Melting Ice Caps and Changing Ontologies

An alarming column in the business section of Saturday's Globe and Mail causes me to draw some parallels between the week's readings, the state of the planet, our own very small role as educators and an ontological review of self in a time of crisis.

Entitled "Melting Icecap Puts Europe's Woes in Perspective", the column stands out amidst the stories on the effects of free trade and the fate of RIM. Reguly (2012) writes that "extreme weather has gone from rare to almost normal ... the Arctic icecap is disappearing at shock and awe rates, far faster than the vast majority of climate scientists predicted only a few years ago". He notes that on the economic front, climate change is already reducing global GDP by 1.6% and concludes by musing, "Makes you wonder why so much energy and money is being devoted to far lesser crises".

The analysis of climate change by a hard-headed business writer made me think about how humankind got into this dire predicament, and the answers to this issue that are suggested by this week's readings. Matusitz and Kramer (2011) describe how "positivism claims that there is only one true picture of reality, thus negating the possibility of dialogue between them" (p. 299) and "the penchant for establishing the truth, once and for all, with solution and resolution being finalized, emerged along with  industrialization" (p. 299). Furthermore, "the modern industrial world is goal oriented and demands production which is units produced per unit of time" (p. 299). "If a forest cannot be timbered or a river harnessed for generating power, providing water, or fished, then it has no value" (p. 300).

The view that humankind has taken of nature (even the use of the words 'humankind' and 'nature' suggests an opposition between them) suggests Nietzshe's notion of perspectivism (p. 292). Knowing subjects in the western industrial economies have been born into, lived in and worked in, a world in which the environment plays a distant second fiddle to economic growth. Until recently, no other perspective was really possible. As Kant writes, society determines what is true and false, right and wrong. "What we think true is a collective delusion from which no one can escape" (p. 295). 

Except now, when Ottawa's Rideau Canal has largely stopped freezing during winter, and North America roasts during summers of record temperatures and searing drought, the "collective delusion" that the environment can be trampled upon is fading as rapidly as the polar ice caps.

What are we as educators to do? How can we position ourselves philosophically so that we may play a constructive role in society's adaptation to climate change and, possibly, its efforts to try to ameliorate the situation? In the words of the guiding question we have been asked, how does our awareness of these arguments shape our ontological view of self?"

One stance is surely suggested by Howe's description of transformationists as proceeding by "articulating and employing broad political principles--justice, equality, and the like--to criticize existing conditions and to suggest the direction that transformations should take place" (p. 18). Educators as transformationists could articulate and employ broad political principles that place the environment at the forefront of human concerns and suggest the practical steps that individuals and governments could take to try to address the most pressing issues. 

Reguly, E. (2012, September 29). Melting icecap puts Europe's woes in perspective. The Globe and Mail, pp. B1.

Howe, K. (1998). The interpretive turn and the new debate in education,  Educational Researcher, 27(8), 13-20.

Matusitz, J. And Kramer, E. (2011) A critique of Bernstein’s beyond objectivism and relativism: science, hermeneutics, and praxis by Jonathan Matusitz1 and Eric Kramer, Poesis & Praxis,  7(4), 291-303.http://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC3136698

"Becoming" Wireless

Matt's comments on the importance of informal learning and the ways in which it might impact formal learning led me to consider Heidegger's ideas, as expressed in Dall' Alba (2009), and their possible application to the study of adolescents in the era of ubiquitous wi fi.

The point that Heidegger makes - and thank goodness for Dall 'Alba's clear, accessible interpretation of his dense prose - is that becoming a professional involves "transformation of the self through embodying the routines and traditions of the profession in question" (Dall'Alba, 2009). She argues that faculties of education should switch their focus from epistemology - steering people toward thinking like teachers - to ontology - forming the very essence of people INTO teachers.

There's a link between this and my proposed thesis research, in which I

intend to study the ways in which today's wireless youth encounter and experience live theatre. Thanks to this week's readings, I see that there is an ontological aspect to this. A key question at the root of my question is, "How has being raised in the wireless era helped to form young people? What are they like? How do they BE?"

