All posts by Christine Jones

Write6x6

Rest is Holy; It is Not a Reward

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I organized my office to be a place of comfort, both for myself and my students. There are scrolls, books, fidget toys, plushies, small hard candies, and comfortable seating specifically to encourage students to be comfortable when they stop by. Students regularly tell me that my office is “Cozy.” What they notice first is the comfortable chair with the soft pillow and the shelf of fidget toys and hard candy. What they don’t notice is a small, bright yellow Post-it note, set at exactly my eye level, beside my computer. It is not particularly prominent to anyone but me. But for me, it is the most important thing on that wall.

It reads: Rest is holy; it is not a reward.

I place a lot of value on my productivity, which is not a particularly healthy mindset to have. Sadly, I gained that mindset in my previous employer. Before my current position, I was employed at a toxic work location that had a lot of negative attributes. One of those was the expectation that employees would be productive in all situations without reward. As a parent of small children, I worked in that environment under a cloud of fear that I would be fired. I was undervalued and underpaid, and the experience left lasting scars on how I operate in the workforce. I also have a streak of perfectionism that gets in the way of just getting the work done. So, I may finish my work, but since it is never perfect, there are times I will spend a lot of effort and energy to fix those things that don’t necessarily need to be fixed. I have learned to remind myself that I “can’t let perfection get in the way of good enough”, but that is a discussion for another day.

So, this is how I found myself in Spring Break of 2021, running on empty.

I recognized that I had not taken a break in over a year. I had been in the same basic situation the year before with the COVID flip to online, and my teaching over the summer had meant I had little to no actual breaks. I chose to use my winter break to refine the OER textbook I had worked on, and I had even added additional work with the district OER committee. I could hear my internal voice telling me that I really needed to take a break, but I kept thinking that I needed to prepare for my class stuff with the computer issues, and I felt guilty about “letting my students down.”

Dear reader, have you ever felt guilty about taking a break? Were you ever afraid that stopping would cause more problems than just getting through it all? Have you ever said to yourself, “I will rest when…” and then just continued? Because that was the frame of mind I was in. I kept charging forward. I just need to make it to Spring Break. I just need to make it to Summer. I just need to get through Summer School. When you push yourself that hard, something is going to give.

I have been teaching for over 25 years now. I hit burnout at year 15 and had to take a year’s sabbatical to find myself and my love of teaching again. Having gone through it once, I could see the signs in myself. The passion that had carried me through years of teaching was fading out. And my body, which had been keeping score all along, finally sent me a bill I couldn’t ignore. I had to take that sabbatical to find my way back to the love of teaching.

And so, here I was, winding my way into a similar situation when I found myself in a conversation with a dear friend. When I pushed back on all of the things that I needed to do before I could rest, he said, “Rest is holy; it is not a reward.” A light came on in my brain. I came to the sudden realization that I had been treating my rest as a reward for my hard work rather than something I deserved, regardless of the level of effort I had been putting in. I wrote down his words on a Post-it note that now sits at eye level beside my computer as a reminder that I can’t decide to put off the break I need. I need to take those breaks, or I will be the one to break.

That which is holy is something to be protected and adhered to. And so I had to flip the script.

For me, making rest holy meant a change in how I approached my days, my weeks, and my vacation days. For my days, I allotted an hour of rest where I walk with my husband and share my day. It allows me to relax, talk to someone I care about, and get a little exercise. For my weeks, I have one day each week that I save as a day of rest. I might schedule family or friend activities, but it is a day when I plan my time to avoid thinking about work-related tasks. Sometimes that day is a weekend day, and sometimes I will reserve that day during the week, but there is always one day of rest where I don’t check my email, don’t look at my to-do list, and if something comes up, I will send myself a note to look at it when I am not resting. Because that rest has to be protected.

For me, gardening has become a big part of my rest. I spend time cultivating my plants and forming my own sanctuary just outside my door. The joy I felt when my pomegranate tree cutting got its first new leaves, or my amaryllis bloomed, that joy is like a deep, cleansing breath of fresh air to the soul.

For my vacation days, I set clear boundaries for myself. My proclivity for working and staying productive means that I can’t just sit around and do nothing. At least, not yet. But I am working on it. I sit in the garden with a cup of tea and watch the wildlife dance around the plants. I sit in the rocking chair in my home office and read a book that has no other purpose than to be entertaining. I walk with my family or friends and talk about all the things happening in their lives and mine.

And here is what I am learning. While I find myself more productive after my rest, I am coming to realize that my true goal is to recognize and embrace the value of rest for the sake of rest. That rest itself is the payoff. And that by continuing to treat rest as holy and not a reward, I will eventually come to value rest as the goal. Rest will be how I get back to being the me that is filled with passion for painting, scuba diving, and herpetology. Rest will be how I return to doing those fulfilling things that I enjoy but have been putting off until “I have more time”.

So, dear reader, as I am reflecting on my goal to make rest holy and to stop treating rest as a reward for my hard work, I invite you to reflect on your own treatment of rest. Are you rewarding yourself with your days of rest, or are you making your rest the important and holy time that is necessary to sustain the best you that you can be?

