Wednesday, November 9, 2011

Dioramas, Dinosaurs, and the Occasional Odd Penguin . . .

I am a huge fan of technology. While I am still in my semi-confessional mode, I might as well admit that I can fairly be termed a "gadget guy." Though I have certainly been called worse in my time, I wear this badge proudly. I am the guy - some would say "sucker" - they make new gadgets and technologies for. Some day the Smithsonian will ask to look into my garage for a running record of technological progress among my abandoned Zunes, Ataris, and other long outdated technologies. I still maintain that Pong and Asteroids were the best video games ever invented . . .

"Gadget guy" persona aside, there can be no doubt that technology and computers have transformed education. From improving communication through tools such as emails and even this blog, to enhancing a school's marketing and exposure to a broader world through websites and in-house publishing, and finally to students making power point presentations, and in some cases programming their own applications, computers and the benefits of technology fill our schools.

However, every once in awhile there is a project or assignment that harkens back to an earlier time. A time when using your hands meant more than typing on a keyboard or furiously pushing buttons on a controller to avoid annihilation by zombies or aliens. Such was the case recently in Ms. Debbie's second grade classroom. The assignment was simple and direct: each student was asked to build an old-fashioned diorama of an ecosystem. This assignment tied in nicely with their earlier work with Mr. Crump from the Tech Academy.

A simple, shoe box diorama of an ecosystem. No power point, no sound effects, and certainly no film or movies. Animals in the planned ecosystem could be store-bought or self-made - Play-Doh was an early favorite - and students were to draw and color the majority of the backgrounds themselves.

To say that I was pleased as the students took the time to share with me their final product would be a huge understatement. Recalling my own "dioramic" experiences during elementary school, I could appreciate their efforts at planning, drawing, and even gluing down the final pieces and parts to make their picture complete. Of course, nothing could compare to the pride and excitement they could not hide as they shared their projects with me. From dinosaurs to the arctic, from ocean environments to the rites of spring, and finally, to ponds and pools, their efforts spanned the full range of ecosystem possibilities - each contained within the confines of a simple shoebox.

Interestingly, the level of their excitement was the one thing that stood out most to me. I have observed these same students working on a range of projects in these early months of school, but none have engendered the pure joy and light in their eyes of these simple dioramas. Some of them were so excited in sharing their work with me that they were not insulted in the least when I mistakenly identified what I thought was a Play-Doh stegosaurus in one of the dioramas. This particular student gently placed his hand on my arm and informed me "that's a sleeping penguin, Mr. Graves." Believe me, that was a close one . . .

Several recent studies have pointed out a common fear that today's students are no longer being asked to use their hands for projects that a lot us once took for granted. Due to our heavy use and reliance on technology - for good or bad - young people today are rarely called upon to take apart something to see how it works. These academic studies suggest that basic activities such as learning to tie knots, building models, and even something once so universal as outdoor camping, have all fallen by the wayside in our preference for working/playing on a computer or utilizing other forms of technology to perform such tasks for us.

So it is even more remarkable when a project like Ms. Debbie's second grade dioramas are able to grasp the total attention and concentration of her class. Beyond their focus on doing something by hand, the joy of displaying their self-made projects is worth at least ten iPads . . .

Somewhere in the universe or twitterverse, or whatever we choose to call it, I'm certain - to borrow a phrase - "there's an app for that!" However, every once in awhile, I prefer to throw caution - and modern life - to the wind, and simply believe instead, that "there's a shoebox for that!"

No comments:

Post a Comment