FLOW

Certain of my reluctant readers may not be doing so hot in their core academic classes, but one thing unites them all: Autoshop class, and it’s where they’d rather be. Yes, it is heartening to see my students learning a trade that will prepare them for working in a particular industry. Fine, but what is most exciting to me is that they are happy and focused when they are elbows deep in grease or creating a 3d animation. What, then, is it that gets these students motivated to perform in their “vocational education” classes and transform into sloths in mine? Reading ability has alot to do with it; English Language Learners can be two or more grade levels behind once they begin regular education language/arts classes. These students, especially the boys, are less likely to participate in class if there is any possibility they will be embarrassed in front of their peers. The reality is that learning to read and write confidently and effectively is a long, tedious process. Success in any english class is not immediately achieved nor guaranteed, and so the pursuit loses meaning. That is why shop classes are poised to do alot of good.

I discovered the answer to my question while reading Mihaly Csikszenthihaly and his research into the concept of Flow. In his book Flow: The Psychology of Optimal Experience, he says, “The more a job inherently resembles a game–with variety, appropriate and flexible challenges, clear goals, and immediate feedback–the more enjoyable it will be regardless of the worker’s level of development.” Rebuilding a car engine is an ordered, sequential experience, with clear results. You either put the pieces together correctly or you don’t. The engine will start, or a problem exists for the student to solve. My students are happy when they are in control of their learning. The activities in which these students are able to particpate provide “… a sense of discovery, a creative feeling of transporting” the students into a “new reality.” The resulting happiness my students claim to experience when working in these classes was caused by them getting into the “flow” of the activity.

There is no doubt that securing funding for upgrading the “vocational ed” curriculum will benefit students in positive ways, especially the reluctant readers and writers present in classrooms across the country. The fact that shop classes will equip students with life skills is great. But in order for a student to learn, to like to learn, and then to pass that love of learning onto younger generations, he or she must be happy. I have since learned to incorporate the simple lessons of shop class into my curriculum. And, although I can not offer a big block engine to rebuild, I can create activities that aim to get my students into that illusive state of “flow” that makes us all very happy.

The Student Becomes the Teacher

When I step into my classroom, I am forced to face the urge to believe my students are all smarter than I am. And in many ways, this is the unhidden truth.

   In his article,  “World Without Walls; Learning Well with Others”, writer WIll Richardson says, “The technologies we block in their classrooms flourish in their bedrooms. Students are growing networks without us, writing Harry Potter narratives together at FanFiction.net, or trading skateboarding videos on YouTube. At school, we disconnect them not only from the technology but also from their passion and those who share it.”

  

I often find myself having to justify activities like poster presentations and graphic organizers to my students who are routinely building websites and editing sponsor videos (skate or snowboard videos they send to companies for sponsorships) of themselves on thier Imacs using pirated software (which itself is a skill).

  

 Recently, I assigned a piece of writing for students to do for homework. The purpose was to assess how well students learned how analyze a piece of visual advertising. One of my students asked me if he could do the assignment on his computer instead of turning in a written “one-pager” . I agreed, trusting that this student’s request was a genuine one.

 

 I was expecting a word processed production, perhaps in a silly font. What I got was a mixed media masterpiece. The student had mastered Photohop by the time he was in eighth grade. He had moved on to programs like dreamweaver, Illustrator, and In-Design. If he wanted, he could publish a magazine. Maybe he is. The point is that he has a literacy that I don’t. And as our society continues to adavance, and businesses rely increasingly on the skills of computer program designers, the one in need of education is me, not my student.

  Part of my personal teaching philosophy holds that a student needs to experience and become a master in the organic elements of creativity. In the case of my student, I would argue that any graphic designer needs to know how to draw with pencil and paper before he can master a computer based graphic design program. But what about my homework assignment? I have the suspicion that his case is not unique and that I am teaching antiquated skills to students who would better benefit from direct instruction in website design.  The great thing about teaching is that I can use technology to teach organic skills. Students must learn how to read and write critically. I know how to teach that. It is time for teachers to stop playing catch up and use technology as a vehicle for teaching good old fashioned knowledge. With continued active participation and collaboration strategies in the classroom, students will find school to be enriching, not torturous.