If I could go back to the Spring Break of 2021, I would tell myself to stop stressing over all the work I thought I needed to get done and take that breather that I should have been taking. Because I needed a break. I may have taken one 8 weeks later, but rest is not something we can afford to keep putting off.

I have to remind myself regularly that rest is not a reward, which is why that Post-it still sits on my wall. I am just as busy today as I was then, but honestly, I am in a much better place. Because I am finally learning how to rest.

6x6, Write6x6

A GCC Pot Pie

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This time last year, Mary Anne posted “Mary’s Teaching Pie,” and more recently, Lore posted “A Cake Made of Purpose”, which inspired me to write a recipe post of my own. If my work at GCC were a recipe, it would be a pie: A GCC Pot Pie, a recipe for something warm, structured, and nourishing.

Every semester, when I step into the metaphorical kitchen of GCC, a hot and busy location filled with activities and opportunities, I am delighted at what is produced. My GCC kitchen is the classroom, the Gaucho Urban Garden, the faculty senate meetings, and the “pit” where the dragons are slain.

Pot pie isn’t particularly glamorous or exciting. Rather, a hot pot pie is something warm and wonderful; humble, hearty, and made with care. It is a golden crust holding together the hot, tasty filling. It is my work at GCC.

The Crust

A good crust is firm but not rigid. It holds the shape without immediately crumbling under pressure, and provides a foundation for the rest of the pie. This would be the structure, the rubrics, defined expectations, and purposeful lessons.

Starting the Filling

Students walk into the classroom carrying their doubts and fears; their worries and expectations. So a gravy of patience is necessary to loosen it up. Encouragement is necessary to make that gravy thick and hearty.

Mentoring students, being willing to work with them even after the classes are done, encouraging them to reach their potential, and having them continue to stop by years after they have completed my courses with the knowledge that they are always welcome, that is one good gravy. It is my way of keeping the kitchen warm enough to help those students rise.

Fold in Vegetables

GCC sits in a food desert, one of many around our state. I have talked many times about my work with the English students in the Gaucho Urban Garden. Well, my time with Dr. Angela Schwendiman and Mr. Jared Mann has led to conversations and now action on the creation of a campus food forest. The food forest will be a living statement that we grow what our community needs. I have had the pleasure to watch my students grow in more ways than one as they help to plant and harvest vegetables and fruits as part of their research. And their involvement in this burgeoning project is more than a little exciting.

Then there is the club work. Being a club advisor is incredibly rewarding, particularly when the other advisors are from different departments. The Dungeons and Dragons Knights of Pen and Paper club offers the students a place where they can find fellowship. Students who might otherwise be reluctant readers are transformed into storytellers, and recently, the club collaborated with the library on a club READ poster. These students are declaring quite clearly, “We Belong at GCC”. This is a literal and metaphorical folding in of vegetables.

Seasoning

Faculty senate work is a seasoning. As a faculty senator, I try to make sure my colleagues’ voices are heard and carried into rooms where decisions are made. I bring back concerns and try to make sure those concerns are addressed.

The Secret Ingredient

The thing that makes this pot pie work is one special ingredient. Belonging. Belonging is the focus of my doctoral research, and the longer I study it, the more I see it in everything I do. The students who keep coming back because they feel welcomed; the D&D tables filled with different ages, backgrounds, cultures, and majors; the garden where composition lessons have become something the students can hold in their hands; the classroom where every week the students are reminded that they are supposed to be there, that they belong. Research tells us that students who feel like they belong are engaged, take risks, and persist. They come to class, to the garden, to the D&D tables because they feel like they belong to something special. We Gaucho Back has solid meaning.

Belonging isn’t a seasoning or a garnish; it is in every layer: the crust, the gravy, the vegetables, even the seasoning. It can’t be tasted in isolation because it is what makes this pot pie work.

In my recipe, belonging is the first thing added, and the last.

Bake and Serve

Spoon all that wonderful goodness into the shell and lay the top crust over, pressing down the edges. This dish has a lot going on inside, so there needs to be a few vents to allow it to breathe. Bake in Arizona temperatures. When the crust is a golden brown and the filling bubbles up through the vents, it is ready to serve.

Make sure to serve while still warm. Pot Pie is best while it is still piping hot.

That is my recipe for the work I do at GCC.

Bon Appétit!

6x6, grading, reminiscing, Write6x6

Grading Students or Grading Work?

