Where have all the blogposts gone? Good question, mom.
I knew I'd been busy with a mountain of freelance work, marking, class preparation and the master's degree when my mom asked me how come "the place she used to go to read my stories" now no longer has any stories. You know how moms love their stories!
Unable to post top-secret client work, or lame representations of marking and class preparation, I'm instead posting this screencast I just did for one of my master's classes. It talks about implementing two different kinds of e-portfolios - original and curation - in the ad major, which is something we'll actually do next year in a more meaningful way than we did this year.
More importantly: who is your least-favorite CBC personality? There are so many to choose from! (Update: I'm talking about Rex Murphy, Strombo, and Doyle - the local people are all lovely, right? Right!)
Here's AnswerGarden: a great Web tool I ran across researching instructional multimedia. Using AnswerGarden, you simply post a question, share it, embed it, sit back and await the answers, which are displayed in a lovely word cloud.
I await your answer.
Update: I never worked at CBC, but thanks for voting for me!
This week's video is a topic near and dear to my and any of my students' hearts - the four principles of PR persuasion that you can use to win friends and influence everybody.
The bald man won't shut up, while the Star Wars cameos abound...
Intelligence borrows, genius steals. I know because I stole that line from some guy.
This week at CMU was a master's class in online copyright and plagiarism in which I learned much about the murky world of copyright, lawyers, guns, and money. Hint: guns and money aren't as bad as lawyers.
3. Indiana U's "How to recognize plagiarism," online test, and official plagiarism certificate making you a certified plagiarist. Or something. Every student at Indiana U must take - and ace - the test, which constitutes understanding and compliance of the school's guidelines.
What a difference a year makes. Now, no one giggles when you say, "iPad." Those who have it get it, and those who don't are about to: it's outselling Android tablets to the tune of 24 to one.
I seldom watch TV now without an iPad on my lap - huh, huh: he said "lap" - for IMDB, Twitter, and Zite. My mother and her husband have iPads. My dad is talking about getting an iPad when version three comes out, reportedly this fall.
More and more soon-to-be CreComm students are emailing me to see if an iPad fills the tech requirements. The answer: of course. If all of my students had iPads, we could begin using the Edmodo, Idea Flight, and Blackboard Mobile Learn apps in the classroom in earnest.
And what of the girl who cried Maxi-Pad? She and her iPad are living happily ever after.
Elisabeth and Croft Petersmeyer Jingleheimer Schmidt.
I love the smell of roasted student in the morning.
I had a great time on the weekend attending my first former-student wedding - the former student being Croft Petersmeyer, who had the misfortune of being in the first CreComm class I ever taught, and the good fortune to marry Elisabeth Mague. All's well that ends well!
Even better, I got to make a short speech at the wedding. And it went something like this (cue wavy lines and dream music):
A salute to being Petersmeyeresque:
I’m Croft’s friend and before that I was his college teacher. This is a big day for Croft but it’s a bigger day for me – because this is one of the few chances I’ve ever had to tell a former student what I really think of him. In public.
Croft asked me to write jokes, so I brought along his report card. And I will read aloud from it: Advertising: C. Public Relations: C. Journalism: C. TV: C. Radio: C. Teacher’s comment: If you let me speak at your wedding, I’ll change these marks to As.
When Croft was a student, he once told me that he was either going to get an A+ or drop out of school. So, congratulations, Elisabeth – you’ve either got the best husband in the world. Or he’s going to disappear on the honeymoon and you’ll never see him again.
I know – and Croft knows – that he graduated, got hired at Pollard Banknote, and is getting married for one thing and one thing only: his looks. Ladies and gentlemen: have you ever seen a lovelier blushing bride than Croft Petersmeyer? I hope I sweat like that when I get married.
It’s hard to tell if Croft’s blushing, because his face is always red. The man is a human thermometer. And the long-range forecast is for high blood pressure.
They say the first impression is the lasting impression – and the first impression with Croft is, “What the hell did you say your name was?”
Imagine the magical moment when Elisabeth told her family, “I’m in love with Croft Petersmeyer.”
“We all love Kraft Peanutbutter.”
“No: Croft Petersmeyer.”
“Peter Croftsmeyer.”
“No: Croft Petersmeyer.”
“Meyers Croftpeter.”
“No: Croft Petersmeyer.”
“Cracked Weisenheimer.”
No: Croft Petersmeyer.
“Rumpelstiltskin?”
“Close enough.”
Elizabeth will not be taking Croft’s last name. Good decision. Elisabeth is a great name. Sounds like royalty. Queen Elisabeth. Then you tack Petersmeyer onto the end – Queen Elisabeth Petersmeyer. That’s just a German rapper.
Croft is disappointed because he wanted Elisabeth to take both his names, so he could say, “I’m Croft Petersmeyer, and so is my wife.”
Croft told me not to worry if no one laughs, because half the audience is French.
Croft is an intense guy – because he cares so much. Some would say too much. Croft’s class once got me to pretend we were going to have a test, just to make his head explode. He walked into the class and I announced the test. And I wish I could say I was surprised when his head actually exploded.
However, the class was very surprised when the pieces poured back together like Arnold Schwarzenegger in Terminator 2.
