Yes, teaching online is new and hard. There have been enough articles written about this that I don't think I need to give it more than a few words. And yes, a million times yes, it's so exciting that teachers have finally been given the power to mute students who are off-topic or disruptive. In my eight years of teaching, I never thought this day would come. Hallelujah.

I have been teaching my middle school English classes online for over three weeks now. After a few days of it, the excitement and novelty of the mute function wore off. I grew accustomed to the daily routine of half-heartedly putting professional clothes onto the upper half of my body. And then suddenly, it occurred to me. My 8th grade media essay unit was coming to a close in a week, and the next unit I had planned was.... Macbeth! Holy crap, I thought. How does one teach Shakespeare online?

In the past, I have found that the most effective way to make Shakespeare accessible to middle school students is a lot of on-your-feet action. We toss lines, we find props, we stage scenes. For my 8th graders, this would be their first foray into Shakespeare, and without the ability to be in a room together acting it out, I feared that they wouldn't understand or like it at all. 

I am speaking in the past tense, but to clarify, I STILL have that fear! I am only a week into my Shakespeare unit, and we haven't even started the play yet. But here's what I've done so far, and it's worked pretty well.

1. We read and discussed this article: Shakespeare Wrote His Best Works During a Plague, to connect to our coronavirus experience right now. We are New Yorkers, so this article, inspired by the shutdown of Broadway, really resonated with my students. Prior to our morning Zoom meeting, I asked my students to do some collaborative annotation on a Google Doc version of the article. They each highlighted 1-2 passages that resonated with them, and responded in a Google comment. During our thirty minute Zoom class, we broke into small groups, shared our annotations, asked questions, and connected with our personal experiences of quarantine. Although the Zoom discussion was a nice way to hear student thoughts aloud, I'm not sure that it was a critical part of the process. I think this would work just as well with an asynchronous learning set-up; in order to encourage dialogue, a teacher could simply require their students to respond to another student's Google comment.

2. In our next Zoom class, we learned about sonnets using Nearpod and TedEd. Nearpod is an online teacher's messiah. It allows teachers to create interactive presentations in which students can take polls and quizzes, post ideas to a collaboration board, experience 3D "field trips", watch videos at their own pace, and draw doodles. The teacher can share poll and quiz results with the whole group as soon as they come in. The teacher can also highlight and share individual student answers for the whole group to see on their own devices. Although I don't think Nearpod is quite as useful for prompting discussion, it is perfect for teaching new content. Nearpod offers free accounts (with some minor restrictions), or you can pay for all the bells and whistles.

The first lesson I created focused on learning about the structure of Shakespearean sonnets. We read Sonnet 130, a light and funny starter-sonnet for middle school students, and then we watched a TedEd video explaining iambic pentameter. After the video, students took a quick interactive quiz to test viewing comprehension. After a few more notes and polls, I ended the class by assigning them to write their own sonnet about a topic of their choice-- due in a week. 
Introduction to Sonnet Structure Nearpod (Code NBKUL)

In the second lesson, we began with a quick refresher competition in which students competed to see who could remember the structure of sonnets most accurately and quickly. Then we spent the rest of the class annotating, analyzing and discussing the figurative language of Shakespeare's Sonnet 73. I find it important when teaching this sonnet to have students read it over three times. With some pressing, and close reading, most middle school students can come away with a solid understanding of Shakespeare's metaphors and message.
​Sonnets, Part 2 Nearpod (Code XILYZ)

3. After these two lessons, students were equipped to write their own sonnets. Although I did not require it, many students chose to write about life in quarantine:

The sun gleams shining through the window panes
Locked away behind the panels of glass
We look down at the little people’s show
As time continues on to slowly pass

Her eyes dart over to the piercing sounds
A melodically catastrophic feat
Her confidence to speak could not be found
And in the midst of panic, their eyes meet

My heart lays filled with panic all inside 
All while my back creaks with pain and sorrow
And so my dreams were at last clarified
I would have to repeat the day tomorrow

My eyes shall lay awake till the day breaks
Perhaps she won’t repeat the same mistakes

We came together again on Zoom to share pieces of our sonnets aloud. Using the new rubric function in Google Classroom, I graded them quickly. And now, onto a much more arduous undertaking... teaching Macbeth! 

