Tag Archives: learning

Play and Games

This first week of CLMOOC has reminded me again of the power of connected learning. Don’t get me wrong…I am a connected learner all year long, but there is something about the intensity and playfulness of the CLMOOC that amplifies the effect. Earlier this week I had the opportunity to serve as a coach for an upcoming make, and when I learned the topic would be games I wondered just how much help I would be. In online spaces when someone says games, I immediately think of Minecraft and Halo and other video games.

Instead, our conversation went to stories about games from our childhood…games we made up, unstructured time when we were left to our own devices and “forced” to entertain ourselves. Terry brought up some research about the lack of games in children lives and I wondered how that could be true–aren’t people complaining that kids are too obsessed with gaming? That’s when our conversation got really interesting…when we realized that game had different connotations in different contexts. What we all worry about is how little time children seem to have that is unsupervised and free for imaginative play, exploration, making, and doing…not pre-structured by adults. (Many thanks for a rich, thought-provoking conversation Terry, Joe, Christina, and Michael!)

Here’s a link to the talk Terry had referred to:

My husband took today off from work and after we treated ourselves to breakfast out, we headed to the beach for a leisurely low tide walk. It was warm and sunny, but not too hot, perfect beach weather. And as we started walking I realized that my husband and I often make up our own games to keep our beach walks interesting. Our latest “game” has been to search for beach glass as we walk. It’s like a scavenger hunt, eyes tuned for the gleam of the glass worn by the tides. We have very little glass on our beaches–probably in large part because glass has been banned on our beaches for a decade. But when we started playing this game a few weeks ago, each find has become a treasure. Here’s today’s haul.

And Christina reminded me that my photography is a game. And it’s become even more so managing both #sdawpphotovoices–a monthly photo a day challenge and a weekly photo challenge that I post on my blog and for the NWP iAnthology. This week’s Weekly Photo Challenge is #two…and I couldn’t resist snapping this photo of my husband fitting our flip flops in his pockets so we don’t have to carry them on our walk. He puts one of each of our shoes in the pocket since mine are smaller (two of his shoes won’t fit in one pocket!).

I also took some photos that I knew I would use to play around with filters and effects. This “still life” seemed perfect for trying out a new app (thanks Bonnie for pointing to it) called painteresque. I love the effect!

And then today I added yet another game to my photographic repertoire. I’ve been wanting to take photos of “found alphabet” letters. My rule (self-imposed) is that I have to photograph it as it is, I don’t get to arrange it. Here’s a couple I found at the beach today.

Here’s a Y from kelp:

An M I found in the cliffs:

An O formed by a sea anenome:

And who can resist the i made of bird poop! (And it was washed away by a wave right after I snapped it!)

And part of the fun of these games is playing them with others. It’s fun to search for beach glass with my husband, celebrating each find. And taking photos is even more fun when others play along and we can share with each other and learn from each other.

I’m hoping that others will join me in the found alphabet fun. I’m thinking I have two different “sets” I am searching for: found in nature and found on the beach.

What I love best about the CLMOOC is the spirit of playfulness and the ways we build on each others’ ideas and makes. We are free to explore, to play, and to hack the structures presented. The connections are essential because they motivate and encourage and urge us on to try one more thing. And thanks Terry, Joe, Christina, and Michael and the rest of you CLMOOC-ers for reminding me that I do know about games. Now I can’t wait for the game-focused make cycle! I’m already making up new games!

Sometimes Process is the Product

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It was quiet when I arrived, the coffee maker was percolating, the snake stretching up to explore its glassed-in space, and the empty exhibits waiting to be filled with the curiosity of children. There’s something magical about an empty museum…an experience I have come to love through our Intersections work, a partnership between the San Diego Area Writing Project, the Reuben H. Fleet Science Center, and the San Diego Natural History Museum (the NAT). We, classroom teachers and museums educators, have been learning and working together throughout this school year to improve the field trip experience for students, and to explore the relationships between science and writing. And yesterday was our second field trip pilot, an opportunity to observe students, their teacher, and chaperones in action as they implemented the tools we developed to support the experience. These tools: a chaperone orientation video, exhibit guides, and questions to invite student inquiry; a hands-free field kit, question card, and exhibit booklet for students; and all the experiences the teacher–one of our participants–had through our year together, were meant to support student inquiry and encourage exploration. They were meant to support the parent volunteers/chaperones, helping them to facilitate student-driven conversations about their observations. And in many ways, these tools did help to support these goals.