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My belief in rubric-based grading actually began long before I became a teacher. I was a TA in high school, and had been invited by my mentor teacher to “grade” assignments. The teacher gave me an answer key and a rubric for the assignments. I say “grade” loosely because I was really just identifying key pieces of information against a rubric.   The teacher gave the ultimate grade and score, and I never touched the gradebook. One of the memorable moments came from the reading of the short answers in the quiz on “Watership Down”. I had not read the book and could not discern whether the students met the requirements outlined by the rubric. So, I asked the instructor for a copy of the book, read it over the weekend, and then went back to “grading” the quizzes.  What I discovered was that the issue was less about my lack of knowledge and more about the rubric itself. Once I had the context I needed, I could see clearly that the rubric did not align with what the quiz question was actually asking. It was a valuable lesson, not just in content knowledge, but in how a poorly constructed rubric can undermine even a well-intentioned assessment. It was actually a very daring experience for me when I went to point out to the instructor the shortcomings of their rubric.  Luckily for me, the teacher was encouraging and received my feedback graciously, agreeing that the rubric needed revision.   

Since that time, I have been active in my approach to rubric use and invite the students to use a rubric on their own essays as a part of their peer review process.  I find that they become more capable of recognizing the requirements of an assignment and can give better feedback to their peers with a clear rubric. So, they first evaluate their own essays with a rubric and then have the opportunity to give feedback to their peers with the same rubric.  The students have consistently told me that they appreciate seeing where they might have gone in the wrong direction using the rubric.  

When I was a new teacher, I tried to be clear but fair and grade based on the students’ demonstrated skills as required by the university I worked for. I thought I was doing a pretty good job until I had a weekend grading rush. I discovered my own biases when I had a stack of papers to grade and no time to look up which paper was which. I graded fast, using my rubric and making comments on the papers, but so fast that I did not see the names on the papers until I was inputting them into the Blackboard system. That was when I realized that a student I had thought really had an understanding of the coursework was completely misunderstanding the content. The student had been so active in the class and involved in the class discussions, one of my most vocal and engaged students, that I had completely missed the fact that they didn’t really understand the content. Combined, these experiences have influenced my current grading philosophy, to grade blind and to have a clear rubric for the process. 

Shortly after my rushed grading weekend, I came across an article that discussed the “halo”  effect and the opposite of it, the “horns” effect. Teachers don’t intentionally start out having favorites, but there are always students who participate in class who may not have the strongest skills in their actual work.  The halo effect is caused when the grader allows their bias to subconsciously influence their grading based on the student’s perceived effort, participation, or behavioral compliance rather than their actual skills and knowledge. The horns effect is allowing the bias of a student’s perceived lack of effort, lack of participation, or misbehavior to influence grading subconsciously. I recognized my own epiphany reflected in the article. 

Looking back on those experiences, the rushed grading night that revealed my own bias and the weekend I spent reading a novel just to be a TA, it is clear they shaped my approach to grading. A good rubric is not just a grading tool, and blind grading is more than just a procedural safeguard. Blind grading with a good rubric is a commitment to fairness, and it protects both the student and the teacher from the very human tendency to let impressions get in the way of honest assessment.

UDL, Write6x6

The Path We’re Missing

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I have been thinking about this for a while. I love GCC. The campus is beautiful: open, sprawling, and genuinely inviting. I’ve appreciated it since my own days as a student, back when rabbits ran through the grass, and peacocks made weekly appearances. I still take long walks here whenever I can; almost every evening. In fact, it took an unfortunate event to open my eyes to what I had been missing: a significant accessibility gap hiding in plain sight.

Our beautiful campus is also a maze. That realization hit home when a blind student tried to make their way from HT2 to the Math building. What should have been a short, straightforward walk became a gauntlet of planter designs, seating areas, bike racks, and discreetly marked buildings. The student had to be helped to their destination and eventually learned to take the long way around — not because of any limitation of their own, but because the campus design created an unintended barrier. This was someone who navigated the world independently every day. Our campus stopped them cold.

The classrooms and offices have braille markers at their doors, which is a meaningful accommodation. But getting to the right building in the first place is a different challenge entirely, and right now there’s no good system for navigating that first leg of the journey without sighted assistance.  

That’s what brought to mind something I noticed while living in Japan: tactile paving. Sometimes called “Braille for pavement,” tactile paving uses raised patterns and textures embedded in the sidewalk, usually in bright yellow, to guide pedestrians. In Tokyo, I used to encourage my kids to follow the corduroy-textured strips along our route as a game, letting the path lead us to the subway. What was a novelty for my children is, for blind pedestrians, an essential navigational tool.

I couldn’t help but wonder what a difference something like that could make here. Tactile paving is a Universal Design solution, which means it’s designed to work for everyone, not just those with disabilities. The bright yellow strips serve as a visual guide for people with low vision, a navigational tool for those who are fully blind, and a general wayfinding aid for anyone unfamiliar with the campus. Visitors, new students, and even new faculty could benefit from a clear, embedded path system that says: this way to the building entrance. Universal Design doesn’t create a separate experience for people with disabilities; it improves the experience for everyone.

The implementation doesn’t have to be huge. Tactile paving works best as a connective system,  strips that link key entry points to major buildings, mark decision points like intersections and stairs, and indicate the locations of building entrances. A well-designed network could guide someone from the main parking areas through the heart of campus, with textured indicators at every turn. It doesn’t require tearing up the campus or sacrificing the aesthetic that makes GCC so welcoming. In fact, countries like Japan have integrated tactile paving so seamlessly into their infrastructure that it reads as part of the design, not an afterthought.

