I was watching The Wedding Singer the other day, and I realized two truths.
1. It's an awesome movie
2. The eighties suck
As far as this class goes, it is something different, which, as a Senior, I can appreciate. I also like that the class is very hands on; while I am a novice with technology, I expect the class to challenge me.
I found the article from class on educational technology intriguing simply because I did not realize that schools were so lacking in the area. I always thought that the rich schools had the technology and the poor schools did not. That line of thinking still applies today.
It is 100 % true that many teachers are ill prepared to assimilate educational technology and interactive learning into their classrooms. However, I do not believe that a classroom should be solely run with educational technology. There needs to be some book work, not busy work. I remember the computers in elementary school being an absolute waste of time, but that was only because they were old and the teachers were inept with them.
Just from my observations at Central High School in Bridgeport, the students have few opportunities to broaden their horizons. The Tech Labs are always booked and the Tech teachers are seldom at the school, yet they are paid like full time teachers.
What place does technology have in the classroom? It should be a strong influence, but it should not be the only means of learning. If the students were able to utilize modern technology, they would have more interest in school. The quality of their work would also increase.
As we discussed in class, educational technology is essentially useless unless it is taught properly to the students. Various forms of mass media consume the time of every single American.
Turning some of that time into productive time is the first step.
A Game of Solitaire and the Toilet Seat:: Knowing When You're too Young to Grow Up.
“You see, Angeee,” my father said. “This is why I always say leave early. We would’ve beat this shit weather if you had got your ass in gear.”
I didn’t know whether to say sorry or fuck you, so I just sat quiet as my mother stroked my bowing head. A quick shoulders/back work out gave me a slight hunch that my mother might have confused for dejection.
“Italian leather is so soft, Dave. Have you ever felt Italian leather,” Grandma said to my father, who wasn’t going to respond, until my mother pinched him. Grandma really was tapped, I thought to myself.
“Dave, my mother just asked you a question,” my mother said with the authority of a wife who actually has sex with her husband.
"And I would have answered her if you gave me a friggin’ chance. My mind is on driving,” he stammered. Sucking wind like a smoker on the track, my father calmed himself down enough to answer grandma. “Liv, I used to haul furniture, come on. And we have one in the house, a sofa. You know, in the living room. You were sitting on it today.” My father was particularly agitated today and he had absolutely no time for grandma’s meanderings.
“Italian leather, Andrew, do you know how soft it is,” grandma said, as she looked straight ahead. Her face didn’t even move and I wondered if she was already dead and her voice merely a recording.
My father weaved in and out of lanes like aBoston
I was compelled to have the last word in my fruitless, running argument with my father. “This weather sucks,” I muttered under my breath as we pulled up to the check in. “I shouldn’t have even signed up for this fuckin’ trip, I swear. Sucks. Absolutely sucks.” The rain now splashed down on the car in waterfall increments I did not want to move.
“Ange, stop already!” my father’s voice began to rise. “Would you have rather been the person everyone was waiting for?”
“I would have rather been the person who called in to cancel his ticket,” I spitefully commented, knowing that this would surely get him steamed.
“Well next time, you pay for your own goddamn trip!” he growled, and before I could respond, he looked at me in his rearview and said, “Just get the fuck out of the car.” Our goodbyes would have to be said over the phone.
With a huff, I slid the van door open, grabbed my duffle bag and rejected my mother’s reaching eyes. Before the door even had time to click closed, my father skidded out and nearly side swiped a bus. And the rain remained persistent as I stood outside the terminal and tried to turn my head 360 degrees to capture every instance of life. Or maybe I wanted to break my own neck, I’m not sure.
I didn’t know whether to say sorry or fuck you, so I just sat quiet as my mother stroked my bowing head. A quick shoulders/back work out gave me a slight hunch that my mother might have confused for dejection.
“Italian leather is so soft, Dave. Have you ever felt Italian leather,” Grandma said to my father, who wasn’t going to respond, until my mother pinched him. Grandma really was tapped, I thought to myself.
“Dave, my mother just asked you a question,” my mother said with the authority of a wife who actually has sex with her husband.
"And I would have answered her if you gave me a friggin’ chance. My mind is on driving,” he stammered. Sucking wind like a smoker on the track, my father calmed himself down enough to answer grandma. “Liv, I used to haul furniture, come on. And we have one in the house, a sofa. You know, in the living room. You were sitting on it today.” My father was particularly agitated today and he had absolutely no time for grandma’s meanderings.
“Italian leather, Andrew, do you know how soft it is,” grandma said, as she looked straight ahead. Her face didn’t even move and I wondered if she was already dead and her voice merely a recording.
My father weaved in and out of lanes like a
I was compelled to have the last word in my fruitless, running argument with my father. “This weather sucks,” I muttered under my breath as we pulled up to the check in. “I shouldn’t have even signed up for this fuckin’ trip, I swear. Sucks. Absolutely sucks.” The rain now splashed down on the car in waterfall increments I did not want to move.
“Ange, stop already!” my father’s voice began to rise. “Would you have rather been the person everyone was waiting for?”
“I would have rather been the person who called in to cancel his ticket,” I spitefully commented, knowing that this would surely get him steamed.
“Well next time, you pay for your own goddamn trip!” he growled, and before I could respond, he looked at me in his rearview and said, “Just get the fuck out of the car.” Our goodbyes would have to be said over the phone.
With a huff, I slid the van door open, grabbed my duffle bag and rejected my mother’s reaching eyes. Before the door even had time to click closed, my father skidded out and nearly side swiped a bus. And the rain remained persistent as I stood outside the terminal and tried to turn my head 360 degrees to capture every instance of life. Or maybe I wanted to break my own neck, I’m not sure.
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1 comment:
You definitely have a flair for writing - extremely creative.
I concur that technology should be taught in conjunction with traditional methods. This course will show you how to integrate technology into the classroom. The main concept to remember is that technology is a tool to make learning a much more rewarding educational experience for the 21st century.
Your blog was setup very nicely showing that you already have some experience.
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