Student Field Bag…(Don’t you love the sparkly pink leggings?)

My favorite part of the field trip happened at the very beginning when students were treated to a behind-the-scenes tour of the Nature to You loan library at the NAT, a room filled with taxidermy animals, insect specimens, and a geologic collection that are available for teachers to check out and take to their classrooms. As we piled into the small space lined with glass cases of bobcats, birds, bats, possums, insects, and more, you could feel the energy. Students spontaneously began asking questions, “Are they real?” “Are they alive?” “How did they die?” After a brief explanation that in fact, all these animals are real, but no longer alive…and that they either died of natural causes or were found dead and then preserved through taxidermy, students were invited to explore the collection and to consider which animals they might like to have visit their classroom. The children and their chaperones spread throughout the room, eager to uncover the treasures within. Student knelt down and bent in close to the glass, carefully observing the animals of interest. They told stories of animals they recognized…and their adult chaperones also told stories and pointed out animals of interest. Everyone seemed to find favorites and called their friends over to see their finds. This little girl was fascinated by the butterflies and desperately wanted this specimen to come to her classroom. She asked if she could make a list of animals she wanted to bring back to school…and of course, she was encouraged to do so. Students spontaneously took paper out of the field bags and used all available surfaces: shelfs, carts, the floor… to write lists and other information they wanted to remember about these animals. As they exited from the loan library, students gathered into their small groups and headed off to the museum exhibits. They were free to explore in whatever order they decided, and our team of educator-researchers followed along, taking notes, listening in on conversations, documenting the museum experience. We noted the places where students lingered, where they seemed eager to spend more time and explore, and captured their questions and conversations where we could. I found myself interested in the structures and spaces of the museum, thinking about the strategic placement of benches and stools and the height of information boards. I loved watching students at this chalkboard that invited students to draw skulls that they had observed throughout the exhibit. And I noticed students sketching and writing in their booklets–a space intended to invite student observations and deepen their thinking. Unfortunately, in many cases students and chaperones seemed to view the booklet as a duty, often filling in spaces as quickly as possible with little thought and attention. I did notice a student or two take some time…this little guy made himself quite comfortable in the middle of the floor, as he sketched and completed a page in his booklet. Before lunch, students had the opportunity to get close to a couple of snakes…and even touch them. They moved in close, asking questions of the the docent as they reached toward the snakes. After lunch, students headed off to the Fleet with the researchers in tow. We continued our documentation and observations. As the field trip wound to an end, the educator-researchers gathered in a conference room to debrief the process. Reviewing our notes, we thought about the positives of the field trip experience and the places we still felt a need for change and improvement. And then we gathered in groups and discussed our observations. The conversations were rich and dynamic, noting the places where we observed students engaged and inspired and still finding missed opportunities for students to be self-directed and to delve more deeply into the questions the exhibits provoked. This process of designing field trip tools, testing them in an authentic field trip experience, and then reflecting on the implications of our observations in order to iterate and innovate has been a powerful one. And while there has been frustration in our group that we haven’t yet produced a product that captures the depth and intensity of our work together, we have learned a tremendous amount and come to some startling ahas about the intersections of informal and formal learning opportunities. As much as we’ve tried to support chaperones to facilitate inquiry, the reality is many of our well-intended parent volunteers are not prepared for that role…and our “crash course” in juicy and probing questions isn’t enough to make them feel comfortable and confident in that capacity. Mostly, they do just what we asked them to do, they keep track of students, redirect them when needed, and deal with the safety and personal well-being needs that come with groups of children. So, we are rethinking our tools…again. And maybe we will never have the perfect product we wish for…and then again, maybe this process is the product we are searching for, an occasion to really see students in action and consider the roles we might play in supporting their curiosity, deepening their learning opportunities, and opening up time and place for playful exploration and inspiration both inside the classroom and in those wonderful spaces beyond the classroom walls.

Making Biscuits

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I’m a bit behind in my participation in the Learning Creative Learning MOOC, put on by the MIT Media Lab, P2PU and sponsored by the MacArthur Foundation. So I am going back to last week’s activity, which involves reading Seymore Papert’s essay Gears of My Childhood and then using that essay as an invitation to reflect and write about my own childhood experience with object-based learning.