I’m sorry – I forgot that it’s bad luck to mention Arnold Schwarzenegger at a wedding. Don’t worry, Elisabeth: there’s a big difference between Croft and Arnold Schwarzenegger: no one wants to sleep with Croft. Probably not even you. Probably not even Croft.
But that’s OK, because, for Croft, sex is like elves and hobbits – they only exist in his mind.
Croft was a great student and he is a great friend. And I want to say, thank you, Croft for that. And I’d like to wish you and Queen Elisabeth Petersmeyer all the best as you embark on a lifetime of happiness together.
I'd like to thank God, my agent, colleagues, Steve Jobs, students, Mel Gibson, and anyone else I'm forgetting for this honor.
Big thanks to the School of Learning Innovation for recognizing Graphic Design instructor Diane Livingston and I with a Learning Innovation Award for our iPad ePub project, embarked upon by the CreComm Advertising majors and second-year graphic-design students.
The recognition includes the above video - put together by Michael Farris, manager of learning technologies and his team at Red River College - lunch with RRC President Stephanie Forsyth (so, no forthcoming blog about how I never get to eat lunch with the president), and these lovely, giant-sized framed awards, which crushed me to death yesterday as I carried them to my car:
It's just, plain nice to work for an employer that recognizes staff. Thanks for the thanks!
I woke up this morning to a lovely Thanksgiving email from a former student, thanking his instructors for "giving me the skills to allow me to be where I am today." And he's in a good place, so it wasn't sarcasm! Ha!
Nice or what? And he graduated when I still didn't know what the hell I was doing...poor fella.
A couple of weeks ago, I got maybe the sweetest card I've ever received from a former student; apparently, she'd thought about all of the times I'd acted like a buffoon in class, told ill-advised jokes, and mercilessly teased my students until they nearly cried, and wanted to thank me for keeping things entertaining. The trick worked!
So, let me just say thanks and "right back at ya" to all of the students who make and have made my job the very opposite of a thankless task - and whose thoughtfulness reminds me to be more thoughtful in return.
Join me in raising a glass to you!
Now, back to work: these frozen McCain pumpkin pies don't eat themselves!
The perfect class: four students, 40 computers, one teacher with camera.
I remember the first time I walked into my philosophy of ethics class at the U of M.
I was taken aback when I realized that the class was actually just a teacher and four, nerdy losers sitting around a small, boardroom table - and I was one of them!
I felt like the guy who pays good money to see a "movie" at the Towne Cinema, only to find that his TV is actually bigger than the screen in theatre #3: "Money back, please!"
I was especially piqued, because I was just 19 and used to treating my larger classes like spectator sports. I'd chuckle at the professors' jokes (Nielsen: "I would give my eyetooth to be svelte!"), but I didn't feel that I had anything to contribute, so I didn't.
Hell, just a couple of years earlier, I was delivering newspapers for a living - so what useful experience did I have to bring to the table?
In the larger classes, there were some students who clearly considered the classroom to be a giant soapbox for their views on pretty much everything. They'd speak, the rest of us would roll our eyes, rinse, wash, repeat.
Some days, I didn't feel like listening to the same people say the same things, so I didn't go to class. Nobody noticed, as far as I knew. They probably didn't.
Talk or the sheriff gets it
But in my tiny philosophy class, we'd go around the table and talk until everyone had a chance to share. I was forced - at gunpoint, I tell you! - to attend class and have opinions, or at least pretend to have them.
It was good for me.
My first outwardly expressed thought in the class came up during a discussion about the ethics of animal testing: "Who's to say that an animal's sense perception is worth less than a human being's ability to think about thinking?" I asked, surprising even myself.
"Does anyone know what he's talking about?" asked the professor to the other three geeks, giving me props for saying something smart. Who knew I had it in me?
I heard a bell ring, and Clarence got his wings.
How many students is the right number?
I sometimes think about this experience when I teach my classes. At any one time, each Red River College instructor has around 100 students on his or her watch. In general, each class consists of about 25 students.
Is there enough time to give everyone a chance to speak or the one-on-one attention they all deserve? "I wish!" I thought, as I remembered the poor student who waited 25 minutes to see me earlier this week. Ugh.
There have already been some amazing discussions in this year's larger classes, but I've noticed that we do have some "phantom students" in the room. In Friday's class, I saw one of them checking messages on a cell phone.
I didn't say anything, because there's nothing like ending the week on a big downer. But I wondered whether this would happen in a smaller class. Probably not.
But I think that this rule holds true: the smaller the class = the greater the engagement, and feeling of responsibility, on the part of its participants.
Classroom or boardroom?
This year I've got 16 students in the advertising major. The cool thing about having numbers in the mid-to-high teens is that the classroom becomes a boardroom, not unlike my philosophy class.
Last week, the majors and I made mood boards together - the perfect exercise for a class this size (it would have been even more perfect if I wouldn't have accidentally whacked a student in the face with a mood board. Thanks for not suing me!).
In a class of 16, there's nowhere to hide or sink into the background. So, swim it is!
What is school?
In my experience, a smaller class size - or number of students per instructor - leads to a greater depth of sharing, creating, learning, collaboration, exploration, inquiry, demonstration, passion, reflection, discussion, and opinion formation.
