Here is a good illustration of why I choose to not participate in Zoom instruction** (and why I am no longer a middle school teacher).
Picture this:
Jack, sitting at his desk, hits the "join meeting" button on his iPad.
We are immediately face-to-face with a grid of 10 squirmy 6th graders and their patient teacher. We'll call her Ms. Frizzle. She tries to talk to the class, but it's hard to focus since one student keeps changing his background from space to Hogwarts and back to space, no Hogwarts. One kid is spinning in his office chair. Another keeps zooming in on what looks like a guinea pig? In one square you can only see the top of a kid's head. All are fidgeting, and the mic is picking-up all of the sounds.
The patient Ms. Frizzle decides she would like the kids to... and she's frozen.
The kids all start saying "Ms. Frizzle? Ms. Frizzle?" They all say, "She's frozen!" And therein begins the cacophony of "Where did she go?" "She's not the host anymore, I am!" "Ms. Frizzle ?" "What do we do?"
Ms. Frizzle's image returns to the screen. Her audio is muted as is her mic.
The children start trying to tell Ms. Frizzle they can't hear her by yelling practical things like, "You're muted!" "We can't hear you!" "Turn-on your audio!" as they make unusual gestures with their hands. Finally, the message is received.
Ms. Frizzle , audio back on, tells the students they will one-by-one, share what they've learned this week as they continued their research on the independent projects they've been working on for at least a month. She tells the students they will each have two minutes to share. She says, "Tommy, you go first."
There is a moment of silence, and then the class erupts with questions like, "Wait. What are supposed to do?" "When?" "Why?" "But I wasn't in class on Tuesday." "Ms. Frizzle what's the point of this?" "Can you explain it again?"
She regains control and again, very patiently explains.
Finally, the students begin sharing, one at a time, each receiving feedback and praise. After all of the students have shared, she, obviously weary from this 20 minute interaction, tells them that it's about time to sign-off. Abruptly, one girl interrupts and shouts, "Wait! I need to show you a magic trick!"
Before Ms. Frizzle can object, the girl performs the trick. Ms. Frizzle says, "Good one. Ok, well that's.." and then another student yells, "I didn't see it! Do it again!!"
This, my friends, was actually a highly successful lesson.
**We've just finished our first week of virtual teaching, and it has been a steep learning curve for many of us. We've had to completely change the ways in which we organise information. We've had to sift through the complexities of topics to get to the rudiments, and we've had to figure out a way to present information in an accessible way - something that we took for granted when we had the luxury of asking direct questions, interpreting what a kid is trying to say, and reading body language to determine how to follow-up. In a good way, this is actually a decent challenge for teachers. We should 'up' our technology game. We should be reflective about what is accessible and what isn't. In a not so good way, we're having to jump through hoops we've never encountered before. One of those hoops involves Zoom, our safeguarding approved, face-to-face meeting platform. Teachers can't just jump onto any on-line platform. It has to be monitored by administrators; paperwork for each meeting has to be completed, nothing can be recorded, and if only one kid shows-up, you have to end the meeting immediately. All of this is important, but it doesn't acknowledge other things, like actually understanding how the meeting platform works: figuring out how to access, navigate through, mute, un-mute, host, enhance, etc.. the platform.
I've decided not to do face-to face interactions because of the complexities involved and instead have focused on creating micro-podcasts and step-by step, condensed instruction sheets for assignments. I've focused more on the roadmap and independent learning and less on the direct teacher guidance. I have that luxury in a more literature and research based class. (I feel sad for all of the math and language teachers out there.)
Friday, March 27, 2020
Saturday, March 21, 2020
Virtually Indignant
I admit it. I was indignant. I looked around the room at my colleagues and took note of their posture - mostly arms crossed and slouched shoulders, eyes shifting from the speaker to their colleagues. Every time someone exhaled a little too loudly or coughed, be it a little raspy one or a deep throaty one, the reaction was wide eyes and then pursed lips. As I considered the germs in the room, I lauded myself for sitting away from others. We were having a faculty meeting just as governments were closing borders and and people were self-isolating because of Covid-19.
To be fair, the UK was lax to react. As borders were closing and staples were disappearing off of shelves, the leadership here was confident in their decision of inaction, and, as opposed to the 50 alarmist articles I had read on-line about the actions of other countries, the UK was happy to participate in something called "herd immunity". I read that as, "We hope you get sick, even if it means your loved ones will die. Because they will. But some will be OK." That's not a direct quote from BoJo, but it sounded like that, as the rest of the world went into duck and cover. The UK would ride that nuke into the great goodnight, cowboy hat in hand, yelling "Yee Haw!" Except they wouldn't yell, "Yee Haw!", they would rationally say, "Right."
In any case, I was testy.
As the speaker went through protocol and patiently addressed concerns, I was already drafting the email in my head. I would be happy to point out the irony of having a face-to-face meeting about the importance of virtual learning during a time of contagion. I think I tempered it a bit, after I wiped off the smugness of the idea. In any case, my boss said she would look into it, and she did. Not only that, she set it up.
And I panicked when I received the link to the next meeting.
I'm not new to virtual meetings. In fact, I got my current job after having had several meetings on Skype. In those cases, I dressed in my best professional attire. I put on layers of foundation. I stacked English 12 textbooks on top of my counter so that the computer camera would project the exact, most flattering angle. I played with lighting and backdrops. Should I be in front of the bookshelf or the fireplace? One said "intellectual bookworm, 'I sometimes wear glasses because I'm smart!'", the other, "comfortable, casual, "it doesn't matter where I am, because I'm cool, but look at my home while you're here". I practiced what I would say. I wrote cue cards. I practiced not looking at the cue cards. And after the stress of it all, I vowed to never interview virtually again.