Unlike Papert, I don’t have an immediate memory of a particular object that influenced my view of the world from a very early age. (It’s probably more of a memory problem than of a lack of interest in an object!) But as I continued to think about influences on my outlook toward learning and curiosity, I found myself thinking of many different influences–most of them including important people in my life: my mom, my dad, and my Grandma Millie come immediately to mind. And then I thought about my experiences making biscuits with my Uncle Bob.

Uncle Bob (actually my dad’s uncle–so my great uncle) lived in a trailer somewhere in the same county where we lived and we would visit on Sunday mornings (I think). He would make biscuits and always invited me and my little sister to help him. (He seemed old from the time I knew him and we were very little girls at the time) We would climb up on a chair of the trailer table and watch closely as he kneaded and smoothed the floury dough. Then he would roll it out and hand each of us a drinking glass, the same kind we would drink 7-up in a bit later, and we would carefully cut the biscuits using the glass. He would then take the biscuits, place them on the pan, and put them in the oven. I still love biscuits, especially when they are made from scratch like that!

And I think the important lesson I learned from that drinking glass/biscuit cutter is that the right tool for the job is often the tool you have access to. Uncle Bob didn’t need fancy biscuit cutters that were just the right size, he just pulled a glass out of the cupboard. And better yet, my sister and I each had one to work on cutting those tasty biscuits from the dough. We all worked together and, in spite of our age, were trusted to do this important work.

And to this day, so many years later, I know that using what you have access to is an important truth to experimenting, to figuring things out, to designing, and to feeling like making is within your grasp. I still don’t have to go out and buy the perfect kit or have the just right materials to get started with exploring…I just have to be interested, and it really helps to have someone like Uncle Bob (or my mom, dad, and Grandma Millie) around to support you as you’re getting started.

Reflecting on Weeds

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I’ve been pretty obsessed with weeds over the last few weeks. These much maligned plants are resilient, tenacious, and often quite beautiful…traits I admire.

On my way home from work today I noticed that the greenhouses I passed were ablaze with color, so I pulled off the road, parked and walked to take a closer look and a few pictures. And on my way I noticed this weed growing along the cement wall in a crack between the sidewalk and the wall.

When I got home I noticed that today’s Daily Post Weekly Photo Challenge was reflection…and instead of thinking about the many photos I take of literal reflections (mostly involving water), my mind immediately went to this photo of a dandelion weed growing in the crack of a sidewalk.

I’ve reflected on many aspects of weeds in the last couple of weeks: their beauty, the role of a negative label, and about things that we see as expendable. Every time I see a weed I find myself thinking about its positive qualities…and wondering if a particular plant is seen as a weed depending on the context. After I photographed the dandelion weed I also noticed the salty susans growing wild in the dirt where the sidewalk stopped. I wondered…are these weeds or are they native plants? And really, what is the difference? If these yellow blossoms were in the crack of the sidewalk would that make them a weed?

And as I finished my parent-student-teacher conferences today I was thinking about the qualities the educational establishment values in learners. What about the students who don’t quite fit the profile of the ideal learner?

I heard a piece on the radio this morning about the rate of suspension and expulsion in schools of students of color…and know that there is no reasonable explanation for these statistics. These children are being seen as “weeds” in the system, intentionally or unintentionally, and this has to change. How we talk about kids and how we define success plays a huge role in the ways kids are treated in schools and other contexts. Plucking them out is not a viable solution…and there’s plenty of research to support that premise.

I think the answer lies in broadening our definitions of school success. I also think we need to consider what we expect of students. Do we want them to sit quietly or do we want them to learn? Is reading from a textbook or listening to lectures the best pathway to learning? How do we support students in finding their own experiences in the content we teach? What environments do we cultivate to encourage the growth of students who are quite different from each other? How do we engage families and learn from them and with them about their children?

For me, weeds are an object of reflection…and of fascination. And they generate question after question for me to consider as I strive to improve my teaching practice.

And watch out…I might just have an entire garden full of weeds one of these days!

A Pink Fedora

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It was a pink fedora kind of day. What does that mean, you ask?