The student who got lost between HT2 and Math shouldn’t have needed a human guide. The campus should have spoken to them the way it speaks to the rest of us: through visual cues, spatial logic, and clear markers. Tactile paving would be a meaningful step toward a campus that truly welcomes everyone who walks through it.

GCC prides itself on being a place where all students can succeed. Our physical environment should reflect that commitment just as clearly as our policies do.

*I used Claude AI to improve the clarity and readability of this post.

GCC Students, Glendale Community College, student success, Write6x6

Coming Full Circle

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Many years ago, I was a student at Glendale Community College, couch surfing to avoid homelessness and struggling to finish a successful semester. An instructor noticed, offered support, and helped me when I needed it most. Today, I stand in front of my own classroom at GCC, given the opportunity to pay that kindness forward. This is the power of community colleges, and it’s why I chose to teach here.

Community colleges have always existed to bridge gaps. When Joliet Junior College opened its doors in 1901 as a direct connection to the high school, it addressed a fundamental inequity: higher education was largely reserved for white, moderately wealthy, male landowners. The 1944 GI Bill expanded this mission, and when John W. Snyder’s report on “The Veteran and Higher Education” challenged President Truman to examine what higher education could become, the resulting Truman Commission report transformed the landscape. The Commission wanted students of all social and economic backgrounds to access higher education, to create better citizens and a stronger society. Their vision worked. Campuses became more inclusive, enrolling Black students, women, and other minorities in unprecedented numbers. Today, community colleges exist in every congressional district in the United States, continuing that mission of access and opportunity.

In 2022, I was part of a conversation with then Under Secretary James Kvaal of the U.S. Department of Education that crystallized why this mission still matters. He spoke about the inequities perpetuated by institutions that are “proud to turn students away” and emphasized that community colleges have a vital role, particularly for students at “lower and medium income levels.” Higher education, he said, needs to meet students where they are and consider their mental health and financial needs as a whole person, not just an enrollment number.

This is exactly what community colleges do. We try to do so much for everyone, working to remove the barriers to education. And in doing so, each of us makes a tangible difference in students’ lives.

In my first semester teaching as an OYO, fresh back in the United States after a decade abroad, a student confided that he was couch surfing at different friends’ houses because he was homeless. The situation was affecting his ability to complete coursework. As a new hire, I wasn’t yet familiar with all the campus supports available, but I knew some community resources. I brought him information and suggested places on campus where he could study and complete homework with reliable access to technology and space. That student finished the semester successfully.

Years later, as a newly hired probationary faculty member, I worked with a student facing financial issues that threatened to derail their entire educational pathway. This time, I knew exactly what the college could do to help and how to connect the student to those resources. They not only finished the semester successfully but went on to enroll in a bachelor’s program, which they’re on track to complete.

I used to work at universities where, as Mr. Kvaal noted, some were indeed “proud to turn students away” from their educational hopes and dreams. The perspective at Glendale Community College is drastically different. Here, instructors not only have the opportunity to support students, but that support is available, accessible, and actively encouraged.

For me, GCC represents a full-circle life experience. I was that struggling student once, uncertain about my future, navigating homelessness while trying to get an education. An instructor saw me, helped me, and changed the trajectory of my life. Now, I get to do the same for my students. I am living proof of the difference we make in the lives of our students, and I teach at a community college that does its very best to make that difference every single day for our students and our community.

Write6x6

Think Before You Prompt

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When ChatGPT first appeared on the academic scene, I struggled with deciding which path I was going to choose in my own classes, turning to handwritten drafts as a stopgap, but operating with the knowledge that, in the long run, these students may actually need to know how to use AI in their future positions. I discussed detector software, outright bans, and fully embracing AI as possible positions. As I watched my students navigate this new landscape, I realized that prohibition wasn’t the answer. Students are already using AI. The question isn’t whether they’ll encounter it, but how they’ll think about it.

What I needed wasn’t a ban. I needed a path to knowledge and a way for students to make ethical choices.

This three-class lesson series across two weeks emerged from a simple premise: students can’t make ethical decisions about AI if they don’t understand their own thinking processes first. By combining critical readings, hands-on AI experimentation, and deep reflection on reading and writing itself, I’ve created an assignment sequence that transforms students from passive AI users into metacognitively aware writers who can articulate when, why, and how AI supports, or sabotages, their learning.

Here’s how it works.

Class One: The Dark Side First

In-Class Discussion: What’s Wrong With AI?

I begin where students least expect: with AI’s problems. We don’t soft-pedal this. Instead, we dive into:

  • Disinformation, propaganda, and the distortion of reality
  • The digital divide: How AI is only making it worse
  • Plagiarism and privacy issues: What happens to your data when you feed it to a chatbot? The impact on the art fields
  • Automated labor: The loss of human jobs
  • Climate Impacts: The carbon and water use
  • Stereotyping and bias: How does AI perpetuate harmful patterns? Tainted training data, averaging produces cliched results.
  • The replacement of thinking: What do we lose when we outsource cognition?

