Results tagged “elmo” from PEDABLOGUE

A course I'm going to begin teaching later this week -- Introduction to Literary Studies -- is enrolled to capacity, which means I'll have ten or so more students in the room than I'm used to teaching. Even that little bit turns the course into the equivalent of two sections in one, and that means I'll have to employ more large classroom strategies and probably a bit more lecturing than I've done for awhile. I always worry that discussion will suffer in a large class, but I make up for it in group activities. And, luckily, the room they've moved me to has a great "smart podium" with an ELMO document projector in it, so my plan is to use this technology often.

Today I returned to a Pedablogue entry on Tickling the Elmo from way back in 2006. I'm reminded of how useful the document camera really is when teaching a large class and I hope to continue to use it in crafty ways. Last year I remember doing all sorts of fun things with it, from having my writing class interpret their textbook's cover graphics to working with graphic fiction as a writing prompt to projecting a student's laptop screen. My classes edited many of each other's essays on the screen, collaboratively workshopping and line editing the text. But even when it's use is somewhat frivolous, the ELMO can engage students. Turning to an illustration in a textbook and zooming in on a small detail can get students to look at things they take for granted more closely. One day I just put the contents of my pockets on display, as a placeholder (I often try to put something up on the wall as a "screen saver" so I'll have the projector on and ready for when I actually want to break out of an activity or lecture to project a document). A mini-discussion about the "germ killing" claims of my gum pack led to a conversation about "weasel words" -- which is something we later studied in the class. I also often had students use it to perform "show and tell" sorts of presentations. I fondly recall an activity in my Fiction Writing course, when I had workshop groups collaboratively choose the most descriptive passage from each other's stories, and then draw them on a sheet of paper. They then voted on the best, and the artist of it showed off their drawing while they read the passage. We analyzed them for how well they employed language to appeal to the reader's senses, and discussed whether the image in our minds matched what the artist had drawn.

Today I found eMints' collection of links, Teaching Tips: Classroom Use of ELMO Document Cameras and it led me to some good resources. One in particular, Tim Bedley's "Classroom Uses for a Document Camera: The Visual Learner in the Elementary School Classroom" lists all sorts of great ideas for teachers of young people that I hope to port into my new class this term. I like the notion of projecting a "backdrop" onto the screen that functions like a stage set (which students design)! There's also a tip for projecting blank ruled paper onto a whiteboard, to work as guidelines for students to practice blackboard penmanship. Interesting! What other ways could guidelines and backdrop shapes be used? I'll keep thinking about it.

Bedley also had the idea to use the projector as a giant timepiece:

Use the document camera to project a countdown timer. Sure you can buy an overhead timer for about $40. But when you have a document camera, the old kitchen timer works just fine. Use it to keep the kids focused on the task, knowing that the clock is ticking, and they will soon be out of time for that assignment.

I often have to set time limits on in-class writing, and brashly end up reciting the countdown ('ten. nine. eight...stop!'); this tip alone gave me a new way to approach the timing of activities. I'll likely set up the stopwatch on my PDA and zoom in on the spinning digits.

One plan on my syllabus that I'm looking forward to doing is asking students to make a "Literary Collage" -- a cut-and-paste exercise that I want them to use to encapsulate the field of English visually -- and have them present these using the ELMO. I might also bring the practice of mind-mapping back into my classroom on a more regular basis.

Mrs. Levin's Pre-K Pages has a number of tips for the early childhood classroom which might be modified to any classroom, with creativity. Her notion of "word walls" and projecting the "question of the day" are great ideas. Even just keeping a class outline on the screen while the hour passes is a good idea to help as a visual organizer for presentations and would prompt student notetaking.

See the entries tagged 'elmo' (below) for more on this topic, or share your own unique approaches in a comment.

