A coworker and I were talking about assessment last week, and she made an interesting point: Few teachers assign portfolios because they don’t want to take the time to look through them.

At first, I kind of laughed and agreed. I’ve done my time as a scorer for both a national test publisher and a large public high school. Everything was about how accurately you could score something within a short time span. I actually lost one of the jobs because they felt I just wasn’t fast enough.

But I’ve also done my time as a teacher, directing young students in building a portfolio that was used to both show their parents what they were working on and to help us better assess their growth. And I’ve helped students working on cumulative projects meant to demonstrate what they’ve learned, and seen the time and effort these kids put into their work in the hopes of passing. I myself have built portfolios of my work for both school and job searches. I’m trying to pull one together now.

We all know building a portfolio is a slow process. A lot of us have been there, struggling to find just the right work to highlight our strengths or what we’ve learned, and then trying to describe that work in a context that would make sense to the person judging it. A strong portfolio that shows off exactly what it needs to show is hard to come up with quickly and without a lot of deliberation and internal debate, so it makes sense that we put all of this time into building it.

Only to have it judged by a teacher who has 150 portfolios to grade in a time span of maybe two weeks. Or by the search committee or HR person who has five days to fill our dream position. The portfolio that takes one person two months to create is skimmed (if there’s that much time available) by another person in just two minutes. And a decision is made in those two minutes that affects the porfolio’s builder rather deeply.

Because portfolios are becoming more and more common in schools, we’re actually training an entire generation from an early age to expect this to be the norm. We’re telling them to spend a lot of time thinking about and reflecting on their growth and how to showcase that, but to expect it to be barely glanced it by the person they’ve handed the power of judging to. What a wonderful message to instill in children who are just learning how to function and interact with the world!

Would it really kill us the judges to slow down and consider more seriously the portfolios in front of us? Does a critical score have to come back quickly, or would it be better to have the time to form some sort of constructive feedback? Does the position have to be filled right this instant, or would it be better to take the time to make sure the right person was selected for the job? The reason I lost that job was because I scored projects the way I edit. I read over the entire project first to get a feel for it, and then went back and scored and made comments. It took me longer to get through a set of projects, but it also kept me from writing reactionary comments that made no sense or made it look like I didn’t look at the entire project.

Really, aside from the fact there’s an instant gratification mindset afoot in many industries, why does this time incongruity exist?

Over the weekend, I read that romantic comedies are ruining relationships. People expect their relationships to be exactly like these movies, and they leave when it isn’t. For years, people have been either accusing cartoons and video games of increasing violent tendencies in children or studying the potential relationship between violence in children’s media and violent acts committed by children. I have to wonder how many of the love-scorned adults out there were children who learned their violent ways from cartoons and video games.

We teach young children about reality and fantasy. Somehow, if these studies are all to be believed, they lose that understanding somewhere in elementary school, and it only gets worse as they get older. I’d be willing to bet those (heavily-edited) reality shows don’t help much, either. I’ve known people who couldn’t miss an episode of their favorite reality show, and then couldn’t function if their own life wasn’t full of drama. While it was interesting to see what lengths they would go to just to add more drama to their life, I don’t really miss any of them.

The question here becomes: How do we keep reinforcing the difference between reality and fantasy? How do we make it strong enough that people can understand the difference between being inspired by media and expecting these stories to be how the real world functions? And how do we tuck the intentional moments of instruction in and have them sink in over everything else?

It may seem like I’m on certain warpaths a lot lately, but it’s only because every time I read something related to one of those warpaths, it sets me off again. For example, I’m reading a number of articles lately that go on about how the internet, by way of mobile phones and tablets, will replace the current education system. It’s a great theory, really, especially to someone who grew up dreaming of PADDs (who may or may not have bought a Palm Pilot the moment she could afford one just to pretend she had something that cool).

The problem, which I discussed when I was thinking through the transdisciplinary skills, is that just we like have to find a way to impart to children how to read and how to compute, we have to find a way to teach them how to interpret data. In fact, part of the reason we teach children to read and compute is so they are enabled at a basic level to interpret data.

It’s crazy how interlinked the two are, really. And we certainly aren’t born with the innate ability to read or compute. There are people who go their entire lives without learning to do one, the other, or both. But if we aren’t born with the ability to at least recognize data, why would anyone think we’re born with the ability to interpret it?