Theatre is an ancient cultural tradition, formed in the pre-Internet world and perhaps, now, struggling to keep itself relevant. When you take someone whose ontological being has been formed by the wizards at Apple and place her in front of a play written to be cutting edge in 1605, what happens?

Her physical position in the theatre suggests, as Merleau-Ponty writes (in Dall'Alba, 2009) that 'The body is the vehicle for being in the world" (p. 37). But if she has an eye on her iPhone during the performance, her body is in the theatre but her mind is somewhere else - partially in the theatre, partially attending to other matters. This would confirm his assertion that "ambiguity is of the essence of human existence, and everything we live or think has several meanings" (Merleau-Ponty, in Dall'Alba, 2009) .

What kind of person does an immersion in the pleasures of the Internet form? My guess is that, by looking at the encounter between her and the live play, I can begin to posit some answers.

One more thing. Lincoln and Guba (2000) describe how foundationalists see that ways of defining reality are rooted in phenomena existing out side the human mind (p. 176). Critical foundationalists like Marxists look at those underlying power structures and see the cause of oppression, inequality and marginalization (p. 177). I would be very interested to know - and would be delighted if anyone could point me in the right direction - what work has been done on the ontological question of how growing wireless shapes being. What are the foundations that define the adolescent's wireless world? Who shapes them? In whose interest are they formed?

A critical examination of the power structures that shape the very core being of our young people, and a consideration of who is winning and losing in that massive effort - could be a useful contribution to our understanding of our student's lives and an insight into how culture is changing in response. 

Applying Epistemology to Research

In my thesis I intend to explore how members of the wireless generation experience live theatre. Although much remains to be decided, I would guess that my research methodology will involve watching a series of plays with grade 12 students and then meeting with them in focus groups to discuss, in a semi-structured interview format, how they felt about the experience.

How might my introduction to epistemology help to underpin this process?

• The epistemological experience will be constructivist, because I’m pretty sure there are no objective truths waiting for me to discover. Instead, I will be probing the ways in which “subject and object emerge as partners in the generation of meaning” (Crotty, p. 9).
• My findings will fall under post-positivism: I will be seeking to “approximate the truth rather than grasp its totality” (p. 29). 
• I will be a social constructionist in my research, because I believe that “culture is best seen as the source rather than the result of human thought and behavior” (p. 53). My students have been “born into a world of meaning” (p. 54), and my job is to explore what the world is, and how is affects their experience of live theatre.
• Having spent some reading Joe Kincheloe and Shirley Steinberg, I may also bring a critical thinking lens to the research, since I suspect that student use of technology is not as benign as many imagine. Students may believe that they are “thinking different” as they turn on the iPhones at the theatre, but that very act places them within the conflict between consumerist and artistic culture. 

This will, I hope, clarify the purpose of my research and help to frame and support its findings. 

There's Nothing in "King Lear"

As is so often the case with graduate studies, what I spend studying one day becomes a big part of one my teaching the next.

I’m working on Shakespeare’s King Lear with my grade 12s at the moment, and commenting on the use of the use of the word “nothing” in the first couple of scenes. At the beginning of the play, Lear makes the mistake of dividing up his kingdom between his two wicked daughters and sending his good daughter, Cordelia (which is also the name of my cat, but that’s another story) into exile because she won’t play along with his “love test” and tell him how much she loves him.

“What can you say to draw/A third more opulent than your sisters?”, asks Lear.

“Nothing, my lord”, Cordelia replies.

“Nothing!”, he counters.

“Nothing.”

And then come his fateful, and particularly intriguing words: “Nothing will come of nothing: speak again”.

Lear, of course, is dead wrong about a lot of things at the beginning of the play – this is a tragedy, after all, and the tragic hero has much to learn – but this year, for the first time, I saw that he is also wrong about “nothing”.

