortunately, unless MIT or Princeton or someone out there gave their official, traditional, seal of approval, odds are the entry wouldn’t stand. But just that fact that we’re talking Wikipedia here is a step in the right direction.
Before I did some evangelizing in Moline this morning, four very creative students from Lewiston High School about 90 miles away from here put on a 45-minute mini concert playing, wait for it, a collection of pvc and rubber tubes that, depending on length and thickness, created different tones when thumped on with a drum stick or a spatula. It was amazing, and I managed to snag a minute of Flip video from stage left.
Here’s what was so cool about it. First, these kids were just totally engaged in what they were doing. They had created a funny little PowerPoint that ran in the background, asking the audience to hoot and holler at certain points, and they did a great job of playing to the crowd. Second, they were playing these tubes because the had seen Blue Man Group and were inspired to create their own instruments and write their own music. Their efforts were supported by a band director and principal who encouraged their creativity and let them take their show on the road. Finally, they gave me a great example (check out their videos) of why we should be including MySpace and Facebook in our thinking and learning to the crowd that had just watched them perform.
Nothing beats kids who find and share their passions and talents with adults. Where is the assessment for that?
A lot of us (or should I say I?) frame the conversation around Read/Write Web tools in schools in the context of this very blurry future that our kids are entering into, one that despite its lack of clarity is decidedly different from today. In my own case, I tend to frame this through my parenting lens, that it doesn’t feel like the system is preparing my kids for their futures very well even though we don’t exactly know what that future looks like.
So yesterday here in balmy Toronto, I got asked the question directly: even though we can’t be certain about what the future looks like in terms of preparing our kids for it, what, generally speaking, do we know? What general characteristics can we assume in terms of rethinking our curriculum and our practice?
I threw some ideas out, some of which I’ve tried to articulate below. It’s difficult on many levels…are we talking about what they need to know in terms of education? Their profession? Environmentally? From a citizenship standpoint? But truth be told, I’ve been mulling the idea of this post for a while now, so I’d appreciate any sage answers you might be willing to contribute as well. (Come to think of it, this sounds like a potential Tweet…)
Our kids’ futures will require them to be:
Networked–They’ll need an “outboard brain.”
More collaborative–They are going to need to work closely with people to co-create information.
More globally aware–Those collaborators may be anywhere in the world.
Less dependent on paper–Right now, we are still paper training our kids.
More active–In just about every sense of the word. Physically. Socially. Politically.
Fluent in creating and consuming hypertext–Basic reading and writing skills will not suffice.
More connected–To their communities, to their environments, to the world.
Editors of information–Something we should have been teaching them all along but is even more important now.
There’s more, obviously. But I’m curious. What would you add? Or what would you push back against?
One of the reasons I blog is to try to give form to some nascent ideas that feel like they need to connect but just haven’t made the leap yet. I’m going to try to do that here around the idea of this process of change as it applies to us as practitioners but, more how it applies in terms of changing the culture in schools and districts. I’m still thinking here, specifically, about the striking, almost unique culture I felt at SLA during EduCon, but also about the work that Sheryl and I are doing in terms of building and modeling community and, in the process, shifting culture. And I’m considering a number of blog posts and Tweets and UStreamed presentations and more that I’ve read or watched of late that attempt to provide hints or roadmaps at how to get started down this path of new learning and teaching for individuals who might be so inclined. And, again, I’m thinking about the relative ineffectiveness that I feel about the way we do professional development around these tools, the drive by trainings that can motivate some in the short term but really provide very little in terms of support or guidance in the way we embed these practices into our personal learning and, subsequently, into our cultures over the long term.
There are lots of good things happening in the education space around these technologies, no doubt. Lots of teachers and students doing creative, imaginative, connective things, most of which bubble up into my Twitter or RSS readers with more and more regularity. We’re not there yet, but it’s feeling like more people in the room are coming to understand that this isn’t about tools but about networks and learning and leveraging connections, at least the educators I talk to in the various places I visit. There are lots of silos on the landscape, some of them connecting into burgeoning global communities of teachers that are sharing ideas and collaborating. And there is more of a shift in pedagogy that’s happening, not a tidal wave, mind you, but more ripples that illustrate an understanding of the contexts around using these tools, that it’s not just publishing but much, much more.
There is some irony, however, in the fact that teachers are connecting more and more outside their spaces but, it appears at least, not so much inside their own districts and communities. And that may be a misreading on my part; obviously, local connections are less transparent to the outside world. On some level, it’s not surprising; early adopters in their districts most likely have to turn outside to find kindred spirits or collaborators. But one thing (again) that has really been sticky from EduConn was the idea that local connections support local culture (as well as a few other things, such as leadership, of course) and vice versa. That effective local culture is created when we look at teachers as professional learners and encourage them to collaborate and co-create. And that if we can build a culture of learning and care that is supported by the connections we can make with technology, we can in many ways prepare our students for whatever global connections they might require or avail themselves as they pursue their life’s work.