That’s what this is coming down to. Yes, people can learn on their own, from many different sources, but if they don’t understand how to learn, how to comprehend, how to approach, then the ability to learn on their own becomes meaningless.

When done correctly, that’s ultimately what education is and should be: enabling children with the basic skills to consume information, reflect critically on it, and make appropriate decisions about it so that they can continue to learn and interact with their world as adults.

It never ceases to amaze me how my students can learn a skill brilliantly, and then move on to a skill either in the same subject or a different subject and exclaim, “I can’t do this! I never learned how!” I always assure them they just learned part of the skill and they did well at it. I even show them their scores for the just-mastered skill. Nine times out of ten, the student digs in their heels and refuses to understand or accept that they really do know part of what’s expected of them. Then, I’ll show them the related skill, and they’ll say, “Oh. I did know that. Never mind. I can do this.” And they shoo me away and get to work.

As you can imagine it’s very frustrating.

For some reason, these students really do think that they’ll never use a skill again, so they promptly forget it when they think they no longer need it. They don’t understand that skills often build on each other, or that a skill can appear in many different areas of their lives. Trying to explain this to them or convince them that these skills will help make their lives easier somewhere in the future gets me nowhere, even when it’s a kid with whom I’ve had the above conversation repeatedly.

It almost makes me wonder if kids are actually mastering these skills because they never reach a subconscious level with them. That’s the real point of education. It’s not enough just to transfer knowledge and processes to students. They have to become familiar and comfortable enough with them to be able to see applications beyond the moment of study. They have to subconsciously apply the knowledge or process.

What you have to understand before I continue is that it took a long time and a lot of people to help me come to terms with my inner feminist. Up until a few years ago, I had it in my head that feminists were Bohemian activists who took every opportunity to bash men and held secret meetings to discuss how awesome women are. And then I worked with a group of feminists who actually fit this bizarre image, and it just cemented in my head that being a feminist was a bad thing. Some real feminists finally discovered why I was so adamant about not being a feminist and set me straight.

Even after being set straight, I thought I was a bad feminist because I really feel that boys and girls deserve to be treated fairly, and I had to be set straight again. And it’s with this mindset that I approach my work. I debate with myself whether to create gender-neutral products that will help any child learn or to go with the STEM movement and focus on bringing more girls into the geeky arts. I go back and forth on a daily basis. I’ve even considered doing both.

Recently, my readings have me seriously considering that gender-neutral approach. For example, an article on the reaches of the obesity epidemic in this country being turned into a discussion on the unhealthy body images girls are already barraged with led to the questions, “Why did this look at trying to curb obesity behaviors early have to turn into a focus on girls?” and, “Why can’t we just focus on raising children, boys and girls, with healthier self-images and wellness habits?” Then, there was the article on women in geek culture being turned to focus on the lack of strong girl characters. I am a geek raised by a geek. While I did often feel there was a token girl character, I never felt excluded from my geeky loves because I am a girl. I do resent the notion that only certain types of girl characters are worthwhile. Some of us girls like a little action (and some of us even enjoy kicking butts in a pretty dress).

I read a handful of feminist blogs that do have some great information, but so often seem stuck on this “Men bad. Women good.” tirade that just seems to defeat the spirit of feminism (or my own definition of feminism). It’s like watching a reverse discrimination emerge, where no division is really needed. And it’s driving me crazy because it affects multiple areas of my life. At work, I’m the teacher that girls with low math confidence often are seated with so they can see a woman who is not only good at math, but enjoys math. My personal projects, discussed briefly above, leave me waffling on who my intended audience is. What’s the right answer?

It’s something I know I will eventually come to terms with, but for right now I have to keep asking, “Does it really have to be either-or?”

A few years ago, there was an improv flurry through freelance writers and writing coaches. Nearly every single one of them that I read or talked to said improvisation was the key to their continuous output and helped them fight back against writer’s block. While I have seen and enjoyed improv shows, I’d never done it myself, so I just nodded and went on my way.

A couple of years ago, I was in a voiceover workshop and the instructor told us all to go take an improv class. I wrote it down in my notes, and closed the book. I did the same thing a month later when the same woman went on the same rant. (Seriously, she was quite enthusiastic about this.)

