Over the last few months, I’ve been exposed to a lot of people who, in one way or another, are using photos in their classroom. When I see other folks doing something cool, I start to wonder if I could do something similar myself.
I finally had an idea. My students have been looking at human rights issues for their Social Studies course, things like women’s suffrage, the Japanese Internment, and the Chinese Head Tax. What I did was challenge my students to reduce one of these issues to six key moments. Then they’re to act out these six key moments, and take pictures of them.
They have to select the best shot of each moment, cropping, brightening, and otherwise editing the photos as necessary. From there they have to log on to Big Huge Labs. (Big Huge Labs has an educator option where you register and then generate IDs for your students. They don’t need e-mail addresses to log on, and you get to see their projects as they work on them, if you choose.) Big Huge Labs’ Mosaic Maker lets the kids upload the photos and set them up in a nice 3 by 2 grid (which is just the right proportions to print off as a 4 by 6 print).
Once the kids save their mosaic on my flash drive (I keep a separate drive for just these sorts of occasions. I ‘m not getting my important school stuff accidentally ruined by one careless student), I’ll get them developped. Hopefully, we’ll have neat pictorial summaries of the particular human rights incident each group did brought together in a postcard like format.
This is the theory. In the next few days I’ll see how it turns out.
I was catching up on my Twitter reading this morning as I prepared some notes for my students about the evolution of human rights legislation in Canada. (Okay, I know the topic isn’t exciting, but if we do it quick we can keep them awake.)
As educators, we’re always told to warn our students to be cautious about what personal information we post on the web. We need to be careful about even giving away our real name, which is why most of us have handles or pseudonyms that we post under.
Yet the Twitter posts I was reading today and on other occasions give away an awful lot of information. Presenters at conferences tell when they’re getting on their plane. Basically they’re advertising that their home is empty and available to anyone who might want to take advantage of their situtation.
Other people will tell you what school they work at, and then they’ll complain about a conflict with the their principal, colleague or student. If the offending party ever reads that tweet, I imagine the consequences will be quite unpleasant.
From still others I’ve learned the gender and approximate age of all their kids. That’s exactly the sort of information we warn our students not to let out because there are creepy people who will take advantage of that knowledege.
Administrators are often nervous to the point of paranoia about letting students online, and this is inspite of assurances by teachers that their kids will conduct themselves safely and properly while online. I can’t help but see the principals’ point of view, given some of the tweets I’ve seen educators post on Twitter lately.
As teachers, we’re giving away a LOT of personal information to an audience we don’t know. If we give away information that we probably shouldn’t, how much can we be trusted to keep our students’ information safe while online?
Common Craft’s latest video is Cloud Computing in Plain English. Like all their previous video’s, this one is a masterpiece of simplification. They make something complex like cloud computing simple to understand. The only down side to this video is that, unlike many of their previous efforts, it’s not posted on YouTube (and is only on their site) meaning you can’t embed it in one of your own webpages. Even so, it’s quite cool.
Yesterday, I was putting together a PowerPoint presentation on Remembrance Day Since my dad was born during World War II in a small province in the German-occupied Netherlands, eventually liberated by Canadian troops, I decided to include his story in the presentation.
To help tell his part of the story, I inserted a scan of my dad (age 4) and my uncle (age 3) taken in 1945. Growing up,I’ve seen that picture dozens of times. But this time, as I looked up after loading in the picture, it looked different. There was my three year old uncle in 1945, with my 18 month old son Matthias standing beside him. The ressemblance between my dad as a kid and my son was uncanny.
It was one of those moments you understand why history is important. The story of my dad and the liberation of his village 64 years ago is one that still impacts him (and me, and my son) today. The story of what the Canadians did and why, and who they helped needs to be told for many more years to come because it remains relevant.
I watched in fascination this Saturday as my 17 month old son climbed the stairs from the basement to the main floor. He’s blissfully unaware that our insanely steep stairs have been the undoing of more than one adult more sure footed than him, and possibly a mountain goat or two. Even if he knew, I suspect, he would have climbed those stairs because he wanted what was at the top: his mom. (Hey, he prefers mom to dad, but ego can handle it.) =)
My son, Matt, made me think of two of my colleagues at school. Our youth pastor, not really knowing what he was doing, filmed several students, cobbled the interviews together and showed them at one of our chapels. While it wasn’t an expert presentation, the kids loved seeing themselves on the screen and our youth pastor enjoyed the learning experience undetered by any errors he made.
One of our Grade 5 teachers is trying to get her students blogging. She’s navigating administration requirements, technical hurdles, and blogging companies that don’t respond to help requests, but she seems undiscouraged. She wants her students to have access to something new, cool, and educational. She is undeterred.
Innovative teaching requires a vision of what you want to accomplish and a dogged determination to reach the end goal. With that in place, you can learn to climb the stairs.
