I don’t think everyone is aware that for this period between Thanksgiving and Winter break, grade levels within the Middle School temporarily re-organize themselves to offer interdisciplinary learning experiences to break up the regular routine of class. This year, I was asked to participate in the “Machine Pilot” aspect of the seventh grade effort to explore the concept of extra-terrestrial life (E.T.). Seventh graders are asked to consider who, out of anyone on the planet, they would choose to send into outer space to interact with alien life forms and why. Our students are told they can literally choose any person on the planet, and the focus need not necessarily be someone with experience in space travel. In fact, they are asked to envision a pre-programmed ship with one seat, leaving them to consider not just technical skills but who would we want to represent human kind in this first interaction. They research, create resumes, write persuasive cover letters and are ultimately asked to adopt a persona and speak publicly to a panel to make their case. Along with about ten other Berwick faculty and staff members, I was on the panel deciding who should be our ultimate “machine pilot” from Berwick Academy.
Projects like these are great examples in understanding the power of student-directed learning, where kids are asked to formulate unique arguments rather than reproduce information. What was interesting and unexpected for me as the panelist was the quality and depth of questions I was asking myself. I was immediately balancing the technical and philosophical aspects of the task: would I rather see someone with at least some background in space travel or alien life in that seat for the best chance of success? Or would I prefer to see someone who simply represents the best of what our world has to offer? Then I found myself struggling with how much I should reward the student presentations vs. how much I should value the fit between the skills of the persona and the proposed task.
When the presentations were over and the committee shared thoughts and ideas, we actually coalesced rather quickly. I was left feeling that while some parents might think an “E.T.” unit is a bit wacky or ungrounded, I could see how the skills learned were real. Beyond the needed presentation skills, there was legitimate time and energy put into building resumes and creating professional cover letters. Research, reflection, and persuasion were all coming together to see which student could “move the room” most effectively. It reminded me of just how many of those skills are needed in my own job each and every day.
I have to admit that the initials “E.T.” for me have always made my synapses immediately go to flying bicycles and Reese's pieces. But after this week, those two letters are going to elicit different sorts of memories – memories about student-directed learning.
Comments
Post a Comment