Next, I had the opportunity to try a new trend: flipping the classroom. I, again, went for the endearing, "I'm not so good with technology" teacher approach, "but you love me because I'm trying." Bless.
Only two kids out of 20 watched the lesson. It was too much work for a meagre return.
Of course, I have Face-timed, video messaged, and Skyped family, but often I tried to be as far away from the camera as possible. "Look at Jack!" I deflect. "Isn't he cute!"
It was with trepidation that I clicked on the meeting link that I had to attend... because I made it happen. I decided I would not allow my camera to film me, and I turned off my microphone, so I wouldn't be heard. I would be incognito, I thought. I would be a little fly on the wall. Still, as the image of the meeting popped-up - my colleagues all looking at me and smiling - I immediately fled, not trusting the measures I had taken to turn off the camera. It would've been an unflattering angle, after all, and I hadn't put on any make-up, much less checked the lighting. I closed my iPad, heart racing, and it took a moment for me to compose myself. Why had I allowed myself to age so much? I mean, really, would it hurt to wear a pore minimising mask occasionally? I could also maybe have done some sit-ups or lunges or something. When I calmed myself, I decided I had to go back. That was the professional thing to do. I told myself to look directly at the camera so my eyes wouldn't do that weird float around thing that happens when people don't know where to look. I took a deep breath.
I, again, joined the meeting..
only to see a room full of people laughing in my direction.
What. the actual. hell!??
I fled again. This time, I actually got up and hopped around the room in that irritated, just got jump-scared way people do when they are annoyed but also amused but mostly annoyed. I would NOT go back. No way. In fact, I would burn my iPad. Immediately.
I needed wine.
In conclusion: Friends, this social distancing, virtual interaction will be an interesting road to navigate for some of us. Let's hope there's enough wine.
To be fair, the UK was lax to react. As borders were closing and staples were disappearing off of shelves, the leadership here was confident in their decision of inaction, and, as opposed to the 50 alarmist articles I had read on-line about the actions of other countries, the UK was happy to participate in something called "herd immunity". I read that as, "We hope you get sick, even if it means your loved ones will die. Because they will. But some will be OK." That's not a direct quote from BoJo, but it sounded like that, as the rest of the world went into duck and cover. The UK would ride that nuke into the great goodnight, cowboy hat in hand, yelling "Yee Haw!" Except they wouldn't yell, "Yee Haw!", they would rationally say, "Right."
In any case, I was testy.
As the speaker went through protocol and patiently addressed concerns, I was already drafting the email in my head. I would be happy to point out the irony of having a face-to-face meeting about the importance of virtual learning during a time of contagion. I think I tempered it a bit, after I wiped off the smugness of the idea. In any case, my boss said she would look into it, and she did. Not only that, she set it up.
And I panicked when I received the link to the next meeting.
I'm not new to virtual meetings. In fact, I got my current job after having had several meetings on Skype. In those cases, I dressed in my best professional attire. I put on layers of foundation. I stacked English 12 textbooks on top of my counter so that the computer camera would project the exact, most flattering angle. I played with lighting and backdrops. Should I be in front of the bookshelf or the fireplace? One said "intellectual bookworm, 'I sometimes wear glasses because I'm smart!'", the other, "comfortable, casual, "it doesn't matter where I am, because I'm cool, but look at my home while you're here". I practiced what I would say. I wrote cue cards. I practiced not looking at the cue cards. And after the stress of it all, I vowed to never interview virtually again.
Next, I had the opportunity to try a new trend: flipping the classroom. I, again, went for the endearing, "I'm not so good with technology" teacher approach, "but you love me because I'm trying." Bless.
Only two kids out of 20 watched the lesson. It was too much work for a meagre return.
Of course, I have Face-timed, video messaged, and Skyped family, but often I tried to be as far away from the camera as possible. "Look at Jack!" I deflect. "Isn't he cute!"
It was with trepidation that I clicked on the meeting link that I had to attend... because I made it happen. I decided I would not allow my camera to film me, and I turned off my microphone, so I wouldn't be heard. I would be incognito, I thought. I would be a little fly on the wall. Still, as the image of the meeting popped-up - my colleagues all looking at me and smiling - I immediately fled, not trusting the measures I had taken to turn off the camera. It would've been an unflattering angle, after all, and I hadn't put on any make-up, much less checked the lighting. I closed my iPad, heart racing, and it took a moment for me to compose myself. Why had I allowed myself to age so much? I mean, really, would it hurt to wear a pore minimising mask occasionally? I could also maybe have done some sit-ups or lunges or something. When I calmed myself, I decided I had to go back. That was the professional thing to do. I told myself to look directly at the camera so my eyes wouldn't do that weird float around thing that happens when people don't know where to look. I took a deep breath.
I, again, joined the meeting..
only to see a room full of people laughing in my direction.
What. the actual. hell!??
I fled again. This time, I actually got up and hopped around the room in that irritated, just got jump-scared way people do when they are annoyed but also amused but mostly annoyed. I would NOT go back. No way. In fact, I would burn my iPad. Immediately.
I needed wine.
In conclusion: Friends, this social distancing, virtual interaction will be an interesting road to navigate for some of us. Let's hope there's enough wine.
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