I have come to accept the fact that, in many ways, my students are smarter than I am. 

How to Relax

Despite it being a large urban city, Long Beach offers a decent amount of opportunities for out-of-doors recreation. For me, relaxation and recreation are synonomous. When I don’t have much time, my favorite thing to do is jump on my bike and ride down to the bike path. I find a playlist on my ipod that fits the occasion and race the sun as it sinks behind Palos Verdes, casting long shadows on the ports of Los Angeles and Long Beach.

I ride down to the Leeway Sailing Center, make my way up Bayshore, and make a right on second street. The bay sparkles in the setting sun. Triathletes, training for the next race, break the tranquility of bay as they ply the water just inside the the bouy line. I head up Second Street, and sprint up the bridge. I scan Marine Stadium for any wakeboarding activity. In high school my friends and I would spend our summer days wakeboarding, always counter clockwise, in the mile long marina. When that got boring, or when the wake from other boats ruined our wake, we would paddle our long boards through naples, climb up onto the bridges and perfect our swan dives. The water was deep enough for the drafts of bigger boats, so we thought it was deep enough for diving. We would paddle across the bay to the penninsula and play beach soccer on the sand. As the sun went down, we’d make our return trip, but promise to meet up later.

Crossing over the Second Street bridge, I can see the power plants looming over the soon-to-be-restored wetlands. Behind the steam stacks are the mountains. On a clear day, it seems like Long Beach is framed by mountains and ocean. It is possible to snowboard in the morning and surf in the afternoon. You can see catalina from highway 18, way up near Big Bear.

At PCH, I turn around. It is getting dark and the Lakers are about to tip off. My heart is pumping and I’m thirsty. I take Second Street through Belmont Shore for the views–the bros outside Shannons, the jocks outside Legends, the debutantes sipping large glasses of red wine inside the glass cubicle of Bono’s. I peddle up the hill into Belmont Bluffs, past the big brick house that reminds me Hearst’s Castle, and straight home. Tomorrow, I think I’ll go for a run instead. I’ll pick up my buddy Christain and we’ll head towards shoreline village with the lighthouse for a destination. Whatever. Either way, it’s a great way to relax after a long day in the classroom.

Senior Ditch Day

This morning, the teacher in the classroom next door warned me that I might not have very many seniors in class. She told me that it was, in fact, Senior Ditch Day. “Ah, yes,” I say nostalgically, my mind peering through recent history at the senior I once was.
My colleague noticed my whimsical expression and asked if it brought back memories. I said no, of course, and we shouldn’t encourage such behavior. It was a canned answer, yet another attempt to separate my teacher self from myself. I do this often, the state of education being what it is. Teachers are routinely reprimanded for things they let slip in class or amongst not-so-tolerant teachers. Students are more than happy to share controversial information with their parents, especially when it involves teachers. But the moment parents attempt to care about the proceedings of the lesson in their son or daughter’s algebra class, they flee, hide, shrivel into introverts. When a parent decides a teacher’s shananigans will not stand, the principal hears it. Jobs are a rare commodity these days, and it doesn’t fill me with joy that my school is forced to axe 4-5 teachers this year due to Long Beach Unified’s 50 million dollar budget gap. This is about the time administrators start hating their jobs, and begin searching for reasons to fire teachers. Hate makes the process so much easier to justify.

But I couldn’t keep such a great day down. The few seniors that did show up to my philosophy and Rhetoric and Composition classes quizzed my knowledge on the whereabouts of their fellow students.
“Your friends,” I explain, “have ditched. It is senior ditch day, after all, or didn’t you get the memo?”
My students ask, “So since there are only six of us today, what will we do?”

The answer, of course was clear.
“Today, we will plan the greatest senior prank this school has ever seen.” I pull a roll of white butchar paper from the closet.
“Luis,” I point my index finger squarely at his forehead, but he is already moving towards the roll of paper, open sharpie in hand, smile on his face, eager to participate. “Draw a detailed map of the school.” In here, I am General Patton.
“Don’t micky mouse me on this, I need details. Now, who in here knows where we can get 400 white mice?”