Email from one of my students working on an audio-recording project this weekend:
I’m feeling a little under the weather and did my narration. I heard it back and I sound like a cat being choked. Is there a way to fix that?
Email from one of my students working on an audio-recording project this weekend:
I’m feeling a little under the weather and did my narration. I heard it back and I sound like a cat being choked. Is there a way to fix that?
Email exchange with a student just now:
Student: While reading my paragraph for homework, I thought there was something missing from it. Is it okay that I used the Interactive Immigration Explorer to explain some things in my paragraph?
Me: Yes, definitely! I love that idea.
Student: Good because I already did it.
Every year I begin my eighth grade social studies class by asking students to answer this question on an index card:
Why is social studies the most important class you will take this year?
It’s an absurd question, of course, and I learn a lot by seeing how each student tackles it. Most of them simply write out some reasons why social studies is important. Others add that other classes are equally important. A few argue that another subject trumps social studies altogether. Occasionally someone identifies it as a leading question and castigates me for pedagogic incompetence.
This year, however, I received an answer that had me laughing aloud at my desk after school:
I don’t know yet. Convince me.
Challenge accepted!
Have you ever dreamed of being an officer on the bridge of a real starship? Now’s your chance! We will be testing out a sophisticated software program, the Artemis Spaceship Bridge Simulator. With this software, each of you can choose a particular job: Captain, Helm, Science, Communication, Engineering, and Weapon Control. Together you will operate your ship and defend the sector from evil aliens. This activity requires your laptop, the ability to work as a team, and a desire to save the galaxy. For our first starship this spring, we can only handle a small crew. If our mission is successful, we’ll sign up more officers next year!
So reads the description of my spring activity offering at school. For those that don’t know, Artemis is a computer game that basically recreates the bridge from the Star Trek enterprise. (It doesn’t have a Star Trek license, though, so the ship is called the Artemis, and you fight Kraliens rather than the other aliens that start with K.) It works best in a classroom or office with a large monitor or projection screen to act as the viewing screen at the front of the bridge. A series of networked laptops connect as different stations on the bridge. The Helm, for example, has controls to steer the ship. Weapons controls phasers and torpedos. Science can scan objects in nearby space and provide information (weaknesses for enemies, possible resources, etc.) Engineering manages ship resources, and can overcharge certain systems at the cost of other systems and at the risk of overheating. The engineer also directs damage control teams who can repair compromised systems.
“I’m giving it all she’s got, Captain!”
The communications officer sends and receives messages from space stations, allied ships, and enemies. Finally, the captain doesn’t have a computer at all. She sits in a chair in the middle and orchestrates all of it. (If you’re interested, check out this lively and not-school-appropriate video of the game being played.)
So, yeah, it’s basically my Star Trek boyhood fantasy.
But it’s also a brilliant software package for middle school because it requires discipline, cooperation, and strategic thinking, skills that were almost entirely lacking during our first misadventure.
On Tuesday a dozen students gathered in my classroom for their first mission. We spent some time installing the software, deciding which station each person would play and who would be their second. (There are only six stations, so one primary player and an apprentice at each station.) Then we launched the server and configured it for a peacetime mission so that we could learn how to use our new starship.
So far, so good. Then I discovered what happens when you set a group of 10-13 year olds loose on the command deck of a state-of-the-art spacecraft. Anarchy! Everybody gleefully pushing buttons at once without reading any of the documentation. Shouts from every person in the room with conflicting reports, questions, orders, and requests. It was awesome. In short order, the ship was traveling at its highest possible speed off the edge of the map into interstellar space. Unfortunately, the helmsman couldn’t manage to steer. Everyone thought this was very amusing, except that they kept getting distress calls from a space station that was rapidly receding behind them. And when other people tried to steer, they couldn’t manage it either. The session ended with everyone thinking it was some sort of bug in the software.
I did some research afterwards and discovered that no, it was not a glitch. The engineers, in fact, had reduced power to the maneuvering drives which meant that the ship couldn’t, um, maneuver. (In their defense, they claim that the captain told them to maximize power to the warp drives… so they did exactly that.)
