It’s Tuesday, September 22, 2020. School started on September 2. We are three weeks in.
Due to health concerns, I moved from my fifth-grade classroom at a brick-and-mortar school to teaching at our district’s online academy. I get up and dressed for work each day. Then I walk down the hall to the study or the dining room table or the card table in the family room.
Continue readingWell, it is June. I’ve been writing about technology all year (for the most part) and I hoped to have come to some conclusions by this time. All I know for sure is technology is here to stay, and I can hope we begin to use it, and implement it, thoughtfully. Or, for those who already do so, to continue thoughtful implementation.
Often I worry I’m making a bigger problem out of this than it really is. I mean, technology has always advanced over time and humans and societies adapt. But this technology seems to come with specific and deeply problematic long term issues both for cognitive and physical development of children. I tend to be affected by my environment in moderate ways. Therefore, too much screen time leaves me bleary and with headaches. I know this is not the case for everyone. Though this week, I’ve had two conversations leaving me confident that I’m not the only person with these concerns. My child’s ophthalmologist said that since the school district moved to 1:1 implementation, her office is selling more and more glasses to kids who do not have a stigmatism, but need glasses with blue light filters to prevent headaches from extended screen exposure.
I’ve also heard students discussing in class, hallways, and in their final papers how concerned they are about government, the environment, and society in general because they see their own generation as one so distracted and ignorant they feel no sense of hope for positive change. That seems dismaying. It seems a rite of passage to me for teenagers to feel their generation will improve on the faults and errors of the previous generation. To be misanthropic as a seventh grader or a junior in high school, seems problematic.
My juniors were given a final research paper under the theme, “the language of social media.” No one has a positive take on this theme. There are some balanced perspectives. My favorite phrase so far is, “the conundrum of constant connection,” read by a student who delivered her paper via reading it off of her phone. She stood before us and criticized the medium while utilizing it. A perfect visual of the benefit while presenting thoughtful questions of concern. Some have humorous explorations on how the language is used, or has changed. One student is writing a wonderful exploration of slang, and catch phrases. It is funny and engaging. Most are writing about how social media causes isolation, depression, a sense of time wasted, and—yes—a misanthropic view of the world.
I don’t really know how to help them. How does one change the larger habits of a society? Especially, pleasurable habits. Aldous Huxley and George Orwell keep being called upon in their papers. One student said, “if in Huxley’s day a citizen was handed a smartphone and told, ‘here, this will allow you to be in contact with anyone you want all the time, but will record everything and monitor your location—the citizen would decline in a split second.’” These students seem convinced we are the frog, in the kettle, the stove on, and the water warming without our awareness. But they also seem to feel, that there are some frogs who know the water is warming and are fine with it. And some who feel the pot’s sides are so steep, escape is impossible. Though there are some resisting this. Some are grabbing on to Clay Shirkey’s wonderful ideas about accepting everything from the internet. We get amazing things (Wikipedia, genius, go fund me, kickstarter, improved research abilities, citizen reporting from previously closed societies, etc.). This is just our cultural moment.
I want to offer them hope, because I believe it is possible. The hope comes from them. From people. From our ability to stop, look at someone we are working with and to see them. To see their humanity, despite differences of any kind. Hope comes from the “civil conversations,” of Krista Tippet. Comes from the student who reads books in their spare time in classes, rather than hopping on social media. From the student who uses their phone mindfully as well as for distraction.
Last week, I participated in an international literary festival. I met writers from Greece, Ireland, New York, Florida, and Spain. We were a diverse group—different ages, languages, skin colors, sexual orientations, life experiences. By the end of the week, we were old friends, for the most part. Mutual respect, the ability to listen, and a focus on language brought us together. Now technology will keep us in touch, email, facebook, etc. I see these same qualities in many of my students. I hope I’ve cultivated their desire to engage with these things in their life now and in the future. That’s where my hope lies—there, and in the belief that they will see it within themselves and their peers in the not so distant future.