...one question we might ask is: "Do we always know when we are teaching?" I do not think we do. The single most important thing I learned as an undergraduate may have been that I was capable of graduate study. I learned this from a professor who had no idea he taught it to me. Brief remarks that seem innocuous to us may have a lasting impact on our students. Hopefully, the influence is positive. I do not mean to give us more importance or power as teachers than we actually possess. However, a different but equally significant error may be to ignore the potential impact we can have at moments when we are least aware of what we are saying. -- Peter J. Giordano, Teaching and Learning When We Least Expect It

I had a similar experience, when an American Literature teacher named Beth Ann Bassein answered one of my annoying questions by saying, "Oh, you'll learn all about that when you get your Masters." It floored me. She just continued on in her lectures, not missing a beat. I barely even knew what graduate school was, let alone felt I'd be able to get into one, and here this professor was, assuming I would get my master's degree...heck, she didn't even bother trying to talk me into it! Beth Ann Bassein taught me many things when I took her classes, especially her poetry writing courses (because she's a knockout poet herself), but she was one of the toughest teachers on campus and that one passing comment -- with all its unexpected acceptance and faith in my ability -- alone gave me courage to try. (I had another moment like this when, during my Masters, a Medieval lit professor wrote in the margins of a critical essay: "Oh, shut up and go get your PhD already!") These little para-educational things mean nothing -- and yet they mean everything.

So what a wonderful essay Giordano's "Teaching and Learning When We Least Expect It" is. He reminds us that we are not always in control, that learning often happens between the cracks of the syllabus, and that what we say and do informally with (or around) our students can often teach them far more than we realize.

In his essay, he raises a very pithy question: "Do we always know when we are teaching?" And the answer is, of course not. All we really have is faith and speculation and a whole lot of intuition. Sure, good teaching is mentored, learned, and practiced, grounded in deep, lifelong study and professional development. It's based in what people call "best practices"...but I think we often draw on our unconscious well when we are teaching -- modeling our strategies and challenges off of how we ourselves learned best, and refining our techniques and personal style in a series of never-ending encores of successful teaching strategies we've employed in the past. New teachers really do make it up as they go along -- and might be surprised to learn that older teachers (usually the ones who are still engaged and excited about teaching) are making it up even still.

One of the joys of teaching, for me, is coming up with a really good discussion question off the cuff, or dreaming up an impromptu writing prompt, and watching what happens when students get inspired by it. It's magic. I'll sometimes run back to my office and make sure I write down what I did, so I'll remember to do it again in the future. But sometimes we'll run a really great exercise or discussion prompt one year and it'll come as a surprise to us just how good it can be, but when we repeat it the following year, it doesn't click and we wonder what we did wrong. The idea is only half of it; it's the fuel -- but the classroom dynamic provide the fire.

Giordano mulls over metaphors for teaching, and how none of them are quite right, though "midwife" comes closest. I like his idea that teachers need to be "good company" to students. We have to let go of control fantasies for that to happen. Giordano's essay reminded me of the basic principle of learning: it can happen any time. The best thing a teacher can do is try to create an environment where there's lots of flint that might spark fire. But it's up to the student -- and an infinite number of variables beyond anyone's control -- to strike it.

I think it's crucially important to remember these lessons during times of (what Carolyn Segal has termed) Assessmentdelirium.

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I found this article on a site I often mention here on Pedablogue: the Tomorrow's Professor mailing list run by Rick Reis out of the Standford CTL program. Their mailing list is worth subscribing to. I'm currently researching "Transormation Theory" for a pedagogy paper I'm delivering next weekend at the International Conference for the Fantastic in the Arts, and I found Giordano's essay very useful.

I saw myself reflected in the frustrations posted by high school math tacher Amber Arizpe in a recent 43Folders post: "Teacher's Productivity Hampered by Technology.". Arizpe (aka salindger) describes an interesting process:

During class, I write out notes on the Elmo. Plain ol’ paper and pen on a notepad. I can then cart it home and scan it into Acrobat, into a pdf, use planbook to upload a copy to the day of the lesson and yay! print it out when a student needs notes. I’m a nice math teacher, I provide online copies.

