Friday, January 29, 2021

 Friday, January 29, 2021

            I spent half an hour on the phone this morning with the tech support guy from the local elementary school. I have been working on getting on Google Meet with D. for at least a month now. The first problem was I didn't have a DOE email address. The chrome computers distributed by the DOE to all the kids were set up to block anyone who didn't have that email address. After repeated efforts, the school principals finally approved it. I was issued an email address and password.

            Next problem: signing on. When I signed in on my MAC computer, my yahoo email address overrode the DOE address. After an hour on the phone with a DOE tech, a sweet 26-year-old who thought I was funny, we got that straightened out. I had to sign in through Chrome instead of Firefox. I figured I would have no problems signing on to my tablet. Wrong! After another half an hour, Mark figured out how to get me on with the laptop. I had to sign in incognito. Yes, there is such a possibility.

            In the meantime, I had checked out Google Classroom and Google Meet. It seemed that Google Meet was the closest to Zoom, which I was now familiar with. Google classroom only allows me to see and share documents, not speak to the student.  

            On Wednesday, I tried to sign in to Google Meet. Forget it! D. and I met on Zoom as usual. I was on the; phone for half an hour today with the school tech to figure that one out. He had me sign in under my yahoo account. Huh? Now, after all I've been through, I can sign in under my yahoo account.

            Michael, the tech, told me that I needed to be on Google Classroom to see D's work. However, if I also wanted to talk to him while we looked at his work, I had to speak to him on the phone or have two computers up simultaneously, one on Google Classroom and the other on Google Meet. Now, I have two computers, but D. doesn't. The teacher must do something else. It was too much for me to pursue the issue. I gave up for the day. 

            However, Michael told me if I wanted him to give me access to the work D handed in, I needed his mother's permission. I called her and told her to contact Michael. I received an email from him later in the day.

            D and I met on Zoom, as we always have in the meantime. We've been working on co-writing. He is enjoying this way of working, and so am I. We'll see where we go from here. It won't solve his serious educational problems, but it will do something. After just one story, he is already composing stories with more structure and flow. 

            At 1 pm, I signed in to participate in an online class on teaching math. I thought I would have nothing to learn. Boy, was I wrong! The math curriculum had been turned upside down. Hawaii is still following an older way of teaching math. In the LA school district, problem-solving precedes learning algorithms. Multiplication isn't taught until 4th grade. Division in sixth grade. We were given the link for the LAUSD. I used the approach with J. I did some things right; I think their approach is amazing. The objective of the approach is concretizing math concepts before they are taught the abstract procedures. It also uses an experimental discovery approach. The children are given a problem and instructed to figure out a strategy for solving it. Now, J is learning multiplication facts. He asked to work on them because he wasn't producing them fast enough. We worked on that the other day. 

            I got J to use the left side of his brain to process the facts. He was able to 'hear' the answers on the left side of his brain. He described his experience in a way so I knew that he was doing it correctly. He felt activity on the left side of his head, and it felt weird. I assured him that feeling wouldn't go on forever. He only felt it because it was a new sensation caused by blood rushing into that part of the brain. He felt it because it was unfamiliar. He also described himself as feeling out of control. That sounds right too. When we let the unconscious mind do its job, it does feel like it's a runaway train if were not used to it.   I told him he wasn't out of control. He hadn't taken action now, even when he heard the answer. The prefrontal cortex holds the executive function. He can say no when the unconscious suggests an action he doesn't want to perform. He is not out of control. 

            As an aside: when we are flooded with emotion, our executive function gets flooded, overwhelmed. It is then we get out of control. 

            I had forgotten to call E. yesterday. Age? Covid brain? In my defense, I had heard from his grandfather that he sounded very good. I texted E this morning to ask what he wanted to do. He never texted me back. Annoying! I called. He said he didn't have time. I am sure E would rather stone-wall than just say no. It may work, but it's rude. I did get out of him that he felt somewhat better about the issues we had worked on. On Sunday, I will call him to remind him that I needed him to be straightforward with me. Saying no about something is okay; not communicating that to me is not. I appreciate how he has learned to deal with people pushing him, but I'm not pushing. I'm offering, encouraging, but not pushing.  

            As I was working on the updates, I got a call from a mainland area code. Probably a scammer, but I decided to answer. It was another parent wanting tutoring for her elementary school-age child. I have had two other calls, both of whom wanted in-person lessons. No, no, and no. Besides, both these children lived on other islands. That would be one hell of a commute. Now, I have a new client on Sunday and then on Monday. Both these kids are having trouble with reading.  

____-_____-_____

Musings:

            I have always been concerned about teachers' reactions to my work. It's very easy to understand; I can teach a child in five to fifteen minutes; actually, all learners regardless of age.  

            I demonstrated the system's taking-apart aspect to a 55-year-old man who told me he always had trouble learning to read. I did the phonemic analysis, the taking apart aspect, on his name and on the names of his children; that's all. He said, "Why didn't anyone show this to me before?" Two weeks later, I ran into him again. He told me that his reading had already improved so much that the people in his AA group commented on his improvement.  

            But people who are in the position of 'teacher' are different. This approach requires a tolerance for surprise, a moment of disorientation when something is not the way they thought it should be. That causes confusion and a sense of failure. I just had an experience like that with a student last week. English, because it does not have a transparent one-to-one correspondence between the sounds of the language and the spelling, presents challenges, unlike Italian. 

            I think being a teacher who allows themselves to experience surprise, confusion, and failure in a student's presence gives a priceless gift. Such a teacher provides the most valuable lesson: modeling how to deal with surprise, confusion, and failure with dignity and moving on. Once a student has that skill, they become lifelong learners.

     If I want teachers to use this approach with their students, I have to respect that not everyone is willing to subject themselves to those moments. It's the difference between an actor who is happy to cling to the script and an actor who prefers improvisation. Improvisation always involves risk. That's the pleasure of it for the performer and the audience.   

            I have realized that I have to tell those teachers not comfortable with the risks of improvisation to practice the phrases, clauses, or sentences they want to use before working with their students.