My Heart is in the Pines

It's the beginning of August, and school is right around the corner. Students are collecting crayons, pencils and glue, and I can't help but feel the buzz of excitement for another school year. And as we all scurry about to get ready, I couldn't help but enjoy the activity on my street.

Where I live, there's a school, one public school teacher, one religious school teacher, one homeschool teacher and one special education teacher, plus many houses filled with young children. And it was one of these children that caught my eye this week. Carrying a bag filled with rasberries, this particular boy was speeding home, running as fast as he could across the street, with his red superman cape streaming in the wind. I had to stop and revel in this great moment, for I realized the most important part of my personal learning network is not the expert or tool, but the child.

If I am going to teach young children, I must learn to wonder and play and be like them. They are ready to discover and explore, whereas I'm ready to pull my hair out with stress. They are overjoyed by their findings and want to share them with others, whereas I want to vent. They want to run to their future, whereas I mostly want to hide under the covers. And where's the joy of learning with bed bugs?!

The hero with the cape taught me a lot this week. He reminded me to listen and learn from children. What questions do they have? How do they learn best? What are they most interested in? He further made me wonder if any of us have a single student in our network? I know I don't (yet), and that's what I'm going to focus on, starting with my street. This week, in talking with my neighbors, I invited them to collect fire fly data and enter it on my blog. If students get excited about learning stuff and talk to other students, wouldn't that build our network too? Think of all the value they would bring with their inquisitive nature!

And so even though my goal for this course is to climb to the treetops, I realize that my heart is in the pines. I love children, and therefore, need to remember never to climb too far from them. For if I'm at the treetop, how can I see the little trees below? And if the little trees don't grow, how will the forest be sustained?

Forest Fires and Grasshoppers

My husband and I are truly blessed. With a lot of help, the flames of July are finally dying down. But up until two days ago, the stress of the fire (losing two grandparents, selling his home - yeah!, moving, getting an offer on my house, looking for a place to live - still looking, wrecking a vehicle, going through the concern with my mom's accident and head injury, learning my friend totaled her moped and was rushed to the hospital, finishing another graduate class, working and just plain 'ol living) nearly overcame us...What saved me from the smoke? Here's the story...

I pulled in the driveway from work at 7:18 p.m. on Wednesday night. And there to greet me were three adorable neighbor kids. With my car door open, all three were scrunched in between my car and my husband's truck, with me still sitting in my front seat. What did we talk about? Teeth. And of course, I had to ask where the tooth went, and if it was going to grow back, and if a tooth was a bone, and if all bones grow the same. It was wonderful to wonder with these children. While still chatting science, I finally escaped my car seat. Then, out of nowhere, the littlest one came running out with his very own insect box. He set it down proudly before my husband and me, and announced that a grasshopper was inside. After he pointed out the grasshopper in the box, we had to ask, "What does a grasshopper do?" And without hesitation, he put his body in full motion and exclaimed, "Jump!"

And this, young grasshoppers, is exactly what we need to remind ourselves to continually do as science educators with web technology and tools. We must jump, not for ourselves, but for the kids. We must remember that even small jumps are important to take in the midst of a forest fire. And we must keep in mind that some of the best jumpers are kids. And therefore, we must learn to jump from them and with them.

So besides jumping in the fire, what did I learn? To me this week was about two things: 1) the power of the story and 2) tying that powerful story to the students. What I'm wondering about is if personal ties to the story will increase students' science understanding? I noticed in a lot of the great stories out there, the presenter often used personal pronouns, such as "her group," "I," or "what we found." Is there research available on this? Secondly, if the story creates a sense of unbelievable imagination will that increase students' science understanding? With no further ado, I hope you enjoy my opening twist on the Water Cycle: How Water Got Me to School...

Soon to be featured in my water cycle stories are the original driveway jumpers (aka neighbor kids).