“Technology at the core”
Technology drives South Korean ‘smart’ schools.
Not much mention of learning in this video. Instead it’s all about the technology. Because that’s what makes a school “smart”. Apparently. I know it’s the job of the media to focus on the shiny. I’m not even that bothered about the hints of ‘Big Brother”, or the counting of calories in school lunches.
But I was a little worried.
Because if you look closely and pay attention to the model of learning, and imagine that the shiny tablets are just a normal tablet made out of paper, and that the large MS Windows powered touchscreen is just a black board, it demonstrates the model of learning that exists in behind all of the hi-tech, ‘smart’ shiny on display. A model that’s largely untouched over the last 100 years. In which a person stands up the front and tells a bunch of other folk what’s important.
And this reality is accepted around the planet, because this model of learning fits with people’s idea of what good learning is – because that’s what they had. And so they see their vision of school and learning, understand it and feel affirmed. Most people also want the future to be bright and shiny, so that overlay of shiny technology, onto their existing model of learning makes perfect sense. As a result so does this video.
But this is a model of learning design, learning delivery and learning engagement that doesn’t fit a an increasingly inter-connected world where students will need to be problem-solver, life-long learners and thinkers and creatively engaging with a whole host of issues, problems and people.
Right?
Everyone knows that.
Right?
Well, we in education profess to know that. We in education stand around and blather paragraphs like that – and feel positive about ourselves as educators and individuals engaged in professional pedagogically valid practice.
I mean c’mon right – all good teachers know it’s not about the technology. Good learning is about good practise right? Technology is just a tool. Right?
But haven’t we in education been seduced by the shiny as well? There was video projectors and IWBs, and then there was e-portfolios and online parent portals, and now we’ve got smartphones and iPads and tablets. And they’ve all been heralded as revolutions in learning. And we go to conferences and follow hashtags, and build wikis to share apps and howtos and FAQs – and we call it PD and educamps and tweetups.
It’s meant to be a conversation about learning, but if we’re really honest, we do get lost in the shiny technology. We present our vision of the future, and pimp ourselves as futurist educators, with our devices and our hipster looks. We’ve done a really good job of justifying it to parents and ourselves, and we rolled that technology across the school landscape, and oddly enough, we don’t really pay much rigorous attention to the actual impact to learning, positive or negative. Mainly because deep down we know, it’s really hard to go back, even if (just on the quiet) the school can’t afford to maintain and provision 50 iPads around the school next year. So we find ways to move on to the next shiny technol…. oooh look… augmented reality.
So we can fool ourselves into feeling comfortable scoffing at this video – because that’s not real learning, and we know it wouldn’t happen in our place.
But the sad truth is this. This video happened because we let it happen. We’ve spent so much time talking about technology as the future of education, and having that as the starting point of the conversation, that we’ve forgotten that the unsexy, deep understanding of what teaching and learning is, doesn’t actually require shiny technology.
It requires taking the time and making the effort to create personal, honest, focused relationships with young people. To show them. To teach them. To learn alongside them. To give them social skills, work skills, thinking skills. To model what it is to be a learner. To give them respect and a place to stand and be heard.
The saddest part in this video was hearing a teacher say that all of this technology now allowed the shy ones to speak up.
What does that say about us as a profession, and about our lack of understanding of our role in the classroom?
What’s at the core of who we are?
Seriously? This is the conversation?
This image annoys me. To me it shows a real deficit thinking model that exists in our teaching profession. And it falls into the trap of accepting the common perception of what’s actually important in education.
I get the aim of the exercise.
Let’s talk to the ones doing the teaching, and find out what they think is the most important thing they need.
Which is fine. But asking teachers to tell us what they need is only going to tell us what they believe they need as individuals. We can tally up all those responses and make statistically sounding conclusions, but it’s still basically what a bunch teachers want.
Is that where we want to start the conversation?
What is it that teachers need to change to make a difference?
What is it in education that needs to change to make a difference?
What is it in our society that needs to be different for education to make an impact?
I mean, let’s be honest, you could replace the word ‘Teachers’ with ‘Doctors’, ‘Nurses’, ‘Supermarket shelf stackers’, or any number of professions, and the responses would be pretty similar. The graphic just shows us what those who work desire to see, so they can have a useful, effective working environment.
The question: “Time for teachers to collaborate” is utter nonsense.