When you consider that all of the information you could ever want is available online, the idea that school is a spectator sport, where an instructor provides a one-way flow of information to his or her "public" is a joke.
Which reminds me of the stand-up bit I used to do about my university education:
"I was a terrible philosophy student. On the first test, I proved I didn't exist. Then for the rest of the year, I did f-all."
Got a hankerin' for a heapin' helpin' o' good teachin'?
Well, take a bite of the good-teaching pie chart, which consists of all the things that teachers are supposed to do in order to make the learning experience and classroom environment the magical places they can and should be.
Most good instructors excel in one of these areas, juggle most of them well, and have one or two areas that need work. This year, I master "nurturing!" Stop laughing.
It's also worth noting that there are some high and low combos that are disastrous for teachers: being substantive but boring is useless. Being very entertaining without substance is Jersey Shore.
And what's missing? I suppose "humor" could fit into "fun" and "style," but it bears its own shout-out. For teachers, it's just like it is with new comedians: the best humor is of the self deprecating variety: the teacher is the self, and everyone else deprecates him!
Of course, a teacher is only as good as his or her institutional support: if students don't know how to do their work because the teacher didn't show up today: that's the teacher's fault. If generations of students don't know how to do their work because the teacher didn't show up: that's the institution's fault.
Lastly, if as a teacher or student, you feel a little nervousness before the school year begins, don't sweat it: that's nature's way of telling you that you care and want to do a good job - the most important piece of all.
Ahh, my two favorite words between Kindergarten and junior high. Then I turned 15, got a job working in a coalmine and realized how good I'd had it before the black lung and Pneumoconiosis set in.
Just like Devo!
"How long can this go on?!"
I'm exaggerating a smidge, but just to prove the larger point that no matter how much you hate school, no matter how arbitrary or cruel you believe the teacher to be, no matter how intellectually or physically demanding the studies, a job always makes school look like Mardi Gras.
It's true: if you have a problem at school, there will always be someone to listen, and if you have a complaint at work, there will always be someone to fire you.
When I used to yell, "No fair!" at my dad, he'd say, "You got a complaint? Take it to the complaint department!" Clever, because it didn't exist.
Your boss might very well say the same thing, knowing that there is no complaint department at work either. But we actually have a complaint department at school - Student Services, which does a lot of other things as well.
(RRC's policies and guidelines are laid out right here.)
But do not go gently into that good night, m'lords and m'ladies, because appealing grades is a touchy matter, for a number of reasons:
Teachers tend to think of themselves as students' employers. Students may think of themselves as consumers and instructors as providers.
Students need teachers' goodwill and recommendations to get a job and, by definition, may not like grades to begin with. The teacher might actually be unfair. Or both.
Therein lies the groundwork for fun, fun, fun. Let's party!
Fair play's my game!
Let it be said that I'm for anything that allows someone to appeal unfairness - in the academic environment and society at large. Who wants to be treated unfairly? Not me!
Of course, I don't want to treat anyone unfairly and like to think, as David Beckham once got paid to say, "Fair play's my game!"
But if teaching has taught me anything, it's that two people can see the exact same thing, but interpret it completely differently:
So, if someone thinks that I've been unfair, I'd genuinely like to know about it and even find out if I'm wrong.
That said, my belief is that a marks or grade appeal should be a last resort after all other avenues have been exhausted - including a good, old-fashioned discussion, perhaps over coffee, which always makes everything feel better.
Hell, I feel better just thinking about it!
This is where most informal "appeals" come to an end. You come to some sort of agreement and move on - split the difference, see the other person's point of view, or agree to disagree.
I'm sure that here is where some grudges are born, but as Cougar sang before he became Mellencamp, "Oh, yeah: life goes on!"
The governor called - he wants his phone back
Yesterday, I wrote about the nightmare of the legalese-based course outline (see post below).
Part of the greater push into this territory is owing to the extremely rare (but not unknown!) student who looks for loopholes when all hope is (almost but not quite) lost.
In my limited experience, the institutional marks appeal is the equivalent of waiting for the governor to call when you're already sitting in the electric chair: at this point, we all kind of know where this is going, but - you never know - the governor might actually call this time!
The first sign that something is amiss is that the appeal has become "institutional." Most "appeals" are normal discussions like the one I outline above.
So, the person who launches an institutional appeal is usually someone who has already had that discussion, but who still feels:
Desperate (in danger of failing, perhaps);
Hard done by (because it feels like no one listened or because the instructor disagreed);
Wants to prove a point or "get even;"
All of the above
So, it's unlikely that "tightening up the rules" would dissuade a person who feels any of these things - when it reaches this point it's about other things, real or imagined.
It's extremely rare for an emotion-based appeal to be successful, for reasons you can see come to life every afternoon on Judge Judy:
"He stole my pen!"
"I did not!"
"He stole my pen!"
"I did not!"
The good-old days, they were terrible
It's worth noting here that I'm not just an instructor in CreComm, I'm a grad. I liked it so much, I bought the company!