I keep trying to put down the topic of technology in the classroom, and I keep finding it impossible. Last week two things arrived in my inbox.
The first is a short article summarizing decade long research comparing reading comprehension from a screen with comprehension from paper. The conclusions were unambiguous: reading from screens harms comprehension compared to reading from paper. This is one of the first articles I’ve read in some time offering such clear conclusions:
“More evidence is in: Reading from screens harms comprehension.”
“One likely reason: Readers using screens tend to think they’re processing and understanding texts better then they actually are.”
Virginia Clinton, heading up the study says, “Reading from screens had a negative effect on reading performance relative to paper.”
and,
“There is legitimate concern that reading on paper may be better in terms of performance and efficiency.”
Reading this threw me back into memory. Sitting in the Henier auditorium, at the community college where I work part time, listening to a recent PhD graduate from the University of Washington (forgive me for forgetting her name), report her research findings on reading comprehension and technology. Her findings seemed contradictory to me. She reported finding that young readers reading from iPads comprehended the content at similar levels but were slower in reporting it because they were interested in describing the technology.
For example, if a student read a paper copy of a picture book and was asked comprehension questions they immediately discussed the content. If a student read the same picture book from an iPad and was asked the same comprehension questions, they discussed what buttons they pressed, and the interactions with technology before they discussed content. The researcher presenting dismissed the delay, but it stood out as alarming to me. As a parent and as a teacher efficiency is important to me. My top rules for technology in my personal life and in my classrooms are:
On Leveraging Technology—part five: a sorting
When I started writing about technology in the classroom back in October I began with these central questions:
A host of other questions has arisen from my explorations.
Context: My district decided against one-to-one technology adoption after passing our technology levy. The district my children attended adopted one-to-one. The comparison has been interesting. Of course, the comparison is not perfect. I’m a teacher in one district, and a parent in another. Obviously different perspectives. I’ve also made some clear decisions about my kids and technology, and technology in my personal life, which I laid out in the first post.
Here I am at the end of March, the longest month, and where am I really with answering these questions?
I’ve been thinking about addiction lately, and cannot help seeing my students constantly gazing into their palms as anything but problematic. As I’ve been musing about technology in the classroom this year, basic concerns about screen-time, as well as ideas about maximizing the technology as a benefit for education have come up, but in March (the longest and toughest month for everyone involved in education) concerning addictive behavior is at the forefront.
Students cannot seem to stop looking at their phone. I get the impulse, and spend a great deal of time on computers as well, less on the phone because of personal dislike of the medium. Sven Birkerts and Nicholas Carr worried about this years ago, and the research started in the recent past is playing out their fears—as evidenced in this study by Lin and Zhou: “Taken together, [studies show] internet addiction is associated with structural and functional changes in brain regions involving emotional processing, executive attention, decision making, and cognitive control.” Another study recently brought to my attention by a child occupational therapist, shows us that screens light up the same regions of the brain that cocaine sets afire. And science shows us addictive video games may change children’s brains in the same way as drugs and alcohol.
The main response to concerns over screen time and children that I have run into is that educational screen time is not the same as entertainment screen time. I take the point, but I have my doubts. One of my chief concerns is the blind belief in the goodness of technology. Anand Giridharadas illustrates this in a recent interview with Krista Tippet. Giridharadas points out that in Silicone Valley
“there’s this thing of dropping out of college because…they feel they have the technical knowledge they need to get started. And part of what they’re dropping out of, in many cases, is the liberal arts education that is precisely designed to give you these kinds of frameworks to understand things like, history is cyclical, and good things have bad effects, and things go ways that you couldn’t anticipate, and just this normal understanding of how the human condition,…works.
When you have people with that much power over humanity, that much power to decide more and more how children learn and how commerce works and how power functions, and they basically have a naïve, childlike understanding that any tool that they invent will inherently make things better, you go to a very dark place.”