This blog post is also published on Medium.

This year, I bit the bullet and applied to master's programs. As much as I love learning and school, I don't love the expense of a master's degree. But it was time! In trying to find the right program for me, I became obsessed with the idea of using my summers wisely. I don't really want to be taking a master's courseload while teaching, but my summers are free and clear. It seemed like the perfect time to pursue an MA degree. However, it was surprisingly hard to find programs to apply to. I Googled different versions of "summer masters English teaching" for hours on end, and slowly cobbled together a list of six programs. I am going to list them here, in the hopes that others who have the same idea won't have to search quite so hard! Here they are...

1) Columbia Teachers College offers a unique "INSTEP" program in which you can get an MA in Teaching English, Social Studies, or Music. You commit to 3-6 weeks for three consecutive summers in NYC (not too shabby!), and you also have to complete minimal online coursework throughout the year. This program is the creme de la creme, but is also the most expensive. They do offer some scholarships to new students. (This is the one I am starting this summer! Hurrah!)

2) Colorado College offers an "MAT for Experienced Teachers."  This one seems like a hidden gem! You can get your master's over three summers, and there are also several during-the-year requirements. The program is small, but from my limited contact with them, it feels personal and flexible. They offer a 50% discount to working teachers, which makes the program surprisingly affordable.

3) San Diego State University offers an MAT in Language Arts also over three summers. Students take classes in literacy, children's literature, and research. There are no requirements during the school year, as far as I can tell. And as you could probably guess, it's incredibly affordable.

4) UC Irvine has a pretty rigorous-sounding Masters in English. For two summers, teachers attend classes for eight weeks straight (which, let's be honest, is basically the whole summer). However, there is absolutely no coursework during the school year, and the third summer is spent working on a thesis. This program appears to be the most bang for your buck. You complete the whole program for under $7000 total, and you get a degree from a nationally respected English department.

5) Middlebury College - Bread Loaf School of English offers one of the most well-known, and largest, summer Masters in English. Students get the option of taking courses in Vermont, New Mexico, or Oxford (woo woo!), and there are courses in creative writing and theater arts as well. The catch here is that it takes FIVE summers, and that can add up. But everyone I know who has done this program has adored it.

6) Sewanee School of Letters offers a program similar to Bread Loaf's-- in that you can get a Masters in English in five summers-- except there is no campus flexibility. However, the University of the South campus is supposed to be beautiful, up in the mountains of Tennessee, and the MA students work alongside the MFA students each summer. 

It's my third year at WNS, and I'm still teaching sixth grade social studies (ancient history), advising the yearbook and the newspaper, and helping with the film festival. It's been a year since I've updated (not that my updates ever came very frequently). So clearly, I don't blog anymore. I would love to write for HuffPost again-- that's a New Year's resolution. But in order to be inspired and get the momentum, I need to think of a topic that hasn't been overdone... and that won't get too many mean comments :-o!

I am considering writing about student problem-solving skills in the modern classroom: often times, when students have a question about homework, they will email me. All the questions I get are legitimate, but many could be figured out by calling a friend, asking a parent, Googling, or even reading the directions more carefully. In my day, which was only 10 years ago, we couldn't email teachers... either they didn't have an email or they wouldn't answer it! How has the widespread use of email, iPads, and other communication technology changed students approach to problem-solving? Should we be encouraging them to figure out stuff on their own, or is going to the "expert" the best way to go about it? I also wonder if the automatic teacher-emailing is a private school thing. My public school teacher friends don't seem to receive nearly as many emails. This may be because students don't care as much, or because they don't have the same access. 

If you are a teacher or student and have any thoughts, comment below. Or email me!

Well, it's been nearly a year since I've updated. Sorry, dear readers!* In the past year, I've been teaching 6th grade social studies (ancient history!), editing and publishing our school yearbook, creating the first student newspaper, film festival, and maybe literary magazine, and teaching drop-in media literacy lessons to 4th graders. 