It’s not as if we can add any more hours to the day.
It’s not as if we can’t collaborate.
We don’t collaborate for lack of time do we?
The things that are important to us as individuals will expand to fill the time we have as individuals.
But we don’t work as individuals, we work in school systems, localised and nationalised systems. All of those systems have things that are important to those systems. Being part of the system means having to do those important things. At the various layers, those systems will impact upon you as individual. We all have to deal with that reality, but it doesn’t mean we can’t collaborate.
If collaboration is important to you – then collaborate. With fellow teachers, with your principal, with other schools, with parents, students. Do it offline. Do it online. But don’t waste time by saying we need more time to collaborate. That’s just pointless.
The issues highlighted here are profession-related issues that reflect what teachers think is important. But as I said, these issues could be arguably be said to be the same for any profession. And to present these issues as the things that will make a difference is in my opinion self-indulgent and self-serving.
And it’s not really the conversation we should be having about teaching and education surely.
What are really the issues that matter in education?
Why aren’t we arguing about the point and purpose of education? For our students, our community, our nation, our society?
Why aren’t we having honest debates about the purpose and function of assessment as a default feature in our education systems?
Why aren’t we calling time-out on every new shiny “learning revolution” that’s promoted by salesfolk, who are just trying to shift products, ?
But hey, go with the “Higher salaries” stat if you think it needs to be front and centre in the conversation for changing our jobs as educators.
How to explain something
Our focus this term in literacy is transactional writing. So we’re looking at writing recounts, reports, instructions and explanations. All as part of an integrated science unit, in which students are selecting, designing, testing and creating science fair projects.
Today we looked at explanations. After about 20 minutes of writing, recording some structural and language features, I showed a number of videos – asking students to identify the key features of an explanation.
Started with this:
Oreo commercial UK 2012: The explanation
Then moved on to this:
The real meaning of MPH- The Original
There was much mirth as the students viewed this one, and they were quickly able to point out where the explanation totally missed the point. But I said that in her mind, her explanation made sense. She doesn’t pay attention to the key fact that will help her explain the concept, or that defines the explanation. But she uses several scientific sounding features to explain and back up her point. All of which is to no avail, because she misses the key bit of information.
I shared this with a fellow teacher during the afternoon, and realised that while it’s easy to laugh at Chelsea Chambers, how often do we assume that our students ‘get’ the key concept. How often do we miss the gaps in their learning, because we can’t see or don’t notice the key bit the student doesn’t grasp. How often do we ask the questions that will help our students make clear their own thinking. For themselves, and for us as their teachers.
To explain something requires us not only to speak clearly, but to step into our student’s perspective as much as possible. We need to be able to see the bits they don’t get. How often do we do that? How often do we stop and check our own explanations?
Powered by ScribeFire.
Make PD work for us. All of us.
This evening I read Derek Wenmoth’s latest blog post, which highlights the McKinsey report titled:
Breaking the habit of ineffective professional development for teachers
I’ve not had the chance to read the report in full, and it’s only 12 pages long, so I will get around to reading it. But in summary, the report identifies these promising ideas:
1. Base the PD program on a vision of effective teaching;
2. Segment teachers and deliver PD strategically;
3. Make coaching the centerpiece of PD;
4. Move from “push” to “pull,” so that teachers get what they want, when they want it; and
5. Only offer PD with demonstrated impact.
As said, I’ve not read the report in full, but here are my initial reactions/thoughts to this summary. At first glance it seems to see teachers as working in isolation – professionals that can upgraded and who then maintain those skills indefinitely by virtue of having a patch applied. It seems to ignore the collaborative and highly personal nature of the profession.
Point 1 – Duh.
When we spend years developing a curriculum, and designing learning experiences for students – why does most teacher PD merely become an afterthought, or something you attend some courses on a couple of times a year. What I’ve seen is teachers cherry picking PD courses that meet a specific need, often in response to a particular student in their class that year. Personal and professional development needs to be based on a broad understanding of effective teaching, be it personal or school-wide.
If you don’t have a coherent, applicable vision of effective teaching for your school or yourself, sort that first.
Point 2 – Are we now streaming teachers?