This is parent-student-teacher conference week. I love the opportunity to talk to families and yet, it’s a tough week for teachers. Three hours of back to back to back conferences takes its toll…and it takes those precious after school moments usually devoted to planning and preparation and pushes them aside to make room for the conferences. And, in conversation after conversation I find myself reminding students to be playful in their learning–that learning doesn’t mean routine and boring and something you dread. You have to find ways to make it fun and interesting. And that, in turn, reminds me to be more playful in my teaching and other responsibilities. I have to find ways to make my hard days fun and rewarding too.

It seems odd to remind children to play, but when it comes to school and learning they seem to think that the path to learning is narrow. They are looking for the one right way, which sometimes transfers to battles at home about that thing called homework.

I want “homework” to be curiosity and experimentation. I want students to go home and explore ideas that came up in the classroom. I want them to play with numbers and play with language. I want them to figure out new ways to express their ideas in words…and in pictures. And I want them to come back to school and spread that energy and excitement around. And some of my students do.

This morning, one of my students arrived at school wearing a pink fedora. It was the first thing I noticed when I walked out to pick up my students this morning. I could see him from quite a distance…smiling broadly and walking with the air of assurance that comes from knowing with confidence that a pink fedora makes a statement!

Somehow that pink fedora represents that playfulness I hope for in our learning community. Playful doesn’t have to mean silly or distracting…and that fedora was neither today. For me that jaunty pink hat was a talisman of fun, of individuality, of style, with a bit of hopefulness and joy thrown in. I’m not so sure that the hat will arrive at school again…and that’s okay. One day of the bright pink fedora reminds me…and helps me remind my students…to find the fun and the playfulness in our work and our learning.

I hope you had a pink fedora kind of day too!

Stars Emerge

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Writing is hard. Teaching writing is harder. And every once in a while the effort of teaching writing and supporting and inspiring writers comes together in ways that make your heart sing and tears flow.

I had one of those moments yesterday.

The first, second, and third grade bloggers were hard at work in our classroom. The room was filled with the productive hum of writers at work. I moved around the room, helping with inserting youtube links to the digital stories we had created, troubleshooting technical issues, and helping those emerging writers get their ideas pinned to the digital page.

One of my students called me over, asking for help with a formatting issue. And that’s when I noticed the poem. “Where is the poem from?” I wondered. “I wrote it,” he replied. “Will you read it to me?” I asked. And he did.

Stars

A poem

Two stars diverge sending each other down to earth like eagles mating, gripping each other so hard that before they descend and hit the ground they turn into dust. As all the stars shine and shimmer with a shine so big it blinds eyes.

The portal of time, a hole, may it be a dimension to another world? Might it have different forms of life? Or does it hold the keys to the past as you turn the engine?

May it be a beach of darkness or is it truly where your body is when you pass away.

Still a star inside, you shine, a star big enough to fill this sad place with colors and light up the world.

Are all the stars just a puzzle or are they illusions that move and move as you play the game, the game of life?

I have loved watching this writer go from a reluctant and troubled writer to a creative, confident, and willing writer over the three years in our class. Writers don’t follow easy, uncluttered pathways, instead, like stars and diamonds they emerge from from pressure and heat and time and the tumultuous intricacies of the universe. I am so lucky to spend three years with my students, it often takes that long for writers to emerge–finding both confidence and voice as writing instruction, practice, and a supportive writing community come together over time.

I’m still thinking about Brit’s poem…great writing does that. It ignites a fire in the reader, kindled by the writer. It’s burning bright and hot.

You might want to stop by Brit’s blog and leave a comment. I know I will.

At the Intersection

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What do you find at the intersection of science and writing? In my experience that’s a place filled with energy, inquiry, and amazingly devoted educators!

This morning, early on a Saturday, I had the pleasure of working with a group of educators (half who are public school teachers, half who are museum educators) creating tools to improve the field trip experience for students. (Here’s an earlier post.)

What’s wrong with field trips…you might ask. You may have fond memories of setting out in a bus as a student and exploring some museum, enjoying a day off from school in the name of learning. And for some students, I am confident that is the case. It could be that the field trip even stimulated a life-long passion for natural history or science or art…

But all too often, field trips become either a day where the teacher doesn’t have to teach and students are “enriched” but not necessarily learning, or a day of frustration for teachers, chaperones, and museum staff–spent managing student behavior rather than stimulating curiosity and interest in natural history, science, or art.