When I graduated from CreComm in the early 90s, appeals didn't exist (or if they did, no one had ever heard of them). Let me put it this way: if you got an F, it never magically turned into a D. In fact, if you complained, it became an F-minus.
Sure, we'd complain to other students and gossip about the same things CreComm students do now, but it was unheard of for a student to "file a formal appeal" about a mark or disciplinary action. If an instructor got mad, we were afraid and felt lucky to get away from the situation drawing breath.
The only mark that ever truly shocked me was in my very last semester of TV class; after being on the honor roll for my entire CreComm career, I was awarded a big, fat D, knocking me off the roll on my last attempt.
Today, the situation would be ripe for appeal: the instructor didn't give out assignments in writing, missed class a lot, and - believe it or not - couldn't work the TV equipment.
So, I took the rare move of...graduating and forgetting about it. The upshot? Nothing: no one has ever asked to see my CreComm marks transcript. No one! So my blemished record actually only exists in my mind - and this blog.
Had I complained, I would have only accomplished the not-very-hard task of pissing off my teacher and the upshot would have been the same thing, plus an angry instructor.
I recently mentioned this story to the CreComm chair - my boss - who just laughed said, "She probably just entered the mark wrong."
So my D might actually be a typo? Great, now I have to draw that little line across my transcript and make it look like a B - no appeal required.
There are five kinds of students in this world and, sorry Breakfast Club, they're not brain, athlete, basket case, jock, and princess.
In my Certificate in Adult Education class last year (and every year, just like Groundhog Day!) we learned that we could classify all students into five, basic stereotypes.
On one hand, it's nice to believe that sometimes a student doesn't like you because he or she doesn't like any teacher - on the other, it's a little depressing to consider that, no matter what you do as a teacher or student, success and failure may be predestined.
To simplify: sometimes it feels like we teachers are just standing around watching students achieve or not achieve what they would do anyway, like Lord of the Flies with a chaperone.
At some point, you have to wonder whether your primary role as a teacher is to "help those who help themselves," "help those who don't help themselves," "help those who want your help," or "help those who don't want your help."
It's human nature to do the first, but a good teacher at least attempts to reach out to and retain every student. But if you want to get to the heart of where classroom issues start, maybe having an understanding of these five student "typologies" - and knowing which one you are - is where to begin:
1. Success Students These students are:
Task oriented.
Successful.
Cooperative.
Accepting of challenging and difficult questions and assignments more quickly and more often.
Well behaved.
Comfortable with their role.
Liked by instructors.
Better known as: "The valedictorian!"
2. Social Students These students are:
People oriented.
Able to achieve, but value friendships more.
Often assigned easier tasks or questions.
Sometimes off on their answers.
Popular, and have lots of friends.
Disliked by some teachers.
Better known as: "Can you crank it down a notch?"
3. Dependent Students These students are:
Always seeking instructor support, direction, and help.
Usually responsible for a majority of demands on instructor time.
Comfortable offering ideas, but they may be off.
Lower-level achievers.
Sometimes ostracized by peers.
Sometimes the source of instructor concern.
Better known as: "You again?"
4. Alienated Students These students are:
Often from disadvantaged backgrounds.
Often reluctant learners.
Prone to rejecting everything the classroom stands for.
Openly hostile and "troublemakers."
Often withdrawn, and may be ignored by instructors and peers.
Often rejected by instructors as "unteachable."
Better known as: "Troublemaker!"
5. Phantom Students These students are:
Seldom seen or heard.
Shy.
Average performers.
Sometimes independent.
Reluctant to volunteer ideas.
Reluctant to participate.
Prone to being forgotten by instructors and peers, who may be completely indifferent to them.
Better known as: "Who?"
***
Which are you? Not sure which I am, but if you have some easy questions for me to knock out, I can get on with socializing.
By the way, all of the incredible art in this blog was drawn by me using the Brushes app, just like that recent New Yorker cover - not that Brushes wants me to brag about it.
It's been an interesting week of iPad-only goodness.
At first, I really did miss my laptop, mostly out of habit. But, like a breakup and a bad haircut, happiness was just one week away. And now I can't tell what I ever did see in that old girlfriend: dirty keyboard, smudged screen, and dim display.
I now find myself using my new love, the iPad, for everything: serving drinks, shaving, keeping doors open, absorbing BP oil spills - everything!
Like Jerry Springer telling us what he's learned at the end of his show, here's what I've learned after one week of iPadding:
1. The sooner you stop treating the iPad as a museum piece, the better.
After plunking down almost $1,000 for a top-of-the-line iPad, apps, add-ons, connectors, and cases, it's tempting to leave the device in the box on the shelf, like a rare Yoda action-figure collectible.
This is a mistake.
The best thing you can do when you get an iPad is carry it around, dig into it, and force yourself to use it like the tool it is.
In my experience, the iPad's true value doesn't make itself known until you break the laptop habit. Once you do, the sky's the limit.
As Tim Curry sang in the Rocky Horror Picture Show, "In just seven days, I can make you a man!" Even better: with the iPad, no stockings or suspenders is required.
2. You probably don't need the attachments right away. Or at all.
The VGA connector works - I attached the iPad to a digital projector yesterday, and Keynote looked great. But will I use it again before September? Probably not.