Only after we’ve thoroughly examined the risks do we shift to the possibility: When might AI ethically support learning?

This sequencing is deliberate. Students need to approach AI with critical eyes wide open, not naive optimism.

Homework: Real-World Consequences

Students complete two readings:

  1. “Your Brain on GPT” – An article grounding our concerns in neuroscience, showing how outsourcing thinking actually rewires our cognitive processes. This isn’t moral panic; it’s brain science.
  2. A current news article about someone caught using AI inappropriately in academic or professional contexts. Students must find their own source (from reliable news outlets) and answer: “What can you do in your own work to ensure that you use AI ethically and in accordance with academic integrity policies and professional standards?”

By having students research real cases themselves, they become investigators, not passive recipients of warnings. The consequences become concrete, not abstract.

Class Two: Why We Write (Before We Prompt)

Freewriting: Personal Writing Inventory

Before students can evaluate AI’s role in their writing, they need to understand their own. I begin class with a freewriting prompt:

“Why do you write? List all the reasons—for classes, for yourself, for others. How does writing help you? Where does it challenge you?”

This isn’t busywork. It’s groundwork. Students need to articulate their relationship with writing before they can recognize when AI disrupts or supports that relationship.

Homework: “Shitty First Drafts” by Anne Lamott

Students read Lamott’s essay about the messy, non-linear reality of writing. This reading does double duty: it normalizes struggle (writing is supposed to be hard at first), and it sets up our AI experiment perfectly.

Class Three: The AI Experiment

This is where metacognition meets practice.

Opening Discussion: Defining the Line

Before we touch ChatGPT, we discuss:

  • What makes AI use “cheating” vs. “learning support”?
  • How is asking AI different from asking a study group or tutor?
  • When does getting help become avoiding the work?

Students set their own ethical frameworks before experimenting. This primes them to evaluate their experience critically.

Activity Part 1: Comparing Human and AI Analysis

Students prepare by identifying from “Shitty First Drafts”:

  • 3 confusing passages
  • 2 main ideas
  • 1 personal reaction

Then, in pairs or small groups, they submit the Lamott essay to ChatGPT with two prompts:

  1. “Summarize this article.”
  2. “What are the main points?”

The comparison moment: Students match their own main ideas against ChatGPT’s. What did the AI catch? What did it miss? Whose interpretation feels more insightful?

Activity Part 2: Learning-Centered Prompts

Next, groups choose one of three more sophisticated prompts:

  • “I’m confused about [specific passage]. Can you explain what Lamott means here?”
  • “Lamott uses the metaphor of [X]. How does this connect to her larger point about writing?”
  • “I think the main argument is [your interpretation]. Does this align with the text, or am I missing something?”

These prompts model curiosity, not abdication. They’re asking for help understanding, not outsourcing comprehension.

Reflection Discussion

After experimenting, we debrief:

  • When did ChatGPT help you think more vs. think less?
  • Did any AI responses seem wrong or shallow? How did you catch that?
  • What’s the difference between “help me understand” and “do this for me”?

Students discover that the quality of the prompt determines the quality of thinking—and that AI can be a mirror, reflecting back the depth (or shallowness) of their inquiry.

Deep Reading Discussion

We transition to discussing Lamott’s essay more deeply:

  • What does Lamott mean by “the fantasy of the uninitiated” (paragraph 1)?
  • In paragraph 7, she “eventually let [herself] trust the process—sort of, more or less.” Why “more or less”? Is this wariness personal or universal to writers?
  • Is writing a first draft more about product or process? Do you agree for your own drafts?
  • How can writing serve as self-discovery? Have you experienced this?

These questions are discussed in class and require personal synthesis. That helps to integrate personal stories and prevent the quick AI fix.

The Final Reveal: AI vs. Student Voice

In groups of four, students give ChatGPT this prompt:

“Write a 500-word essay from a college student’s perspective on why you write. Reflect on personal motivations, whether for school, expression, or other reasons. Consider how writing helps you process thoughts, communicate ideas, or explore creativity. Discuss how writing has shaped your identity as a student or impacted your learning. Include specific examples.”

Groups post their AI essays to a discussion board, then compare them to:

  1. The other groups’ AI-generated essays
  2. Their own class 2 freewriting about why they write

The critical question: “Which key features suggest this was written by ChatGPT rather than a student?”

Students notice:

  • Generic “examples” that could apply to anyone
  • Lack of genuine vulnerability or specificity
  • Smooth, structurally perfect prose that sounds… hollow
  • Absence of authentic voice

The revelation: AI can mimic form, but it cannot replicate lived experience, genuine confusion, or original thought. And most importantly, students can tell the difference when they’re looking for it.