Last summer, right as one of the local community college’s catalog hit our mailbox, nearly every copywriter and published writer whose blog I was reading posted about how improv was helping them improve their writing skills. It was freaky, but I noted that the community college offered an improv class (that conflicted with my work schedule and stated that the beginning acting class as a prerequisite).

It’s kind of like one of those cosmic signs…that’s completely wrong for a strong introvert like me. Because it hasn’t fit my schedule yet, I really haven’t worried much about it. But last week I was reading the current issue of Interactions Magazine, because I’m trying to learn about interaction design, and guess what showed up? I don’t know how I’m supposed to do this, but apparently I really have to at least look into it.

The lesson here, I think, is that regardless of the creative field you’re in, there’s a lot you can learn from improv that will help you be better at your field.

Information literacy really refers to a set of skills including recognizing valid sources, separating unbiased reporting from opinions, recognizing plagiarism, and being aware of copyright. Actually, there is no set list of information literacy skills. If you look it up, you’ll find dozens of different skills grouped together in different ways.

Information literacy supports a student’s research activities in any class. When the student develops these skills, they become more skilled at distinguishing between primary and secondary source materials, or how to use non-primary sources to locate the primary source. The student also learns to look at a source and decide if there is a bias, where it is, and how that will affect their research.

Information literacy is also where a student learns about copyright and plagiarism. The student learns (or should learn) what copyright is and how it applies to their research materials. The student should also learn about plagiarism, including what it is and why it’s a bad idea. A copyright/plagiarism lesson is the ideal place to teach the student the art of citation, regardless of the format you’ll use for the project. It makes them aware of how to minimize plagiarism in their own work.

In a culture where we are bombarded with information from all directions, it’s useful to arm students with the ability to sift through and find what they really need to know. That’s why we need to teach them information literacy skills

In this little career shift I’m considering, I’ve discovered that I have a strong interest in educational games. At first, I thought that meant I had to go into developing educational media (which I don’t think exists anymore). And then someone told me I had to go into instructional design, and then teach myself to adapt everything for a K-12 audience. Admittedly, I thought that was pretty lame, especially since I have an elementary undergraduate major and a secondary graduate minor and know the two groups aren’t as similar as one might think.

I’ve finally stumbled onto serious games, which is closer to part of what I want to do, and then I stumbled onto these videos addressing how instructional design melds with game design. They made sense!

Now I just have to figure out the best way to take my skills and experience and transfer it to doing this type of work.

Traditionally, writing is part of most language arts classes. We teach students grammar and composition, expecting them to carry that knowledge into other classes and into life. Most teachers include in their grading rubrics sections on organization, coherence, and technical (grammar) skills. Some teachers, especially in middle school and junior high, also seem to reteach their students how to write while developing the paper.

That’s how important writing is. It’s a means of communication that you have to be proficient at, no matter what field you go into. Many teachers realize this and try to prepare their students the best they can. An unfortunate number of students regard it as torture (because anything requiring actual work is torture when you’re a teeanager), develop a hatred for it, and refuse to write their school papers.

Instead, they whip out their phones and type up a poorly worded, poorly structured complaint, which then masquerades as a Facebook status.

I haven’t found a way around this cycle myself, except to explain to my students that every single text they send is writing, and grammar is what’s allowing them to both speak their mind and understand what their friends are trying to say. It doesn’t work, but they slowly start getting that they’ll never get away from writing.

It seems like a pretty straightforward statement, but research is research. Regardless of the subject, research employs the same strategies, even if the best sources are different. I point this out because I can think of five different years in my schooling where I was subjected to a “How to Conduct Research” lecture in at least three of my classes.

Can you imagine sitting through three different variations of the exact same lecture roughly fifteen to twenty times? Most people don’t have the patience for it. They’ll sit for a refresher, but not for a repeat of the same full lecture.

I think it was the research lectures for a late project in American History in eighth grade and a freshman Astronomy class in college that handled it the best. We were introduced to a library none of us had likely been in before. We were shown the preferred citation method (which beat grad school when my Collections Management professor simply said, “Of course, we will be using the professional standard”, and left it to us to figure out what that was).

Really, students need to learn a set of basic skills for research: note-taking, citation, copyright and plagiarism, tools and resources for research, assessing the value of a source, interviewing, and observation, and then how to effectively use research to augment and strengthen their work. These can be covered in a single setting since there are many opportunities for practice throughout all the subjects.

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