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Archive for the ‘education’ Category
Good Teacher
March 7th, 2010
I was a teacher, once, for a year, at a high school where I learned that:
- There are students who will succeed no matter what you do, how you teach, or how hard you work.
- There are students who will fail no matter what you do, how you teach, or how hard you work.
- These two facts do not let you off the hook, but they will make you feel pretty stupid when you forget them.
- Being a good [subject] teacher, does not necessarily produce students that are good at [subject].
In my case, teaching Interactive Game Design for 11th and 12th graders, you’d think that being a good teacher would produce good game designers. That makes sense, right? That’s what I was being paid to do…right? No. That’s stupid and too simple.
Honestly, we shouldn’t be aiming for that anyway.
It’d be nice to be able to throw this template down on every student and just say, “This is how we do it. This is what I’m teaching, this is how you will learn it, and this is where this class leaves off and another begins. By the time you have had n classes, you will know what I know.” But that, too, is too stupid and too simple. College can work that way, but high school can’t. Or shouldn’t, rather.
What a teacher has to swallow is much more complicated, and honestly, much more humbling. You see, for a handful of students, the teacher is completely irrelevant (academically). I was irrelevant. The school could have run tapes of Dora the Explorer all day and these students would have still been good students. They still would have had that hustle that others admire, and they would have understood Dora better than their peers come graduation day.
On the opposite end, no amount of personal attention, one-on-one tutorials, extra time, extra homework, verbal, written, or visual lessons was going to help that handful of students who refused to let it help them. Nothing was going to change that. For them, I was irrelevant too, just a different kind of irrelevant. An irritating itch they could do without.
The problem is in the expectations: I teach X. Students learn X. Eventually they will do X for a living.
The model is wrong. What we should be doing is getting the hell out of the way. Why do we keep telling our students what to be good at? Do we think they don’t already want to be good at something for themselves?
The truth is, students want to be good at something, 99% of them CAN be good at something, and good teachers let them. That’s what we should be taught to do, and that’s a lesson my students taught me.
Dispelling the Launch Myth
September 24th, 2009
I’m just going to lay it down in small words: “If you build it, they will come,” is a crock of shit.
To borrow a phrase, if I had a nickle for every time a website launch was delayed on account of the imperfections…
As a web programmer, I see a lot of projects come and go. We depend on the project manager’s ability to say, “We could spend more time polishing and adding features, but let’s get this in front of some eyes,” which is a hard thing to say, I’ll admit, because there are 10,000 things that could be better. If you happen to be the project manager, then that burden is on you.
And what makes it even harder is this strange voice in your head that says, in no uncertain terms, that as soon as you upload those files, all the world’s web traffic is going to come crashing down on your web server. We start to believe that Google will index those pages in their first five minutes of life rather than the week(s) we know it takes for everyone else’s sites to be crawled. We start to picture the angry emails about god-knows-what wrecking havoc in someone’s personal life because there are two instances where someone’s name is spelled wrong. What could be worse?
Yeah, but that’s not how it works. Uploading some files will probably not register with many people at all. In fact, it’s really anticlimactic when you’ve been cranking out an app or site for weeks and then the moment of truth…is quiet.
I know it’s really hard to picture a world where no one is paying attention to you, but don’t be fooled. That place is real and it’s called the Internet. I’m not talking about your Twitter account or your Facebook page. I’m talking about your new site. Your new application.
There will always be a sea of reasons to wait on a launch, and only one reason to go ahead and do it. (Hint: Progress.)
So you, programmer, in the back with the Redbull and Cheetos, I only have one thing to say to you: Quit being a pansy. It’s time to launch.
What Learning Actually Looks Like
August 21st, 2009
I mean, really. You stand in front of room all day, you use emphasis, you try to be funny, and you’ve got this range of faces looking back at you. There are moments you doubt yourself. Are you wasting their time? Are they resenting you? They’re judging you, for sure.
Student Priorities
Every teacher, tutor, trainer and presenter wants to know. How can you tell when the students are learning? What are the signs? Because once you’ve got the clue, you can do more of whatever is working.
Do they sit up straighter? Pipe up when you ask for feedback? Can you tell they’re learning when they scribble in their notebooks and turn in their homework when you ask for it?
Maybe.
More than anything, I think those things are indicators of being well behaved, not necessarily of ingesting information.
“So what the hell, irms? Are you saying we can’t tell when students are learning?” you rudely say to me. I think you can.
Learning looks like teaching.
Something inherent in a student’s brain understands how to give instruction where you can’t reach. Maybe you don’t remember what it’s like to not get it. Maybe you don’t see that they don’t understand. Maybe they’ve faked you out. Maybe you’ve simply used all the words you know to explain the concept and cannot, for the very life of you, find more.