According to the reading I did the day before class, in constructionism, “meaning is not discovered, but constructed” (Crotty, p. 9). This means that by articulating the notion of “nothingness”, Lear gives thought, intentionality and substance to it. As soon as it is identified by him, “nothing” becomes “something”.

And of course that’s absolutely right, because “nothingness” has enormous consequences throughout the play. Lear gives up his crown, and the “nothing” at the centre of the kingdom leads to war; he loses his reason and the “nothing” that fills up his mind leads, ironically, to greater insight.

Shakespeare seems to articulate the constructionist point of view. He understands that “nothingness” is a very real and active part of the world – if it appears in government, chaos reigns; if it appears in the mind, wisdom can be achieved.

Much comes of “nothing”.

Theory into Practice

I have been reading a great deal of Marlene Scardamalia’s work in preparation for my final two papers, finding all sorts of interesting links between her theories of knowledge-building and my own observations and thoughts about teaching theatre literacy in the grade 12 classroom. I have also been reflecting on some of the struggles expressed in previous blogs about how I can integrate technology into my classroom in more effective and helpful ways, and what a renewed classroom environment will look like come September.

In her work, Knowledge Building: Theory, Pedagogy and Technology (2006), Scardamalia writes that in a genuine knowledge building community, “the Internet becomes more that a desktop library and a rapid mail-delivery system. It becomes the first realistic means for  students to connect with civilization-wide knowledge building and to make their classroom work a part of it” (p. 98).

A walk in the lovely, late evening prairie gloom brought to mind some of the tools and approaches that I could see supporting my practice:

1.       Post course materials and move toward a paperless environment.

2.       Pool student online research around key questions.

3.       Allow peer teaching as students hone each other’s papers before showing them to me.

4.       Create an online discussion board, and the expectation of a reflective student blog.

5.       Post short instructional videos by me on common teaching trouble spots such as how to write a thesis statement.

6.       Post expert lectures for additional background.

7.       Create links to online simulations like StageStruck.

8.       Create links to supplementary materials like backstage interviews with actors and directors.

9.       Allow for a greater variety of work to be posted in an e-portfolio.

10.   Engage in collaborative learning with students overseas.

11.   Allow for research around problems.

12.   Engage in online debates, possibly with a sister school in India.

13.   Create more varied online presentations and epistemic artefacts such as videos and artworks.

14.   Provide the opportunity for students to ask questions of experts in the field, such as questions about how they might have tackled certain staging issues in their production of a Shakespeare play.

I’ll look forward to trying out a few of these approaches as the months unfold, keen to put them to use in the creation of a knowledge-building community modelled on the practices of literary scholarship. Should be fun!

Schools and the Participatory Culture

Dr. Friesen’s description of the wonderful work being done at Olds School brought our reading of Confronting the Challenges of Participatory Culture (Jenkins, 2009) to mind, particularly its definition of the phrase “participatory culture”:

 “1. relatively low barriers to artistic expression and civic engagement

2. strong support for creating and sharing creations with others

3. some type of informal mentorship whereby what is known by the most experienced is passed along to novices

4. members who believe that their contributions matter

5. members who feel some degree of social connection with one another (at the least, they care what other people think about what they have created”. (p. 5)

 Jenkins uses the phrase to describe the world of Web 2.0, in which people have switched from being receivers to creators of content. But it could also be applied to the ideals of schooling that we have been talking about in class. If students were allowed to seize their right to an education, were given the opportunity to develop their minds and engage in happy and productive work with their friends, school itself could become a “participatory culture”, and the five facets to the definition would hold true. There would be low barriers to expression; strong support for creativity; informal mentorship from the teacher; meaningful contributions; and strong bonds between students engaged in meaningful work.

What is it that prevents the participatory culture we see flourishing on the web from taking hold in our schools? I suspect that a deep reason is that, institutionally, we are afraid of students and believe that the only way to make them work is to force them to do so – the old industrial model of control.

