Canon S90 Review

This holiday season I received a present that has rekindled my enjoyment and appreciation of photography, the Canon Powershot S90 digital camera. Ever since the digital revolution began at the turn of the century, my experience with photography has been limited to point-and-shoot cameras that had paltry manual controls. Given the high price of digital SLRs, I was content to compromise camera creativity and artistic freedom for portability and convenience. Well, with the S90, I no longer need to make that trade-off.

While the S90 doesn't have the image quality of true single-lens reflex cameras, it packs an above-average size sensor that's closer to those found on full-size rigs. It also has a fast f/2.0 lens that lets twice as much light in as most compact cameras. The larger sensor and wider (faster) lens provide greater image quality and better shots under low light conditions. But I did not decide on this camera just for its sensor and lens. What sets the S90 apart from other point-and-shoots is a fully programmable control ring on the front of the camera that allows the user to adjust shutter speed, aperture, ISO, focus, zoom, exposure, or white-balance.

The selection of the front ring's function determines the setting of a second control wheel located on the back of the camera. For example, I have my front ring set to control aperture. As a result, the rear wheel defaults to control shutter speed. And, as if that weren't enough manipulation, an easy-to-access programmable shortcut button allows me to change the ISO with the flick of a finger. In the days of film, a photographer would be stuck with whatever speed was in the camera. When I used to carry my Olympus OM-2 everywhere, I usually went with 200-speed film. It provided some flexibility in low-light situations, while also allowing for high-quality outdoor shots when lighting was optimal.

With the Canon S90, I now have the portability of a point-and-shoot with a full array of easy-to-manipulate manual controls previously found only in SLRs. While it's going to take me a little while to learn how to wield all of the camera's features to their potential, I'm looking forward to becoming acquainted with this new camera that's willing to let me be an equal participant in composition process.

If you're seriously considering purchasing this camera, I can't recommend enough Richard Franiec's S90 Grip. Aside from making the camera more sturdy to hold, it's also made it more enjoyable to use, as it really feels right on your fingers. Plus, it looks cool, and appears to have been part of the camera's original construction. The image of the S90 above features the grip. The first link in this post takes you to Canon's website where you can see the camera without the grip.

S90 image from lensmateonline.com, accessed 1/1/10

My classroom

Ever since I started this blog, I'd been meaning to post photos of my classroom. Well, here they are:

Above is the door to my room.

Here is the view once you walk inside.

My semblance of organization. Class handouts and important documents can be found on this desk.

The other side of the desk where I conduct my business.

My quad-core Intel i7 PC and sweet 23-inch LCD monitor, gifts to myself at the start of the new school year. Also pictured is a wide format color inkjet printer, an old HP LaserJet that still gets the job done, and, on the left corner of my desk, a netbook our assistant superintendent purchased for me to use with my students.

The back of my classroom, featuring nine fully networked, Internet-ready PCs. The one on the far right was purchased for my classroom by the school. The others I acquired secondhand over the last couple of years.

The Literary Treasure Trove, my classroom library.

The wooden Thai frog that I "play" to get students' attention when we're transitioning to a new activity.

Writing Without Teachers

I recently picked up Peter Elbow's "Writing Without Teachers" because I'm looking to re-ground myself in authentic ideas about the writing process and what actually leads to good writing.

If you stay in K-12 education long enough, there's the chance that your foundational, intrinsic understanding about how meaningful learning occurs will be eroded by bureaucrats who prescribe to have all the right solutions despite lacking the necessary background and/or classroom experience to make such claims.

One of the current popular methods of writing instruction involves showing students models and "exemplars" of writing that meets the highest criteria (usually a set of numbers from a standardized rubric), with the expectation that students - like mimeograph machines - can simply duplicate that product when they're asked to respond to a similar writing prompt.

The problem is that the template for good writing can't be mimicked and reproduced from assignment to assignment,  because no such template exists. When students DO try to copy formulae for "good" writing, their writing ends up sounding vapid. That's because quality, authentic writing is generated, not parroted from nameless "model" papers.

