This evening my son grabbed a stool, climbed into the pantry
and removed five bowls, five cups, a bag of marshmallows, his favorite cereal,
and some fruit cups. When I asked, “Whatcha doing in there?” he replied, “We’re
going to have an author party, Mom. Just
wait a minute, and I’ll be ready.”
Upon his request my whole family, dog and grandmother
included, piled in our small den and attentively listened to Luke read his
original fairytale. He stood before his audience like a pro, showing the pages
after reading and bowing when he was finished. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen him so
proud of an accomplishment.
Then he ushered us in the kitchen where we served ourselves
from his snack bar. While eating our marshmallows, my daughter played a piece
on the piano, and then out the door we went for the grand finale, catching
lightening bugs. Joy suggested we let our buggy victims go all at once for a
firework-type celebration. Fortunately, a big scary-looking beetle with mean
pointy horns flew in while the door was open. We caught it, made it a home in a
plastic container and fed it cantaloupe left over from dinner. The kids then
fussed over who would get to bring the creature to school for show and tell. Lucky
teachers, we decided they should take turns sharing with their classmates.
So what does my evening at home have to do with technology
and education? Quite a lot, I think. While technology is grand, it has its
place. Luke drafted and edited his fairytale on a computer. He printed it on
nice clean paper that made him feel like a published author. But when the
project was finished, we took time to stop and listen to his masterpiece, face
to face. We made sure the TV was off, and no smart phone or laptop was allowed
to be a distraction. The intimacy and attention validated Luke’s efforts and
carved out one moment in our busy screen-filled lives just for him.
The most beautiful moments I’ve witnessed in schools are when
I’ve been a spectator listening to the band, choral and drama students perform
live. Over ten years ago, I sat in a crowded high school library filled with
parents and students, listening to teen authors who bravely approached a mic
one at a time to share original poems, stories and essays. All these years later, I
still remember that evening vividly. Their words triggered tears, anger, laughter,
and nods of agreement. Those young people took a risk at vulnerability and
offered us a piece of themselves. Yes, they used a microphone to amplify their voices, but they chose not to use any more bells and whistles.
I enjoy technology. It makes writing easier to draft,
revise, edit, send to friends, post to the world, etc. But it has its place.
Sometimes we need to know when to log off, pick up a pencil, play a tune, catch a bug and study it closely, communicate
face to face, and share a moment in time that does not need to be recorded. Like
most things in life, we need a healthy balance in our classrooms between logged-on,
screen-filled moments and the face to face human interaction.
Enough said. It's time for me to quit staring at this screen and log off!