I share his concerns. Teaching literature, the human condition is an obsession, so this resonates with me (plus, I believe in the philosophy of a liberal arts education), but I’m putting my doubts aside for the moment to consider how to maximize the positive potential technology offers the classroom. I want to illustrate a framework for technology in the classroom (or anywhere else).
Recently a friend of mine offered this distinction summarized from Andy Crouch: humans, as inventive, industrious, and inventive beings regularly use tools, devices, and instruments. The distinctions work as follows: Continue reading
To leverage is to use the power or force of a lever in the literal sense, and in the figurative—to advantage for accomplishing a purpose. This is a great educational word.
I once had a mentor tell me I should teach every day as if a parent were standing in the doorway demanding excellence for their child. This is a great educational standard. It is also a recipe for failure, which I’m ok with (as I’ve blogged about before, twice). The truth is, the days I really use technology in the classroom are the days I would never want a parent standing at the door.
A newsletter comes home every week from my children’s teachers. Lately, they are full of pictures. The most recent newsletter is full of pictures of students “doing science.” 50% of the pictures are of kids looking at screens. It is not an image of kids doing anything observable.
The image of my classroom or my children’s classroom should not trouble me if the technology is being leveraged, if the technology is being used to advantage to accomplish a purpose. I teach English and sometimes students are staring at books in my classroom, and other times computer screens. I completely get it is part of the fabric of a class. The trouble I have, more often than not, is with the word advantage. An old French word, advantage means a positon in advance of another. It means profit or superiority. It means before. More often than not my lessons that use technology could be carried out on paper. What advantage is the technology? It saves me deciphering handwriting. It is faster, mostly. This begs the question—why is speed something to value in learning?
My son has a lesson on water, and the way it forms land. The class starts on the computers looking at photos of Mars. Amazing. They observe how the land is shaped, determine there is sedimentary rock in a channel (full disclosure I don’t understand how they determined this) and deduce it was shaped thus by water. The homework is to look around their neighborhood, or town and describe land formed by water. This strikes me as odd, it seems the reverse path practicing scientists take. Don’t practitioners observe their world around them and then make connections to new discoveries and distant objects? My son can describe how water forms land, but does he understand how science works? How scientists have used observation since Galileo? He’s 13, what lesson is the most valuable? It didn’t take long for him to learn how water forms land, but did he miss out on a larger, more important understanding? It is possible I’m being persnickety, but I can’t shake the feeling the technology was used to be used and not necessarily used to the advantage of student learning. I’m not so much questioning a colleague’s choices here, as playing the role of parent in the doorway.
What advantage can these machines provide? How do I, as a classroom teacher, rectify the research showing the use of computers does not help much? It seems computers do not increase understanding any faster than any other educational innovation. The results of a seven-year study of the most scrutinized laptop 1:1 program showed laptops allowed test scores to raise at about the same rate as other counties without them:
“Test scores did go up a lot in Mooresville after 2008, when it started handing out laptops. But Hull calculated that test scores also soared by about the same amount in neighboring counties, which didn’t give laptops to each student.”
Additionally, Jill Barshay notes that the computer implementation had a negative impact on how much time students read books:
“From student surveys, the researchers found that Mooresville students reduced their time reading books by more than four minutes a day, on average, to roughly 40 minutes a daily in 2011 from more than 45 minutes daily when the laptop program was introduced. Meanwhile, kids in neighboring counties increased their daily reading by two minutes. Four minutes might not sound like a lot, but over the course of a year that adds up to more than 25 fewer hours of reading, which is substantial. Unfortunately, the state stopped administering that survey after 2011 and it’s unknown if book reading rebounded. But if time spent reading continued to deteriorate, that could partially explain why reading scores didn’t rise as much as the math scores did.”