The keyboard attachment also works great - apart from a slightly wonky fit when you put your iPad in the officially sanctioned case. But the internal keyboard is much better than I expected, and who wants to lug around a keyboard attachment every day?
As for the case: looks nice, but you could probably just plunk the iPad in your bag and it would survive just fine.
3. Get over the fact that your hands are dirty, you slouch, and spit a lot.
My back is sore from staring down at my lap (no jokes, please) while I type.
The iPad screen is covered in fingerprints and spit.
I just hope it doesn't cut into my G.I. Joe water-battle time.
4. Keep checking for new apps and updates.
The apps have been app-dating and new ones app-earing at a fever pitch. One day, no Huffington Post or Pulse News, the next...Yes!
Pulse News is particularly powerful, which is why the New York Times first gave it a rave review and then threatened legal action: choose your favorite 20 websites, blogs, and/or Twitter feeds, and watch them come to life in your very own news ticker.
I'll let a judge decide who owns an RSS feed - until then, and probably after, I'll be digging this app.
5. Watch your Rogers dataplan.
The young woman who broke the bad news to me about the reason my bill was double this month didn't want to blame me, but: I used too much 3G data.
One WIRED download = half your data usage for the month. This is why the Americans are flipping out over AT&T dropping it's "unlimited usage" plan: it freaking sucks.
6. Start watching and listening to iPad podcasts.
The enthusiastic amateur does beat a bored professional, and for proof just check out some of these podcasts - the best place to get iPad and app advice:
I've been testing the Pages app - the iPad's word processor - all week. I fully expected all kinds of hassles and wonky conversions to and from Word, and - surprise! - it's been a more pleasant experience than I could've imagined.
I've been saving this review, because I really wanted to test the hell out of Pages. For many people in my field, I believe that the decision to buy an iPad comes down to this app - "Yeah, the iPad is a great toy, but can I use it to write stuff for work?"
I'm happy to report that the answer is, thank you Sammy Davis Jr., "Yes, you can!"
What is Pages?
Pages is the "Word" part of Apple's iWork slate of apps, which includes Numbers (Excel) and Keynote (PowerPoint).
The apps are available separately for about $10 each, which is a real steal - so important is it to the iPad's sales and Apple's profits to convince people that the iPad is a viable replacement for a laptop.
When you first use Pages, the biggest hurdle you face is psychological: they might have very well called it, "I can't believe it's not Word."
I admit that I've been calling Pages "Word" all week when I've shown people how it works, just so they wouldn't get confused - kinda like when my friend's mom used to make burgers, but insist that they were "Big Macs."
In fact, the Pages app works a lot like Word. You get:
16 templates from which to compose your document, including term paper, resume, invitation, flyer, letters (four kinds!), and - PRs take note - proposal.
43 fonts.
Text styles.
Tables and charts.
Graphics, photo styles, and effects tools.
A toolbar.
Spellcheck and a dictionary.
200 levels of "undo."
The ability to import and email Word documents.
Pages does NOT have a thesaurus, allow you to track changes, preview your document, adjust columns, or use a mouse. It's touchscreen all the way, baby!
You can choose between the iPad's onscreen keyboard and keyboard attachment. I tried both, and found the onscreen keyboard to be the easiest and most convenient way to be mobile and get things done.
The attachment doesn't work so well when your iPad is in a case, but if your iPad is always in one place, you might prefer to keep it affixed to the keyboard attachment.
As well, I prefer the landscape view, which isn't available when you use the keyboard attachment.
Using Pages
In Pages, everything starts with the My Documents button at the top of the page. When you select it, you can create a new document or open an existing one.
You navigate your documents by flipping through thumbnails and stopping on the one you want to see.
The formatting buttons and styles are organized somewhat differently than Word's, but they're quite easy to figure out. I'll spare you the details, other than to say that you can format copy, align words, and insert tabs without a problem.
The real innovation comes when you're working with images. Inserting photos in Pages with your fingers is, I dare say, way easier than using a mouse.
You simply insert an image from your iPad's photo library and use your fingers on the touchscreen to drag it where you want it, resize it, rotate it, and watch the text flow around it automatically - to a guy raised on Pagemaker, it's truly a thing of beauty.
Word compatibility
To open your Word documents in pages, you email them to your iPad, hold your finger on the attachment, and select the "Open in Pages" option that pops up.
You can also transfer docs in iTunes, but I didn't bother trying out that option - I'm already an obsessive "Email stuff to myself" guy, so it comes pretty naturally.
Likewise, you can share any Pages document that you create as a Word doc, and send it by email or invite others to open it at iWork.com.
I've spent a significant amount of time sending documents to and from Pages in various versions of Word and it works well - but watch for some minor wonky formatting: there are no Wingdings in Pages and, as I say, no Track Changes.
As well, you need to email the Pages document to another computer if you need to print it; the iPad can't send docs to the printer without the middleman. Yet!
Pleasant surprises
Let's end with the three, biggest positives:
Pages is really fast, in terms of the app launching and in terms of opening documents.
There is no "File" menu, and you NEVER have to save: the app does it automatically.