I sent an in-character email to the entire crew that afternoon, explaining what the engineering team at DS4 had discovered. After some frantic finger-pointing, they were all a bit sheepish, and are hoping to do better next time. They even agreed to watch a short set of training videos which will help them understand what, for example, a maneuvering drive does.
We have five more sessions lined up. I am hopeful that the crew will pull together so that we can actually, you know, explore strange new worlds, seek out new life and new civilizations, and boldly go where no middle schooler has gone before…
Golden Eagles are the premium in-game currency in the video game, War Thunder, that I’ve been playing this fall with David, Ed, Tyler Rust, Ross, and occasional other California friends. The game is free to play, but Golden Eagles cost real dollars. They allow you to purchase special upgrade and other “premium” content that you don’t get if you’re taking the budget route.
I talk about the game from time to time in class meetings with my 8th graders, usually to make some point about perseverance, learning from failure, or to illustrate design thinking concepts like iteration and prototyping. Video game analogies are always popular, especially with a particular segment of students who are not otherwise prone to paying too much attention at these sorts of gatherings.
All of this background to understand this student holiday card. It included a Barnes and Noble gift card with the following scrawled note:
“Sorry but I don’t think Barnes and Noble sells Golden Eagles…”
My students are making movies. It’s one of my favorite projects of the year: inspired by StoryCorps, students record interviews with someone from an older generation, often grandparents or friends of their families, and then create short documentary videos based on material from the interview. Students narrate the video and include clips from the interview along with visual material to support their narrative. It’s challenging for students because it pushes them way outside of their comfort zones. Asking 8th graders to conduct extended, >30 minute, interviews with adults is a stretch to begin with. Then they have to identify a theme to focus on, write a script for the narration, find visuals (scanning photographs, finding internet materials, etc.), and master the technical tools to put it all together. Finally they share their movies with the class, often an excruciating moment for the neophyte auteurs.
All this exposition to provide context for the following conversation in class yesterday:
Mr. Roy: One of the roles of your introduction is to establish the mood and tone of your movie. Generally you want to be consistent, so if you’re telling a dark story, you don’t want to have a light, bubbly intro with goofy music.
<A student, let’s call him Joe, raises his hand, with a thoughtful expression.>
Mr. Roy: Yes, Joe?
Joe: What if you want to have contrast?
Mr. Roy: Say more about that.
Joe: I was thinking of trying to juxtapose my grandfather’s carefree childhood with the losses he faced later.
Mr. Roy: <silent> <mouth hanging open> Ummm, yes, that sounds … freaking awesome. If you can use “juxtapose” in a sentence, you can and should ignore everything I’m saying.
Keep in mind that Joe is a 13-year-old boy. I’m looking forward to his movie!
Below is a collection of quotes from student reflections in my eighth grade social studies classes. There’s no real rhyme or reason to them; some are deep, others funny, others absurd. I added line breaks and corrected a few typos.
That’s what makes history so interesting,
the emotions that intertwine with the facts.I am naturally good at
understanding stuff.I love it when in group conversations there is a debate but the person with the best facts can show the other person how they are right, even if I was the one that was wrong.
Just like in science,
you can’t say something
without data.I absolutely hate margin noting
more than I hate Activision
for making the same game
every year and brainwashing
people to buy that game.In class, we learn about the history of our country, but notice, the class itself is not called “history,” but instead called social studies. This is because we are also learning about current and relevant events that affect us today. I can take the things we learn and connect them with things I see every day.
I have lots of opinions
and they are all
grounded in evidence.I really want to work on speaking up more in class, and not being afraid of judgement when stating my opinion. I chose this skill because being able to talk in front of peers/people is very important, and one day I want to be a really good speaker. This class is the perfect opportunity to practice.
I know all the historical facts.
I am proud of how immersed
I am in the materials we study.I have always been a crazy reader.
Remember that time where I corrected you on the start date of the revolutionary war? (No offense.) When I saw the incorrect date I thought back to my times in Assassin’s Creed III and remembered the date of the attack on Lexington and Concord (4/19/1775, my birthday) and my ego light bulb went off and I thought “Aha!!! My video games have brought me a point of extra credit!!!