I suppose this is natural, the new technology will eclipse the old. As mentioned above, I’m a bibliophile, so this sort of news is personally heartbreaking, but I recognize it is not for everyone. But even the lightest research yields rafts of studies where brain researchers are determining that, at best, the results of reading from a screen are only equal to reading from the page. The screen offers no advantage. The more troubling problem arises when one notes these even results occur when testing for basic comprehension not more complex understanding. Even then, the device sometimes can get in the way of the content. Students often report on how they use the device, and then on the content the device provided. The larger problem is, when asked more sophisticated questions, as described in Naomi Barron’s New Republic article, Why Digital Reading is no Substitute for Print, print wins every time. So, the clearest conclusion here is integration of technology succeeds most clearly in pushing out a more successful technology.
Barshay again:
“Students continued to spend as much time on homework as before but spent more of their homework time on a computer.”
The New Republic findings indicate this homework time is less productive, less focused, and equally concerning is this conclusion from Barshay:
“… the highest achievers and lowest achievers didn’t benefit more from the laptops than average students. One of the arguments ed tech advocates make is that educational software can help slower learners review material while quicker learners jump ahead to new topics, with each student learning at his own pace. But the researchers didn’t see stronger test score gains among the bottom quarter or the top quarter of students relative to students in the middle. They did notice, however, that higher performing students were more likely to increase their time on computers.”
The device succeeds most at encouraging more time on the device. A New Jersey school district (also reported on by Barshay) ditched the 1:1 program altogether. The device has some advantages, and is more popular, yet brain research holds with paper. This is not just the preference of luddites and bibliophiles. The long term scientific brain studies are continually reaching the same conclusions previously reached by authors such as Aldous Huxley, George Orwell, Sven Brikerts, and Nicholas Carr in their fiction and memoirs across nearly 80 years. How do we leverage something not offering a clear advantage? Huxley and Neil Postman would argue that what we love will destroy us. Birkerts and Carr posit our love of technology is leaving us with a lack of depth. I suppose I’m arguing that we’re missing the important points. My son misses out on a clear experience of the scientific process, my students type drafts and feel they are done because they look done (all typed up neat and clean), and when we read from the screen we receive diminishing returns. I find irony in the fact that the term “leverage technology” comes out of a program adopted by my district titled “deep learning.” It seems technology is great for many things, but depth is not one of them.
So, in addition to my previous questions, we’re left with this: technology is here, and it will remain. How do we leverage it both in the classroom and in personal space so it works to our advantage and does not inhibit our learning and engagement with our lives? I’ve found some terms and am reading some research I will parse in my next post that attempt to offer some possible answers to this troubling situation.
This year I have more technology in my room than I have ever had in fifteen years of teaching. I don’t know how I feel about it. The phrase in my district is “leverage technology.” I like this quite a lot, especially in contrast to the experience my own children are having in a different district. My children’s district decided to go one-to-one. Technology immersion, seems to be the tactic. It has been a rough transition. As a parent who has used technology mindfully, and been very deliberate about my kid’s exposure to technology, seeing my child use it all the time because he “has to for school” is unnerving. I want to spend some time analyzing these two approaches, and see what I can figure out (if anything). But this post is just background, the setting of the stage.
My early mantra around technology for my personal life and for my classroom was: technology must enhance what I’m doing not distract me from it. I’m not convinced we’ve figured out how to do this in education, as a system. I’m mostly positive a few individuals have figured this out. I’m in the process.
I want to be clear: I am not anti-technology. I coupled my English major with a computer science minor and used contractor jobs building websites to help pay off my student loans. Though I write often in a notebook, all my writing eventually is on a computer. I did resist a cell phone for years, mostly because I didn’t want something else to carry. I teach and have taught hybrid and fully online classes for years. Though, my family hasn’t owned a television in fifteen years.
I am of an age where I can remember the world pre-internet, as I’m sure many readers of this blog are, but I mention it because watching the web come into being taught me something about how I would use it. I lost friends to computers. They just became more interested in the machine and then we spent less and less time together. Nothing too serious, or out of the ordinary coming-of-age stuff, but I noticed. Then, in college, I read Amusing Ourselves to Death by 
Neil Postman, and, being the serious minded young person I was, I thought hard about both the messages I received and the medium through which I received them.