And yet what is heart-breaking for those of us focussed on the secondary years, is to remember for a moment the joy that motivates student learning in the younger grades. Much of what happens in those early years could be termed as “participatory culture” – the sounds of happy engagement from the well-run classroom are evidence of that.

The challenge for high school teachers like myself is to reignite the joy of learning in our students, to believe in their innate curiosity, and to open our doors to the participatory culture that has so naturally taken hold in other aspects of their lives.

Teaching at a Good School

The discussion in class around the need for teachers to model and foster authentic learning practices in their students, discussed in detail by Edelson and Reiser (2006), caused me to reflect upon what goes on in my own school, and the vantage point I have as both a teacher and as the parent of one of the students.

First, it struck me in one of those light bulb moments that by virtue of being in a class, the student should be participating in the authentic discourse of that discipline. That means no more sterile, disembodied questions, for example, but tasks, questions and problems that cause the student to live the subject. I reflect upon some of the activities in my class, such as “spark writing”, a ten-minute creative writing session that starts most of my classes, followed by feedback that models the sorts of responses a writer would give another writer.

Second, it reminded me of why I have been so impressed by my son’s experience at my school because I see total immersion in the discourse of each individual discipline. In history class, for example, he’s debating with the historians; in English he’s interpreting texts; in phys ed he’s doing a variety of sports. I also see rigour and variety within that academic program, and I see teachers who are subject specialists, all keen to advocate for their position within the life of the student and the school. I had been struggling a bit with the notion of authentic practice, but I now I feel that I have … wait for it … a knowledge of authentic practice.

Still Struggling

... to imagine fundamental ways to restructure what goes in my department's very fine English classes.

At present, the ideal many of us strive for involves the students and the teacher seated in a large rectangle, with everyone facing in. The core activity, particularly in the IB English classes, is the teacher leading a close analysis of a text. Lots of laughter. Lots of great ideas. Kids sharing their thoughts. Teacher making new discoveries along with the students. Lots of links to kids' lives, current events, pop culture. Procative questions. Intellectual engagement. Lots of modelling of authentic practice. Plenty of close reading of text. Lots of collaboration in seeky meaning. An alive, alert teacher, surfing the text with the kids, the majority of whom are engaged - and if someone drifts away, the teacher is able to pull them back in again. Yes, there are other activities, but this is the core, the one we keep returning to.

I see the community of inquiry model at work here, as well as knowledge building, authentic inquiry, and deep learning. Weaker students might not be able to sustain this, but the higher achieving student we have in the IB stream seem to relish it (confirmed, also, by end of year surveys).

The earlier idea about moving through clusters of texts based on key questions certainly makes sense of what we are doing. And I can see how we can do a better job of drawing on online resources, and using the web to foster collaboration and peer coaching around the writing assignments (itself a big shift and a welcome change from the traditional model of "student writes/teacher comments and grades).

But am I missing something else? Should I be thinking of more of a paradigm shift?

Transformative Learning

One of the really interesting aspects of this particular learning experience – two weeks of immersion in Calgary – is how quickly ideas that were entirely new to me not long ago suddenly seem commonplace. It’s actually pretty alarming and disorienting. At this stage in the program I’m having a hard time figuring out what I knew before; what I know now; what I should have known before but didn’t; and what I knew before and was already acting on but had failed to articulate. Some of my biggest discoveries seem suddenly foundational to my thinking, and I’m afraid that when I return to my home institution the discoveries that rocked my world in Calgary will seem commonsense to me and everyone around me and I’ll get some funny looks.

I can see that happening already around the program, StageStruck, mentioned in class yesterday by Dr. Friesen. Developed in Australia, the program puts into practice the theoretical work we have been learning about concerning authentic, collaborative learning environments and deep learning. In the little bit I have been able to glean from some Internet searches, I see that the program allows users to create their own productions online, and link to a forum at the National Institute of Dramatic Arts in Sydney (thus creating that lovely, authentic connection to real life practitioners). I was planning on writing my two papers for both courses around both sides of such a program, not knowing that it already existed.