How do we teach students to write? We teach them to think. We teach them to develop content. We help them understand ideas like elaboration and explication. We provide them with opportunities to stretch their minds and flex their intellectual muscles. We give them opportunities to pump out words and ideas without fear of judgement. We teach them how to think critically and make sense of their musings and meanderings. We show them how to tailor and edit and rethink and resee and rearrange. We empower them to be creators.

This type of work is not easy. Years and years of practice are required for most of us to learn how to string words and sentences and paragraphs together in engaging fashion. Before one can write well, one needs to have something to say. Yet sometimes we don't know what we really have to say until we begin writing. When I started this posting, had I already preselected the words and points and contentions I wanted to bring up? No. I knew I wanted to write about how I felt writing instruction in many K-12 schools has become weakened by the advent of formulaic writing and the five paragraph essay. I knew I wanted to get down a few of the techniques that have helped me become a better writer. But I did not use a graphic organizer. I did not make an outline of three main ideas, topic sentences, or supporting details. I simply sat on my couch, kicked my feet up on the coffee table, grabbed my netbook, and attacked the keyboard.

(Once I finished my draft of this post, I went back and read what I wrote, deleted lines, changed words, added phrases, and asked myself, Is this really what I mean to say? I needed to tweak a number of paragraphs before the final product reflected my intentions. Before I could use the chisel, I needed to have the block.)

Among Peter Elbow's many contributions to writing pedagogy is the spreading of the concept of freewriting. In essence, freewriting encourages writers to lay down ideas without stopping, reflecting, or editing. It proposes to help us "get the junk out" so we can later go back and mine the gems worthy of extraction. Freewriting helps us explore ideas and permits us to open the valve connecting thought and expression. When we no longer feel constricted and restrained, we are more likely to explore greater depths and take risks. Rather than saying what we think we're supposed to say in the manner in which we think we're supposed to say it, we can express genuine ideas in the way those ideas are best meant to be expressed.

Does this mean models and exemplars are bad? Of course not. What it means is that they're a limited resource. They show you what the container looks like, but they don't show you how it was filled. Only through the labor of idea exploration can we learn how to fill those containers. And each container - once filled - will be unique, its appearance and contents determined by the reason for its creation.

Elbow describes this organic process:

"The turning point of the whole cycle of growing is the emergence of a focus or a theme. It is also the most mysterious and difficult kind of cognitive event to analyze. It is the moment when what was chaos is now seen as having a center of gravity. There is shape where a moment ago there was none" (35).

I hope that after finishing Elbow's book (which I am finding to be very affirming and validating about some of my core beliefs about writing), I will have a renewed sense of confidence about how good writing is created, and I will have ideas I can implement in my classroom that will help my students experience what it feels like to create writing that's truly worth reading.

A snow day

At 5:35 this morning, the message I had been waiting for finally scrolled across the screen of my laptop: "Xxxxxxx School District No School." After a late night of grading, the news couldn't have been sweeter or more timely. I hopped back into bed for another three hours and woke up refreshed and ready to enjoy this found day.

Rather than rushing to make a breakfast to eat on the run (usually a bagel w/ cream cheese), I was able to take out the blender and enjoy a mixed berry smoothie along with my coffee. It's a treat usually reserved just for the weekends. While I was preparing the coffee, my wife - who is also a teacher and also did not have school - started a fire in the woodstove. As I sipped my beverages and watched the flames work their way from twigs to larger pieces of wood, I made sure to appreciate the moment.

Inside my living room, I was shielded from the harsh weather outdoors. And it was because of the snow and wind and frigid temperatures that the normal hurriedness of my day ceased to exist. It's the duality of life, the simultaneous existence of extremes. It's why at any given time, every emotion and experience that's possible to have on this Earth occurs. Birth and death, joy and sadness, frustration and relief. Sometimes I wonder, if it were possible to quantify the sum of all human emotion, where on the spectrum would the reading register? Do we, as a collective species, experience more good or bad?