It looks pretty good on paper, but in reality I'm so exhausted after school I plop down on the couch, heat up some Trader Joe's concoction, and watch TV. I learn something new everyday... and get frustrated by something new everyday. 

My mind has been far more occupied with social studies lately than it has with media literacy. Teaching social studies-- in a way that would excite a kid like me--has been a wonderful challenge (or a challenging wonder!). Growing up, history always seemed pretty bland to me. Teachers taught it as a chronology of hard facts to memorize. I was like "who cares?"  As I study history now as an adult, it doesn't seem like a series of facts anymore. It's more like a bunch of mysteries constantly being solved (and disputed), and all these conflicting narratives from different perspectives. I am trying my best to teach social studies with that mindset, but it's easier said than done, especially when even the best textbooks are all about facts. Why does content dictate our national social studies curriculum? Content seems so arbitrary to me. Why not humanities skills--different kinds of research, evaluating sources, close reading, factual writing? That all seems more important than remembering the details of a famous battle.

I want to blog on HuffPost about that, but I don't consider myself anywhere close to an expert (obviously). And we all know how angry HuffPost readers can get. I need to continue thinking about this... If anyone out there is reading this, send me your thoughts!

* This is a joke because I have no readers. I'm not sure my mom even knows I have a website.

My last article on HuffPost got far more comments than any of my others. As an on-and-off blogger, comments are always exciting. They let you interact with people you never would otherwise. They imply that many strangers have read your writing, and that feels pretty cool.

However, my friend who used to write for HuffPost and now works at the Onion, always used to complain about comments. She warned me never to read them, but I didn't listen. 

I posted my first four articles in the Education section. I would get the occasional comment here and there, all pretty benign. The type of people that read education articles are those already with an investment in education, and they are generally open-minded and excited about new ideas.

I posted my fifth (and most recent) article in the Entertainment section.  This may be obvious to those who frequent online publications, but I did not realize how crazy and impassioned movie commenters can be. In an article that essentially suggested that we shouldn't be so quick to judge taste, there were people who were angry about the idea of accepting unique opinions. I knew this concept was controversial, but I didn't realize people would be genuinely enraged. I guess my opinion could be classified as sort of socialist, but this isn't politics, it's movies!

Anyway, the response to this article (both positive and negative) cemented a goal I already knew I had. I want to make it my life's work to make sure people question the cultural assumptions that we make each day. The quality of art and media is one of those assumptions. The way we judge and evaluate things are a product of the social context. We value certain qualities more in one decade than in another, and I don't think it's fair to declare that some people (especially kids) have bad taste because they don't like what everyone else likes.

This isn't a fully fleshed out post by any means, and I definitely will not be publishing this on HuffPost. I just wanted to get out these thoughts while they were ripe!

I recently started teaching a film elective to middle schoolers. At the beginning of the first class, I screened three short films as a prompt for discussion. During the conversation, a seventh grader remarked, "the last one was better than the other two," and went on to explain why he felt this way.

It was a thoughtful comment, and I noted that. But then I added, "Be careful about saying one film is better than another. It's a matter of taste."

This is much bigger than a classroom question; it's a big, society-level question. Is there an objective standard for media (and movies in particular)? Should there be?

My boyfriend and I fight about this all the time. He likes "good" movies, like Silver Linings Playbook andChildren of Men. I like "bad" movies like Taken and National Treasure. He always argues that, using the rules of aesthetics and narrative and composition, we can decide that some movies are better than others. Many people use critics as an easy way to gauge the quality of a film.

My argument is that it's all relative. To say that Silver Linings Playbook is better than Taken is a personal choice. (I know, to some this may seem an absurd comparison.) How can we claim that one is universally better? However, this is what the Academy Awards seek to do every year. They set out to publicly recognize some directors and writers as better than others. As a society, we accept this practice as normal.

So, should I feel bad about myself? Am I making the "wrong" choice when I pop in an action movie that only got 40 percent on Rotten Tomatoes?

