And I feel...fine?
It's the end of the world as we know it...
My associate dean entered the room where I was prepping to give a workshop to my colleagues - college professors - on how to use Zoom and create both synchronous and asynchronous learning experiences. She told me she was waiting for the meeting where she could play R.E.M's song. Later in the meeting, we both started singing it.
I thought that September 11, 2001, would be, by far, the most impactful day for me in my professional career. Being a high school teacher so close to Ground Zero meant that September 11 was a whirl of emotions. After the planes struck the towers, teaching and learning turned to consolation and managing "what in the world is happening" questions. We spent the day in a state of suspended animation, not understanding our new reality and not knowing if loved ones were safe. I drove home on a nearly deserted highway, no airplanes flying overhead, two markers of a day that changed the way we live.
March 10, 2020, had a similar effect on my psyche.
I'm not afraid of the Coronavirus. But, as one local school administrator said to me, "the world has gone mad." For the last ten days I've been sympathizing with school administrators who are frantically putting together plans for distance learning and supporting my university as they make similar plans. The tenor of "we need to have a plan" shifted to "we will likely be implementing the plan" as public tension surrounding the virus rose.
I have been teaching in digital spaces for over a decade. I am comfortable with the technology and with using the technology to support student learning. For this reason, my university asked me to participate in a workshop on using Zoom, our university's platform for video conferencing, in order to share tips with faculty who may need to move their courses online quickly.
Let me be clear... there is no sound pedagogy in moving courses online quickly. Online instruction is labor intensive. Designing asynchronous modules (for students to complete on their own time) and synchronous (happening all at the same time) learning experiences requires an enormous amount of front loaded work. Face-to-face classroom practices don't always easily translate to online spaces, and often a "quick" change can lead to poor online instruction that doesn't engage students in authentic conversations or inquiry about a subject.
However, I have my feet in both the K-12 and university worlds, and I knew that we needed a plan, and I want to support the effort. I was not expecting what happened after that professional development session. (As one participant in the chatroom during that session said, "#spoileralert read your email.")
At the end of the professional development workshop, just 15 minutes before the university faculty meeting to discuss "the plan," we received an email announcing that my institution was cancelling classes as of tomorrow and moving to online instruction beginning next week. We are not the only one.
We (all the institutions) are so not ready for this.
And neither are all the K-12 schools that have filed mandatory distance learning plans with the state of NJ.
Because I work with student teachers, I have a pulse on what many schools are planning. Those who are tech-rich and who have been training teachers for years in using tech tools are planning daily instruction through Google Classroom and other online spaces. In this way, students can maintain contact with their teachers, receive feedback on their work, and continue to make progress. Other districts who do not enjoy this kind of access for a variety of reasons are choosing other options - like "summer packets" where students will be expected to work for a certain number of minutes each day completing worksheets. In some cases, these packets will be sent home in paper form. How will those students get feedback from their teachers?
I am so distressed by the inequity in education that is about to erupt. I am also heartbroken for children and families who rely on schools for childcare and meals. The social justice implications of a mass shut down of our public education system are real and deep.
I feel like my professional world transformed today, much like it did on September 11. Our education system is being turned upside down, and we are not yet equipped to handle it. Ultimately, the move will impact society economically and socially, and I'm worried about the consequences.
My stomach hurt, and my head whirled as I sang the notes to R.E.M's song while my colleagues asked so many legitimate questions about what this means for students. I couldn't help but think about all the K-12 students (and families) that would be even more deeply affected. It's the end of the world as we know it...
I don't feel fine. And it has nothing to do with the Coronavirus or any related health concerns (I actually feel fine about that, as I've read a lot about it).
For over a decade I have been advocating for schools to move more quickly in adapting to digital learning. I'm sure that this moment will be one of transformative change that will finally spur political policies to support more nimble educational practices. However, I'm afraid that it will come at a great cost. I think the world as we know it is about to change. I know that teaching and learning is.