Why would we segment the teachers, and treat their professional development as isolated cases? That model currently exists in NZ. Sift through the piles of flyers attached to staff room walls and you’ll see numerous examples of PD that teachers can attend. 99 times out of 100 – that PD benefits those individuals – but very few others. Why treat the PD in isolation? Surely the the point of professional development is to lift the profession.
No teacher works in isolation. PD isn’t a smart missile. You don’t deliver “development” – you encourage, sustain and foster it.
Point 3 – This is semantics. And arguably pointless.
We split hairs about defining what’s coaching and what’s teaching – for the sake of redefining what we already know, and repackaging what we’ve already got. The worst example of this was the individual who told me that teachers couldn’t be learners, because the word ‘learner’ wasn’t in the word ‘teacher’.
Simply put – effective learners model, discuss, cajole, listen, demand, reflect, refine, exhort, engage, lead, plan, consider, celebrate and deliver.
Good coaches do this.
Good teachers do this.
Good learners do this.
Make learning the centrepiece of PD.
Point 4 – Why push or pull – how about “share”?
So that as a profession, we can all see what’s needed and how we can address it together. This is a challenge for an education system based on a competitive model. We compete between schools, and we compete within schools. One of the great weaknesses of teaching is that it is innately personal, and yet we see ourselves as professionals. We struggle to take professional criticism because our practice is personal – it’s how we operate. By criticising the professional, often we’re seen as criticising the person.
Why set up a PD environment that encourages teachers to look out for themselves – to take only what they want.
The PD environment should be one that allows trust and honesty to develop within the participants. Participants within schools and between schools. This is about being open to being part of a reciprocal ethos. You know – a profession of sharing.
Point 5 – Who says what why when?
And does it matter? This sounds like only “trusting” PD that an expert armed with a bulleted powerpoint can provide.
The best PD I’ve ever had has been the result of a serendipitous conversation with a bloke I met at a conference. It didn’t start off as PD – it was a grumble about what the hell were all these people doing here, and why had they paid so much to surf the internet. But over a coffee it turned into an exchange of ideas, a recognition of shared experiences, a challenge to my classroom practice and a real energising of my thinking around effective teaching.
If we treat PD as only that which offers demonstrable impact – we discount many excellently reflective moments of development inspired by being open to hearing from and engaging with our fellow professionals. I’d be so bold as to say that if we don’t pay attention to the professional development opportunities in our own classrooms, we’re being negligent. You learn a hell of a lot about effective classroom practice by getting out of the way of your students and learning from them.
My 2 suggestions for what will break the cycle of ineffective professional development for educators.
1. Conversation.
We need to talk, listen and share more.
2. Process.
We need to reflect, consider and engage more.
Teach for NZ – Thoughts…
There’s been coverage in the press recently about the Teach First NZ (TfNZ) programme, in the Herald, as well as morning TV.
There’s also been some chatter on twitter, and Stephanie has written up a comprehensive post over on her blog. She covers a lot of ground, and there’s some interesting discussion in the comments.
UPDATE: Stuart Middleton’s post on this says some of what I say below, but far more succinctly and effectively.
I thought I’d add some thoughts into the mix, but after being accused of merely parroting the union line, I thought I’d offer up some perspective to my point of view.
I came to teaching at 30 – after a relatively successful 8 year career in my chosen field.
I worked as an employee and also as a freelance contractor.
I had a four year degree from Canterbury University.
I have a Fijian father – which made me a prime prospect for filling the shortage of Pacific Island teachers.
I was keen to retrain so I could enter the teaching profession.
I was, by definition, a prime candidate for a fast track teacher training programme.
But, I’m still unsure of the Teach for NZ programme.
The language on the site reeks of high-flying corporatized, Avon-inspired evangelism – bringing aspirationally correct education to the poor and downtrodden. Yes, I am being cynical here – but there’s an interesting turn of phrase across that website, that makes me a bit twitchy. And while that is great for getting people to buy into their organisational vision, I’m not sure how that all directly translates to student-led success and outcomes in a New Zealand school.
The key point seems to be that is an “initiative to tackle educational inequality”, and there is much made of the fact that it aims to make teaching a top graduate choice – but I’m still confused as to which problem the TfNZ programme is trying to solve.
Is it a teacher supply problem?
