I’m starting my second week of distance teaching today. Not loving it thus far. Admittedly, there are some neat aspects to it. I thought I would dislike having to record all of my class meetings, but it’s actually pretty convenient. If I’m having a one-on-one discussion with a student during our “quiet study” period, I can share the video with them afterward so that they don’t have to worry about taking notes. Similarly, if a student misses a class meeting, the video of the class will be posted within about 15 minutes… so that can be useful.
But, and this is huge, the connections with students are so much weaker. I see all their tiny faces on my meeting grid, but I can’t really tell if they are with me or snoozing or confused. Normally I can walk around the room and read everyone’s body language. If the energy is sleepy, I rev things up or insert a quick oxygen break. If students seem confused, I slow down and go over things more carefully. All of this is much harder when mediated by a video conferencing app. Even doing a “whip share” where everybody shares something feels slower and less dynamic on the computer. I find myself losing focus before we make it around the circle (and when I’m zoning out, I know that most of the class is long gone!).
I’m confident that I’ll get better at this as I gain more experience. I hope to solicit plenty of feedback from my students, too, about what’s working for them. I haven’t been at it long enough to see how the quality of student work changes. I’m curious about that.
Below are two artifacts from my first week. First is the Welcome Back video that I sent to my eighth-grade social studies students before our first class. It took me forever to make and I have a million criticisms, but it’s safe to say that it was the best I could do in the time that I had. The second is a cartoon created by my good friend Nate. He’s a teacher on the east coast and used to draw illustrations of our high school D&D adventures. In my classes so far, I’ve seen all of his archetypes except the skateboarder.
Griffin is in fourth grade. Maggie is starting first. At a Montessori school, this means that they’re both in new classrooms with new teachers and a new mix of students. They couldn’t be more excited to go.
Not quite old enough for school, but may start preschool in January.
Big transitions are afoot. Today is the last day of school for Griffin and Maggie at Cornerstone, and it is Andrew’s last work day at SPA. Not only are we all transitioning into summer mode, but Griffin and Maggie will be moving into new classrooms with new teachers next year. While this sounds entirely normal to those of us who attended regular schools, in the Montessori model, students work with the same teacher for three years.
Griffin has been in the same classroom since first grade, beginning as a neophyte being mentored by older students and ending, this year, as one of the third-grade leaders. Although Maggie first enrolled this year as a kindergartner, she was part of the top cohort in her classroom, working with younger pre-k students. In the fall, both of them, as fourth- and first-graders, will be entering a new world where they will grow for the next three years.
Maggie has been very excited about the transition, eagerly looking forward to her “Fly Up!” ceremony and the dance her class has been practicing. Griffin has more mixed feelings, leading to some conversations about the term “bittersweet.” He’s excited to continue learning and doing new work (in Montessori parlance), but he loved his teacher and will miss his many younger friends that he’s leaving behind.
The bus stop crew.
Maggie with her mentor at the “Fly Up!” ceremony.
Maggie with her mentor at the “Fly Up!” ceremony.
Maggie with her mentor at the “Fly Up!” ceremony.
No transition for this guy, but he celebrated at dinner.
Two of my passions—teaching and roleplaying games—came together in this short piece. After running a gaming activity at school this year, the fine folks at Steve Jackson Games asked me to write up a blurb about the experience. It went live this morning.
The target audience is definitely gamers (who else ends up on the SJGames homepage?), but it shouldn’t cause Muggle eyes to glaze over too much.
(See also a PDF version in case the site goes down.)
Thunderstorms all night and ominous gray skies in the morning didn’t diminish Griffin’s excitement for starting school again this year. (There was nervousness, too, but mostly he was looking forward to getting back into the swing of things.)
While cleaning up the house over the weekend, we found a pile of work that Griffin created at school last year (first grade). This chart of the solar system reminded me of my recent post, Maggie’s Astronomy, so I thought I should add this here. Griffin is aware, by the way, that Pluto is no longer considered to be planet.
Revolution of the Planets, Spring 2016
As part of his astronomy research in first grade, he also took notes on some of the facts he unearthed. I picked a few to share below.
Comets’ tails are made of dust and gas.
Comets have three layers.
Shooting stars are meteors burning in the earth’s atmosphere.
Asteroids are all different shapes and sizes.
Asteroids have little holes and when they crash they explode.
Note the creative (and phonetically reasonable) spelling of explode: “iiczplod.”
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.
Screenshot of the engineering interface. The sliders at the bottom allow you to shunt power to and from different ship systems, which can dramatically affect game play.
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…”
Golden Eagles (5000 would cost $24.99 today at the Gaijin store… and they’re not, alas, sold at B&N)
I received the most awesome gift from Griffin yesterday after school: a hand-written note that he spent 70 (!!!!) minutes composing and writing. My heart is bursting! It reads:
Dear Mom, Thank you for the notes. They make me feel good. I love you, momo. I want to make granola.
<I write him notes in his lunchbox everyday, and that day, we planned to make granola after school.>