People that know things are the ones that explain to people who don’t know things. i.e. The ones who have learned, teach the ones who have not yet learned.
Motivations are wildly different. The sharing of ‘how to’ between students is driven by all sorts of reasons. The smart kids want everyone else to get it so they can move on, the least brainy finally know something others don’t, still others are natural instructors, predisposed to dispensing information. The agendas are immaterial. The basic tell is the same: learners teach.
And you shouldn’t stop them from doing so lest you crush the only indicator you have for knowing what your students have learned from you, by overhearing them teach it to others.
Accidents & Inspiration
July 27th, 2009
…will lead you to your destination. — Mary Chapin Carpenter, The Long Way Home
I went to school on an academic scholarship, and I wish I could say that I got to do that on account of my incredible foresight, determination, and hard work. But that’s not at all what happened. Here’s how it went down:
When I was fairly young (7), I realized it felt really good to do well on my homework. When you’re seven, you don’t really think of things in terms of hard and not-hard. You think of things in terms of in-trouble versus not-in-trouble. I didn’t think about being smarter than everyone else, I just saw an easy way to not agitate the adults at home or at school, and that seemed just fine to me.
Compliments about being smart were nice, but really, I was just happy to be left alone. Being nerdy with schoolwork almost directly meant I couldn’t really be chummy with other people my age, so I figured I better get good at sports too. I wasn’t funny enough, or charming enough, or pretty enough to be recognized for those qualities, so sports it would be. Besides that, my dad seemed to appreciate all the “hard work” I was putting in and that made me feel pretty good too.
Doing well in work and play became a habit. Only during lectures by college spokespeople in high school did I ever think (or say) that I was working toward a long-term goal. My goal was to do good that day and not get in trouble the next. Those were my aspirations.
Once “getting A’s” became habitual, and being athletic was pretty well cemented, then the rest was just for show. Nothing required honest-to-god hard work, it just looked, from the outside, as though it did. What really mattered, was time. Everything required time. So I did as many things as would fit in a day since wearing out oneself isn’t a factor when you’re 16 years old.
At one point, I was taking 8 classes in a school that was structured for a maximum of 7, playing two sports concurrently and performing with two bands. I also worked and volunteered outside of school. Again, I never thought about things in terms of hard work — only time. Operating at full-tilt was my mode by default at this point, not effort. Habit, really. Certainly not out of drive.
I distinctly remember a teacher telling me I was his single source of inspiration in a very difficult (his first) year of teaching. I remember feeling flattered, but wondering what I was doing that was so damn hard. I knew I was being given too much credit. Getting in the Who’s Who of American High School Students book didn’t feel like the achievement it was supposed to be.
So I got good grades because they were easier than bad grades on the stay-out-of-my-hair-I’ll-stay-out-of-yours scale, and I was good at sports because they were fun and I liked the praise.
During our junior year, they ushered the entire class into the cafeteria to take the PSATs (Preliminary SATs). I scored very well on the test because it didn’t make sense to blow off a test that got me out of class all day. I did not seek this test out. My high school just told us to take it. I didn’t have a choice. (Apparently, most high schools advertise the dates and students sign up to sit the test.)
Months later, my school received a letter that said I should demonstrate my extra-curricular awesomeness, send in my transcripts and submit letters of recommendation to be considered for the National Merit Finalist Award. The councilor of the school, at the time, Mr. Cantu, did all this without my knowledge. Weeks after that, I was on the golden list. Thank you, Mr. Cantu.
Letters from colleges came by the dozens. My dad threatened to charge me rent on the post office box. Scholarship offers for sports, academia, and merit rolled in. Some large, some small. I chose the largest and moved to Ohio.
I lived there for 6 years and stumbled away with an engineering degree in 2004. (College stories are for another post, stay with me here.)
Engineering, specifically Computer Science & Engineering, was the third most difficult degree to complete at my school at that time. Law was first, followed by Pharmacy, and the school I went to was notorious for three of the most rigorous programs in those areas. So why did I choose it? Well first, when I chose it, I didn’t know those facts. Second, my brother laughed at me when I told him because he knew I didn’t know the first thing about computers and that made me just mad enough to do it out of spite. And third, I didn’t have anything else in mind, so this seemed good enough.
So what am I saying here? That I’m not smart? Or hard-working? Or ambitious? No. I think I’m all those things. Or, at least, now I am. But the lesson here is how I came to be those things.
Now I recognize my qualities and I can better myself because of them. But I wasn’t born reaching for the stars. It wasn’t until I realized I was on my way there anyway that I decided they were a destination.
If you’re still reading this, you should know that this is somewhat embarrassing to write. I’ve pretty much just admitted to God and everyone that my motives were never pure, my drive was misguided, and my intentions were shortsighted. I am not, nor was I ever, the level-headed kid with big goals and small pockets. I was not out to best by financial situation by getting a giant scholarship and then blowing the lid off expectations by majoring in something hard. Given the circumstances, I was just doing what seemed easiest at that time, and that’s embarrassing to say out loud.