As far as I’m aware, teachers colleges are pushing out teachers every year, and teachers are being hired from overseas. In the skills shortage section of the Immigration NZ site, NZ currently only requires special ed teachers, and (somewhat ironically), more university lecturers. No need for secondary or primary teachers, in any area of expertise, on either the short term or long term skills shortage lists. Happy to accept that anecdotal or hard evidence is to the contrary, but as far as I know – teacher supply in NZ is not a problem.
Secondary schools struggle to find teachers in low decile areas, because let’s be honest, the majority of university graduates don’t want to teach in decile 1 areas, precisely because they’re decile 1 areas. With all the attendant icky human qualities that being a “decile 1″ entails.
I started my career in a decile 2 school, and it was some of the best learning about how to be a teacher. But I’d applied for 8 positions before that – and got turned down for all of them. I wouldn’t have chosen to teach in a low decile school out of teachers college. It was ultimately the best of places to start my career, and where I learned to be human – not just a teacher. But the fact remains, that it wasn’t aspiration or desire to affect change that got me there – it was the fact that I needed a job.
Or is it a teacher quality problem?
This is the implicit statement behind these programmes – it’s that our current teachers are not doing a good enough job and something must be done. This ideology of mistrusting the teaching profession underpins most strategies and proposals that this govt. has handed out or supported. National Standards, charter schools, and now TfNZ. There’s a hint of ‘business knows best’ in the the list of TfNZ supporters. And I’m unsure as to why the focus on being a university graduate is so important – primary and secondary teachers have been required to have degree for at least the last 10 years.
But a 6 week condensed course of learning theory and then a 2 year programme of mentoring isn’t going to guarantee any better or worse capacity to teach. The end quality of a teacher is governed by a whole host of factors, just as the end result of a student’s ability to succeed or fail in life is governed by much more than just the teachers they have.
Dumping high-achieving, academically orientated, go-getting graduates into the arse end of our society, after a crash course in learning theory and expecting them to make meaningful enduring change inside a 2 year mentored programme – is like believing that Michelle Pfieffer can actually teach poor black children how to save the planet.
To be blunt, as a teacher, it’s not the 6 hours a day you teach them that’s the problem, it’s the 18 hours of the day you don’t have them. And it’s the impact of that 18 hours on your daily practise, and how you deal with that impact that makes the most difference to your teaching. How will a TfNZ graduate be any better equipped to deal with this than a “regularly” trained teacher?
Yes, there’s a case for revamping the programmes that teachers colleges are delivering. Yes, there’s a case for some schools to have better governance. Yes, there’s a case for a more professional attitude from some teachers.
But as far as I can tell none of those are being directly addressed by the TfNZ programme. There is this line in the FAQ: “To this end, our participants receive training, support and networking opportunities designed to prepare them for leadership roles in education, business, the public sector, and beyond.”, which makes me think it’s a corporatized version of any training course that prepares you for life.
I’d imagine that most of the 20 TfNZ graduates will turn into wonderful, powerful teachers, making a difference and affecting change. That is fantastic.
But oddly they’ll be working in the existing systems, and face the same constant pressures and ongoing challenges, stigmas, prejudices and frustrations that existing teachers do. And it’s in those systems that the real challenge to the future of education in NZ lie.
The biggest challenge is how do we sustain our teaching profession?
To my mind we don’t have a teacher supply problem, and it’s not a problem to ensure teacher quality – it’s an ongoing constant.
The bigger problem we as a country have is with sustaining, respecting and valuing what teaching is, and how it looks in the communities that make up our nation. Without that discussion and honest, respectful approaches to ensuring sustainability in the profession, we’re not going to have many teachers to do the work, regardless of how many TfNZ style policies we swing around.
Be the force in that classroom.
For my writing I do most of my edits using Notational Velocity, which is a great little OSS plain text editor for OSX. It’s a really simple application and allows me to quickly manage dozens of short and long files. Coming back from the holiday break, it opened up to the last edit I made. It’s some comments I made for a post to a student teacher on Stephanie’s blog. At least I think it was, November and December of 2011 just kind of ran into one.
They’re pretty simple thoughts really, but thought I’d post them, because it’s useful to have the big picture positive to hold onto as I head into a new year. It’s the same as always really, but I do forget to believe in myself at times.
==
I don’t recall much from my post-grad year of teacher training. But one comment from a lecturer still stands true.
“Be the force in that classroom”
Each day – you hold the power.
