The Fish is on the Cactus

 

What do these sentences have in common?

The horseshoe is between the dice. 

The lobster is next to the brain. 

The fish is on the cactus.

Yes, you’re right: they all contain prepositions (between, next to, on).

I’m the kind of person who’s by nature attracted to novel and kitschy things (yes, I had to depend on spellcheck to spell kitschy correctly). Normally, this predilection is kind of shunned by society (“He’s one of those Pee Wee Herman-types who has a singing bass hanging in his living room.”)

But as an ESL (English as a Second Language) instructor, items like a plastic toy lobster, a cactus squeeze toy, and a Hoberman Sphere come in handy in the classroom. 

You see, for new English language learners, one of the most challenging aspects is using prepositions correctly. (“My birthday is in January 12th.” “She works on Wal-Mart.”) 

Unfortunately, I have found that ESL textbooks and lessons often use bland examples that many students see over and over:

The pencil is on the table. 

The apple is on the plate. 

Students: “Yawn.”

Instructor: “Yawn.”

After seeing a pencil on a table for the billionth time, I recently decided to rummage through my collection of oddball/somewhat-oddball items, such as a brain squeeze toy, a rubber scorpion, some toy fish, a horseshoe, a cactus squeeze toy, and a Hoberman sphere. 

I brought the items into the classroom and my level one students practiced using prepositions with them. They arranged the items and created sentences such as: 

The cactus is on the fish.

The sphere is next to the horseshoe. 

The scorpion is under the brain.

I also encouraged them to take photos and send them to me to post in Canvas.

Will using odd items like these help them learn English? Some research has shown that novelty might help with memory; other research has suggested that it might not. But either way, one thing’s for sure: it engaged them and allowed them to learn and practice new vocabulary beyond pencil and apple

My students may never actually see a fish on a cactus in real life, but if they ever do, they can confidently say, “Hey look…! There’s a fish on a cactus!”

This Community

Along with some time here in this wonderful 6×6 space, I am also part of one of the learning communities on the Bothell campus at the University of Washington. Each year staff and faculty can choose to join one of the many communities offered, and for the last five years I have elected to participate in the same one: Teaching and Learning on the Open Web. Several others have as well and we rely on each other for help. You know, like friends. My post for this week is about that community. 

It feels good to have a sense of community, and all of the things that go with it. Trust. Continuity. Common ground and common goals. Shared values. We are fortunate.

In November of last year, we wondered about how to best fulfill our mission of learning about and practicing “Teaching and Learning on the Open Web.” We had read articles in the past and discussed them. We have gone to conferences and shared our learnings. We have ordered and read books. We have retreated together and explored new tools and teaching practices. We have done good things. But in November, we pondered another way to be with our groups and shape our community. We wondered what it would be like to bring in a guest speaker to our monthly meetings and have them share a story with us. It seemed reasonable. Maybe it would work?

So, we looked for some people in the field of teaching and learning to tell us a story. An epiphany even! In December, we had Robin DeRosa hare a story about her discovery of Pressbooks. In January, we had Lisa Young share her story of the inception of the Maricopa Millions project. And just last week we had Jim Groom tell us about the origins of the digital storytelling class, ds106. In April, we have Claire Howell Major sharing her story of a book she crafted with the help of many others titled, Teaching Online.

So that is what we did and where we are. For each of the “campfire visits” we have a notes document that gets turned into a post on our website.

Here is the post about Robin DeRosa

Here is the post about Lisa Young

The one about Jim will be posted there by Wednesday. For today, here is the recording if you have an hour 🙂

This new idea, and the incredible amount of wisdom and opportunity generated within us the desire to meet twice a month as a community! The new meeting is scheduled a week after the “fireside guest” visit and we debrief and ponder our futures. It also gives us some dedicated time to write. If only all of our vibrant discussions were reality! We would have an amazing effect on the campus and our students! We have been in the presence of visionaries and we have been inspired!

For me, the next level up is to take our combined funding for the learning community and invest it back in professional development opportunities for the whole campus. I am going to ask our community to buy 1,500 dollars work of books about teaching and learning so that our small campus will have a learning library. Currently, the plan is to spend it on a conference… I imagine our work will be to push the books out to the community and hopefully get some others to read about teaching and learning. We will see.

Anyway, that is the story for the week. I am off to Scotland and Ireland for a couple weeks so my next two posts will be a bit different. I am going to try to do them using only my phone and my voice! I hope. 