These are the thoughts one has when the mind has a moment to wander. We all need times like today to reflect, pause, and let our thoughts travel where they may.

The image of the wooden wind chime was taken on my back porch after the snow stopped.

The Occasional Paper

While reading the latest version of NCTE's English Journal, I came across a reference to a teaching idea that first graced EJ's pages back in 2003. It was an assignment called the Occasional Paper by Bill Martin.

The premise is simple. Once or twice each quarter, students write a brief essay on a topic of their choice and read it out loud to their classmates. The idea for these papers is that they are miniature reflections and meditations on life. Martin asks his students to be observant of the moment, and to "explore occurrences that would usually be dismissed as unimportant." The assignment isn't graded, and the teacher refrains from making negative comments. Martin explains:

If a paper is bad, I don’t penalize. By not

penalizing for lack of effort, I make it shameful not

to put some effort into it. By not counting off for

laziness, I make laziness a lazy choice. Carelessness

is prevented by caring more.

Once students have something worth saying, they will

struggle willingly to say it right. Eventually, students

will start to see what it is that makes a paper have impact.

The student who tries to get a grade without any effort does

not come across as a clever trickster who “got something

for nothing”; instead the student is seen as

someone who gets something and gives back nothing.

The motivation to do good work is like the motivation

operating on the playing field or on the

dance floor. It is motivation from inside and from

pride in doing good work. Ironically, by not assessing

content I put more pressure on students to come

up with something substantial.

The benefits of providing students an opportunity to write an "occasional paper" certainly seem to outweigh the drawbacks. In fact, it's hard for me to find the drawbacks, as the OP encourages students to be reflective and develop meaningful, personal compositions that show a measure of thought, creativity, and insight. It gets them up in front of the class reading to an authentic audience, and it guarantees them immediate response from their peers. And, because the only instructor feedback students receive is positive (as if the piece bombs the teacher refrains from comment), students will be more willing to go beyond the safe and predictable to the bold realm of imagination, creativity, and risk-taking - the realm where good writing lives.

50 Years of Research on Writing: What Have We Learned?

Three of the greatest minds in the history of writing instruction come together to discuss the craft. If you're willing to be a patient viewer, they unearth a lot of valuable gems about writing pedagogy.

Faux swine flu survival

I'm finally back to 100 percent after a bout with what turned out to be walking pneumonia. I had initially self-diagnosed my ailment as H1N1, succumbing to the swine flu hype. It took a visit to the doctor's office to confirm what I really had. When I first began feeling congested and fatigued, I assumed I had been bitten by the bad pig, and that a doctor's visit would prove futile, as media reports continued to say that doctors were turning away those showing flu symptoms because there was nothing they could really do to help.

After taking a couple of sick days where I did nothing but rest and drink fluids - and after showing no signs of improvement - I finally decided to call my physician. I was able to get an appointment that day. I went in, talked with my doctor, breathed through a machine, received a diagnosis, went to CVS, popped an anti-bacterial drug, and was on my way to feeling better.

Walking pneumonia really knocked me out. Since I started teaching high school students in 2004, I'd taken ZERO sick days until this faux-swine reprieve. While there have been times in the past six years when I've been sick, I always went to school and toughed it out. This isn't to say teaching when under the weather is something to boast about - it's not - but I suppose I wanted to keep my streak going as long as I could. Walking pneu was powerful enough to put it to an end.

It was a bit alarming how little I was able to do when I was sick. Simple tasks like taking out the garbage or doing laundry seemed impossibly arduous. Bringing in firewood or raking leaves were both completely out of the question. Now that I'm back to full health, I'm thankful for all of the things I can do, and I have a fresh awareness of the physical, emotional, and cognitive demands associated with teaching. Effective teachers need to bring it ALL to the classroom as they inspire, lead, explain, prompt, urge, and encourage their students.

Meditative mulching

This afternoon I spent some quality time with my lawnmower and front yard. It's that time of the year here in Massachusetts when the leaves fall and cover the ground with their golds and reds and oranges. They're quite pretty to look at, but left unchecked, they'll turn into dark brown soggy bits of biomass that can ruin a lawn or make exiting the driveway dangerous once the Fahrenheit hits 32 degrees.