Not to determine the future, nor for the fates of your students. Don’t burden yourself with Mr Holland’s opus, or Sidney Poitier’s legacy.
But hold to the simple truth, that you have the power to make that room a place – where you affect change.
In little ways, in big ways, in simple and complex ways.
Your moods, your energy, your being is the key factor to what that room is like.
That’s not you as a teacher – that’s you as a person. That is your power.
The teacher bit is just the label.
That power has nothing to do with your ability to deconstruct the curriculum or analyse test and cohort data, or moderate a piece of nationally standardised pie chart. That’s the label.
The power comes from explaining a math strategy, or providing a smile for a kid who never gets one from an adult. It might be reading them a story, with expression and vigour and hyperactive actions that suck them into a world they’ve never been before. It might be helping them edit their writing, so that it makes sense and allows them to express themselves for the first time ever.
A great teacher is one who’s constantly trying to figure out young people – pushing and prodding to get them to see the value and beauty in their lives. We cover that process up in curriculum and paperwork, but that is, in my humble opinion, at the core of our role. To give students the chance to see a glimmer of what they could be. And helping them find ways and means to chase that glimmer.
Don’t stress about being the best.
Be honest. Be open. Be constantly adjusting.
Be OK with having shit days. Make sure you come back after a shit day and give it another go.
Be OK with not coming back and giving your students a break from you.
Know that Michelle Pfieffer is an actor, and no ex-Marine looks like her – so why should teachers?
Know that we can’t all riff like Robin Williams in “Dead Poets Society”.
Know that Mr Miyagi is who you should be for your students.
Spend a day painting a fence (metaphorically and literally) with your students, stand by them no matter how they treat you.
Let them know that their success honours you.
There is always something else you can, could, and should do as a teacher.
Be OK with leaving it all to one side and watching Big Bang Theory
Know that it will all be there when you wake up after your whiskey, wine, sherry-infused sleep – and that you can start again.
On the job tip – get a slot in a decile 1 or 2 school as a beginning teacher – fall into the deep end of our societal issues, with a job title that attracts equal parts scorn and respect – and be prepared to be humiliated, humbled and honoured by what you see and experience. Best training ever – if you’re interested in the real guts of life and teaching.
I wrote this last bit back about in 2007. I think it still stands.
“Max – welcome to the most noble pursuit on the planet. I use noble in the sense that teaching is a pursuit that is decent, unselfish, righteous and worthy. You will be frustrated, challenged and despairing at times. See through the paperwork, the politics, the constant planning.
Be there for your students.
Be the one positive, passionate, purposeful person in their lives.
Give them hope.
Give them dignity.
Believe in them.
Believe in the possibilities that they are.
Every day.
That might be in teaching them how to balance algebraic equations, how to make sense of a piece of text, or just be greeting them with a smile each day.
All that might sound like pablum and hokey to some. But we adults seem to have forgotten to believe in our young people. We reduce them to statistics or put them into boxes.
I showed Apple’s ‘Think Different’ TVC to my students today and we had a discussion about the vocabulary and what it meant. I didn’t think the challenge would come from explaining ’round peg in a square hole’ – but then how do you argue with a student who states: “You could do that if the peg was smaller than the hole.”
My 12 year olds only recognized Muhammed Ali and Mahatma Gandhi, but when I asked which individual did they think was the most important, several considered, then answered carefully: “The little girl at the end … because that’s us.”
The kids are alright.
As are you.
Barclass Day 1
Today was the first day running a Barclass. Based on the Barcamp concept, and led by Mark Osborne’s Ignite talk – I had set about trying to replicate some of that powerful spirit of learning in my room. I was also inspired by attending Kiwifoo in Feb of this year, as well as some twitter taunting from @taratj. Tara is also rolling Barclass/camp in her room – make sure you check out her reflections here and here.
I set two rules for Barclass:
1. You lead the learning
2. You engage in the learning
Took away the vote with your feet rule, to bring some measure of structure to the sessions.
On Monday – the class were set some parameters, to design their own sessions to teach to fellow students. They had to consider:
1. The content – what were they going to share
2. The sequence – how would they share and teach it
3. The resources – What space and materials would they need
I gave a time limit of 15-30 minutes per session. This would allow us to have 2 sessions before morning tea, then another 2 before lunch. Our afternoons this week are taken up with formal prep and getting ready for EOTC.