In the paper for “Inquiry and Technology”, I was thinking of returning to my largely untapped body of MA research on how the wireless generation responds to live theatre, draw out some of those voices, and consider their position as learners with regard to Scardamalia’s ideas about the knowledge building community.  

In the paper for “Innovations in Teaching and Learning”, I was considering a program redesign for that English class, rethinking how theatre is presented and taught and suggesting that the use of the methods and philosophies we have been discussing could lead students to feel themselves part of Canada’s theatre knowledge-building community as audience members, thinkers, creators and innovators.

The two papers would be flip sides to the same coin; one could actually be an appendix to the other.

The program StageStruck, new to me yesterday, suddenly seems highly apropos, as does another Oxford University Press program mentioned by Pat, in which students can log in to immerse themselves in the dramatic possibilities of theatre. Not using these sorts of programs as an English/drama teacher suddenly seems inconceivable; I feel like I’ve known about them for years; I see how long they’ve been around and I’m amazed, and more than a little embarrassed.

I guess that’s the experience of transformative learning. Wow.

Mid-Point Summary

Today I applied to be part of The Globe and Mail's reader advisory panel on education because I read the paper daily and would love to be part of their internal conversation about the state of Canadian education. My online submission provided me with a good opportunity to reflect upon where I am as a teacher, parent and learner at this mid-point of the Ed D two-week program. It's remarkable how quickly my views have evolved, and I'm grateful to my professors and colleagues for helping me come to grips with some important issues. Here is the submission:

"As a father I continue to see the role that education plays in the lives of young people, its strengths and weaknesses, and the pressures under which it operates. As an English/drama teacher in an independent school I see what teachers and administration working together away from the restraints of the public education system can achieve, but also how even in those circumstances a ministry curriculum and certain teaching mindsets shape and even limit what we do. As a teacher in the both the ministry program and the IB program, I have a good sense of what works in two quite different programs, and the tensions that exist between them. As a student in the Ed. D. (educational technology) program at the University of Calgary, I have been exposed to the ideals of what deep learning should look like, and how technology, which in my experience to date has played only a peripheral role in the lives of my sons and my students, should be put to far better use in allowing our students to collaborate and learn beyond the classroom walls. I would like to be part of the panel so that I can share and discuss ideas with other "Globe" readers and journalists on the evolving state of Canadian education. My experience studying in one province and working in another gives me an interesting perspective on how different jurisdictions tackle the same issues, and sometimes leaves me baffled that there is not more of a cross-country conversation on the best practices that are so clearly within reach for all.

 "One thing that I would change is the role of technology in schools. Provinces - and independent schools - have spent millions on technology without addressing teaching itself. Seen as add-ons in traditional, teacher-centred classrooms, Smartboards are often just glorified projection screens and laptops are over-priced typewriters. When teaching becomes focussed on authentic, collaborative, inquiry-based activities, however, the role of technology changes. Engaged students use the technology to work together, to contact outside experts, to create innovative solutions to real, meaningful problems. I marvel at how my son in grade 7 in a well-run Ottawa Catholic public school, still spends much of his time with pen and paper, listening to the teacher. He's a very, very bright boy, with a caring a committed teacher, but the model they are both laboring under belongs to the 19th century. As a consequence, this pure learner, this model of ambition and curiosity, often comes home bored. The conservatism in education, this reluctance to embrace the possibilities of the world we live in and the tools we have at our disposal, in defiance of learning sciences and classroom research, is the one thing I would change."

Life in the Sandbox: Opportunities ... and a Question

In the chapter “Learning in Activity”, Green writes about how “situative analyses” of the learning environment focus on “activity systems: complex social organizations containing learners, teachers, curriculum materials, software tools, and the physical environment” (p. 79). Referring to Blumenfeld, Kemplar and Krajcik from later in the volume, he goes on to explain that when “learning environments do not support personal identity, learners will not be deeply engaged, even if they manage to maintain focus long enough to complete a classroom activity” (p. 89).