The built-in user guide is a model of what a user guide should be: simple, short, and useful. In five minutes, you're good to go.
***
You probably won't love Pages as much as me if you're constantly printing and merging documents.
That said, Pages is easily the best mobile writing app on the market - better than anyone had any right to expect. I created my first assignment handout on the bus today, and it was waiting for me in my email inbox when I arrived at work.
When I use Pages, I imagine that I must feel exactly like Sinead O'Connor, because - like her - I have very little hair and "I do not want what I haven't got."
What is it about us teachers working with technology that sometimes gets our knees a-knockin', and hearts a-poundin'?
I think that some of the nerves has to do with the idea of the traditional role of teacher, which used to be all about being the smartest person in the room and never saying, "I don't know."
We've all stood at the front of the classroom trying to fix the piece-of-crap remote control that's supposed to turn on the digital projector while 25 people watch you and think, "I paid tuition for this?"
On the other hand, technology is, by definition, something that gets embraced by younger people before older people know what it is, try it, or adopt it. This puts teachers - usually the oldest folks in the classroom - at a disadvantage in two areas: knowledge and classroom control.
Hence, the knee-jerk reaction to any electronic device that a student seems to be enjoying more than the class: "I don't know how that thing works, so get it out of here!"
This is normal. This manifests itself in everyone to some degree; it usually starts in your mid-30s, when you notice yourself thinking things like, "Those damn kids today have no respect!" when you see them staring passively at an invariably smaller screen than what you stared at when you were their age.
As a communications professional friend recently said to me, "I think I'm done trying to keep up with technology. All of this new stuff seems like crap to me."
Well, OK, but just don't apply for a job as a CreComm instructor at Red River College, OK?
Teach the teachers
Another example of this phenomenon, from Will Richardson's Weblogg-ed blog:
At a collection of school leaders and IT people, one of the participants told the group that his school had bought a number of iPads for teachers and that they had scheduled a chunk of training on how to use them.
Unfortunately for him, I had just read an exchange on Twitter where Gary Stager had made the point that I quickly made to the group: “You know, something like 1.3 million people have bought an iPad and I doubt any of them have gotten any “training” on how to use it.” The people in the room half chuckled, but one woman said “Our teachers won’t do anything with technology unless we give them training."
Sigh.
We’ve done the same thing to our teachers that we’re doing to our kids, namely conditioned them to wait for direction on what to learn, how to learn it, and how to show they’ve learned it.
As teachers - especially communications teachers - we need to make sure our students know the tools of the trade, so they're as useful to the people who hire them as they possibly can be. Our new grads' competitive advantage over "old veterans:" understanding how to use and harness new media and technology to benefit their client or employer.
And we also have to be prepared to jump into areas we don't understand and in which some students might be smarter and more experienced than us.
And we have to be prepared, at times anyway, to have no direction before we just do it. Thanks for the cliche, Nike!
The iPod Touch meets CreComm
Which brings us to Creative Communications, the program in which I teach.
It's no secret that I'm a big proponent of not just Apple products, but new technology in general.
I don't think new technology is any more important in life than, say, reading Moby-Dick, but it is probably more important to most employers that you are able to use mobile technology than it is for you to rattle off the complete works of Herman Melville.
So, one of the things that we - the CreComm faculty - have done is to propose that iPod Touches be added to the equipment list for first-year students.
In the heady era of the iPad, even the idea of adding iPod Touches to the equipment list seems a bit "too little, too late" for me, but you've gotta start somewhere, right? Baby steps:
You can't just go around adding stuff for students to buy, so here's how I've answered the question that needs to be answered in order to make it a reality: "Why iPod Touches?"
Ladies and gentlemen, I give you the Kentonist Manifesto. I just hope I do justice to Marx - Groucho, Harpo, and Chico.
***
Please allow me to explain the value of the iPod Touch, not just in my own classes, but across the program, because the device has an impact on virtually every part of our curriculum: from downloading Canadian Literature and posting podcasts to mobile blogging and tweeting.
The iPod Touch is an iPhone without the phone. The communications industry is moving to "touch" technology with app-based delivery - the iPod Touch is the ground-floor version of this technology and gives the biggest bang for the least buck.
The iPod Touch is good for mobile email, watching video, playing music, reading news apps, downloading and reading books, mobile blogging, recording podcasts, tweeting, monitoring RSS feeds (like the students' blogs), being plugged in to what's going on, and understanding the whole “app” landscape.
You require no wireless contract with a service provider (you can use Red River College’s Wi-Fi network for free), but the iPod Touch does not allow you to shoot video or photos, or to make phone calls.
You can see what the device looks like here on the Apple website.
Here's what I use my iPhone to do (note that the iPod Touch does most of this, but not photos/video/phone):
Take and send pictures;
Shoot and edit video and post it to YouTube;
Send and receive emails;
Use Twitter;
Download apps;
Get the news through apps and the Web (the NY Times, USA Today, BBC, the Globe and Mail, Telegraph, ITN, CBC Radio, NPR News, Time, Huffington Post, Consumer Reports);
Download books;
Record podcasts and radio shows (on the AudioBoo app, etc);
Watch video;
Text message;
Write and publish mobile blog posts (using the BlogPress app, etc.);
Play and create music;
Follow RSS feeds (all of the students' blogs);
Communicate with people
And even sometimes make a phone call.