One thing I hadn’t discussed, but which all of the students did, was they setup lists of max numbers that they wanted to teach. Most wanted their sessions to be no more than 6-8 students. They like groups – small groups!
Tuesday today, and after sorting the roll, we set to it. The class all voted to not go out for morning fitness, which is unheard of. I had used paper and a vivid to lineup the time slots, then students volunteered the sessions they would run. Quickly added a blank piece of paper for students to sign up – reviewed the 2 rules – and let them go to it.
Session 1:
Netball Shooting and Defensive skills
How to bowl a cricketball
Session 2:
Hiphop dancing
How to use stardolls.com
Morning tea
Session 3:
Yoga / Aerobics
Cartooning
Session 4:
How to solve a Rubiks cube
Using Scratch
Waterpolo skills
Comments:
“The boys were really good to learn from, because they were organised, and told you when you were doing things well”
“The girls timed things well, and we got to enjoy a game at the end – it was great.”
“Is it time for morning tea – it’s gone so fast”
Student leader: “You’ve got great skills – why aren’t you playing waterpolo?”
Student: “Because I can’t swim”
Student leader: “Oh… right”
It was a fantastic day, listening to students language as they engaged, and observing their interactions. Students were focused, engaged, listening to instructions, joining in tasks and laughing as they tried new things.They were consistently positive, affirming, inquiring but also brutally honest. One student told the leaders of a session, that they weren’t very organised so it made it difficult to learn.
That made me wince a little bit, thinking about my own organisation at times. It made me wonder why we don’t have more spaces for them to be that honest though. Are we afraid of that honesty personally – or do our systems/curriculum and processes prevent that honesty being appreciated?
My role was one of observer, timekeeper and helper with managing spaces and bits of equipment. Sorted some breakout rooms, grabbed some Macbooks, checked that PE materials were available – just simple things. The students got all their own materials, or told each other what to get. I helped out as wicketkeeper so that the two boys leading that session could focus on the skills teaching. It was brilliant, and I thought I was doing a great job, until one of the students laughed at me and said “What are you squatting there for!”
It was a joy to watch young people leading their learning, and as a byproduct of that process being engaged, organised, relating to others, managing themselves, and participating. Oddly enough – all of those are the key competencies. They were blindingly obvious when using a barcamp model of learning. Are they that obvious in our regular classroom based practice?
And the planning for this process took all of 10 minutes of conversation with two fellow teachers, my personal experiences, and a belief that young folk really, really do like to learn.
Students in the two classes either side of me were constantly stopping outside our door to check out what was going on, and one of my colleagues stopped in this afternoon to check out what had been going on. Their comment was that their students were complaining about having to do book work. There was a real buzz, and I must admit to feeling a little sorry for those other students when I stuck my head into their rooms today – compared to mine, who were rocking, they looked deflated. Keep in mind that we’re all at the tail end of the year – technically my students should be similarly deflated. But they were kicking it barclass style.
Tomorrow we continue, we have 8 more slots, and 6 more sessions. Students at the end of today were already asking “Can we do a follow up session, we didn’t get to finish our sharing”. It’s funny how learning can be infectious.
This video to finish is of the Scratch session, majority of these students had never used the software, and the two students leading it are Y7 boys.
I had to laugh at the closing comment.
A walk on the waterfront.
Posted by Tim in possibility, thoughts on September 7, 2011
On the weekend we went for a walk on the waterfront.
It was a gorgeous day. One of those blue-sky, still-bound, crystal-sun days that on occasion bless Wellington. A day that fills you with a sense of being alive, and gently punches you in the head to remind you that life isn’t something to be sniffed at.
We wandered through Waitangi Park, around Te Papa, down beside the lagoon and along to Frank Kitts Park. We stopped there and Boo played on the climbing frames, the see-saw and the swing. We didn’t step into the market – but the sights and sounds of shoppers were flowing along with people just rambling like us.
I saw people on rollerblades, riding bikes, skateboards and scooters. I saw folk walking, ambling, strolling, relaxing. I watched big kids doing bombs off the wharf. I watched tour groups poised to take pictures of Len Lyes “water-wand”.
I saw a group of women wearing the hijab and jeans catching up with each other, while their kids waited in line with Boo to go down the slide. I watched some teens try their best to parkour their way across, around and over a park bench.
