"A smooth sea never made a skilled sailor"
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| Squishing the Statue of Liberty, 2009 |
I really tried to overcome my fear that time in New York. I stood in line for tickets and when I asked to see the craft that would be taking us, I politely excused myself from the line. I felt terrible for being afraid, even though there wasn't anyone around for me to be embarrassed. My wife was with her family and I was touring the city on my own looking for adventures. When they asked, I said simply that the line was too long and it would have taken up too much time, which is my usual excuse whenever someone invites me on a boat, or a cruise, or anything that would require trust in buoyancy to keep me alive. I can fly over water. I can swim in pools. I can dip my feet in the lake or the ocean. Long bridges get a little suspect halfway through, but for the most part, it's only boating in places where I'm not 100% confident I could reach the shore that make me pause.
In many ways, I associate my own fear of open waters with the fear that some people have with technology and using technology in the classroom. On the surface, it seems all nice and calm, but in the wretched depths and darkness that we all know exist there are likely rip tides, jellyfish, alligators, and probably the Kracken. Technology can be as absolutely terrifying as open waters for the inexperienced or unfamiliar. Just like those who grew up on and around the water, or love swimming, I sense that it has more to do with expectations than with reality.
For the past twelve years, I've been completely immersed in the educational technology pool. My entire education has included the phrase "computers in the classroom" and I'm reaching the point in my personal life where my home systems are becoming automated like something out of a Ray Bradbury short story. It's safe to say that when it comes to technology in the classroom, I'm basically Aquaman. From an outside perspective, it probably looks like my incorporation of technology goes as smoothly as an Olympic swimmer battling for gold. But like any other challenge in life, failure to accomplish the set goal is part of the learning process. And while I desperately wish I could figure out a way to apply this lesson to my fear of water, I certainly apply the lessons of failure to lofty classroom goals.
Two years ago, I launched a project for Multimedia Communications (a senior level English elective) that asked students to mimic the style of the WBEZ Podcast "Curious City". They were to come up with questions about our school, find the people in the school who could answer those questions, interview the people, edit the sound, and together we would put together a little half-hour to an hour show. On the surface, the project was engaging, informative, professional, and creative -- all things I want my students to produce. What I got from the students could be best summed up as two to three minutes of static-ridden dribble where they jokingly interviewed a friend or teacher about some of the most irrelevant questions. My favorite was a fifteen-second clip of someone asking, "Why do so many students buy the chicken wrap?" with the answer, "Because they're awesome." That was it, the whole submission. Then there was the problem of the editing. Because of the laptops we were using at the time, we had to rely on some web based tools that weren't up to the challenge. Most students just cropped some silence at the beginning and end. Our final submission was about twenty minutes of garbage and another twenty minutes of materials not suitable for publication.
Not to be deterred, I recruited the help of a colleague who runs a class on Digital Music editing and he was more than thrilled to come on board the following year, offering equipment and students and time to help us create the podcast. I retooled the project, had the questions submitted in advance, and came up with a plan for students to record in the studio and then work with a student editor to get the piece they wanted. This time, it would be different.
As it turns out, many Seniors have lots of things to do outside of the 48 minutes I see them every day. I didn't know this, but they have other classes, co-curricular activities, sports, and even jobs. To get all thirty of them into the recording studio would mean either having to take 30 class days to record, or about six weeks of outside time scheduled between two faculty members before any sort of editing could even be done. I wasn't willing to give up that much class time, and I couldn't ask the students to stay engaged for six weeks just to produce a little podcast. Once again, my relevant, engaging, creative, and tech-driven lesson had failed.
Basically, I was dead in the water when it came to this podcast idea, so we went back to the old ways. The students picked a podcast they liked, they listened to it, and they wrote an analysis piece on the style and content of the podcast, including some very engaging criteria like audience response, monetary value, sponsorship, and advertising. Still, there has always been something "staying safe on land" about such an assignment. Yes, it more than meets the academic rigors of media analysis that the class requires, but it's far too academic for me to say that it's part of a push to get the students exposed to real-world experiences. For two years, even though I tried to make it sail, the assignment has failed to meet my expectations.
That's generally why we use the acronyms FAIL and SAIL, for First Attempt in Learning and Second Attempt in Learning. This year will be the third attempt at the project, and for now, I think I'm going to stick with having them record on their phones and not worry so much about the editing part. Maybe I'll make the editing part of an enrichment project for a student who shows promise or interest in such a field, but the fact of the matter remains that many times when we try a moonshot idea, it fails. Sometimes (many times even) we don't get on the boat and we don't get to see the Statue of Liberty up close. But that doesn't mean we stop trying. I still want to get out to Liberty Island one day, but it's been seven years, and honestly, I've grown to love the picture of me squishing it as an alternative to actually being there.
Christopher Frye
English Instructor and Technology Coach
Carl Sandburg High School
District 230
Christopher Frye
English Instructor and Technology Coach
Carl Sandburg High School
District 230

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