Then I started teaching. I’ve had varying access to technology over the years, and I’ve used much of it. I’ve had a bank of computers, a smartboard, a small cache of laptops (webbooks they were called). But as the technology wore out, I did not feel a pressing need to replace it. It provided a way to do things, not necessarily a better way—as far as I could tell. Besides, a computer lab full of students, oddly silent, staring at monitors creeped me out. I only did it when it made sense—typing final drafts, et. all. Continue reading
Last week my eighth graders presented their independent, interest-based projects, the culmination of two months of research and applied learning. Elizabeth showed us her original comic, which she published online. Maisy displayed her handmade quilt and told us about the history of quilting in America. Sam presented his Claymation short film. Dana taught us about installation art and demonstrated the infinity mirror she had made.
These projects were impressive examples of what students can do when they have access to the right resources. For Elizabeth, Maisy, Sam, and Dana, that meant high-speed access to specialized websites, including the publishing platform Webtoons.com, the Emporia State University archives, and the Seattle Art Museum’s website.
If the school’s broadband provider had blocked access to some of these sites because they don’t bring in money, if it had slowed the connection speed in order to provide other users with faster service, or if it had required the school district to pay extra for access to less lucrative sites, these and the other student projects would never have happened. And that bleak scenario is exactly what schools across the country are likely to face in the wake of the Federal Communication Commission’s (FCC’s) recent repeal of the practice known as Net Neutrality. Teachers and students will have fewer opportunities, and those with the fewest resources will, of course, suffer disproportionately.
What is Net Neutrality?
Since the internet’s inception, internet service providers have treated all content equally. They do not restrict, discriminate, or charge differently based on content, user, or type of device. This is the concept of net neutrality. In 2014 President Obama sought to ensure the continuation of net neutrality, and to that end asked the FCC to recategorize internet broadband service as a utility. The FCC followed this recommendation in February 2015, instituting regulations that prevented broadband companies such as Comcast, Verizon, and AT&T, from slowing or blocking access to legal websites, artificially slowing access for some customers while speeding it up for others, and charging customers extra for access to certain websites.
Net Neutrality in Schools
According to the 2017 State of the States report from the nonprofit EducationSuperHighway, 97% of Washington State’s school districts had the necessary fiber optic connectivity to meet the FCC minimum goal of 100 kpbs per student. At my school that means my colleagues and I can stream videos and download resources from YouCubed to help our students develop mathematical mindsets. This amazing website is helping us transform our practice. And we are not the only ones. As of this writing, YouCubed has received 22,895,390 visits. But what will happen if we can no longer freely access YouCubed or the countless other sites that support our teaching and our students’ learning? According to Richard Culatta, CEO of the International Society for Technology in Education, “when carriers can choose to prioritize paid content over freely available content, schools really are at risk.”
In high-poverty schools such as mine, the risk is especially great. The internet provides access to experiences that our schools could not otherwise provide, such as authentic science investigations and contact with project mentors. Many of our students also live in homes without reliable internet access; they depend on having it at school not only for their assignments, but to develop the technological literacy that all students need and deserve.
Net neutrality has helped to reduce inequities between well-funded and under-funded schools, between students of privilege and students of poverty. If such access disappears, the equity gap will increase.
Broadband service providers argue that net neutrality stifles the free market. Other opponents fear that regulation allows the government to invade our privacy. Those arguments do not persuade me. There is no financial incentive for broadband companies to provide unrestricted, high-speed access to consumers, including schools. If they have the opportunity to make money by restricting access to certain websites, or by charging consumers for access or faster service, they will do that in order to satisfy shareholders. We may well find ourselves living in a world that our students will recognize from their favorite dystopian novels: a world where access to information and expression exists only for individuals with the most power and the most money.
