Word.

I am very excited about using new technologies to foster literacy. I found Swenson et al (2006) to be an extremely interesting read, and caught myself nodding along at times as I read. This article addresses some of the complications I have found in working with “digital natives” (Prensky, 2001); these students are so wholly immersed in their digital lives that the antiquated interface of books with paper seems uninteresting and devoid of meaning. Swenson et al point out that students spend the time equivalent of a full time job each week interacting with various forms of media. How can a book, a seemingly static artifice devoid of hyperlinks, actually tell us anything?
All pessimism aside, I have seen fascinating projects utilizing a blend of new and old technologies. I have seen the digital equivalent of the ‘commonplace books’ that Swenson references in her article. I have also seen the adaptation of business technologies to didactic practice, and been enthralled by the power of computers to convey information elegantly.
Some may be surprised to hear me praise the rise of digital texts; at one time I was practically a Luddite, clinging to my battered Smith typewriter or lugging around an old Skywriter to do my correspondence. I actually used carbon paper to make copies of documents I was typing. Now, I know this may date me a bit; I am not actually that old, but I have seen the remarkable spread of communication technology during my adult life, and I find it fascinating. The amount of information available is difficult to fathom. Examining the Leu et al document and its veritable cornucopia of hyperlinks was staggering. The ease with which one goes from information source to information source, from database to library stack to periodical reference boggles my mind. This may be the root difference between gen X and the digital natives of today; they expect nothing less than this synergy of interface and information, and when they have it, they can create amazing things. It is up to the rest of us to try and keep up.

—Ludlow

Leu, D. J., Leu, D. D., & Coiro C. (nd). Teaching with the Internet K—12: New Literacies for New Times. Accessed April 5, 2008 from http://www.sp.uconn.edu/~djleu/fourth.html.
Prensky, M. (2001). Digital natives, digital immigrants. On the Horizon, 9(55), 1-6.
Swenson, J., Young, C. A., McGrail, E., Rozema, R., & Whitin, P. (2006). Extending the conversation: new technologies, new literacies, and English Education. English Education, 38(4), 351-369.

I love Marxist critical theory. There, I said it. I love it. I love the way Marxist theory allows me to review the text in the context of class and status. I love being able to look at texts from a position that questions the intentions of the author, attempts to recognize the influences of society, and embraces the social constructions inherent in our understanding of text. Appleman points out how Marxist critical theory allows the teacher to widen the viewpoint of the student. In discussing a typical crowd of AP English students, she says “They’re basically good people, motivated learners, and engaged students, but they hardly ever think beyond the boundaries of their own comfortable world” (Appleman, 2000, p. 63). I am especially fond of the way Marxist critical theory tracks back to the idea of “who benefits?” when analyzing texts. This sort of critical thinking is useful for teaching students to be critical about information they are presented; Marxist literary theory can be used to recognize the embedded power, class, ideology, and resistance messages present in classroom texts (Appleman, 2000, p. 62). No matter what we read, it has been touched in some way by these issues. Writers do not exist in a vacuum; they assimilate information and it comes out in what they write. Sometimes it is overt, such as Sinclair’s socialist message in The Jungle, but frequently the influences on a writer are quite subtle and require careful reading to parse out hidden meanings…
I am pleased with my Marxist lens. It allows me to analyze the class issues that are so prevalent in our literary canon. How can we look at books like The Grapes of Wrath or The Great Gatsby without considering class and social status? I use Marxist critical theory in my class, if for no other reason than to provide a solid jumping off point for discussion. The students don’t have to agree with my interpretations; often they don’t even get to hear them. The questions prompt discussion, which prompt more questions, in an ever-deepening spiral into the meaning of the text. Which is, truly, a good thing.  So I say “Yay, Marxist critical theory!”

—Ludlow

Our readings this week have focused on classroom management and interaction with our students.  From Curan, to Ramsey, to Alsup & Bush, and on to Flannery’s article on the NEA website, we read about how to talk to students, their parents, and how to manage our classrooms effectively.  Some of these points were wonderful; I enjoyed the chapters from Ramsey, and saw interactions I have had with my own students in the advice offered.  The skills we are building as students of education will help us to effectively educate students.  I particularly liked the observation that “the golden rule still works” (Ramsey).
I have struggled with my students this semester, particularly with the older students.  While I completely understand their need to rebel against authority (been there, done that), I have tried to defuse situations as best as I can by trying to be as straight-forward with the students as possible.  I haven’t dissembled from the basic fact that language gives them power, and that effectively using language allows them to have their voices be heard; however, I have tried not to let those students with the facility to use language well run the classroom.  I want my students to be critical thinkers, question facts and assumptions, and ask questions.  There are times when the questions asked seem to be raised as a method for deferring further work, rather than enhancing understanding of the matter at hand; I have begun attempting to redirect these kinds of questions into “how” and “why” arenas that relate back to the original subject, or guide the students on to the next point in the inference chain.  This seems to help matters immensely.
It was refreshing to read about giving instructions, particularly the pointers on how to give clear instructions.  This is something that I have been working on; I cannot assume that verbal repetition and written directions will make it through to my students.  I have found that I need to refresh their memories every couple of days, writing deadlines on the board, reiterating what they need to do and how to do it.  Some of the accepted formats for dissemination of information at my school have proven themselves to be flawed; if 90% of the students who receive a resource do not use it correctly or are unable to understand the information delivered, then the resource is at fault, and not the students.  I have recast information, broken my assignments into smaller pieces, and made certain that the “deliverables” desired are clearly understood by the students in my classes.  This makes me feel better about my teaching skills, and helps the students feel that the work they have to do is manageable…  Giving students the project a bit at a time, rather than having it due all at once, also seems to help with the management of workload and allows me to better monitor progress toward the class goals.  How do you manage large projects in your classrooms?

In response to high-stakes testing…

The narrative in Alsup and Bush on high-stake testing was very interesting, and raised questions that I have been concerned about during my practicum.  High-stake testing has been forced on schools in an effort by politicians to mandate accountability; ultimately, the judgement will be passed on whether the teacher has “done their job,” based on whether their students succeed in a testing environment.

How are we supposed to view this situation?  I assign work to my students, and frequently they do not complete their assignments.  If I cannot trust them to read their books, how can I trust them to prepare for tests?  There is a disconnect for students between their perception of what their work load should be and what is necessary for them to be prepared to take the EOCTs and the state-mandated graduation tests.

The administration at my school has determined that we need to “get the students ready for the test” by having them do practice tests online and complete workbooks.  These processes are tedious for the students who do well in the class, and daunting for those who struggle.  Couple the onerous task of test preparation with students who insist that they “can pass the test.  Everyone passes the test” and you have a recipe for disaster.  Even when confronted with failing grades on the practice test, students insist that “that’s not what the test is really like.  It won’t be like that.”  Is this an example of the “faith-based reality” I have heard so much about?  How can I reach students who are so unwilling to put forth the effort needed to pass the class, let alone prepare for tests that, whether they like it or not, will alter the course of their lives?  The narrative in Alsup and Bush advocates preparation performed “carefully and systematically” (Alsup and Bush, 2003, p. 159).  Even the most careful, systematic preparation can be derailed if the student refuses to perform the work.  How do we motivate the student who thinks they are too smart for “busy work?”  What do you do if a student tells you that they “beat your practice test” because they took a 45-question test in less than two minutes?  Grades that reflect their effort seem to be ineffective.  I hesitate to stoop to scare tactics, but I am reaching that point.  What would YOU do?