So, it comes back to what is to me at least, the big question these days. Not how do we help teachers get their brains around these tools in terms of their own personal learning practice (which is still hugely important), but how do we help schools and districts to begin to reshape their culture around learning in more collaborative, connected environments? How do we get to the point where we’re not just seeing individual teachers and classrooms make the shift, but where we are seeing schools as a whole beginning to shift as well?
Interesting op-ed in the Washington Post by a 30-year English teacher at an Alexandria, Va. school that just spent $98 million on renovations and technologies that none of the teachers want to use.
…faculty morale is the lowest and cynicism the highest I’ve seen in
years. The problem? What a former Alexandria school superintendent
calls “technolust” — a disorder affecting publicity-obsessed school
administrators nationwide that manifests itself in an insatiable need
to acquire the latest, fastest, most exotic computer gadgets, whether
teachers and students need them or want them. Technolust is in its
advanced stages at T.C., where our administrators have made such a
fetish of technology that some of my colleagues are referring to us as
“Gizmo High.”
Features the required “technology is just a tool” response at the end as well.
Just two points. First, from a money standpoint, the true leaders in this discussion are the ones who are doing the job of convincing the school boards and communities who want “sexy” technologies at a high price that there are more democratic and pedagogically sound alternatives that are cheap or free and that what really turns any of this into learning is a culture that learns with technology in the first place, not just implements it. And second, read the comment by “CFoote.” (Anyone we know???)
What saddens me most is that I see a generation of experienced teachers
(and I’ve been teaching almost as long), folding their arms, and
resisting change instead of modeling a profound fascination with how
transformative tools have become so readily available for our students.
I suspect that the tipping point in information overload has tipped.
Students’ aversion to reading does not necessarily signal a weakness,
much less a dislike of reading. For them, and now maybe for me, moving
on to something else is an adaptive tactic for negotiating the jungle
that is our information-besotted culture of verbiage.
And this:
The pursuit of knowledge in the age of information overload is less about
a process of acquisition than about proficiency in tossing stuff out. By necessity, we spend more time quickly scanning manuals, king-size
novels, the blogosphere, and poems in The New Yorker than we do
scrutinizing their contents for deeper meaning.
Yesterday I did a couple of RSS sessions in Elluminate for the PLP cohorts and I found myself talking more about what I don’t read than what I do read. I’m guessing that I scan through about 80% of what comes into my Google Reader, actually read a few full paragraphs and note or tag or move another 15%, and do a “deep” read (and perhaps write, as in this case) of the remainder.
I’m feeling guilty about much of this, though Washington is nice enough to let me off the hook. But I still wonder how much of this is just angst about the shifts, the transition to different reading space that might be as wonderful and valuable as the old one, just different. (I will admit, however, that the fact that my kids are currently engrossed and engaged in 400-page fantasy novels makes my heart soar and even leaves me a tad jealous.)
What I like about this essay (aside from that it’s relatively short) is that it nails the friction of our collective educator unease about the direction this is taking.
Reading is all about testing these days. As the NEA reports, it is
also about some prospective employer who ranks reading comprehension as
“very important.” Students know this. It’s part of the reason they’re
in SAT preparation overdrive in their freshman year. Living in the era of information overload forces
a few key questions on all readers. What do we need to know? Why do we
need to know it? And, given that by the end of our lives we will have
absorbed and converted to knowledge only a sliver of the information
available, should we bother knowing it?
The ever provocative Kevin Kelly writing at Edge.org. Basically, if wealth used to be built on selling precious copies, what do we sell when everything that’s copyable is now potentially free?
I have an answer. The simplest way I can put it is thus: When copies are super abundant, they become worthless. When copies are super abundant, stuff which can’t be copied becomes scarce and valuable. When copies are free, you need to sell things which can not be copied.
And what might those be? Kelly offers “Eight Generative Values,” qualities or attributes that must be generated, grown, cultivated, and nurtured. And they are:
Immediacy–getting something as soon as it is produced.
Personalization–”Aspirin is free, but aspirin tailored to your DNA is very expensive.”
Interpretation–as in paid support for free software.
Authenticity–as in paying for signed artworks.
Accessibility–as in paying for someone to backup all of your stuff.
Embodiment–actually paying to see a live performance of free music.
Patronage–the connections between artists and fans
Findability–(sounds familiar) works (or knowledge) has no value unless it is seen. “Being found is valuable.”
Finally, while I’m still wrapping my brain around those ideas, I totally agree with this:
These eight qualities require a new skill set. Success in the free-copy world is not derived from the skills of distribution since the Great Copy Machine in the Sky takes care of that. Nor are legal skills surrounding Intellectual Property and Copyright very useful anymore. Nor are the skills of hoarding and scarcity. Rather, these new eight generatives demand an understanding of how abundance breeds a sharing mindset, how generosity is a business model, how vital it has become to cultivate and nurture qualities that can’t be replicated with a click of the mouse. [Emphasis mine.]