(Note: if this seems familiar, I stole this list off of a previous blog post!)
These are just some of the ways I will use the iPod Touch in my classes, but we should make allowances for some instructors who don't yet know how they'll use it - because they themselves have not yet had a chance to try it out.
I should also note that this technology has become standard issue in colleges and universities across North America, including the University of Saskatchewan, which has its own app.
***
So, let's see how it goes.
And, by the way, Moby-Dick is available for free through more than one ebook app. Great book - you should download it.
Stephen Colbert has one. Letterman has one. I've got one too!
But should you get an iPad?
I've been using the iPad for the last week - downloadin' apps and figurin' out how the thing works, mostly - and I reckon that I really do love it.
But do I love it intrinsically, or do I just love the fact that I love it? Forgive me for getting all meta on you: it's what happens after staring at a backlit screen for seven days straight without food or water.
Lappad or iTop?
Regardless of what I think of the iPad, if it is to have any staying power, it has to convince casual and heavy laptop users that there's a better way to do what they're already doing: word processing, presentations, Web surfing, blog posting, tweeting, emailing, and all the other day-to-day stuff.
Creative Communications - the program in which I teach - is earmarked for "going laptop" in 2011 - meaning that every student entering the program next year will be required to bring a laptop computer with them to school, as long as it conforms to the college, department, and IT specs.
The million-dollar question: is an iPad a laptop?
Probably not by CreComm's current definition, because it's unlikely that the iPad will have the memory to edit full-length video, like our media production instructors like their students to be able to do.
Still, the iPad is a pretty incredible way to view video. And life is full of compromises, right? Right!
For instance, we'll be asking our first-year students to buy a 32 GB iPod Touch this coming September (unless they already have an iPod Touch or iPhone), primarily so they can familiarize themselves with the app landscape (appscape?), which is clearly here to stay.
I submit for your consideration: isn't the iPad a pretty good compromise between a laptop and an iPod Touch?
That's what I aim to find out!
The one-week iPad challenge
Next Monday to Friday, I will be using the iPad, and the iPad only, for everything I normally use my laptop to do, which is: blogging, tweeting, creating presentations, writing and editing Word documents, listening to music, and emailing.
Apart from the iPad itself, I will be using these weapons in my arsenal:
True, the iPad has made the iPhone seem a bit "yesterday," but you still need to be able to shoot pictures and video to post with your blog posts, right? Right!
The iPad has no camera, though it stores pictures very nicely, so using a separate camera (or phone) is really the only way to make your blog posts look loverly. Which I will continue to aim to do.
Monday, Monday
Before Monday, I'll be bringing myself up to speed on all of the most-important iPad apps, and running a few tests, so I know what's what, which is to say: if a bunch of weird crap suddenly appears on this blog, it's not me, it's the iPad.
If suddenly this blog seems more interesting and entertaining: it's not the iPad, it's me.
The Flip Video UltraHD camera. Cue Journey's "Open Arms."
The next time I see media-production majors carrying giant cameras, tripods, craft services tables, human torsos, bazookas, and whatever else is in their monster-sized duffel bags, I will record it for posterity on my new Flip video UltraHD camera.
The Flip is a low-cost ($220), handheld HD camcorder that lets you shoot and save glorious HD video and instantly watch it on your HD TV (there's an HDMI output jack), YouTube (it uploads to the site automatically), or the device itself (eight gigs!).
The Flip comes by its name honestly; it's got a USB connector that literally flips out of the side of the camera, and which you can connect into a USB port in your laptop.
An inappropriate display of public affection?
Software onboard
When you plug in the camera, your computer automatically launches FlipShare software. You don't have to install the software or download it: it's right onboard the camera and ready to do your bidding. Nifty.
The software lets you upload your video directly to YouTube and MySpace, save it to your computer, email it as a greeting card, burn DVDs, take snapshots out of the footage, or edit together a movie by dragging and dropping your clips, slapping music into the background and adjusting the volume.
FlipShare powers activate!
Controls/display
The camera controls are pretty simple and intuitive - perfect for a sensitive, dumb guy like me: you push the big, red button to record and stop recording, the plus button to zoom in, the minus button to zoom out, the play button to play, and the garbage-can button to delete.
The two buttons on the side of the big, red button help you skip between videos when you're playing them back.
Homer is ready for his closeup.
When you're shooting, the two-inch LCD screen gives a pretty great indication of what you're looking at, and it seems to work well in sunshine and shade.
It does, however, really look like a camera, which means my days of shooting boneheads talking loudly on their cell phones on the bus may soon be over. Or maybe just my days of shooting boneheads talking loudly on their cell phones on the bus without getting a punch in the nose may soon be over.
Battery
The camera can hold up to two hours of HD video, and the onscreen display tells you how much time you have left.
What you don't have anywhere, however, is a battery life indicator. So, when your camera is plugged in, it's charging. When is it full? Who knows! The manual says, "about six hours," but also says that constantly charging it could hurt its life. Boo.
The camera comes with rechargeable batteries, but it apparently also takes regular AA batteries.