Twitter logo and header for Open Education Week.

Lastly, how exciting that this is beginning at the start of Open Education Week! Sharing our knowledge, our stories, our hopes. This is good. Check them out on Twitter here and maybe attend a workshop from one of the universities participating in open shared work! 

The post This Community first appeared on The Whole Classroom.

Remember Me?

 

Remember Me?

You asked me, “Do I look familiar?”
And I thought, “Oh dear. A test.”
You asked me, “Do you remember
a man who looked like me?” Hundreds of
Faces every semester sit in my classes,
a circle of eager eyes, young smiles…
How could I be asked to recall any former student’s face,
Especially when your face hides under a Covid mask?
You asked me, “Does this help?”
as you removed your blue N-95 covering,
Revealing a smile, a scruffy chin,
and the past re-arose alive
from its smothering cloth.
A memory of another young man,
many years ago, sitting in my debate course,
Writing his rebuttal to another student’s arguments,
And the other young man’s face buried in his notes
like a miser’s loving the thing for its thingness.
And I remember your father’s look. His eyes like a collector who assess the size, the incredible size, of their collection,
and in your face, I remember your father learning to persuade, to speak, to advocate,
to challenge, to remember what he learned.
You asked me, “Do you see him in me?”
And as a tree with all its leaves relaxed
I shivered at the memory of teaching your father,
some twenty-five years ago,
And how, then, I taught a young man
to think of different perspectives, of policies not his own,
And like the still waters of a pool, I recall
their springing origins and the rise and fall
of our discussion in our class,
and in the halls, and outside the debate rooms.
So yes, I remember your father from now to then,
And in you I see and feel again the chance to impart curiosity, compassion, and complexity.
You said, “I am only here because of him,
and because of you.
My father insisted I take your class.”
I could hardly breathe.
You said, “He wanted me to remind you
how you changed his life for the better.”

Will the Circle Be Unbroken?

 

We start my semester in rows. Then we slowly breakdown the rows into a circle. In the round my students see each other and discover what characteristics they have in common. With the circle we come together, creating space to connect, to reflect and to share. At a time of crisis, that impulse increases. At the height of the World War II, when the National Gallery was empty of its pictures, its rooms were repurposed as a concert space. Audiences flocked there daily despite the dangers of bombing. Why? Because we need community.

Yet, over the last few years, due to the pandemic, we were told to keep apart, speak through boxes online. We were told not to gather. Our venues were shut, our students isolated. The economic impact on institutions large and small was catastrophic. Students are separated from each other, and the burden of the country fell on workers, doctors, nurses who could not choose the risks they take, or when and where they worked. We knew distancing was necessary, but it went against every instinct we had developed over the generations— since the postwar renaissance in this country created the enthusiasm, the support system and the renewal of classrooms for all students.

Now we are returning to our classrooms, and our communities. Our initial response is naturally to crave a return to the normal. Normal? Some say: we should wait until the virus has irradicated, until we can fill classrooms and offices and theaters again, and then we will get back to business. But this may not, and surely should not, be the route to follow. This crisis forces us to address our purpose and our ways of working. In ways that have been mirrored across the country, for example in ultra-rapid changes to transport patterns and home working, changes that were already thought of as necessary will be accelerated. We must now think of new ways to engage with our communities as a priority. Maricopa Colleges should redefine its strategic purpose as offering a civic space for people and ideas. It is these local connections to our communities that will provide a bedrock for our future work.

My students are torn between their communities, yet, like the audiences who filled the National Gallery to hear music, they want to be with each other, learn as a community to live with common principles. If we do not encourage the community, and persist with separation, we will lose what we see as same, and only see what is different. The classroom is for community building and seeing the faces of our selves.

My Heart Just Wasn’t In It After Day 1

I taught my first face-to-face class in two years 3 weeks ago. It’s a late start ENG102 hybrid that meets once a week in LA108. I didn’t really want to teach the class face-to-face, but my chair said that admin would like us to have more on-campus classes this semester. “The data show that is what students want.” I saw the data and had a completely different interpretation, but I’m a team player, so I agreed to teach the class. It is one of the two classes I previously taught on campus in 2020, so the class was prepared and ready to go.