This conundrum goes back to the century-old distinction between highbrow and lowbrow. Highbrow defined the art and literature consumed by the upper class, and lowbrow referred to -- you guessed it -- the entertainment that the lower class consumed. For many years, this distinction had a lot to do with access. High culture was more expensive, harder to obtain, and required education to understand. Low culture was cheap, silly and easy to acquire (see Levine's Highbrow/Lowbrow for a much more historically accurate description of this phenomenon).

At some point, we began to apply this way of thinking to the media. But while opera and sculpture are expensive to see and tough to interpret, media is accessible to almost everyone. Thus, the division between highbrow and lowbrow, good and bad, smart and dumb, has become more arbitrary (and some may argue it was pretty arbitrary to begin with). Does it make sense to measure the value of a film based on its proximity to something upper class, serious, educated people might like in the 1890s?

My point is that these standards are somewhat random and that we should not confuse a critical consensus with objective truth. If we are going to assign value at all, it should be based on the pleasure we get from viewing. (And let's ditch the term "guilty pleasure," like Chuck Klosterman recommends, because we shouldn't feel guilty for liking something.)

Rather than focusing on filling our plates with film that will supposedly make us smarter because it's so much "better," we should practice asking ourselves probing questions. Specifically, we should be able to identify why certain movies resonate with us and why others don't. This -- knowing ourselves and understanding social beliefs -- is what will make us smarter.


Originally published here. 

About a year ago, I emailed an old teacher and asked if I could teach a media literacy elective at my middle school alma mater. Was this a cocky proposition? Perhaps. But worth a try, I figured. He was very kind in his response -- a distant "maybe" -- but he said something offhandedly in the email that stuck with me. He conflated their school's "use of tablets" with media literacy.

Since then, I have heard a number of well-meaning educators toss out the term "media literacy" when discussing ed tech and digital learning. Understandably so, as they are deeply intertwined. However, they are not the same. In attempting to find a way to articulate the differences, I stumbled across this thought from Henry Jenkins: "To reduce the new media literacies to technical skills would be a mistake on the order of confusing penmanship with composition." He goes on to explain that, although computer labs have replaced the archaic typing classroom, media literacy is still notably absent in most places. "Students also must acquire a basic understanding of the ways media representations structure our perceptions of the world" (Jenkins 2009, 30).

In many cases, misusing educational terms is inconsequential. For example, if a teacher does a good job of teaching to different learning styles, it doesn't matter if she calls the practice "differentiation." However, to conflate media literacy with technology use in schools strikes me as a dangerous misunderstanding. By offering high-quality tech programs in our schools, we are handing students the tools to consume even more media than before. We encourage them to use Google Images and search YouTube to find compelling videos, but we haven't given them any tools to analyze all this media. In many cases, students have no idea how to be critical about what they consume. They take what they see at face value.

That's where media literacy comes in. It encourages students to deconstruct media messages, and ask the following questions: Who created this message? What creative techniques are used to attract my attention? How might different people understand this message differently? What values, lifestyles, and points of view are represented in, or omitted from, this message? Why is this message being sent?

That's not even close to teaching them how to use tablet apps or Google Docs. Although Google Docs may be a more important skill for workplace success, media literacy builds deeper critical thinking skills that students can apply well beyond their tenure as students.

Thus, I ask schools to pause for a moment before assuming their students are media literate because they know how to use new technology. After all, some kids can code their own apps, but are clueless when they see harmful stereotypes on television. Ed tech may be slightly sexier than media literacy, but let's try to teach both, shall we?

Originally published here.

I recently watched a preview of Escape Fire: The Fight to Rescue American Health Care, a new documentary that explores the problems and inconsistencies in our health care system. In it, there are clips from some pharmaceutical drug commercials, ads I've seen many, many times. Then, we learn that the US and New Zealand are the only two countries in the world in which its legal to broadcast drug commercials.

I was surprised. I thought "why do we think it's okay to advertise for drugs when no one else does?!" But, of course, it was obvious: Americans are obsessed with free speech. It's a frantic obsession, something we cling onto desperately. At moments, it even unites both sides of the political divide: conservatives associate free speech with less government regulation, and liberals feel that free speech evens the playing field, equalizing ideas and equalizing people.