Why This Works

This sequence succeeds because it:

  1. Builds from critique to curiosity: Students approach AI skeptically but scientifically, not fearfully.
  2. Centers metacognition: Every activity asks students to observe their own thinking, not just produce content.
  3. Makes the abstract concrete: Students experience the difference between helpful AI prompts and thought-replacement prompts.
  4. Honors student intelligence: Rather than lecturing about academic integrity, I trust students to discover ethical boundaries through experimentation and reflection.
  5. Embraces messiness: By pairing Lamott’s celebration of “shitty first drafts” with AI’s too-perfect outputs, students see that struggle isn’t a bug; it’s the feature that makes learning possible.

What Students Take Away

By the end of three classes, students can:

  • Articulate when AI supports vs. replaces their thinking
  • Identify AI-generated text by its tell-tale smoothness and lack of genuine voice
  • Craft prompts that deepen rather than bypass learning
  • Defend their own writing choices with reference to academic integrity
  • Recognize that writing is thinking made visible, and that’s worth protecting

Most importantly, they’ve moved from “Is it okay to use AI?” to “Am I thinking, or is AI thinking for me?”

It is metacognition and digital literacy synthesized.

The most revealing moment? When students first realize we’re going to use ChatGPT in class. “Wait—we’re allowed to do this?” “This feels wrong.”

As we work through the activities, something shifts. By the end, students consistently tell me two things:

  1. “I can see how it can help with studying.” They recognize AI’s value as a thought partner—when used to deepen understanding, not replace it.
  2. “But I don’t want to use it to complete assignments.” Not because they fear punishment, but because they’ve experienced the hollowness of AI-generated work compared to their own authentic thinking.

This isn’t compliance, it’s wisdom. Students learn to ask themselves: Will this help me grow, or help me avoid growing? That question will serve them far beyond my classroom.

Resources Needed

  • “Your Brain on GPT” (or similar neuroscience article on AI and cognition). I like this one because the authors made it difficult for AI to summarize the article.
  • “Shitty First Drafts” by Anne Lamott
  • Access to ChatGPT or other AI (free tier works fine)
  • Discussion board for posting AI essays

Final Thoughts

Our students will use AI. That’s not a crisis; it’s a reality. Our job isn’t to prevent that use, but to ensure they approach it with clear eyes, ethical frameworks, and self-awareness.

This lesson series teaches students to think about their thinking, to value their own cognitive labor, and to recognize that the messiness of learning, the confusion, the struggle, the shitty first drafts, is where growth happens.

And that’s something no chatbot can generate for them.

*AI Disclosure: This blog post was conceived and written by a human, but refined and organized using Claude AI.

Write6x6

A Wild West Garden Adventure

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In the spirit of the upcoming Teaching in the Wild West CTLE Conference in April for my final Write6x6 post of 2025, I am hitching up my reflection horse and sharing a little of my trailblazing efforts. I hope you find something you can use on your own trails.

When my students got lost in the digital wilderness, I saddled up a semester-long trail ride through the Gaucho Urban Garden to lead them back to nature’s frontier. For several years, I have been working on an experiential learning experience that incorporates problem based learning for the students in my English Composition class. This year, I have expanded my approach in a way that I think is worth sharing. It all began in week one with the students tracking their digital technology use. Before heading to the garden, we had to face the truth about our digital habits—like recognizing when your trusty steed has become a stubborn mule. So, the students spent a week journaling about their technology use, using apps to track their time on their phones and paying attention to what they were doing with their time.

The week that followed was one of the more challenging ones. The students chose the most ornery of stallions to break, the technology they found was the most addictive. They broke up with that technology for seven days, journaling about their experience and about what they did instead of that habit. All the while, the students researched the mental and physical impacts of digital dependency. This part of the project culminated in an essay where they linked their research with their findings on their personal experiences. For many of the students, it was eye opening.

Next came the experiential learning component, the students began to work in the Gaucho Urban Garden. At the Gaucho Urban Garden, my students traded their digital spurs for garden gloves and learned that cultivating ideas requires getting your boots dirty. For one hour each week, the students would learn from a biology instructor about the care, maintenance, and upkeep of the garden. They planted seeds, harvested crops, learned about fertilizer and watering cycles, repaired sprinkler systems, and took ownership of an experience that most of them have never had before. All the while, they journaled about their experiences, what they were learning, and what foods they grew and ate. So many students ended up looping in their friends to the garden that we had more than just my students involved, and they kept coming back! This experience began as they were breaking up with their technology and continued through to the very end of the semester.

Then, the students began the research stage, where my students began to explore the possible solutions to digital dependency. My buckaroos rounded up solutions like skilled wranglers, corralling research into annotated bibliographies that would make any trail boss proud. They gathered sources, took notes, and explored solutions that would eventually be applied in their final essay. They got to know the skills they needed for the researching process and spent time in the library gaining new approaches from those friendly Gauchos, the librarians.