Sometimes I am not the most thorough person.
I memorize facts by trying to use them
in outside-of-class situations instead
of just memorizing them for a test.I am pretty good with speaking up in class,
though sometimes I do ask pretty dumb questions.I think the trimester went pretty well,
though in the middle I kind of got lazy.Sometimes I have trouble
paying attention to what
others are saying.It is still a developing skill for me to take other perspectives, since I usually stay grounded in my own strong opinion and it is hard to get out.
It was really fun,
because when you know the facts,
you can ask a lot more questions,
and you are able to debate the truth.I think it’s hard to have an opinion without evidence, and that’s why I have a lot of screenshots of conversations in my phone.
One last thing.
I recently realized
how amazing my
NASA poster is.
I mean
just look at it.
Every November, as our first trimester draws to a close, I ask my students to write reflections on how the trimester went for them. I have some broad prompts like, “Describe your strengths in social studies,” and “Describe at least one specific skill you want to work on next trimester,” followed by a section where students rate themselves on various skills (reading, discussion, writing, using evidence, etc.). Finally, they give themselves a letter grade and explain why they think they’ve earned it. It’s the culminating assignment of the trimester, and I depend heavily on it while writing narrative reports and making decisions about borderline grades.
I love reading these reflections because most students take them very seriously and I learn a lot about them, their goals, and their perceptions of their strengths and weaknesses. This, in turn, provides me with a lens to consider how well I have communicated the goals and skills required for the class. I am most successful when my students’ self-evaluations are congruent with my own perceptions.
My advisory group came up with this idea and had a lot of fun with it. This was going to be our yearbook photo, but the form factor was wrong so we had to recompose the shot. I haven’t seen the new one yet, but I thought this one deserved to be published somewhere.
It began with my August update about our summer family pilgrimage to the Franconia Sculpture Park. A friend and teaching colleague, Carrie Clark, saw the post and left this comment:
“Andrew, can’t we take the eighth grade there?”
I put Franconia on the agenda at one of our planning meetings in August and the 8th grade team was excited about the concept. Large scale sculptures provide an awesome array of interdisciplinary connections, fusing the social commentary and communication skills of  social studies and English with the engineering of math and science. (Indeed, right after the trip I sent an email to the entire grade resolving a lively debate at the park about the density of cement and thus how much a sculpture weighed). Moreover, the park ties into our newly hatched 8th grade design thinking program, with each sculpture representing the latest of a series of prototypes that the artists experimented with along the way. The playful and interactive nature of the park dovetails with our design focus on recreational spaces with our cardboard arcade and playground design projects.
Fitting the trip into our packed fall calendar was no mean feat, and our first try fell apart in September. Fortunately, however, we were able to get out  there on November 4, a beautiful, blustery fall day. (An arctic blast of snow and freezing wind arrived less than a week later, so we were lucky!)
The trip was a hit with both teachers and students. The artist-guides were engaging and knowledgeable.  There was a good mix of time spent on the official tour and free time to explore and climb and think. We didn’t bog things down with faux academic worksheets or other artificial baloney. (Despite this, multiple students, independently and unprompted, asked me for paper and a pencil so that they could jot down some design ideas for their work at school.) It felt, to me, exactly like what a field trip should be: students and teachers sharing an authentic experience of the world.
See below for a few pictures of the trip, taken by either me or my colleagues (some on phones, some on better cameras). Click on any image to see a larger slideshow.
It’s been another great year in the classroom, and I feel as engaged and motivated as I ever have. I’m definitely looking forward to the time off in the coming summer weeks, but I no longer fear the arrival of September, as I did when I first jumped into this new career.
It’s hard to believe that it’s been a decade since I left my IT career. I would write “no regrets” but that sounds too pensive, like I really do have regrets but I’m trying to convince myself that I don’t. In this case it’s the opposite of regret—I am profoundly fortunate that I found a career that gives back more than I put into it. For those of you who know some of my background interests, consider that in addition to teaching a fantastic social studies course all year, I did the following in my classroom:
It’s a very good fit.