Problem? I have to do all this at home. Let’s face it, the last thing I want to do when I get home is to immediately go back to work on paperwork that can be done in the classroom. I would rather be able to do it in my classroom the moment after class is done. Scan, pdf, post, done.

I love the idea of using the Elmo (document camera) as a sort of virtual blackboard, then scanning the results into a .pdf file for archiving and/or sharing with students. But I empathize with Azirpe: I, too, have a Mac for work and a PC at home and no scanner at all to work with. I did buy DevonThink Pro in a special deal on something they call an "infoworker's bundle" -- and I recommend it highly to people who have Macs. Devon's system seems to promise a way to go "paperless" (armed with their very expensive "pro office" version and a pricey SnapScan scanner) in the way that Azirpe seems to fantasize about. But getting there is not easy, especially given conflicts between home PC and work Mac, let alone the expense. Her larger thesis -- that it is difficult for teachers to keep up with all this, and for IT to really facilitate it -- is really at the root.

One of the issues I've personally been struggling with is making the calandering system on my work machine jibe with my cell phone pda, and home pc (uncannily, another issue I just spotted on 43Folders!). It seems like an impossible hurdle to me right now. I've had to recheck the calendar weekly and I keep finding mistakes (like this week, for example, I neglected to note on one machine that a class is canceled for an MLK-related event, even though I have that noted on another... leading to confusion...and erasure and redundancy when I cross-sync the systems). Frustrating! Ah well. Technology is a tool. So is paper, and that might be the best way to keep things clear. Still, I'll sort it out soon enough. The answer lies -- as it almost always does -- in decluttering, simplifying, and staying consistent in a new routine.

At Seton Hill University, our "smart classrooms" are equipped with these wonderful document projectors, called ELMOs. "ELMO" is the name of the company that makes these "visual presenters," but on our campus we use the term affectionately as a pet name for these two armed wonders. They work by using a digital camera instead of a mirrored lens like the usual overhead projector -- ELMO projects anything a camera would: documents, book pages, photographs, and even 3D objects that you place under the lens onto the big screen. They're GREAT!

Like most of the faculty on my campus, I typically just use the ELMO as an overhead projector to show handouts, but without having to go through the trouble of making a transparency, since it will project anything you put on it. In my mind, it's even easier to operate than a PowerPoint presentation, and I'll sometimes print out a quick outline for any lecture or class plan (in large font) and just project it, moving as we go through the class outline, keeping the hour organized. But I also like to experiment with the ELMO and see what other things it is capable of doing. After all, people's eyes are naturally drawn to a big screen spectacle and there is a way to tap into this for educational purposes and to reach out to visual learners. These devices are fantastic for visual aids, but I haven't seen professors using them very creatively, let alone with much expertise. It's something worth taking advantage of to not only project information, but to put into action to keep a class' attention (without, of course, using it as a DISTRACTION).

The ELMO (and I really should be calling it the HV-5000XG, since that's the model we're using) can zoom in, zoom out, auto-focus, and more, by pressing buttons on the "stage" at the base. The "stage" can be backlit from underneath or use the two large arms to cast light on the front of the page. But tonight I decided -- after four years of using it -- to actually read the technical manual (online pdf). And though there are some buttons on the machine that I've never used, I was surprised to learn it can do even more than I imagined.

For example, there's apparently a remote control for adjusting the focus and so forth, hidden in a compartment on the stage. So I can walk around the room and zoom in on something if I need to (though the infrared sensor might be shielded by the lecturn). I notice quite often that lecturers will neglect to "enlarge" whatever it is they're projecting, but one should remember to zoom in so that one line of text on the handout will occupy the entire width of the screen and make it easier to read. Students really appreciate this, even though you sacrifice height for width (i.e., you won't be able to see the whole paragraph or passage of text -- or the whole outline...but paper can be slid up and down to accommodate this as you need it). I like to try to use the frame of the screen to both focus and block out things as I go; sometimes the mystery of what's still to come as we make our way through an overhead keeps students alert and taking notes.