So…on Saturday mornings this school year, we’ve been learning together. Thinking about science and writing and inquiry and motivation. Asking and answering open-ended questions and considering all the different ways we and our students learn.

We’ve spent time in the science and natural history museums exploring the exhibits, observing, writing, and thinking. We’ve read articles and searched for resources. We’ve examined what other museums have done and looked at our own local resources. All that in preparation for creating a “toolbox” of sorts for use with field trips. This toolbox has tools for teachers, tools for students, tools for chaperones. This morning was spent developing these tools in preparation for our first opportunity to test them. Later this week we will be seeing how these resources work with students, teachers, and chaperones on a field trip to two museums.

And what I know for sure is that the process of thinking about and creating these tools will improve field trips for students touched by the educators in the room this morning.

The bigger and much harder to answer question is, how do we take our experiences and learning and share them with those who have not been part of our process? Can we translate our passion, interests and expertise into a “toolbox” that will help others? And how do we make sure that the tools we create are user-friendly and help to shape inquiry-based learning for students?

I feel confident that our learning will happen in the intersections. The intersections of our tools and the students, of schools and museums, and of writing and science. It’s in the intersections of powerful ideas and perspectives that the energy and inquiry lives.

Integrating Digital Learning

An Architectural Learning Walk

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Sometimes I’m surprised at what interests me. With my camera in my hand, I find myself drawn to shapes and angles, light and shadows, things that shine and things that crumble, the cute and the hideous… Contradictions make for interesting photographs.

I mentioned earlier this week that I had gone exploring in the Los Angeles area on Monday with my son. We headed into the hills in search of the Ennis House, a residence designed by Frank Lloyd Wright. This house is made of “textile blocks”–intricate patterns pressed into the concrete. The concrete has deteriorated over time (it was built in 1924), putting the building in danger. Since being purchased a few years ago by billionaire Ron Burkle, it is now being restored to its original state.

This is a huge place and has a history of being used by the film industry as a setting for movies, Blade Runner is one example. I can only imagine what the view must be from the interior of the house from its perch on the side of the hill above downtown Los Angeles.

In our climb up to the house, we noticed other interesting architecture in the neighborhood. After parking and walking around, we examined the interesting collection of eclectic design built into the hillside.

This one that juts out at an angle also sports an interesting screen along the bottom.

The one right next door seemed to built on stilts, lifting the living quarters up high enough to catch the view below.

If you asked me last week if I was interested in architecture, I might have said no. But after my day exploring through photography, I found myself looking up information about the Ennis House and interested in finding out more about other architectural styles.

This happens in my classroom too. Once students engage in learning about something…especially in an active, student-centered way, their interest is piqued and they can’t wait to learn more. They seem to notice the new information everywhere and make connections well beyond the classroom walls.

What new interests have you found recently? What inspires your learning?

While We Wait

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We do a lot of waiting. In line at the coffee shop, in the lobby at the doctor’s office, to get through the TSA screening at the airport, for meetings to start, movies to start, for our kids to get home…

Sometimes I welcome the opportunity to wait. It gives me a chance to catch my breath, check in on my email and social media, read a few pages of my book, text my sons, daydream, or just take the time to reflect on my day. These trees remind me of that good waiting…patiently waiting in line, enjoying the sunshine and the view…

The worst kind of waiting is when you have to stay alert and attentive. When you’re waiting in traffic, about to board your flight, trying to be on time to that afternoon meeting and behind the person with 50 coupons in the grocery store… At those times you can’t turn your attention to something else and take advantage of waiting as down time.

My students do a lot of waiting too. They wait in line after recess for us to pick them up and walk back to class, they wait for directions, they wait for their classmates to take their turns ahead of them…

So I find myself thinking about good waiting and frustrating waiting…and wanting to make sure my students have time for reflection and to catch their breath. But not spend precious time spinning their wheels when they could be doing something more productive.

Today my students were amazing. They were about to embark on a sewing project (I’ll expand on that in another post) and needed to wait for supplies and wait for help with needle threading, knot tying… And yet, they were not frustrated. Instead I saw them watching carefully as they waited, making plans as they waited, and studying every move of someone nearby who started before them.

Attitude is everything. They were ready to wait today. They knew waiting was inevitable given the complexity and newness of the task ahead of us…and they waited with joy and anticipation. This is going to be a great project…my students demonstrated that today!