The first indication that things were going to be different is when I noticed I wasn’t teaching in my preferred space. Apparently, HT2 classrooms were not big enough to accommodate our class sizes (18). I was bummed but verified I’d have a Chromebook cart in my new teaching space. On the first day, I arrived about 15 minutes early just so I could familiarize myself with the technology in the classroom. I’d promised students I would do a live-online class so students who couldn’t make it to class for whatever reason could attend live from home. I also have the same course as an all online and thought it might be nice to offer the option to them. Turns out LA108 is a cave with no cell service. You might think that fact is not that important, but trust me it is.

I began by trying to log into the teacher station computer, which I haven’t had to do since Duo Two-Factor Authentication was introduced into our lives last year along with having better log-in passwords. I had found a loophole and was successful in using the same password for probably 3 years. I should be ashamed, but I wasn’t. I actually knew my password back in the day BC (Before Covid). Today, not so much. My souped-up 17 digit numbers and symbols are a solid password now. So I looked up my password on my phone using my LastPass app; I have offline access on my phone, and I typed it into the prompt on the computer at the teacher station. The computer went into some weird realm that took probably 5-6 minutes before it stopped and prompted me for a user name and password again. Again? I looked it up again and typed all the letters, symbols, and numbers again. After another ridiculous amount of time, you know what happened. No, it worked, but our new friend Duo popped up. I asked Duo to send me a text. She goes into spin mode waiting for me to complete the action on my phone. Nothing appears on my watch or phone. So I kindly ask Duo to send me another text. And then again. By this time I have about 5 students sitting in front of me watching. Duo never complies so I give up on that endeavor.

I thought to myself, I don’t need your crappy technology. I’ve got a backpack full of it sitting at my feet. We are about 10 minutes into class time at this point when I realized I needed to log into the WiFi on campus if anything was going to happen today – my first day back in the classroom after 2 years. That wasn’t going to happen, so Maricopa net or whatever the open wifi is called was it. Fifteen minutes into my first class, with 5 students sitting in front of me, and one single person online, I was finally ready to teach. I learned later that several students gave up on the online class when I wasn’t there to let them in. Bummer. But hey I was ready. I say to the students in front of me. Let me just “plug” my laptop into the teacher station and you’ll be able to see my screen. I had already started teaching but had no visual for them yet.

Let me ask you a question before I continue. Does anyone have one of these plugs on their computer anymore? Oh, never mind. The whole point of this post is to point out how I was done after day one. And I can’t say that the following week was any better. I had a whole new set of problems. I’m so out of practice with trying to use someone else’s technology that my heart is just not into teaching face to face anymore. It ruined my experience. Technology should enhance, not prohibit. Apparently, you need cell service in order to get Duo prompts or be logged in to wifi on a computer to get a password to log into the computer. Or you need to remember to put your dongle in your backpack so you can connect your fancy technology to the old school kind in the classroom. Or…(fill in the blank). It’s just too much to deal with. I need to stick with what I do best and tackling GCC technology ain’t it.

P.S. Thank you Caryn Bird for hiding whiteboard markers in the classroom because of course you have to bring your own low tech too.

Counting to 6×6 Starts at 0

I’m putting my stake in the ground to be part of the Write 6×6 extravaganza, but starting here a number 0 (also doing so to establish my tag).

Writing 6 blog posts in 6 weeks should not be a challenge, it’s more about joining a group of colleagues doing the writing challenge together.

As many times it happens, it’s the result of me tweeting some blarney about blogging (that might be the first official post). A long time colleague from Maricopa Community Colleges dared me in to join this 2022 challenge from the Glendale Community College Center for Teaching, Learning, and Engagement.

I’ve known of this for a long time as I observed my friend and colleague Todd Conaway ran these efforts at Yavapai College as the original 9x9x25 Challenge (Oh look I did it in 2018).

And my whole career was made possible by my start and 14 years in the Maricopa system. So there might be some nostalgia in my 6 pack of posts.

Arizona Six Pack
Arizona Six Pack flickr photo by cogdogblog shared under a Creative Commons (BY) license

But let’s not get ahead of myself with the posts. There are 6 six more to come.

And there is the nerdy computer science idea that in programming with arrays, you start the count from 0.

This is c=0 where c represents my count.

Next week is c++.

And there will not be too much more techny nerd outs. Join in the route 6×6 activity… and if you need a boost, try their writing ideas.

I’m starting at 0 to set up the blog tag, well and also, to loosen up the blogging muscles.


Featured Image: My array of 6 is being counted by juniper berries sitting in between cracks of sandstone…

Six in the Notch
Six in the Notch flickr photo by cogdogblog shared into the public domain using Creative Commons Public Domain Dedication (CC0)

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