I also learned that the lens on the camera can pop off and reveal another lens inside the camera. That means that what we're using as the default lens is actually a secondary "close-up" lens! I had no idea. But I have often played around with the camera by swiveling the camera head around to project the class itself up on the screen (among other things), and now I know how to make the image less fuzzy. There's also an "iris" function on the remote, which might be useful for my film class, when I teach the idea of the "iris" and also might make for some interesting transitions (since we have a switch to turn from the ELMO to a computer monitor and back again). The ELMO has an option to include a small LCD monitor (which we don't have equipped on ours and I wish we did...so I wouldn't have to turn to look at the screen behind me everytime I use it)...perhaps I could use a laptop or the computer monitor in its stay?

The fact is, because the ELMO is a digital capturing device, with enough ingenuity (and the right cables), one could use it as a camcorder or still capture camera for a variety of pedagogical reasons. One could point it at huge maps on the wall and thereby project them onto the screen to make them even larger, or one could zoom in to, say, one region to expand it so everyone can see it from a distance. Or lectures and student speeches in large lecture halls could be simultaneously "shot" and projected onto the larger theater screen, concert style. Student exhibits, speeches, and more could possibly even be recorded using the ELMO and a cable routed back to the computer or a laptop. I'm wondering if my PDA could work with it somehow. Indeed, now that I've read the manual, I see that there are numerous types of connections that could be made on the fly.

I do like to tickle the ELMO. I will often, as I said above, twist the camera head to point at the students en masse, showing them what the class looks like from my perspective. When I'm not directly talking about a handout, but want to keep the ELMO warmed up for when I will, I put objects that are interesting to look at on the stage. A bottle of water, shot from above, makes an interesting spiral pattern. An extreme closeup of a small element of the textbook cover reveals a nuance previously ignored. It's handy to have artwork or a comic at the ready for filler. But anything will do. If I'm showing a film later in class, I project the DVD cover on the wall, or a still from the movie (or image from the textbook) that I want to analyze. Sometimes I'll put objects in motion, lifting them off the stage and bringing them closer to the camera lens, creating my own zoom effect without relying on the awkward push-button technology.

Any document editing can be shown well using an Elmo, so it's a great device for a writing classroom. I'll often have students walk the class through their writing intentions using these devices on their manuscripts -- or we'll workshop a piece as a class and collaboratively edit it by hand that way. It can be used for off-the-cuff show-and-tell, too -- in poetry class, for example, I'll often show "concrete poetry" that isn't in our book using the device, so students can analyze the shape in addition to the words themselves. I could imagine a biology teacher using it to show how to dissect a real frog live, or a sign language teacher using it to project images of hand signals.

When I project using the ELMO, I sometimes get self-conscious because my hands are projected as uncanny looking body parts onto the screen. I notice the dirt under a fingernail, the odd coloration of my skintone through the projector, the inkstains on my thumb. So I might use a pen or some other device as a pointer, or use a laser pointer on the screen.

For more tips on using the ELMO, I refer to Ray Moses' advice for lawyers on how to present evidence in the courtroom using a document camera... (he talks, for example, on how to use a ruler to show scale or what color marker works best for hilighting). More can be found using Google.

Date: Sat, 8 Jan 2005 13:11:38 -0400
From: Farah Mendlesohn
Subject: [IAFA-L] fact v. fiction
To: iafa

Here is an oddity. Last semester I showed students a documentary on Aileen Wournos. I am currently grading their essays. Without exception, those students who refer to Wournos cite the movie Monster instead. -- Farah

Science Fiction scholar Farah Mendlesohn's post on the IAFA-L mailing list this morning piqued my interest. I know a lot of students in literature classes will take shortcuts and often screen film adaptations of a novel or classic story in order to fake having read the book. Sometimes the teacher can catch this in tests that cite dialogue or mention characters or even plot points that aren't in the actual text. But to watch a fiction film instead of a documentary for a class paper?! An "oddity" indeed.