Probably the most learning I’ve done since I hit the road full time almost two years ago now (dang…has it really been that long?) is around how diverse individual districts are in this country when it comes to access to technology, having a vision for its use, and understanding the transformative nature of what the Web is offering these days. And I’m not talking so much here about the real inner city schools that are struggling mightily just to make AYP. I’m talking about schools that “pass the test” so to speak. A couple of districts that I’ve worked with in recent months provide representative examples:
The first district is in a middle class suburb of a major city that serves about 6,000 students. Teachers and students have very limited access to technology. There is one LCD projector per school in the lower grades, computer labs are being disbanded to provide at least one station per classroom, and Internet service is not much better than dial up. (There is limited wireless.) In the last seven years, exactly zero dollars have been allocated for administrative professional development, and technology budgets have been capped at 1987 levels. A new administration is trying to start some conversations about technology, and the group I met with for a day was interested and worked hard to grasp the ideas and the tools, though many were reaching for the Advil before it was all over. (By the way, two of the administrators who were supposed to be at the session, however, took personal days rather than attend what I assume they felt would be a waste of their time. Oy.)
The second district is in an upper middle class suburb of a different major city and serves a much smaller K-8 population. Here, technology is ubiquitous. Every teacher has a MacBook as do all students 4th through 8th. The superintendent has a plan for technology integration that, despite feeling like he’d gotten “a wake-up call” the day I was there, calls for the deep integration of collaborative tools into the curriculum. The teacher workshops were filled with probing questions, creative ideas and conversation. It was a very different place, and it was a place where I just had the sense that technology was becoming simply a way they do their business. (Yet, here’s the rub: kids move from this district to a high school where there are no laptops and where an “anti-technology” faction in the community holds sway over much of what the school board does. Oy.)
These types of contrasts are everywhere I go and what I find most striking about all of this. There is just so much inconsistency from district to district, place to place. It’s really unsettling on some level to see the vast disparity that our kids have to deal with.
All of this, of course, is framed in the EduCon weekend sense where we saw something that I think most of us would agree we want for our own kids yet don’t quite know how to make happen in our own places. And I talked about this with Chris and Gary for over an hour right after the Sunday morning panel. What are the things that SLA does that are replicable? What needs to be in place for systemic cultural change to occur? I tried to use the domino metaphor (apparently without much success) as in what does the first domino have to be that tips all of the others? And what is the second domino and the third? If we had to create a general roadmap for change, a recipe of some type, I think we could probably do a good job of identifying the ingredients (and technology would be down the list.) But what would be the order? Is there one?
My own impression after visiting hundreds of schools is that the first, key ingredient is leadership, that nothing happens without someone who can inspire serious conversations about what can be, regardless of the roadblocks. (Yes, read Chris Lehmann.) But what after that? Money? Autonomy? Parental support? Technology?
I know that, as is my wont, I may be grasping for something that by it’s very nature resists a clear process. I’m also sure much has been written on this that maybe I haven’t read yet. (Links please.) Maybe we need a wiki…
I may be late to the this party, but the Twitterverse just led me to this fairly new theme for WordPress named Prologue which seems to create a Twitter-like blog that can be installed locally. Here is a demo to check out. And here is another, YouthTwitter.com that was put together by Paul Allison and Susan Ettenheim both of Teachers Teaching Teachers fame. Looks like more than 140 characters, but the idea is the same. And I love reading the questions and replies about how it all works, etc.
In that context, don’t forget this Twitter for Academia post to start generating some ideas of how Prologue might actually be useful. Any other ideas?
I’ve been watching the flow of content 
That quote from a teacher at one of the schools 
A lot of us (or should I say I?) frame the conversation around Read/Write Web tools in schools in the context of this very blurry future that our kids are entering into, one that despite its lack of clarity is decidedly different from today. In my own case, I tend to frame this through my parenting lens, that it doesn’t feel like the system is preparing my kids for their futures very well even though we don’t exactly know what that future looks like.
One of the reasons I blog is to try to give form to some nascent ideas that feel like they need to connect but just haven’t made the leap yet. I’m going to try to do that here around the idea of this process of change as it applies to us as practitioners but, more how it applies in terms of changing the culture in schools and districts. I’m still thinking here, specifically, about the striking, almost unique culture I felt at 
Probably the most learning I’ve done since I hit the road full time almost two years ago now (dang…has it really been that long?) is around how diverse individual districts are in this country when it comes to access to technology, having a vision for its use, and understanding the transformative nature of what the Web is offering these days. And I’m not talking so much here about the real inner city schools that are struggling mightily just to make AYP. I’m talking about schools that “pass the test” so to speak. A couple of districts that I’ve worked with in recent months provide representative examples: