An Internet PSA from 1995

If you haven't see this yet, then you will probably have the same reaction I did...this has got to be staged.  These kids either had one of the most visionary teachers (secret career of Steve Jobs?) of all time, or they were routinely practicing black magic.  As far as I can tell from my research, it is legit.  I remember that in 1995 I was using Prodigy to get online, and I was constantly checking the little box that said, "Do Not Load Images," so that I could get my pages loaded in under five minutes.

You Don't Know Jack About Learning (and Neither Do I)

I am constantly amazed by how little we understand the learning process.  If you put 20 well-educated people in a room, they will most likely not be able to agree on how learning happens.  Sure, they know it when they see it, and we can tell you how Miss Sally McSmarty learns, but what about everyone else?  Is it any wonder we have so much difficulty making learning "happen" with children with a wide range of emotional issues when it can't be defined? 

Have you ever tried to "teach" someone how to breath?  Of course not.  We are born with an intuitive knowledge of how this process works.  It is something that we all do hundreds of times per day, but it is invisible and automatic.  In fact, thinking too much about your breathing process can cause you to become light-headed and panicky. 

As newborns, we immediately began learning faces, sounds, smells, touch, and eventually language.  Did anyone ever try to educate a newborn on who their mommy and daddy is?  Of course not.  Just put a three-month-old in the arms of a total stranger and see how well they have learned whom their parents are. 

Learning and breathing are automatic processes.  You can't help but be learning all the time.  It is a state of being.  The difficulties occur when we attempt to teach it and break it down for others.  They can become "lightheaded and panicky."  

What would you do in real life if someone walked up to you and began lecturing you on a topic against your will?  You would surely walk away, or find some excuse to leave the premises.  If you were too polite to slip away, you would almost certainly fall into a pattern of nodding and vocal cues - taking in absolutely nothing that they said.

Imagine the same situation, but replaced with you approaching the person and asking, "Could you tell me more about...?"  You would almost certainly be much more naturally present and receptive to the information.

Through our efforts as educators to teach, beat, and conquer learning, we have done much to short-circuit the instincts of our kids.  We have taken the natural God-given curiosity they had fresh out of the box, and taught them that learning is something that happens TO YOU from 8 a.m. to 3 p.m. with a textbook and a worksheet.  Nights and weekend?  Nah!  Do your homework (of course), but then just find out what is happening with all of your friends, go online to figure out how to get past those levels in a new video game, and watch YouTube videos on natural disasters...you know..."not" learning.

At what point did we decide that transferring information from a lecture or book to a piece of paper was learning?  I want to see the research that says this is a best practice.  Yet, asking our students to spend hours perfecting this process is common in many school buildings.  Basically, we are training kids to operate as copy machines, except for when we are writing research papers - then it is called plagiarism.

Lest you think I am the all-knowing sage lecturing you from my pulpit on a topic against your will (you clicked on the link, remember?), I want to admit that I am the guiltiest of guilty.  Oh yes, I have been a packet-of-worksheets-stand-and-deliver kind-of-teacher for many years.  The reason I went into teaching was so people would have to listen to me go on and on without being able to complain.  

The problem is that now I know this strategy doesn't work as well.  Sure, I could keep at it with my students (adult learners), but why would I want to...

Flying a Kite & Other Ways to Injure Your Children: School Edition

It was the first day of school today, and I offered to get the kids ready for school so that my wife could get into her classroom and prepare for students.  I thought this was quite noble of me, and well within my talent set.  When the kids were dressed, brushed, and groomed, and ready to eat breakfast at 7:30, I still had a few strands of my vocal chords in place.  Success!

I had prepared myself to NOT enter any classrooms for my oldest two children, but I assumed there would be a moment or acknowledgement from them.  When I pictured my wife doing this the past four years, I had images of hugs, tears, and tender embraces.

This morning my oldest two sons shunned eye contact and sort of skulked off while my back was turned.  There were no tears or hugs.  The closest I came to a hug may have been when my middle son brushed against my leg in his rush to escape and may or may not have attempted to deposit a booger on my shorts.  I express doubt (not because he isn't fully capable of this maneuver) but because he wasn't successful.

My youngest had a non-traditional first day, which required me to bring him back a few hours later.  He played contently while I Skyped and worked furiously to make plans for some eLearning Admin Academy sessions.  As the time approached for his day to begin, he began yelling...no...BELLOWING at me to basically get my butt moving.  I would have been touched by his enthusiasm if I weren't suddenly concerned that I was being bullied by a three-year-old.

He kicked and cheered the entire ride to school.  When we arrived in the parking lot, I unbuckled him, helped him onto the ground, and swiftly closed the door.  At some point in this sequence he did not follow the plan and must have turned back towards the car.  I know this (not because I witnessed the retreat), but because my brain was seared with the image and sound of the car door thunking off of his head.  Thankfully, it was more of a glance not resulting in a goose egg, but it did result in a hug, tears, and an embrace (and he was upset too).

When we approached his classroom door, I saw the mess of parents coddling and coaxing their teary children.  There were choruses of, "It'll be okay," and verses of, "I'll be back before you know it."  As I stood taking in the moment, my youngest promptly walked through the classroom door.  I sprinted after him, but was stopped at the door by the teacher.

"Sorry, the parents are staying outside the room today," I was informed.

"No problem, I just want to wave goodbye to my son because I think he thought I was following behind me, and I don't want him to think I just left him," I replied.

We both stood in the doorway and watched as he hung up his lunchbox, spun in a circle, and walked straight past the door without looking my way.  The teacher looked at me with a pitiful face.

"I think he's okay."

I turned back to the mob of writhing children, and did my best to wade through the slippery tears and snot puddling all over the floor.

A mother nearby said, "I think we make a bigger deal about this than they do."

"You have no idea," I replied.

I walked to my car thinking about how proud I am that my kids are confident and independent.  It did occur to me that it would be nice to get some neediness at some point, but then again, I was the dad who hit his kids in the head with car doors...

Let's just call it even.