My associate dean entered the room where I was prepping to give a workshop to my colleagues - college professors - on how to use Zoom and create both synchronous and asynchronous learning experiences. She told me she was waiting for the meeting where she could play R.E.M's song. Later in the meeting, we both started singing it.
I thought that September 11, 2001, would be, by far, the most impactful day for me in my professional career. Being a high school teacher so close to Ground Zero meant that September 11 was a whirl of emotions. After the planes struck the towers, teaching and learning turned to consolation and managing "what in the world is happening" questions. We spent the day in a state of suspended animation, not understanding our new reality and not knowing if loved ones were safe. I drove home on a nearly deserted highway, no airplanes flying overhead, two markers of a day that changed the way we live.
March 10, 2020, had a similar effect on my psyche.
I'm not afraid of the Coronavirus. But, as one local school administrator said to me, "the world has gone mad." For the last ten days I've been sympathizing with school administrators who are frantically putting together plans for distance learning and supporting my university as they make similar plans. The tenor of "we need to have a plan" shifted to "we will likely be implementing the plan" as public tension surrounding the virus rose.
I have been teaching in digital spaces for over a decade. I am comfortable with the technology and with using the technology to support student learning. For this reason, my university asked me to participate in a workshop on using Zoom, our university's platform for video conferencing, in order to share tips with faculty who may need to move their courses online quickly.
Let me be clear... there is no sound pedagogy in moving courses online quickly. Online instruction is labor intensive. Designing asynchronous modules (for students to complete on their own time) and synchronous (happening all at the same time) learning experiences requires an enormous amount of front loaded work. Face-to-face classroom practices don't always easily translate to online spaces, and often a "quick" change can lead to poor online instruction that doesn't engage students in authentic conversations or inquiry about a subject.
However, I have my feet in both the K-12 and university worlds, and I knew that we needed a plan, and I want to support the effort. I was not expecting what happened after that professional development session. (As one participant in the chatroom during that session said, "#spoileralert read your email.")
At the end of the professional development workshop, just 15 minutes before the university faculty meeting to discuss "the plan," we received an email announcing that my institution was cancelling classes as of tomorrow and moving to online instruction beginning next week. We are not the only one.
We (all the institutions) are so not ready for this.
And neither are all the K-12 schools that have filed mandatory distance learning plans with the state of NJ.
Because I work with student teachers, I have a pulse on what many schools are planning. Those who are tech-rich and who have been training teachers for years in using tech tools are planning daily instruction through Google Classroom and other online spaces. In this way, students can maintain contact with their teachers, receive feedback on their work, and continue to make progress. Other districts who do not enjoy this kind of access for a variety of reasons are choosing other options - like "summer packets" where students will be expected to work for a certain number of minutes each day completing worksheets. In some cases, these packets will be sent home in paper form. How will those students get feedback from their teachers?
I am so distressed by the inequity in education that is about to erupt. I am also heartbroken for children and families who rely on schools for childcare and meals. The social justice implications of a mass shut down of our public education system are real and deep.
I feel like my professional world transformed today, much like it did on September 11. Our education system is being turned upside down, and we are not yet equipped to handle it. Ultimately, the move will impact society economically and socially, and I'm worried about the consequences.
My stomach hurt, and my head whirled as I sang the notes to R.E.M's song while my colleagues asked so many legitimate questions about what this means for students. I couldn't help but think about all the K-12 students (and families) that would be even more deeply affected. It's the end of the world as we know it...
I don't feel fine. And it has nothing to do with the Coronavirus or any related health concerns (I actually feel fine about that, as I've read a lot about it).
For over a decade I have been advocating for schools to move more quickly in adapting to digital learning. I'm sure that this moment will be one of transformative change that will finally spur political policies to support more nimble educational practices. However, I'm afraid that it will come at a great cost. I think the world as we know it is about to change. I know that teaching and learning is.
Comments
Post a Comment