But I think the lesson is too great to be eclipsed by my shame. It’s important to realize that the driving factors here were external. All along the way. I wanted people to think good things about me, I didn’t necessarily want to be that good.
Now that I’m older, in control, and very very wise, I’m always judging the people around me. Students and friends alike, wondering why they have no ambition. Why don’t they want to work harder and learn new things?
Which is why I had to write this.
My judgement is wrong. It’s a mistake. Afterall, it’s none of my doing that I have those traits now. Children and students, especially, should benefit from this revelation.
I think we should take a good long look at our best qualities and figure out how they got there. That way, when we are teaching the next generation, whether by example or in front of a classroom, we can faithfully make them better people…by fastening on to their best qualities and giving them no other choice.
Seeing the Build
July 1st, 2009
Entreprenuerial programmers can see the end product in their heads before they get started writing the spec. That vision of the end prodcut is the reason for starting to develop in the first place. But seeing the end product is a long way from what it takes to make a good programmer. Really all that means is that they are good dreamers, and has nothing at all to do with writing code.
Good programmers follow specs (you do have a spec, don’t you?) and cover all the edge cases as they write code, test and fix (write code test, and fix, write code, test and…) But it’s the entreprenuerial programmers that muscle through that, from the very beginning, and do something mediocre programmers will never do:
See the Build
When a programmer begins to visualize how each module of his masterpiece will be built, there’s a massivley nerdy transformation that happens. Where once we had a fairly-timid, under-tanned, smarty-pants software developer, we now have an outspoken, program-holding, pitch-talking, entreprenuer. He gets excited about what he’s about to work on, he thinks in terms of classes and functionality, and he has an advantage on his side that few people seem to use.
Excite Someone Else
When you are able to see the build, when you see the pieces in your head, and you’re able to imagine how each piece gets built, you are in the unique position of exciting someone else. Oftentimes, when a person likes an idea, but doesn’t jump onboard, it’s because they can’t see how it will come to be. This is your job. Take your excitement and paint a picture. Walk them through the bits they can’t see, and you will create an evangelist for your masterpiece.
[ Update ]
Just as I was posting this, a nerd friend of mine sent out the following Tweet, which really does embody everything I just said above:
@ggoforth recently launched a pet project of his own, Pencil’Em, which debuted in Las Vegas. Congrats, GG!
Is College Worth It?
April 24th, 2009
There’s a healthy debate going on in which youngish people are wondering if going to college is worth the money, the time, the effort, the … hustle. In fact, coverage of this very thing can be found on this website, Nettuts, which is known for it’s tutorials and not so much for its articles (you’ll see why). If you ask me, the go-to-college-vs-get-a-job debate is tired. Historically, college graduates make more than non-graduates, but that gap is closing. I, for one, think there are better reasons to go to college than your salary, but I digress.
Really, there are two things that I hear often enough to write about on account of their absurdity:
- “My friend so-and-so got her degree in [ something ] and hasn’t been able to find a job in [ a number of ] years.”
- “My classes aren’t teaching me anything useful. When am I ever going to need to know how to solve for ‘x’ in a word problem?”
Um, hi. You’re being ridiculous. Getting a degree proves one thing: you can finish what you start.
If you think you’re going to university to learn how to do a job, YOU’RE ALREADY EXPECTING THE WRONG DAMN THINGS. College teaches you no such thing. I mean, unless you’re going to be a doctor or a lawyer (and even those disciplines require years of ‘internship’ before one actually makes money doing said job) you’re going to be disappointed.
This is my argument:
- Most learning happens on the job. Ask anyone that has one.
- School is supposed to help you learn how to think effectively. If you want to get a job doing exactly what you’ve been taught to do, you might as well circle back and teach that class (but then good luck learning how to teach effectivley).
- It will always be easier to simply not go to school and dive right in to a job instead. This should be the first sign that it’s the wrong thing to do.
- It never hurts to be “good” at school. Just like the most athletic person you know is probably also “good” at running, it certainly isn’t all he knows how to do, and learning to run well didn’t teach him to be good at sports.
- If you apply for a job that requires a resume, it’s noticable when there’s no mention of a degree. (And you should know by now that resumes are really only good for finding reasons not to hire you.)
- All schooling is worth the time, but not all jobs are.
You’ll notice that I left off the trite, “Not getting a degree will put you at a disadvantage in the event that you’re competing for a job against someone who has exactly your qualifications, but has a degree, ” arguement. This is true, and also unlikely. It’s more likely that you’ll compete for a job against someone who is simply better than you are, but the point still worth a quick mention.