I asked my district’s chief technology officer if the district has a plan for how to respond to the effects of the repeal of net neutrality. He replied, “We had no impact before the change and from what I’m reading/seeing/hearing, the impact back may be just as little. This is a move to free market service, not the end of access. It’s high on my radar. I deal with the FCC almost monthly. I’m watching it.”
We all need to do more than watch. While there was no impact on schools before the net neutrality regulations, that does not mean broadband companies would not have moved in the direction of restricting access and speed. If we remain passive, if we wait to react until there is a change that harms schools, our students will lose.
For information on the efforts of various state leaders to ensure net neutrality in Washington State, go here.
Our phones are powerful tools.
They are computers in our pockets more powerful than most of the science fiction I read or watched growing up ever conceived of. Even Star Trek the Next Generation had stacks of iPadish computers full of data on the Captain’s desk—each only held so much data. Now, something a little larger than a deck of playing cards holds or has access to more data than the entire ship they flew in threw galaxies.
I love technology. I combined my English major with a computer science minor and assumed it would be a practical and useful piece of my education. It largely has. Most of what I learned is outdated now, but the minor taught me how to think in different ways and provided me a comfort with technology in general. I learned quickly that technology’s broad offerings could distract me easily and therefore made a personal mantra: technology must support what I’m doing not distract me from it.
Humans are highly prone to distraction. Recent brain science shows regions light up and fire when we are distracted by multiple stimuli, and that concentration uses glucose at different levels, and is thus more effort and exhausting. It makes sense that we, especially teenagers, would choose distraction over concentration, even to our own productive detriment.
I keep thinking of the Jimmy Kimmel sketch in 2015 where Christopher Lloyd in his Back to the Future character holds a smartphone and says, “This tiny supercomputer must allow astrophysicists to triangulate…” and Jimmy Kimmel interrupts to say, “no, we use it to send little smiley faces to each other.”
My teaching has always involved technology. The only room I’ve taught in in 14 years without a set of computers is my first, I’ve taught with a smartboard for nearly a decade, I keep my curriculum as public as I can (minding copyright) on my website (which is also my plan book) so students and parents have continual access, I’ve used online classroom environments, and I’ve required students to turn in papers or projects digitally.
Ironically, as my district (and most surrounding districts and the national educational conversation) adopts and repeats the phrase, “leverage technology,” I’ve found myself pulling back from using technology. My mantra has remained the same: technology must support and not distract, but my experience and observations in the classroom lead me to believe technology does not agree. It seems more and more that technology is inclined, and even designed, to distract and not support productive work or learning.
Tech insiders seem to agree. The glamour and glitz and impressive largeness of technology continues to dazzle society. Many parents, teachers, community members I know and work with believe in technology with a faith I find confusing. I’m sure this post will garner me the label of luddite, etc. But I don’t use social media (in any form) because it is a black hole of distraction for me. It keeps me from the things I value: my students, my family, good literature, the immediate world around me. I know it is the great connector for many people, but for me I’ve never felt more superficial and isolated than when I followed my graduate school cohort to Facebook. Turns out pictures of meals are boring no matter who posts them. I stuck with letter writing (letter emailing). I recognize this is a personal choice, and not one made by the majority of culture.
But I am not a luddite. I use a computer and smartphone every day. I teach fully online classes at my community college. But I do believe that if educators use technology such as this nature sound map (recently promoted by my district), and never take students outdoors (even in urban centers) to listen and categorize and be present in the actual world, not just the virtual, we risk doing serious damage.
As Marshall Mcluhan said, “the medium is the message.” This is not a bad/critical/negative thing. But it becomes dangerous when forgotten. Shouldn’t part of the conversation (at least) center around deciding what technology best serves our educational outcomes? Maybe it is for many, but in my experience the devices eclipse the outcomes, and I increasingly find students struggle to use devices without distraction, and I find I turn to it less and less for lessons, despite being asked to include it more often.