The Wonders of a Physical Classroom

Today in my creative writing class I was put on the chopping block. And I loved it. In that class we take turns having our pieces workshopped, and today was my turn. I sat back and listened to my classmates’ feedback. What they had to say about my essay was beneficial for me, but their suggestions went beyond just words. I could gauge their sincerity by their body language. I could hear in their intonation exactly what they were saying. My classmates’ even had the opportunity to (respectfully) challenge one another in their assessments of my paper with instantaneous—and sometimes inaudible—feedback. It was a wonderful environment of interactive learning, and it all took place in a traditional physical classroom.

Now, this may seem to contradict what I said in my recent blog post regarding the magnificent opportunities that technology can provide, sometimes replacing face-to-face interaction. In fact, I specifically mentioned the practice of peer review, or, as we call it in my creative writing class, workshopping. So, yesterday I suggested Google Docs as a preferred format for peer review, and today I am suggesting that there is no replacement for the traditional method. And I am not going to retract either statement.

Teaching is, and always has been, the art of not only knowing the material, but how to teach a particular lesson in a particular situation. There is a time and a place for technology in the classroom. There is also a time and a place for physical interaction. There are benefits to both, and I believe it is absolutely necessary that teachers and students remember this.

Teachers vs. Technology

In about a year from now I hope to be a professional English teacher. My experience with middle and high school English was wonderful (or I probably wouldn't be going into that field), but it was almost completely void of technology. Occasionally I would make a video for a project. Every once in a while we would do a traditional research paper with a little bit of the research on the internet. Besides that, we sat around and talked about books, or we got out our paper and pencils and wrote some solid five-paragraph essays.

Teaching methods are changing. This is obvious. Many teachers are embracing technology and allowing it to enrich their classrooms. Some are resisting. My classmate, Ashley Nelson, bookmarked an article on the future use of Google Apps in public schools. While my initial response should have been, "Wow, that's awesome! I wonder how I will be able to incorporate that into my teaching methods to benefit my students," it was instead, "Dang, that sounds like it will take a lot of effort on my part. Is it even worth it?"

I know. I'm a terrible person. I have taken plenty of technologically-rich classes in college, and I have seen how technology can benefit pedagogy. Maybe it's because of my experience with technology in the classroom that I am so aware of how difficult it can be to implement. Every new technology that we believe will benefit our classrooms is worth exploring, but we can't expect smooth sailing from the infancy of our digital experiments.  And if something just doesn't work, we need to be willing to drop it.

Don't Read Me; I'm about Technology!

"Ah, Miri, you read, but you don't understand." Sometimes while reading Vernor Vinge's  technology-dense sci-fi novel, Rainbows End, I feel as though these words from the Mysterious Stranger to Miri could easily be directed toward me. It's not that I lack the reading skills to understand the book; at times, I just lack the interest. This book has some excellent things to say, and I'll get to them later, but right now, as I'm on page 304 with 77 pages left to go, caring about the plot is taking a concerted effort.

I'll be completely honest. I took a peak at Vernor Vinge's picture in the back of the book: This was my first grave mistake. But I wasn't looking for a romantic flame here; surely I could overlook the inch-thick glasses, mustache, and receding hairline in the name of good literature. After this thought came my second grave mistake: I read Vinge's brief biography. This novelist is not a literary man--he's a mathematician and computer scientist! Impostor! So, yes, I immediately formed a bias.

And then, there is all the futuristic technology. I love the internet. I love my cell phone. Do we really need another book predicting the radical societal changes that will come as a result of the exponential growth of our technological capabilities? I'm more of a take-it-day-by-day sort of girl when it comes to technology.

Alright, I've done my complaining. Now I am going to be a cautious advocate of the novel (cautious because a large part of me still sees it as silly, with fluffy dialogue and a dissatisfying lack of imagery). Vinge is not just predicting the future--that would be presumptuous and irrelevant--he is commenting on the present. I mentioned the metaphor of looking at shadows rather than looking to reality in my last post. Vinge recognizes we are a society of shadow watchers, and he illustrates this through the exaggerated shadow watching of a more technologically advanced society. Their brawls are fought in cyberspace; our wars are viewed over the television. Their communication is often through smings or with projections of people; our communication, too, is rarely face-to-face. The question Vinge poses, the question of what we are becoming as a result of our infatuation with technology, is relevant. True, I prefer books about almost anything other than a technologically-saturated society in jeopardy, but at least Vinge has something to say.