I heard a busker warming up his guitar, his small amp popping and fizzing. I heard laughter as kids ran screaming around and around in that non-stop way they do. I heard deep conversations, light remonstrations and gentle murmurings. I listened to the snap from crisp sails, as boats from Port Nicholson went through their pre-season training out on the harbour.
I smelt the sea, not sharp or tangy or dramatic, but just that hint of it that you get when you’re around the harbour’s edge. There were a few food stalls, the gelato place was doing a brisk business, and just down the way was the mandatory coffee van, with flat whites and burnt tongues.
It was not a perfect day – is there ever one of those? We didn’t do anything or visit anywhere outstanding.
But it was a contented day – spent with family, with friends and watching this place flow past.
A day that allowed you to remember that this place, these two islands are a place apart – and in spite of all that we worry about – are a good place.
And it made me consider what’s about to happen in this place – this Rugby World Cup – that’s starting in just two days time.
I will get frustrated at myopic and hyperbolic media expectation and coverage. I will seethe at the opportunism of celebrities and politicians and anyone else who wants to ride the bandwagon.
I will mutter about the unfairness of a corporate juggernaut that has somehow squeezed the essence out of rugby with its rationalised productification of the game. I will refuse to drink the sponsors beer, but will enjoy some locally brewed beverages.
I will be supporting the All Blacks, and enjoying the spectacle of a sport I’m not much good at, but love to get fired up about. I will savour being in the unique position of being able to take my father to a World Cup game to watch the team from his islands play, and we will whoop and holler and jump around for Fiji like two childish smiling lunatics.
I will welcome mates and neighbours around to watch a couple of matches. We will cheer loudly and discuss furiously and groan noisily. I will probably say a few sweary things. We will eat cheeserolls and dip our Bluebird chips into reduced cream dip, share some home baking and savour some kai off the grill. All the while we’ll try to get our kids to share toys and talk nicely and not to push and avoid too many tears.
We will talk and catch up on our lives and work, as we watch a game that’s part of something that brings us together – but not the only thing.
And in my heart I want the Blackness to win, but my head remembers ’99, ’03 and ’07. And so while I hope, I know it may not happen.But unlike those times, I think I’m OK with it.
Not just because I’m older and am a Dad and other things mean more now, but because I went for that walk on the waterfront.
A walk that reminded me, in the simple completeness of it, that it’s these things, these sensations, in this place, with these people – that make up my life. And it is a good life. Here in this New Zealand.
So on the day after the ABs get knocked out or lose the final, I will take Bella for a walk, maybe on the waterfront. I will wait for her at the bottom of that slide and I will laugh at her laugh. I will buy my wife one of those gelatos, and take solace in the fact that I live in a fine place, with good mates all around and much to live for.
And if the ABs win?
Well, I will smile of course. And there will be unashamed joy no doubt.
But I will celebrate knowing that it’s not just the game or the ABs that make this place good. It is us.
It is us.
Where are the computers?
This weeks mass hysteria from the NZ Herald has been brought to you by Orewa College’s decision to add digital devices to their stationery list for Y9 students.
Their preference is for an iPad2, which is, as I understand it, based on the battery life. It’s this expressing of the preference that has caused the brouhaha in talkback-land. Talk of “haves” and “have-nots”. Talk of bullies beating up nerds for their iPads. Talk of “well, back in my day…”
Thankfully, there have been many useful and pertinent points added to the debate.
And the point is this. It’s not about the device.
Just as good writing isn’t about the pencil or the pen that’s being used.
It’s about how the devices are being used – to create, deliver and support rock-solid teaching and learning. Learning that makes a difference – not just to test scores – but to the lives of the students we look after.
If Orewa College have done their research and are making the best decisions for their students then they are fulfilling their duty of care. If they’ve made those choices based on sound pedagogy, a sprinkle of PR pixie-dust, effective teacher buy-in and appropriate technical support for staff and students – then more power to them.
If they have not done that – then call them on that.
But don’t beat them up for making a call on a digital device.
We don’t know what the future looks like – we can only guess and boldly imagine.
And we can do our best to support our students to be ready for that future – and do that within the great game of political decision-making that is public education here in NZ.
Ultimately, if your vision for education is “future-tinted” like this one from Elmo…. then we’re all muppets really.
