What I want to explore today are a few of my thoughts about why blogging is a particularly powerful tool to give to gifted students. Gifted students have some unique needs that blogging can help teachers to address. Read the rest of this entry
Though it has taken me much longer than I planned to get back to this topic, I want to share with you today what I believe is an outstanding and probably very obscure tool that would be excellent for gifted students.
Think back a few years. No, further back. A little further. When home computers had memory measured in kilobytes, an 8-color monitor was high resolution, and disks were floppy.
The cutting-edge trend in computer entertainment was something called a “text adventure game.” Zork is the classic example of games in this genre, but there were dozens of them. They had no graphics and no need for a controller, because the entire means of interacting with the game was through text.
I’ve been reading Garr Reynolds’s book Presentation Zen (and am a fan of his blog, too). I picked it up because I wanted to improve my presentation and design skills, but in the process I’m seeing some parallels with curriculum design.
We’re all familiar with the “Death by PowerPoint” scenario:
Some of the characteristics typical of bad PowerPoint presentations:
Perceptive readers of this blog (er, maybe using the plural there is presumptuous) will notice that the tagline has changed. Though I will still have a bent towards technology and gifted education here, because both of those are passions of mine, I decided the change was in order for two reasons.
First, from the start my posts have often ranged beyond those two topics into other areas of education, and I always felt awkward writing outside of my declared focus area. The new tag more accurately reflects what I write about and why.
Second, I have begun to realize that teachers can no longer afford to be just teachers.
[Cue Don LaFontaine:] In a world where tests reign and textbooks rule, one tireless soul has the power to turn a ragtag bunch of kids into a lean, mean, learning machine: The Teacher. [Thank you. That will be all, Mr. Fontaine.]
Before we can be teachers, though, we must first add two other titles to our resumes: learner and designer.
This will not be pretty. This will not be organized. This will not be thorough, or analytical, or even insightful, perhaps. There will be no links, or references, or resources.
I haven’t had time to process much (if any) of what I’ve absorbed in the last two days, and I’ve probably missed more than I’ve managed to catch. As I have time to go back and review my notes, revisit the sessions (thank you Elluminate!) and think about all that I’ve learned, I’m sure I will come back and share. But for now, it will just have to be raw and unpolished.
First, Educon really and truly is as advertised: it’s all about the conversations. Some were deeper than others, some were more formal than others, but all of them were worthwhile and helped me grow.
It’s a line you’ve probably seen on ads for sports equipment:
Better Tools for Better Performance
A debate is swirling among many people in my PLN about what’s more important: the tools and technology, or the teaching and learning. Before I begin exploring examples of great technology tools to use with gifted students, I thought it would be worth exploring, since it is directly relevant. The crux of it can be summarized in this exchange I had recently with Tony Baldasaro (@baldy7) on Twitter: Read the rest of this entry
First a disclaimer: If you read that title and thought, “Oh cool, another list of [sites/games/activities] I can plug into my [instruction/centers/homework/busywork] to keep my gifted kids [challenged/engaged/occupied/from bugging me],” then this is not the post you were looking for.
Keteleeria tree stolen from the Washington Park Arboretum
Last week a tree was cut down in Seattle and is probably now sitting in someone’s living room, wrapped in lights, festooned with glittering ornaments, and draped in tinsel. This would not be much of a story, especially in December, except for the fact that the tree in question was an exceedingly rare specimen of Keteleeria evelyniana, a conifer native to China, that had been transplanted ten years ago to the Washington Park Arboretum. The staff arrived on December 9 to discover that overnight someone, presumably looking for a free holiday decoration, had removed the tree.
Asked about its appearance during an interview on NPR, the plant collections manager for the Arboretum, Randall Hitchin, said, “In general aspect, it looks like a conifer: tall, dark green, symmetrical.” Sort of like your run-of-the-mill Christmas tree? “In the dark,” Hitchin replied.
Gifted children can be like the K. evelyniana. To an untrained eye, or to those who don’t know the difference (or care to know, as in the case of the tree thief), most gifted kids look like your typical, run-of-the-mill kid. In a classroom of students, it is often easy to miss the unique qualities that make them stand out, that make them rare specimens.
It is important for teachers to get feedback from knowledgeable observers. A good supervisor will help you elevate your practice, hone the skills that are already sharp, and identify the areas where you have allowed lax habits to seep in.
Even the best supervisors can only visit a few times a year. Having peers watch us work is helpful, but making that happen is often a logistical challenge. We could videotape the lesson and watch it later, but that too is often complicated and time-consuming.
We often forget the team of observers that is readily available: our students. Ask your students regularly to tell you how you are doing. They’ll tell you. In excruciating detail.
Even better, do what a colleague of mine did the other day, perhaps without even realizing what would result: Ask your students to teach. It was fascinating to watch as students took on the persona of the teacher, then walked around the room, shushing other children, gesturing, and explaining. We saw, in sometimes frighteningly accurate mimicry, the precise methods and mannerisms that the teacher uses on a regular basis.
If you really want to find out what you do well—and will dare to find out what you don’t—put your students in the front of the classroom.
When I first moved to Bucks County, I knew the major routes to get around the area. I could, by rote, drive from my house to my in-laws’ house. I could also drive from my house to the school where I worked. I could flawlessly and efficiently travel those well-worn paths and arrive promptly at my destination.
One day, I received a simple phone call from my wife: “My parents are making dinner for us tonight. Just come straight from school and meet us there.”
Not a problem. I left work at my usual four o’clock and with traffic arrived a little after 5:30 PM.
“What took you so long? Did you have a meeting after school?”
“No, I left as soon as I could.”
“But it should only take a half hour.”
“That’s impossible. It’s more than that just to our house, then another 40 minutes to your parents.”
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