The next stage was a home based activity that also involved research and reflection. The home composting project. Their home composting adventures were like taming wild territory—turning kitchen scraps into gold just as surely as any prospector struck paydirt. The students researched what it takes to compost and began working on a small scale composting project that they digitally journaled about. The digital journals weren’t just campfire tales—they were carefully mapped trails showing others how to follow in their footsteps that led to the next stage of the course. Creating “how-to” TikTok style (or Youtube short) videos around composting or gardening, or in some way related to their suggested solution. Creating those ‘how-to’ TikToks was like learning to quickdraw—communicating their solutions faster than a gunslinger at high noon.

Once these stages were completed, it was time to bring together all the elements they’d gathered along the trail, like a skilled scout who knows how to read the landscape and find the clearest path forward. The students wrote an essay that brought together all of the ideas, the projects, and their experiences with the research. With a combination of metacognition, reflection, research, and rhetoric, the final essay hits every learning objective in the course. The students were able to demonstrate the skills they had learned in composition and apply those skills in a way that made it obvious why the skill was important.

Basically, in this wild west approach to teaching composition skills, these digital cowboys and cowgirls had learned to rope, ride and wrangle their way to a healthier balance between technology and nature. The students have told me that this has been an incredibly fun way to apply the things they need to know for future classes, and I have watched them grow as learners. As they ride off into the sunset, I know they are prepared for blazing their own trails.

play, song, Write6x6

A Playlist of Roles

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TL;DR 

  1. Never Give Up by Sia
  2. High Hopes by Panic! At the Disco
  3. Just Like Fire by Pink
  4. Talk by Coldplay
  5. Birdhouse in Your Soul by They Might Be Giants
  6.  Santé by Stromae
  7. Un-apex by TK from 凛として時雨

I like listening to music when I work. I have music that plays in the background while I am writing, while I am grading, while I am developing lessons, and when I am working on outside projects. Recently, I found an author who regularly posts her playlist for the songs she played while writing her novels. She isn’t the first author I have found who does this, but her curated playlists are more comprehensive than previous authors I have encountered. It reminds me of the quotes I used to see at the front of chapters in the horror novels Stephen King wrote. So, I thought this would be an appropriate topic for this week. Considering my work and the many roles I play at GCC, it is challenging to curate an appropriate soundtrack. 

One of the roles that I play is that of a mentor to several students. Very often, these are students who have come to me at a low point in their student experience and I have played cheerleader and motivational speaker, encouraging them to continue on and seek opportunities to advance. So, the first song on my playlist must be Never Give Up by Sia. 

Another role that I have is of a student. Because I am taking classes and writing a dissertation while balancing the other expectations of my time, I know the challenges many of my students go through. Like them, I have a set of goals I am working toward, and I am working toward overcoming the setbacks as they occur. Therefore, the second song on my playlist must be High Hopes by Panic! At the Disco. 

Another role that I have at GCC is that of a colleague. I spend time on teams and sharing ideas with others to improve the things that I can. This includes participating in grant projects and being a faculty senator. I work at being helpful, supportive, and kind in my interactions. So, the third song on my playlist must be Pink’s Just Like Fire. 

As a teacher, I am doing my best to promote connection and communication in my classes.  I invite the students to spend time talking with each other, sharing insight, sharing ideas, encouraging each other, and building understanding with one another. Along these lines, my fourth song must be Talk by Coldplay. 

Being a part of the community, I have made friends at GCC. Some are still a part of the community, others have moved into new chapters of their lives. Being a friend means being supportive, caring, and staying connected. I want to be a comforting presence, however small. So, the fifth song on my playlist must be Birdhouse in Your Soul by They Might Be Giants. 

There are several small roles that I have chosen to take on. Among these small roles is that of being an advisor for a club that meets on Friday afternoons. I look forward to advising the club and enjoy being a part of the experience. So, the sixth song for my GCC role playlist must be Stromae’s Santé.

Finally, I am a unique individual with my own motivations and my own path. Sometimes, it is important to remember that I need to embrace my own individuality. I don’t often promote my own unique self, but it is a goal I am working towards this year. In this role, I am working on embracing new experiences, trying new things, and exploring new opportunities. In moving forward, there are always things that you will leave behind.  In my case, I am cleaning up the house (read as emptying the storage of unnecessary items). So the last song on my playlist is Un-apex by TK from 凛として時雨.

Write6x6

A Reflection Using Kolb

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For this week, one of the suggestions for the Write 6×6 blog was a reflection on how we have changed through the last five years. I have a slightly different approach to this reflection, quite by accident.  I have taken the Kolb Educator Role Profile Survey every few years over this time period.  I thought it would be interesting to reflect on the changes with you. 

When I first started at GCC, I took the Kolb survey, and the results stated that I was 18% coach, 21% facilitator, 31% expert, and 30% evaluator. I was not surprised by my results because my work experiences before GCC were in a university setting with more research and publication expectations and a general expectation of lecture-style courses. I have always been a maverick, keeping a more learner-centered approach to my classes, but I can see the years of experience influencing those early scores.

