For a while, I was not able to write about what I was learning in education. There were rumors and fears that I was writing about teachers I served. When I did write about teachers I served, I used their names. Yet, perception is a beast y'all. While I never, ever wrote ugly things about people and their mistakes, the censorship happened. For a while, I played around with a pseudonym. Ela R. Goodnight good speak for me in anonymity. I even bought a fake wig and some funky glasses to compliment her 1980's wardrobe that for some reason is still in my closet from when I started teaching. Yet, it never seemed right to put the words out there.
Until today.
Heather, Bria, Zack, Sam, and I were talking about how we help teachers with their lessons in a way that would free up some time and provide mentorship models of effective instruction. It reminded me of what ole Ela had to say back in the early days of the pandemic.
A friend (Bettye) stopped by for lunch. On the way to The Burrow in Claude (I was craving one of their pulled pork omelettes) she berated herself for the difficulty she is having in completing her online blended learning course. "Claire, my teaching partner, just busted through all the assignments, but I want mine to be really good. And they just aren't. And it's taking me forever."
"Honey," I replied over the top of my dollar store shades. "Don't you know your lessons aren't goin' to heaven? Heck, they aren't even going to town." She looked at me funny, but I am funny lookin'.
Consume, Critique, Produce
My friend was missing a very important point here related to Dr. John O'Flavahaven's work at the University of Maryland. O'Flavahaven's Consume, Critique, Produce model is very effective when we look at how we design lessons that give mentor texts and examples of the products we wish for kids to produce or processes they can emulate. But the way my friend was thinking about it was kinda like putting a saddle on a cow. Or lipstick on a pig. You can, but why?
True. We consume a lot of media. Professionally produced, curated, airbrushed stuff of virtual confection and perfection. Yet: Why would we ever expect that perfection from ourselves and our lessons? Why, that's not even the purpose of our lessons. Just like nobody actually looks like those cover models, nobody's lessons look like Dead Poets Society. (Nor Bad Teacher either, just sayin'.)
Creating virtual opportunities and lessons for kids really isn't about creating perfect, curated videos that could win Emmy Awards. Teachers don't need to be worried about delivering their 30 second acceptance speeches before the music swells and they are escorted offstage. Face to face, online, or blended mixes of all of it aren't about the fake, yet polished nature of media. Teaching is about your moment with a child that moves their thinking and knowing to a new place of participation and contribution.
Overcoming Create and Delete
Here's some thoughts to reframe what you are doing with virtual learning and stop yourself from perseverating over the create and delete cycle.
1. If you were teaching a lesson face to face, you'd have to reread, rephrase, and repeat words when they don't come out right. You'd walk over to where you thought you left that stack of papers and forget that you laid them on a kid's desk. Someone would inevitably interrupt the class with an announcement about who needed to come check out in the office. You'd make a mistake or some kid would do something you didn't expect or want. (Like the time Johnny picked his nose and wiped it on the inside of his turtleneck sweater.) There is no way to press delete and start the whole class over. Nor would you. You'd just monitor, adjust, and move on. You are a human in the live, sometimes unscripted (although carefully planned) impromptu of arena of classroom instruction.
When you are making a recording, monitor, adjust, and move on. Click save and upload that sucker. Ain't nobody got time for 15 retakes before yearbook, cheer practice, and bus duty.
2. For some reason, people seem to think that video is going to be useful next year. I have horrifying memories of playing videos recorded in the late 60's and early 70's for my 90's babies. They couldn't get past the polyester prints and beehives to focus on the content. They were making fun of the setting and context rather than learning.
Furthermore, our pedagogy and content need updating and refining as much as our wardrobe. When you teach the lesson next year - even if you are recording it - hopefully you have learned a thing or two since then. Hopefully, you've realized some stuff you need to address because of who your kids are this year. Put that old video in an archive for posterity and move on with what this class needs this year. Besides, you probably have a new haircut, glasses, and a few more wrinkles since then. Move on and re-record.
3. Point two connects me to another idea. My poor other made the mistake of asking me whether or not after 30 years I was gonna get this teaching stuff figured out and stop staying late at school lugging that canvas bag home. Like, when was I going to stop re-creating the wheel. Incredibly, he was still breathing and able to remark: "You'd think by now that someone would have made a program where the kids could just go online and do the work."
There will NEVER be a script or video or a program that is good enough to cover the complexities and nuances of teaching humans year after year. Teaching is a reactive and interactive science that requires the decision making art of a well-prepared, sophisticated, and compassionate teacher. Especially when the teaching goes virtual.
Heaven Bound
Bettye, none of your lessons belong in Hollywood. But the effort, heart, and messy humanity behind it is the only school thing headed for heaven.
Hugs, Pitti-Pats, and Arpeggios of Laughter,
Ela R. Goodnight
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