And so, today I pushed the mower up and down the yard in long vertical passes, trimming grass and grinding leaves in rather efficient fashion. My lawn-cleaning efforts are more effective this year thanks to the Gator Mulcher Blade that I picked up this summer. In mere seconds, leaves are pulverized into fine pieces of debris that actually nourish the lawn and serve as fertilizer.

After a few hours of work, the lawn was looking good. I then used the blower contraption on my Shop-Vac to clear the driveway of leaf bits and powder. How rewarding it was to see the results of my labor! Tangible progress before my very eyes!

As those of you who work in education know, the type of change and progress that we effect as teachers isn't nearly as immediate or obvious. Sometimes students need to regress before they advance forward. And it isn't uncommon for our teachings to have their full effect on our students after they have left our classrooms. People grow and mature at different rates. It's helpful to remember that just because we're not seeing immediate improvement doesn't mean our students aren't learning.

Often the passage of time yields the perspective we need to reach those epiphanies and experience those ah-ha! moments. Ironically, with added distance I can better see former teachers' motivations, intentions, and lessons. As our world becomes faster and more aspects of life become instantaneous, it's important to remember that true growth takes time.

The Lanyard

Billy Collins has always been a favorite of mine.

Marathon days

For the last couple of weeks, I've been arriving at school around 6:30 a.m. and leaving, on average, around 5:00 p.m. I've been planning, grading, organizing, messaging, filing, cleaning, e-mailing, calling, researching, tweaking, printing, copying, editing, recording, reserving, requesting, previewing, reading, and reflecting. I've also done some sighing, laughing, and talking, usually with others but sometimes just with myself.

There is SO much that goes into the planning and execution of a teacher's day. When students walk in it all seems so simple: there's an agenda on the board, a fresh handout to take, and a lesson to do. Students don't see the hours that go into the crafting of each day's plan. I sure do. I experience it at the end of each day when I come home feeling like I've been drained by Dracula. Yet somewhere I'm finding the reserve to go for a jog or lift some weights. One of my goals this year was to be active at least four days a week, hopefully more, but at least four days. So far I've been sticking to that plan, and it feels good.

Today for the first time I feel like I was actually able to do some advanced planning. I'm getting a better handle on where I'm going with all my classes, and it feels good. I'm starting to get to know the kids a bit more, and individual and class identities are starting to form. I like my students, and I love what I do. The thing is, there's just so much to do. And I want to do it all well, and as a result, I spend more time than I probably should on some things. Yet each year I become better and more efficient at older tasks, which gives me time to experiment and try new ideas.

The key is finding a balance between the new and the essential, keeping it fresh while also ensuring the foundation remains solid.

The The Impotence of Proofreading

If your in kneed of a laugh cheek this out. Samoa the languid is a bit risk knee, so proceeds at you're hone wrist.

Rolling along

It's hard to believe that midterm grades for first quarter close this Friday. I feel like it wasn't that long ago (because it wasn't) when I was introducing my students to my classroom and the expectations for the year. Fortunately, I have found some time to catch up, but I'm still working my way to a comfortable spot.

So far I've managed to tweak and improve a couple of my key handouts, including my Literature Circle Jobs sheet. Once I upload the new version I'll link to it here in this post and on my English Teaching Resources page. I've also made it a priority to be more explicit in my instruction and provide more silence and wait time than in the past to make sure all students understand what it is I want them to do and how I want them to do it. Adults speak at a faster rate than teenagers can process. As such, I'm trying to give kids enough time to digest what I say the first time, with the hope that this will reduce the number of times I need to repeat myself.

My 9th grade students are ready to dive into The Pearl. We'll read it in about a week, respond using literature circles, and wrap up with a Socratic seminar before writing an essay on value (what do you value, why do you value it, how is value determined, can you put a price tag on those things most valuable to you?).