Building our class around this idea of “learning in activity”, the class had a wonderful time exploring a range of technological innovations to build that learner engagement. I was struck by how I would be able to use a variety of these in my own “classroom sandbox” in the fall:

1.      The use of short videos, or perhaps the program “Show Me” to explain key concepts such as how to present a title page or write a thesis statement would allow a key feature of the “flipped classroom” to emerge – allowing time in class to focus on tasks and discussion rather than instruction.

2.      Glogster – what fun! Has potential as a more visual, multi-modal means of presenting information.

3.      Twitter: as my students work through the list of texts we are obliged to study over the course of the year (15 texts between the two years of the IB diploma program), we could follow related Twitter feeds and discuss what we discover in class. During the long Shakespeare study in the fall, for example, student engagement could be heightened with the understanding that the bard continues to spur profound interest and engagement from tweeting scholars. Political issues surrounding other plays could also be shown to be alive through Twitter contact with experts.

4.      Software that allows for questions to be posted and responded to using Smartphones would add an interactive, all-inclusive element to class discussions.

5.      Video-conferencing could be used to great effect to achieve virtual debates with students in other countries.

6.      Class Wikis would allow for easier interaction with and between students.

7.      Use of Twitter, even email, could lead to a requirement that every student at some point in the year, for some text or some assignment, contact and receive advice from an expert in the field.

All of this leads to a bit of a paradigm shift in my classroom, which involves recognizing how the use of technology can make my classes more engaging and relevant to students. Two challenges come to mind. I’ll write about one here, and the second in a subsequent post.

The first challenge is that in the case of IB English, with its list of 15 titles over two years and final, standardized exam, is: how do I create authentic, problem-based generative topics for my students for all those texts so that the technology can be used to accomplish the kind of collaborative learning we have been discussing? Often, we barely have time to get at a text’s main features before it is time to move onto the next one.

In the past, there has been a tendency to say, “Next we will study …” when moving on to the next text. Recognizing that this is about the worst way to introduce a text, I have at least been able to shift my teaching toward the use of “hooks” for each text. This involves identifying a central issue for each text that is of interest to teens. For example, the hook for “A Doll’s House” is “Are men the new ball and chain?” The hook for “King Lear” has been “Why is this play so dark that for many years the ending of the play was never performed?” or “What happens to a king when he gets old and gives up power?” Creative writing and discussion prior to starting each text gets the juices flowing and, I hope, makes students interested in exploring the text in order to get at the issue or question we have introduced. Because I try to choose hooks that might pique the curiosity of teens, the activity goes some way to supporting and building the “personal identity” mentioned in the text. It links the text to the student’s own experiences. It’s a neat moment in the classroom when I can say, “So this is what you think about this issue … now let’s see what the author has to say about it.”

But this is still some distance away from the authentic tasks and problem-based learning. Is this approach best suited to other subjects? How can it be applied to higher level secondary English studies, with its rather daunting list of challenging texts?

Learner Trajectories

Linn’s article, “The Knowledge Integration Perspective on Learning and Instruction” features many very interesting and useful ideas for the education researcher and classroom teacher. One of them concerns the categorization of students into learners who follow four trajectories:

1.       Students who follow the conceptualizing trajectory start with many ideas, move onto abstract ideas readily, and “quickly embrace general principles” (p. 244), sometimes even leading the teacher to believe the class has learned the principle when many are actually still struggling. Linn: “Conceptualizers focus on abstract, normative ideas” (p. 246)

2.       Students on the experimenting path tend to try lots of different ideas and concepts, both normative and non-normative, “frequently generalizing ideas from one context to explain an observation in another context” (p. 246). Linn: “Experimenters pay attention to intriguing contexts” (p. 246)

3.       Those on the strategizing trajectory seek to game the system. They refuse to see a connection between what they learn in class and life outside, preferring to figure out how to achieve maximum results for minimum effort. Linn: “Strategizers learn the textbook ideas” (p. 246).