Hey, I'm on board with the first amendment; it's hard not to be, when I was taught to revere it. I'm afraid that removing drug commercials from the air might lead to banning Huck Finn from public schools. And let's not even start on how the Internet would become a battleground. In writing this post, my intention is not to question the first amendment. I want to put the spotlight on a necessary complement to free speech: critical media literacy.

We need to teach students, starting at a very early age, how to question the media. If we can say anything we want on Youtube, in our Tumblrs--even television is a pretty open space--we need to accompany that furious freedom with a rigorous critical thinking-focused education. Until recently, the third Google search result for "Martin Luther King, Jr" was a white supremacist website that claimed that King was a communist and sexual deviant. Certainly, plenty of naive youth (and adults!) stumbled upon this site and read it as factual.

Although everyone seems to agree that media literacy would be a good thing to teach, we aren't really doing it. National and state standards include bullets indicating students should be analyzing media in the classroom, but it is still not commonly taught in schools. If we insist on protecting free speech as a cornerstone of the American identity, we need to accompany it with rigorous media literacy training.

If media literacy were a required course in schools, the dangers of free speech would be virtually eliminated. Every citizen would be able to ask questions about the truthfulness of an advertisement, the hidden message behind a reality TV show, and the cultural implications of the latest Oscar winning film. A teenage girl could hear a radio ad about a new weight loss supplement, and know how to question its claims. Someone who grew up in a small town could watch Todrick Hall's "Beauty and the Beat" and understand that it's a satire. Without this ability, free speech might do more harm than good.


Originally published here. 

It's a scene we can all imagine: the teacher flips on a movie, dims the lights, and sits in the back of the classroom catching up on grading papers. The students slump in their seats half paying attention, while they snooze or text or do chem homework. We can imagine this because many of us have been there.

Americans have these associations with bringing film into the classroom because, in the past, movies have been used as "breaks" from instruction. And occasionally, that's a fine use for them (rainy day lunches, a post-AP treat). However, if we cling on to this idea that it is the only way movies can work in the classroom, we are losing an incredible source of learning material.

The week after the Academy Awards seems like the ideal time to talk about teaching film. Each year, the Oscars remind us how fantastic movies can be. After all, most filmmakers consider their craft as significant as a piece of literature. And films have the added complexity of requiring their audience to process visual and auditory information along with plot and character development.

Certainly, being able to critically analyze visual information the way one would analyze text is a key skill in today's world. Teenagers are bombarded with visual stimuli and need to be able to pick it apart and ask questions of it. Many advocates of using film and TV in the classroom point out that kids need to learn how to tell if something in the media is a social construction. They should learn how to evaluate if a movie is biased, or if a TV show is portraying cultural stereotypes. This is true -- we don't want our youth to be "victimized" by the media.

But I think movies are worthwhile pieces of learning material in and of themselves, even without the victimization argument. That's how film professors treat movies in a college seminar -- why can't we apply some of that seriousness and enthusiasm to a high school classroom?

Yes, high school students are not college students. Teenagers are difficult and there are some major management issues associated with showing movies. Thus, in order to teach films in the classroom most effectively, there are a few guidelines we should follow. My boss, Kim Birbrower, and I put our heads together and came up with the following teaching tips:

1. Do your own homework. To prepare, watch the film yourself before you show it to your class. Take special note of places to pause for discussion. Jot down questions as you watch and take note of segments that might be confusing or require extra facilitation.
2. Provide background information where necessary. It is important to provide students with background information so that when they start watching they don't lose time trying to figure out "where they are." You may need to provide information on the setting or time period in which the film takes place, background on the issues that the film addresses, or the cultural context in which the film was made. 
3. Relate the film to your students' lives. Prior to starting the film, plan an "empathy-building" or "connection-making" activity for your students that can start them thinking about the larger issues or themes in the film, and how they relate to their own lives. This way, they are primed to make a connection. 
4. Teach the language of film. You don't have to teach film theory, but providing students with some basic terms (such as cut, focus, frame, fade, and close-up) will help them articulate what they are seeing more easily. 
5. Frame the film. Prepare questions and short activities that highlight what you want students to consider as they watch the film. For example, begin class with a pre-viewing discussion and end the class with a piece of reflective writing that points to the key aspects of why they are watching. This will help them know what to keep an eye out for as they continue watching.
6. Ensure active viewing. Provide your students with a note-taking sheet -- a table, a graphic organizer, or a set of as-you-watch questions. A great way to do this is to create a customized "viewing chart" with columns where students can identify particular scenes and then take notes on how these scenes relate to specific themes. This will allow them to actively process the information in the film.
7. Hold kids accountable. It doesn't have to be a quiz, but your daily discussions, homework assignments, journal entries, and/or viewing charts should eliminate lazy viewing, and can also serve as a short portfolio for self-assessment and future reference.
8. Assign viewing as homework. Maybe you don't have the time to devote a week to a film. Luckily, in today's technological landscape, it is often feasible to assign some viewing at home. Give your students a 30-minute teaser in class and assign the rest for homework. A lot of movies are streaming online, on Hulu, Netflix, SnagFilms and a number of other sites. 
9. Don't let tech discourage you. Having to depend on a DVD player or projector for your lessons can be daunting. If possible, test out your device the afternoon before and cue up the film ahead of time so it's ready to go. If something goes wrong the day-of, consider having copies of an article or small group activity that relate to the film to serve as a backup.
10. You don't have to turn off the lights. Yes, most people argue that it's the most enjoyable way to watch a movie, but if you are worried about kids goofing off, keep the lights on.

To download all the tips, go to www.bigpictureinstructional.com/tipsforteachingfilm.pdf

Written with the help of Kim Birbrower. Originally published here.

Phrases like 'media literacy' and 'digital learning' are thrown around so frequently now in the world of education that they are beginning to lose their meaning. They encompass a huge range of classroom activities: doing Internet research, using mobile technology, blogging, watching film clips, reading news articles, thinking critically about ads... and that's only the tip of the iceberg.

There are few educators that would argue against the importance of using media and technology in the classroom. One would be hard-pressed to find a teacher who thinks reading current events articles is useless or using visual media is irrelevant.

And yet, we have made very little progress in implementing any media literacy curriculum on a national, or even statewide, level. This is partially because of a lack of funding for technological resources. Two years ago, I worked in a public school in Providence, Rhode Island. Even though it was the top school in the city, I still had to wait my turn to use a ten-year-old projector in my classroom. And when I showed my tenth graders a film clip and asked them to think about it, they were taken aback. No one had ever asked them to do that before.

A year after that, I did a stint at a Brooklyn charter school. The scene there was completely different. Each teacher had their own new laptop and projector, among other ed tech gadgets I never even learned to use. However, in the classes I observed, the teachers rarely used the projector for anything but to enlarge a worksheet or show a traditional Powerpoint presentation. This was not the visionary media education that I had heard about.

This made me wonder: why it so hard to make real strides in the world of media literacy?

Many suggest some educators are so far behind the times that the learning curve is too steep -- teachers are far too set in their old ways to do anything truly 'modern.' Others argue that some teachers think visual media and technology water down valuable content.

Although these are factors in certain schools, I tend to disagree with these generalizations. Most teachers want to do cool activities with their students, and many schools are getting the funding to deck classrooms out with everything a teacher could need. The problem is not with the teachers, but with the very definition of 'media literacy' itself. What is it, really? Can we swap the term out with 'digital learning' or 'ed tech' or 'culturally relevant education'? If so, all these terms are essentially meaningless. A student learning how to use an iPad in the classroom is not the same as a student asking critical questions of the messages in television. One is about using the media; the other is about analyzing it. These skills are as different as reading and writing.

Before we can take any steps toward a national media curriculum (like the UK has had for a long time), we need to come to a consensus about the meaning of these words. If the average American can easily articulate the difference between reading and writing, he should also be able to quickly explain why we need media in the classroom. Only then can our students get the forward-thinking education that they deserve.


Originally published here.