My seniors will tear into Oedipus later this week, and my journalism students are already working on their second articles of the quarter. In two nights we'll have open house at my school, where I'll be able to explain to parents all the exciting things their children are doing. Open house certainly makes for a long day, but it's nice to make connections with parents and give them a little glimpse of the students' experience.

In October I'll observe an old colleague at his new high school, take a tour of the local newspaper with my Journalism class, and attend the New England Association of Teachers of English's Annual Conference. I've gone for the past five or six years. Each time, the conference ends up being one of the highlights of my year. It's a great opportunity to network, learn some new tricks and teaching ideas, and commiserate with other teachers of the trade.

I am still here

For some reason, it seems like the school year started at about 85 mph. Despite this being my sixth year in the classroom, I feel like I've been treading water since day one. My students are great, classes are going well, but I'm struggling to find momentum.

I suppose a large reason for this is it's still early. In the beginning of the year I spend more time than usual talking, directing, and explaining. I'm trying to teach my students a variety of systems, protocols, procedures, and expectations, all while trying to delve into content. It's a balancing act that's confounded by picture day, fire drills, standardized assessments, and assemblies.

And then there's technology. One of the first things I have students do is create individual class blogs where they will post writing over the course of the year. For a few, the blog setup is quick and painless. For most, though, it's fraught with login errors, buffer overruns, browser freezes, e-mail attachment failures, and Internet crashes.

The key is anticipating and adjusting to the learning curve required to get the most out of the school's older technological devices. It's figuring out how to print, where to print, when to print. It's knowing when to log off or shut down, it's remembering to hit "save," it's opening a Word 2007 document in Word 2003. It's transferring text from Word Perfect to AbiWord to Word to a blog. It's learning the difference between "Publish Post" and "Save Now." It's understanding what a URL is and how to e-mail a link.

It's skills, competencies, strategies, and ways to navigate, manipulate, move, and display. It's systems and procedures and a good way and a better way and the best way. It's all happening in 55 minutes. That and homework and vocabulary and literature and a warm up responding to a quote. It's following an agenda and taking out a planner and writing notes and finding the tissues. It's where do I sharpen my pencil and how do I leave for the bathroom and is there any scrap paper?

It's all of that and so much more. Every day. Questions and needs. Problems and solutions. It's "what did I miss yesterday?" and "can you repeat that?" And there's a lot of "wait." I notice students say "wait" a lot. Am I going too fast? Is this too much? Stimuli flying at 85 mph nonstop in every direction.

Finally, a bell. Pack it up, put it away, bundle it for a journey to the next room. A new routine. More stimuli. Different variety. Again. And again. And again. And again. And again. Then a short reprieve, followed by practice, or work, or both. Then homework. Late nights. Early mornings. The shuffle and cycle of students moving through the machine.

The science of human motivation

Author Daniel Pink on rethinking the use of incentives to get people to accomplish tasks:



"Autonomy, mastery, and purpose are the building blocks of a new way of doing things."

Summer sentiments

Greetings from the land of summer vacation! School has been out for about two and a half weeks. In that time, I've read four books, gone jogging every other day, worked on my (absolutely horrible, but slowly improving) golf game, brought my car in for repair, had a checkup with my doctor, booked a teeth cleaning, tended to the yard, cleaned, saw friends and family...

There's a lot one can do when one has time. Many of the aspects of my life that I neglect during the school year can finally be tended to during the summer. When I am on vacation, I really try to focus my energies on things other than school. Periodically though, thoughts of school and teaching pop up.

Later this month I will meet with nine other teachers of freshmen in hopes of developing some common strategies to help the incoming 9th grade students acclimate themselves to the rigor and demands of high school work. We're meeting across disciplines to talk about ways to help them with organization, notetaking, reading, writing, study skills, homework, asking questions, speaking in front of the class... skills that can be used in any academic environment.

In August I'm going to hit Vermont's Long Trail with one of my old high school buddies, then after that my wife and I will spend a week at the beach on the North Shore of Massachusetts. After a few more days of R&R, I will trek back into school to begin setting up my classroom and preparing lessons for my new students.