4.       Students on the conceptualizing route tend to see phenomena in silos. They find it difficult to draw connections between concepts. Linn: “Conceptualizers view each concept as unique”.

Perhaps one of the applications of educational technology is to allow teachers to build bridges between wherever the learner is positioned on their trajectory, to a position of deeper understanding.  Technology, for example, could be used to help build those collaborative, problem-based units that we have been discussing in class. Well-designed, the unit would allow:

… conceptualizers to reach for the big ideas while also seeing how tangible ideas contribute to a concept, and how the concept governs real actions

… experimenters to play with different options before reaching a conclusion and seeing that interesting events can actually lead to the creation of an over-arching concept

…  strategizers to be foiled in their attempts to focus only on what is required because they will be led to think creatively and independently in order to achieve the mark they desire

… conceptualizers to break down the silos and see that there are connections between seemingly disconnected phenomena

Perhaps one of the goals of a good education is to cause people to be adaptable and to be able to change trajectories as the situation requires. There are times when one needs to be a strategizer, but then in the next moment one might be called upon to reach for a big idea. Such adaptability is admired when it is seen amongst our leaders. Perhaps recognizing the trajectory a student is on in order to disrupt it should be one of the goals of the teacher.

Changing Minds

I wasn’t aware of the history of concept change research until reading diSessa’s article, A History of Conceptual Change Research: Threads and Fault Lines, and the idea certainly seems to get at one of the root occurrences in learning: educating not relatively unproblematic skills and facts but for the big ideas, the “concepts” that underpin knowledge. The “fault line” running through this scholarly tradition divides two opposing views. Student’s naïve ideas are either “1) coherent and strongly integrated, or 2) fragmented so as to allow disassembling, refining and reassembling” (diSessa, p. 267).

Some of the compelling threads that run through the history of conceptual change research include:

1.       Piaget’s notion of constructivism, that new ideas given way to old ones.

2.       Hume’s empiricist view that knowledge occurs through dispassionate observation.

3.       Descarte’s rationalist notion that knowledge is the product of thought.

4.       Susan Carey’s view that children’s views of science reflect the very history of science.

5.       The “theory theory” that claims that children have complete theories to explain the world like scientists to.

6.       The rational model that says that people hold onto misconceptions until they are convinced to replace them with another idea.

Another way of looking at the idea of concepts and how they might be replaced or evolved is to see the role of misconceptions in the broader culture instead of the individual child. Our culture is saturated with misconceptions. The misconception that celebrities’ views or actions are noteworthy, for example, crowds out the important issues. The misconception that consumer society is environmentally sustainable leads us all toward the cliff. One could even argue that there is a misconception that North Americans live in democracies, when the reality of corporate power actually muddies the democratic waters to such an extent that the word has lost much of its meanings.

How are cultural misconceptions eroded and replaced? How do the old false ideas that have sustained us through generations but that now threaten our survival get replaced? Perhaps the answer returns to the topic of the diSessa’s chapter … through the education of the individual.

Knowledge Building

Much of our second class was spend discussing the article "Knowledge Building: Theory, Pedagogy and Technology" by Scardamalia and Bereiter. This chapter suggests that the dominant form of pedagogy in the past was instructionism, in which the teacher transmits information to the students. This was replaced in the twentieth century by "action learning", in which students are led to explore topics of their own choosing in order to generate understandings. Now, they argue, a second massive shift is taking place. The rapid growth of knowledge in our ever-changing society requires that schools position students as "knowledge creators" or "knowledge builders".

One of the key ideas supporting the notion of "knowledge builders" is the distinction the authors make between knowledge about a topic, and knowledge of a topic. A student who knows a lot about bears, for example, has a knowledge of them. He or she would probably do well on a test, and may have spent a lot of time with a textbook. A student with knowledge "of" bears has probably been led to that understanding through a problem-based approach. They understand that there is more to discover, and they are able to apply their understanding to an authentic problem, such as how humankind might mitigate the effect of urban growth on bear habitats.