Quality
I shot the video, below, earlier today, and you can see how colorful and sharp the picture looks, though moving objects - objects that move faster than the camera's "720p video at 30 frames a second?" - look a little jittery. The sound quality is really good - the camera picks up pretty much everything that's going on around you, including behind the camera, and it does a good job of highlighting the voices closest to the camera over background noise.
In-camera playback is equally great. When you press the play button, the camera plays the last clip you shot: the sound and video are crystal clear, you can pause it wherever you like, or skip to the previous videos using the navigation buttons.
I'll be giving this thing the true test next week in Chicago, but having used it for but one day, I can honestly say this: it beats the hell out of carrying around a duffel bag full of bazookas for a living.
One of the greatest things about marking tests - sorry, the only good thing about marking tests - is that you get all kinds of great notes back from students about how they're enjoying the test, or not.
I started saving these notes (and sketches and artwork) years ago, so I can eventually publish them in a coffee table book for my IPP. Just kidding: I'd rather just post my favorites from this year here, students permitting.
I've protected names to shield the wild, the innocent and the E-Street Shuffle (except in one case, but I know she'd want it this way. Right Shelley C? Right!). The intent is to celebrate the end of exams, not to embarrass anyone. Besides, no one has anything to be embarrassed about: you guys did a great job!
I posted a couple of these on Twitter the other day, and I was happy to see that students were quick to take credit for - and have pride in - their work, which is how it should be. Keep on keeping on!
It always sucks putting together a "best movies of the year" list in Canada.
For starters, a lot of the movies that were nominated for last year's Oscars actually didn't come out in Canada until 2009 - so are they 2008 or 2009 films? Most Canadian critics play both sides of the fence, including "whatever films they like" in their lists.
I don't mind it when that happens, but it seems weird to see something that cleaned up at the previous year's Oscars suddenly showing up in a list almost a year later. "And the best film of 2009 is...Titanic!"
Complicating matters, I'm a huge fan of foreign films - I always say that the best movies of the year are actually the nominees for the Oscar in the "Best Foreign Film" category.
(By the way, if you don't see a film because it has subtitles or it's in black and white, I'm sorry, but you're depriving yourself of broad sweep of film and life, and I can't be your friend anymore. Please give me back my Jar Jar Binks action figure. So, there.)
My favorite film of the last decade is easily the Lives of Others, which came out in Germany in 2006, won the Oscar for Best Foreign Film in 2007 (against Water and Pan's Labyrinth!), and I didn't see until 2008. So, what year did it make my list? No year, because I didn't know where the hell to put it. So, here's to the best film of the decade: watch it today!
With that in mind, here are my top five films of 2009, all listed here because they took my jaded heart and actually made it feel something - and, I'm happy to point out, no movie starring "Mudflaps" or "Skids" made the list:
I know that some people hated this film, but it constantly surprised and delighted me; I had no idea that I was really, really needing the British edition of the Office (which I loved), Independence Day (which I hated), and a critique of apartheid (which, we can all agree, sucks) to come together in one, great movie that made me laugh and cry at the same time.
Yeah, the fight at the end was somewhat anti-climactic, but I forgive it for the very last shot of the film, which gave us closure and left us hanging at the same time. No sequel, please - it would never live up to what I imagine happens next...
Here's what I said when I first reviewed this film:
Every teacher is in charge on the first day of school.
But, as every teacher knows, if you truly give your students the education they deserve, at some point they will reject your authority as part of their blossoming confidence and independence; it's normal, just like when a child reject's her parents' authority the first time she stays out past her curfew.
The key, though, is that the rejection has to come at the right time: on the last day of school is better than, say, the second week of the semester.
This is what the great French movie, the Class (Entre les murs), is about: the subtle and not-so-subtle power struggle that happens between teacher and students in any classroom.
A must-see for thoughtful teachers and students everywhere:
In another "who would've thunk it?," one of my favorite films of the year was a Russian remake of the classic 1957 film, 12 Angry Men.
Twelve Russians locked in a high school gym consider the fate of a boy accused of murdering his stepfather. Through monologues and flashbacks punctuated by symbolism (I still don't know what "the dog" means), racially charged outbursts, and votes that swing from guilty to not guilty and back, we get a gripping meditation on the universality of justice and prejudice, which becomes all the more powerful when considered alongside the classic American film.
If you haven't seen either one, I envy you; rent both and make a day of it. Afterward, Norm Larsen will stop by your house and read his book out loud.
Yes, there is room on my list for this, the most exciting Star Trek in ages and the best prequel of all time: perfect action, casting, and writing, but for one misstep: couldn't William Shatner have at least recited the famous Star Trek mission statement at the end of the film? Throw the guy a friggin' bone already...
Grandma dies, and the kids and grandchildren are left behind to figure out what to do with "her stuff."
From this simple premise, we get a film that ponders the meaning of life, art, beauty, value, and worth - monetary, sentimental, and otherwise.
So, what do you do? Sell the house? Sell the stuff? Keep it? Take Indiana Jones' advice and "put it in a museum? " But which of the stuff is "art" and which of the stuff is "memories of grandma?" Which is more valuable and why?
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