Oh, and to address the girl/guy that got a degree and can’t find a job: Jobs are gotten due to the extra stuff on your resume and/or the connections you have or aquire doing those extra things. With rare exception, a degree alone isn’t going to do it. You better learn to be impressive in other ways.
P.S. I know plenty of people that have gotten where they are without a degree and I find that each of them are consistently missing qualities that graduates tend to have, but who also retain an unflattering arrogance in the workplace, again, with rare exception. ”Successful People Without Degrees” is a topic for an entirely different post, but I concede that, of course, they exist.
Advice Teachers Should Give
February 23rd, 2009
- You do not need to know what you want to do with your life. People will ask you this like you should have an answer, so you will probably answer with one of the usuals: I want to be a doctor/lawyer/teacher/etc. But what if you don’t, or what if you don’t know? Tell the truth. Tell them you’re still figuring out what you like.
- You probably won’t use your degree the way you think you will or as people think it should be used. These people don’t matter. They will not be paying you.
- If you want to be ahead of the game, learn to read and write better than everyone you know.
- You’re probably better off not choosing a path for your life. Instead, choose the best of the options currently available. Go for range, not domain.
- Hang out with the smart people. Not because they’re cool, and not because “you’ll be working for them one day”, but because being around smart people, makes you smarter. It’s the closest thing you can get to learning by osmosis.
- Never let anyone convince you that school of any kind is a waste of time. Change your major twelve times, I don’t care. Take classes that count for nothing, it doesn’t matter. The most valuable things you learn over the course of a class are rarely on the syllabus — or written anywhere, for that matter — so take as many as you like, and make it interesting.
- I can think of no advantages — not one — to graduating earlier than everyone else. Oh sure, you’ll be the youngest whatever in the history of whatever, but that’s only going to last a year at the most. Slow down. Learn something.
- You will have teachers that suck. Deal with it. Use them to figure out what you don’t want to be.
- If you already know what you want to do, then find a need you can fill while you’re doing it.
- Do something hard.
Number 10 may be the most important thing on the list. This is what will give you the edge in interviews, it is what will make other people talk about you, it will be the thing you are remembered for. Applications for schools, scholarships and jobs seem to be designed for answers that make you look like everyone else. Number 10 is your saving grace, and it will almost never happen inside a classroom.
The Thing About Teaching
January 22nd, 2009
…is that you’re aiming at a moving target.
And it’s hard to say who you’re serving in the first place. Is it the students? Their parents? The board? The principal?
Oh sure. Take the easy way out and say it’s the students. No Child Left Behind. All children have a right to learn. Blah blah blah.
There’s a very good argument out there that says that teachers are very much like prison wardens.
“And as for the schools, they were just holding pens within this fake world. Officially the purpose of schools is to teach kids. In fact their primary purpose is to keep kids locked up in one place for a big chunk of the day so adults can get things done. And I have no problem with this: in a specialized industrial society, it would be a disaster to have kids running around loose.”
Forget about that though, think about the audience:
“The top 10 in-demand jobs in 2010, did not exist in 2004:
We are preparing students for jobs that don’t yet exist.
To use technologies that don’t exist.
To solve problems we don’t even know are problems yet.“
embedded by Embedded Video
(Thanks Ryan, for sharing this video.)
It’s a moving target. We can’t keep up.
So. What does it take to be a good teacher? If you listen to Paul Graham the best teachers have three things in common:
- They have high standards. Like three year olds testing their parents, students will test teachers to see if they can get away with low-quality work or bad behavior. They won’t respect the teachers who don’t call them on it.
- They liked students. Like dogs, kids can tell very accurately whether or not someone wishes them well. I think a lot of our teachers either never liked kids much, or got burned out and started not to like them. It’s hard to be a good teacher once that happens. I can’t think of one teacher in all the schools I went to who managed to be good despite disliking students.
- They were interested in the subject. Most of the public school teachers I had weren’t really interested in what they taught. Enthusiasm is contagious, and so is boredom.
Which comes down to:
- Inspire them to see the world the way you do.
- Teach them to teach themselves.
I happen to know one woman who is doing that:
“It is difficult to pinpoint the exact moment a student realizes that a project is bigger than him, bigger than the school, so big that it envelops the world at large. When a student realizes that what he is doing makes a difference and affects those outside of class, he changes. He recognizes his personal and professional worth, develops passion for his work, and understands what he can contribute to a team. Those intangible qualities lead to the pivotal moment in the transformation of a student from an individual who simply completes a job to one who understands the connection between the project and the outside world.”
( photo credit: local photographer, Craig Kolhruss )
( full article: Cable in The Classroom, Feb. 2007 )
[ Notes: Just so everyone is clear, in the original text, where it says "my game design class", originally read, "the game design class". I have proof. ]