I have a sneaking suspicion that some of the students made an active choice to opt for the mode of "entertainment" rather "information" in preparation for their term paper. Although we live in an era where "reality TV" dominates the airwaves, our culture continues to give documentaries a bad rap and students will often quake in fear of having to spend time watching them. We are trained by media culture to expect our documentaries to be boring, white bread PBS nature films -- and when they push the envelope, as Michael Moore's work has most notoriously done, critics often respond angrily for not conforming to the strictures of boring production values or rigid objectivity. And when that won't do, "infotainment" comes to the rescue. This is a shame, of course, because documentaries are often educational in nature, even when they adopt an overt rhetorical or political stance (as Moore has clearly done).

We all probably have memories of having to watch terrible, crackling black-and-white filmstrips with dry narrators talking about the most mundane subjects in "education films." I think that because of experiences like this, students sadly associate the documentary genre with those early exposures in schools -- and it's not the teacher's fault, really, since such problems usually stem from a lack of school funding dedicated to educational supplies and the concomitant lack of updates to school libraries and media archives. Colleges often have better choices, but many students still roll their eyes or pull down their ball caps when you roll in the media cart to show a non-fiction film. I've often talked myself out of bringing documentaries into the classroom, for this reason, unless they're really entertaining or eye-opening. I choose films that will stimulate conversation. I don't ever want to be the bore that some of my early school teachers were, but I feel it's also my responsibility to show students alternative forms to mass media fiction films, too, so I'll opt for something a little racy or bizarre. I don't compromise the educational value of the screening, however. I'll always follow up a documentary with a heady discussion. And one of my hidden agendas is to re-open students' eyes to the documentary genre in toto, by showing them powerful examples of it.

Of course, showing a recent documentary about a serial killer, as Mendlesohn did, should have been exhilarating to students all on its own. I'm still puzzled by the result she describes. But I think that, in addition to the latent preference for "infotainment," one thing that might explain it is simply poor research skills. It's likely that they chose the local Blockbuster Video rental store over the library reserves -- or perhaps Monster was available "On Demand" in the comfort of their living room, so they used what was handy rather than going on the hunt for a copy of the film.

I'm sure Mendlesohn graded down those papers, or even flunked them outright. I wouldn't accept the papers that cited the fiction version of a biographical film I assigned unless, perhaps, the students were doing a direct comparison/contrast of the two pictures, or had asked me in advance if they could do so, along a particular line of inquiry. I think it's important to steer students away from infotainment options, because such sources are all readily available on their own without my classroom instruction.

I'm reminded of a student in my literature class who once brought to discussion an illustrated, abridged version of Dracula instead of Stoker's full-length novel I'd required. I was appalled by this assumption that a children's version of the book could substitute for the authoritative text. I've also read of Novel Textbooks -- that is, entertaining narratives that tell stories about, say, Mr. and Mrs. Protein, in order to illustrate science lessons. The lines between entertainment and education are blurring, and while "edutainment" has its value, I think it's important to teach a respect for textual authority at the same time. I want to teach students to value the primary text, the original edition, the best source. That way, they'll also do so in their own future research.

Sure, I know very well that good critical thinking can happen in regards to a fictionalized autobiography as much as a documentary biopic. And, of course, postmodern theory teaches us that a text is a text, and that there is no true "authoritative" version of a text, per se. But then again, I'm showing my literary criticism students a documentary on Derrida this coming term. Perhaps I am lucky that there's no Disney cartoon about Derrida currently playing in theaters. (Though there are a few one panel cartoons here and there!).