This led me to consider my own small corner of the teaching world as an IB English teacher. Am I leading students to have "knowledge of" English, or "knowledge about"? Our classes spend very little time on information about texts. There is just enough to allow us to place the text within an historical context. Most of the time is spent working on the interpretation of texts, and here the teacher is placed with the students as a co-discoverer of meaning. Students and teacher all understand that they are creating knowledge of that text together, and that different classes with different students will achieve different outcomes. Students who finish the program are generally quite well positioned to participate in knowledge building around literature. I think that we are in the "of" category.

But is this activity merely cultural transmission? There is an element of that to be sure. The 14 or 15 texts in the two year program are selected from countries around the world, from a variety of languages and from different genres, including, just recently, new literacies such as the graphic novel and even fan fiction. Does studying the texts lead to any measurable benefit? It does lead to more accomplished written and oral expression - we test for that. And it does equip students with the ability to interpret texts and, hopefully, because this is not tested, enjoy and appreciate them in the future. Stepping out of the program to question its validity is a challenge, however, since the people asking the questions are teachers themselves, and they enjoy nothing more than a quiet afternoon with a good novel.

 

Day One in Calgary: Magpies and Hares

For a teacher to go back to school is always a good thing.

It's easy to forget what it feels like to join a class for the first time, to meet the teacher, to try to memorize names, to figure out about whether you've brought the right supplies, to worry about whether you'll be able to find the classroom and whether lunch and tea, yes, tea will be available.

Most importantly, it's easy to forget that, while for the teacher the focus is entirely on the course and the importance of the material, for the learner, everything is new and equally valid: the first day's readings, the location of the washroom, the fact that there are magpies and hares on campus, the need to figure out how to truck a load of groceries from Safeway to the strange little room in Hotel Alma ... all equally pressing, immediate and consuming.

(Looking ahead to September, I'll feel extra empathy for my students, particularly the ones who are new to the school, and particularly because for a self-conscious teenager all of this is so heightened. Which all goes to suggest that the first couple of classes in high school should tilt away from content in favour of letting the students breathe).

Looking at the course material on the first day of my doctorate in Educational Technology, it's also interesting to reflect upon the dominant message, and here I'm probably reflecting upon both the morning course, "Innovations in Teaching and Learning" and the afternoon course, "Inquiry and Technology" because another symptom of having just arrived is that everything blends together ("Which course requires a blog?" "They both did, but now the morning class doesn't it and the afternoon class does." "Who needs the article?" "What article?").

I am immensely gratified that, although the title of the subject area is "educational technology", the focus really isn't on the technology at all, but rather the deep learning that the technology facilitates. Part of me thought I'd spend time this summer figuring out how routers and wireless switches work and that I'd gain a new appreciation for the far reaches of Best Buy. But far from it. The heart of the program seems close to the Teaching for Understanding (TfU) program I took online from Harvard some years ago. The philosophy of TfU so impressed me that I try to follow it still, and tell my student teachers that it is, well, "the best way to teach".

One of the aspects of TfU that I think works well in my classroom is "the hook", the idea that rather than presenting each new text as the next on the list, the teacher figures out how to present the text as interesting, engaging, urgent. So when we look at Ibsen's "A Doll's House", for example, we start by talking about how the boys' and girls' lives are being lived out in terms of feminism, and we watch and discuss the fabulous Hanna Rosin TED talk (http://www.ted.com/speakers/hanna_rosin.html) on whether men are "the new ball and chain".

The difficulty I've had is in working out ways to tilt the study of the text toward authentic, understanding performances. While I can see that students learn best from doing, I lack the understanding to see (and maybe the time to figure out) how I can re-engineer my English classroom away from the tried and true. One of my hopes for the summer is that my immersion in educational technology research will allow me to understand how to create new, online opportunities for creative collaboration and deep learning.