Ahh, Summer in New York. The rich leave the hot, sticky city for the
Hamptons and Hudson Valley, leaving the streets to the rest of us:
working stiffs, artists, vacationing teachers without enough cash to
vacate for very long, and of course, tourists. European toursits,
mainly, or so it would seem down near South Street Seaport where I'm
working this Summer. People stay in the cover of conditioned air by
day, take to the bars and restaurants by night, and the girls find
ever-creative ways to expose more and more flesh all the time. On a day
like today, when the late afternoon air is hovering around 80 degrees and relatively
dry, and I can come home to Brooklyn after another on-site freelance day, sit
outside at La Terazza sipping a Presidente and wirelessly hop aboard
a gracious (and willing) stranger's wireless Net connection, life is good.
Having just a few minutes ago finished William Gibson's latest, Pattern Recognition, in
which the protagonist uses both a G4 Cube and an iBook in her travels
through a wonderfully smart, readable, and resonant story (it's essentially
a very sophisticated pulp thriller), I feel alert,
alive, and good about the future. It's times like
these when all seems right with the world, even if just for a few tasty
late July moments.
Of course, to millions of young New Yorkers -- and millions of their
kindred spirits around the country and world -- late July means it's
almost August, and we all know what comes after August: Back to School.
For me, back to school this year will mean back to working in a school
full-time. I've accepted a job as Technology Coordinator at an
elementary-level charter school up in Spanish Harlem. It's a great gig
-- they've got good administration, good faculty, a technology plan
that fits with and welcomes my vision of education, and generally speaking,
a good thing
happening. They also have one cart with 11 Windows laptops, no current
technology staff (one of the finance guys did a great job now and then
last year teaching the kids some things), and a big gaping
desire-cum-need to get a technology program happening.
And, oh yeah, they've got little money to spend on hardware -- go figure. And in
New York State, being a charter school exempts you from a lot of red
tape, but it also exempts you from most funding opportunities afforded
to "regular" public schools.
So my job officially starts just before Labor Day, but last week the
school sent me up to Wakefield, MA to attend the 2003 Summer Insitute at a place
called CAST. The Center For Applied Special
Technology is perhaps most often associated with assistive technology
for the physically and learning disabled. But CAST's philosophy of
a Universal Design for Learning (UDL) extends well beyond helping those
we traditionally think of as in "special need." UDL is a system of
design principles engineered to
leverage the flexible power of digital media to provide for multiple
forms of access to learning materials to better suit the needs of all
learners.
In other words, when the Gutenberg Printing Press was invented in the
late 15th Century, a revolution began that eventually allowed for cheap,
widespread dissemination of print materials. For the first time in history,
the masses would have access to recorded information -- in written form. The
Digital Revolution that is ramping up to full speed right now is extending
that print paradigm of information transmittal into multimedia format. Text,
imagery, audio, video, interactive rich media -- what we've begun to immerse
ourselves in over the past decade is only the beginning of what's to come as
bandwidth and computing power become cheaper, more plentiful, and increasingly
mobile.
UDL grabs hold of digital multimedia and leverages it in the name of education.
Some people react better to spoken words than to text on a page (or screen) -- maybe
it's because they're visually impaired and so reading is physically difficult
or impossible, or maybe it's because they process auditory information more readily
than its visual counterpart. Same for imagery, still and moving. And rich media.
And so on. UDL basically says, Why should we be confined to the printed word when
technology affords us the chance for so much more at a relatively small cost?
Technologies like Speech-to-Text make it easy for a learner to hear text read aloud.
Digitized books can be formatted in HTML, distributed on the cheap via the Web, and
displayed in scalable fonts (great for readers with impaired eyesight), read aloud
via Speech-to-Text engines (also good for emerging readers, as many engines highlight
words onscreen as the computer speaks them), or even automatically converted into audio
files that can be burned to inexpensive CDs (think of an ESL student whose parents can't
read to them at home in English -- now the stereo can ... think of yourself trying
to learn a foreign language, for that matter -- many Speech-to-Text engines are
multilingual nowadays).
UDL doesn't encourage anyone to sacrifice print literacy in favor of anything else. It's
still important to learn to read and write as best you're able. But when it comes to
teaching social studies, or math, or how to understand information of most any kind, people
who have trouble decoding the written word need not be labelled as deficient thinkers just
beacuse they struggle with print. CAST understands it, and UDL is a great place from which
to start thinking about the joint roles of digital media and instructional design in education.
(Shameless self-promotion: You can read my in-depth thoughts on the
matter in my forthcoming book on educational technology, to be published
by Scarecrow Education early next year.
Email me for more information.)
I learned a lot in my three days at CAST. I learned some about what "Special Ed" really means
in our schools, I learned some new ways to use Microsoft Word to help teach the difference between
verbs and nouns, and I learned a lot about three of my new colleagues I'm excited to be working
with starting in a month or so. I also learned a little more about why Apple's once solid grip on
the educational market is no more.
Continue on to page two.