At Santa
Barbara Junior High, students have access to computers in the library and
the computer lab. However, the computer lab is only accessible through teacher
sign-ups, and the library operates on a similar policy. The librarians
generally let students walk in with a pass if there are extra computers to
use, but mostly the on campus computer access is strangely limited.
Considering the Common Core's requirement to implement technology into any
curriculum, how are students going to keep up with requirements if teachers are
limited in how much time they can lead students with any particular lesson?
Many
students are tech savvy, but even the higher-level tech users have trouble
following through with assignments. EDU, for example, is incredibly useful for
quick assessment quizzes and mini essays during a class unit, but it's only
useful so long as the students actually go home and use it. To check
for accessibility outside of school, or even at a public library, I
queried my content class with a simple Google quiz. The irony of creating a
Google Form quiz was I had to print it out and administer it as a hard copy,
then input the collected data myself.
I knew if I
gave the students the link to take the quiz at home I would have had answers
from maybe 10 kids, or about 30 percent of the class. This would have been
misleading, however, since the hardcopy results told me that all 29 students
have Internet access at home. So why the disparity?
Several of the kids are on the verge of failing. Many of
them go to afterschool homework clubs, thus when they get home they don’t want
to sit down at the computer and do more
homework. Even the kids who were working above average and had all the
classwork done and were mentoring their fellow students had still failed to
share a Google Doc with me after a week of prodding them during and after every
class. Most of the lack of shared docs was to save face.
A few girls over the last day or two admitted they didn’t
know how to share a document. This is strangely disheartening, since I had
shown them on the big screen two days in a row how to share a doc. Yet even
after multiple examples, they still didn’t know how. This is probably due to
not having a screen in front of them to actually do the process while I showed
them, so that once they got home they forgot the steps. Finally a handful of
boys and girls came up and begged me to show them again, and I used the two
iMacs in the class to walk them through the process near the end of class.
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Even though most students still hadn't done something as
simple as share a Google Doc with me, they answered that
they would prefer to answer on EDU.
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Several teachers informed me that the previous
superintendent of schools wasn’t into technology, and therefore not only
was there an insufficient amount of computers, there wasn’t anybody teaching
the kids how to use the things. Now we have the push to assess our students
with technology through technology, and many of the students know what they
want to accomplish, but don’t have the technological dexterity to accomplish
those goals.
I hope with the Common Core moving into the curriculum, with
its emphasis on technology, that districts, the state and local administration
will find ways to reinvigorate student knowledge of computers and their many
uses. Growing up we had computer and typing class: now, at SBJH anyway, they
have neither. It’s not fair to the kids and it’s not fair to the teachers, both
of whom are hamstringed by lofty rhetoric with no way to implement the ideas.
Reflection
I’ve always been a part of the tech #nerdfarm, and
it’s only been a matter of finances that has kept me from keeping up with the
proverbial Jones’s. So while I consider myself fairly informed of the new and
cool, I am now also much more aware of the strange grey legality of educational
data systems such as EDU.
When I discovered that EDU was less than a year
old, and already the district is adopting Illuminate, all while still merged with
Aeries, I couldn’t help but wonder what kind of charlatan was playing the
well-intentioned administrators against each other and selling program after
program to an unsuspecting audience.
Recently, a few members of my PLC at Santa Barbara
Junior High complained about an email the admin had sent out, which detailed
students on their rosters who had missing assignments and therefore were on the
verge of failing. This information had come from the admin sitting and pouring
over the EDU data. Since my master’s question involved analyzing some EDU data,
and after asking several of the tech specialists in the district how this can
be facilitated, I know that analyzing that data is done manually. There is no magic button to sort female from male
students, analytics of all seventh grade students with grades below a C-, or a
simplified chart of missing assignments and what students haven’t turned in
that work.
One discovery I made without even looking for the
answer was that poor grades are directly correlated to missing work. If
students get in all work, even if the general content is merely satisfactory,
students will get at least a C (give or take). My point is that EDU has that
information embedded, but it requires hours of manually sorting through this
data to get answers. What concerns me is the admin desperately want this data,
and this is why there are currently three data systems being bandied about in
the system.
As we read about in class, the concern over privacy
is a legitimate issue, as administrators, principals in particular, almost have
carte blanche to allocate funds toward whatever functionality they feel will
best serve their school. While systems like EDU are system wide and are
therefore vetted by a much bigger braintrust than any one principal, just
seeing the end results with individual schools it’s apparent that those in
charge of buying data systems have no idea what it really does prior to signing
the check.
That same article stated “school
districts across the country are increasingly adopting digital technologies
that collect details about students’ achievements, activities, absences,
disabilities and learning styles in an effort to tailor instruction to the
individual child. The hope is that personalized, data-driven education will
ultimately improve students’ graduation rates and career prospects.”
Personalized data, if gathered correctly, couldn’t possibly do anything but help
teachers and admin—and parents—help kids become better learners and citizens.
Data collecting is what good teachers have been doing for decades, centuries
even, all without the aid of a good data system.
They have collected attendance, watched their
behavior, analyzed their work, and interpreted that data to communicate better
with any given child. Now it’s become easier to sort out the little details,
and teachers can merge toward the role of uncertified psychologists to better
serve the kids in their classroom. Yet the people providing these data systems
and mandating their use are also unlicensed lawyers, signing contracts for
giant data systems without reading the small print.
“New research on how school districts handle the
transfer of student data to companies, for instance, has found that administrators have signed contracts without
clauses to protect personal details like children’s contact information,
age ranges or where they wait for school buses every morning. [italics are
mine].”
Does this mean the admin are ignorant? No,
they’re desperate, and constantly seeking quick fixes, all while the greasy
charlatans make money coming and going. Clint Eastwood showed how it was done
in A Fistful of Dollars. Maybe during
the next district-wide meeting that movie should be mandatory viewing so the
admin can learn from their mistakes.
My viewpoint on all of this technology was most
subverted by the number of students who are incredibly efficient at typing
their papers into Google Docs—some are quicker at thumbing their rough drafts
onto tiny little screens than they are typing them onto a real computer. This
is both the new generation adapting to what is most readily available to them,
and a sad statement that the school system is well behind proper training of
the next generation of youth.
Typing on a standard Qwerty keyboard is a dying
art form, and yet it is one of the foundational skills stated in the school
curriculum starting in fourth grade. By sixth grade students should have at a
minimum a rudimentary ability to type 20 to 30 words a minute, using proper
hand technique. Sadly, close to 100 percent of the current crop of students
have no idea how to type on a traditional keyboard, and that percentage goes
all the way to seniors in high school.
I’ve talked to parents who scoff at the ability
to type—they don’t see it as a useful tool. Students adopt this mentality and
prove their scorn through their deft use of smartphones to type in their
documents. Given, with the rapid (rabid?) rise of tablets into the classroom, the
keyboard is a relic, and most people are quicker at pecking or thumbing than
they are at typing. If this is a trend, however disheartening, is it something
educators should just resolve themselves to?
This simple argument for typing is a symptom of a
bigger problem: a disconnect between the new and the old. If the current
argument holds, there will be an entire generation of college students unable
to type in the traditional sense, and they will be in the computer lab typing their
term papers on their smart phones while checking their Facebook status on the
screen next to them.