The Kolb Educator Role Profile describes four role positions—Facilitator, Expert, Evaluator, and Coach. Educators take on these roles as they help learners maximize learning by moving through the four stages of the experiential learning cycle. In general, educators take on two roles over others because of their educational philosophy, personal teaching style, and setting expectations.  As explained in the report I received: 

Facilitators help learners in connecting with and reflecting on their personal experiences. Facilitators prioritize building personal relationships with learners and fostering an open and welcoming environment that stimulates intrinsic motivation and self-discovery. This role often involves leading small group discussions, nurturing learners’ interests, and encouraging self-understanding.

Experts help learners organize and connect their reflections to the knowledge base of the subject matter. They adopt an authoritative, reflective style. They often teach by example, modeling and encouraging critical thinking as they systematically organize and analyze the subject, encouraging critical thinking as they systematically dissect and analyze the subject matter. This knowledge is typically shared through lectures and texts, helping learners to understand and organize their thoughts.

Evaluators help learners help learners master the application of knowledge and skill to meet performance requirements. With an objective, results-oriented style, they outline the knowledge requisites for quality performance and design activities to measure learners’ understanding and skills.

Coaches help learners apply knowledge to achieve their personal goals. They adopt a collaborative, supportive, encouraging style, often working one-on-one with individuals to help them learn from experiences in their life context. They assist in creating personal development plans while providing constructive feedback on performance.

As an educator, I have dedicated myself to improving my teaching practices. Regular professional development and reading updates in my field are an important part of being the best educator I can be. So, when the opportunity arose to participate in the Reimagine Teaching and Learning program offered by the CTLE, I jumped at it. As a part of the Reimagine experience, I took the Kolb Educator Role Profile Survey in February 2020. My time in the Reimagine program clearly made a difference. My results changed; I was at 19% coach, 34% facilitator, 19% expert, and 28% evaluator. The influence of those high-impact practices also began to expose me to new insights as an educator. 

Then came the pandemic. I adopted new practices and new approaches. I started actively checking in on the students, inviting them to share their emotional state. I started inviting the students to complete a weekly reflective journal that allowed me to provide a back-channel of support. I started using Peardeck, a slide deck skin that allows students to interact with the slides and provides formative assessment and feedback opportunities. I got rid of group and pair work to prevent the risk of germs. I adopted a microphone because amplified speech is easier to hear, especially when wearing a mask. I recorded and live-streamed all my lectures for the students who got COVID-19 but wanted to participate. Some of those practices I have kept. Others, including the microphone and the recordings, I have ditched. I have brought back group and pair work in my in-person classes. My classes have changed drastically in the last five years. So has my Kolb profile. 

In April of 2022, I took the Kolb survey again. My results stated I was 28% coach, 19% facilitator, 19% expert, and 34% evaluator. I took the 2022 survey while re-taking the Reimagine experience and once again refreshed myself on high-impact teaching practices. When I took the survey one more time in 2024 for a research study, my results changed again. This time, I was 31% coach, 15% facilitator, 25% expert, and 28% evaluator. 

The changes in the dominant education roles are a fascinating shift over time. I don’t know how much of the change has been connected to the Reimagine program, influenced by the supportive professional learning community I have been a part of, or related to the changes brought about by the pandemic and the alterations I had to make to my teaching. I do know that I am not done changing yet.    

Glendale Community College, Write6x6

I Gaucho Back!

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I am a Gaucho.

My educational path was a rocky one.  Many years ago, I became the first person in my family to attend college. When I announced that I was going to go to college, my mother asked “why?”.  There was no expectation of college in my family and as such, no support. Family members would say, “college isn’t for people like us”.  

I was determined. I knew that college was an opportunity to expand my horizons. I knew college would allow me to go places I would otherwise not have the opportunity to explore. I was finishing high school, had not yet graduated, and started my first class at Glendale Community College. As a first-generation first-year college student, I struggled to cover the cost of classes and books.  In my second semester at GCC, I met a man who swept me off my feet.  In my third semester at GCC, we got engaged. We both worked while paying our way through part-time college classes. Two years later, we got married and had our first child. I made the college honor’s list the semester my son was born. My second son was born during the winter break, a year later. 

Then, it was time to transfer to a university, and I hit a major roadblock.  I applied and was rejected by ASU. My husband was accepted and we started making our plans. I had given up, thinking that I wouldn’t get into a university and that my family had been right; college just wasn’t for people like me. That was okay, I guess. I had a young family to take care of and I could support my husband as he attended classes. 

But on an off chance, my husband suggested I try applying to NAU. So, we both applied to NAU and were accepted. In the first year, my daughter was born during Thanksgiving break and I was back in time to take my final exams. In two years, I completed a dual BA, graduating with honors, and was accepted into the MA program. I finished my Master’s in one year by accelerating my courses. My degree allowed me to take my family on a decade long tour of the world, living in China, Japan, and the Middle East. Education was exactly what I needed to explore the world.  

Without Glendale Community College, I would not be the person I am today. I would not have the experiences I have had, been to the places I have been, or met the people I have met. While I am proud of my time as an NAU student, in my heart I know that I am first and foremost, a Gaucho.