Dan Meyer

Total 1628 Posts
I'm Dan and this is my blog. I'm a former high school math teacher and current head of teaching at Desmos. He / him. More here.

Design + Storytelling

Dig Tom’s opening paragraph:

If two people are telling the same story, the one who knows when and how long to pause, when to raise their voice, when to whisper will tell a much better storyI’m just going to add here that the person who can manipulate those small structural cues will not merely tell a better story but succeed in every field for which controlling someone’s emotional response is a priority. And I can’t name any career outside the hard sciences for which it isn’t a priority.. Visual design works the same way. And you get better at it by paying attention to people who are good and then analyzing your own work. Reflection on what you do that works is a key component of design (and just about anything else).

and his closing:

I have no design training other than looking at things and reading stuff on the Internet and a few books.

Storytelling is a skill that lends itself so well to the classroom, regardless of your formal training. You pump a bunch of stories through your digital projector – movies, tv showsYeah, I went there., photos, podcasts, vodcasts, movie posters, print ads, whatever – and, like Tom, reflect like crazy.

Ask your students to articulate a) the stories, b) which one punches them most squarely in the gut, and c) why. Pretty soon you’ve got a robust storytelling toolkit. Pretty soon they’re telling their own stories.

You think your students wouldn’t love this? You think you couldn’t incorporate your omg-fav-xoxo 21st-century learning tool into this mix? You think you couldn’t find a handful of content standards this fits like a glove?

Storytelling’s gonna happen in my math class and it’s gonna be a blast, if that does anything for your skepticism.

Wherever You Can

Oh right, may as well leave you with my semester-defining moment:

Walking into the faculty lounge this morning at 07h00, finding Amy-Josie fast asleep, leaning hard on a rumbling copier while her handouts ran beneath her.

[I probably need a tumblr for this stuff, I realize.]

Sleep-Drunk Commentary

The comment I left last night – semi-coherent after a bunch of sleepless nights – over at Students 2.0:

I’ve lost my mind a bit lately, and I’m certainly losing sleep, sensing some grand unifying theory creeping behind me, creeping behind every high school discipline, behind everything I’ve ever learned or taught.

It isn’t design.

This design thing is just too abstract, I think. It’s awesome but too easy for me to toss out there on my blog and retreat behind, simply because I own a copy of Photoshop and know how to use grids. But what do the teachers who don’t have any training, amateur or otherwise, or own functional software do?

I’ve realized now that more important than design – what, in fact, consumes design – is storytelling.

Design (a term which means a lot of different things) concerns itself so much with the placement of things, how to order a set of charts to most effectively impact an audience, how to compose the people in a photograph to tell the most compelling story.

But there’s always the story.

Storytelling is the umbrella above design. It’s harder than design and simultaneously accessible to every single person on Earth, young and old, regardless of education or station or toolbox. It’s been around since forever, the setting up of heros and villains (your “characters”), the establishing of a guiding goal (your “narrative”), the careful positioning of challenges between them and their goal (your “obstacles.”)

My point is that, if you know how to tell a precise, articulate, and moving story, if you know how to build intrigue about a character in the first act, how to lull your audience into a happy, contented place in the second act, only to punch them precisely in the gut in the third, you have this fantastic skill which applies absolutely EVERYwhere.

Essay writing. Music composition. Graphic Design. Videography. Salesmanship. Teaching. Especially teaching. Especially these days. This list keeps building in my head during hours when I oughtta be sleeping.

Storytelling is the skill. Everything else is just its instrument.

I don’t know where this is taking me and, yeah, this blog kinda changes themes on a dime. Consider yourself served.

Your 20th Century Sales Pitch Of A 21st Century Product

I was already pretty comfortable with this metaphor but reactions to my initial post (which examined a tech coordinator perplexed by her faculty’s disinterest) have essentially tossed a goose-down comforter my way and invited me to bunk down with it.

Hang with me for a second:

A teaching group is receding – retiring, in some cases – and I won’t miss them. These teachers don’t fit any specific archetype – you can find them in any school, in any content area – but they do share one characteristic: they put the burden of engagement on their students.

If their students aren’t engaged, their students should simply pay closer attention or, should the teacher accept any responsibility at all, it’s for more frequent notebook checks, parent phone calls, and tougher punishment for distraction. They’re the ones who bemoan students who “aren’t there to learn,” the ones you hate sitting next to during all-district professional development. Anecdotally, I notice them leaving the job and I know that no one but their own kind will mourn their departure.

The link between some technology coordinators and these teachers seems altogether obvious to me right now.

Some technology coordinators expect teachers to meet them halfway or farther in their efforts to integrate technology into the classroom. They expect teachers to share their passion, to carry water up this hill alongside them, and when the reality of the thing closes in – teachers equally beholden to content-standards and the clock – they tend instinctively toward punitive measures: negative evaluations, citations, administrative sanctions, notebook checks.

It never occurs to them to develop a more persuasive pitch. (ie. tech units which better streamline into a teacher’s existing standards-based curriculum.)

I don’t mean you, of course. I get that some of you people put up with recalcitrance so severe it makes my hesitations look like the freaking 2020 vision over here. But there exists a line in every teacher and tech coordinator’s head, a threshold past which they say, “I have done everything I can. They need to bring it now or reap the consequences.”

Personally, the longer I’ve stalled that declaration (which is to say, the more responsibility I have assumed for my kids’ engagement) the better my classes have become. I have done my best to reject that threshold entirely, in fact, and the result has been a desperate search for engaging approaches to centuries-old material. That desperation has inspired the hungriest work of my life. I’ve never been prouder of anything.

Given that they sit on a rickety teeter-totter between both skeptical kids and skeptical teachers (while I deal with only one group of skeptics) I reckon tech coordinators have that threshold-rejecting process even rougher. What they oughtta realize, though, is that this makes hungry, persuasive salesmanship more essential to their job description, not less.

Extremists: Bad

On one end, you’ve got Graham Hughes dismissing persuasive tech salesmanship as “trick-turning and t-shirt giveaways,” tossing out firestarters like …

What we need is a big stick for when they spit the carrots out.

… and all but declaring jihad on resistant teachers with this comment:

2008 is going to be different because we are taking up the fight a little more vigorously and we are not going to let them get away it [sic] any more!

Extremists: Awesome and Awesomer

  • Leigh Blackall drops some knowledge at the end of his comment:

    At the moment we are focusing on these technologies as tools to improve a teacher’s learning long before we ask that they be used in a classroom.

    So great. Turn the teachers into users and then into pushers. So canny. Personally, and for just one example, I’m much more inclined towards blogging solutions in my classroom after such a satisfying year playing with it on my own terms.

  • And then step five of Scott’s Turn Your Luddite Administrators Into Tech-Driven Pod People article:

    Show RSS in Plain English. Then show the administrator the RSS aggregator you’ve created for him, with feeds already set up for woodworking, hiking, and pugs (replace with whatever the administrator’s interests are!). Show that you’ve also seeded the aggregator with some administrator-oriented blogs too, so that the aggregator can be used for both professional and personal interests.

    I mean, my word, how many of you tech coordinators have ever taken such a stealthy, guerrilla approach toward your customers, ingratiating yourselves into your faculties’ lives to the point that you could tailor a feed reader to their interests in advance of your sales pitch?

    I mean, I realize that kind of effort is beneath tech jihadists like Graham up there but, I promise you, if you can stomach the work, there’s only so much of that kind of persuasive salesmanship an obstinate, 20th-century educator can resist.

But I mean, regardless of these two posts, good luck. I believe in your cause – I really do – even if your sales pitch is outdated.