January 13, 2017
Well I was born in a small town. Every school break when I’m Back Home Again in Indiana, I go with my dad for coffee first thing in the morning. We wake up at the crack of dawn or earlier, leave at 6:00am exactly–in order to hear our county radio station announce the news, weather, and obituaries on the way–just in time to catch our assigned seats at 6:10am. There, we’re greeted by a small group of gentlemen, with another dozen rotating thru over the next few hours. Comprised mostly of blue-collar farmers, truckers, and construction workers, sprinkled in with a few white-collar educators, bankers, and mailmen, they begin their day by catching the latest local buzz before heading to work. A new morning is breaking in the Crossroads of America.
Plainly put: These men work hard, as if they’re baby-booming sons of parents who lived through The Great Depression. They’re great at what they do. And they’re passionate about the weather; sports; the latest engineering, construction, and farming techniques; history, culture, and politics; the occasional arts; global events; Hoosier hysteria; and, of course, the latest from around town. Although some have passed, and the location has changed a few times over the last five decades, their morning routine, joke-telling, and camaraderie have not.
As a youngster, going to coffee with dad was a big deal. A very big deal. I went to coffee to be like my dad; spend more time with my dad; and just to feel like one of the big guys. So badly, I wanted to drive my own pickup truck, work hard all day to build something, and drink coffee. Now, as a thirty-something-year-old adult, I also choose to attend coffee time with my dad in order to learn. That’s right. Coffee time is very educational and entertaining. But probably not in the way a millennial (which I am not) would think. In the rare 100+ minutes of the day when I (almost) disconnect from my vibrating flashy screen, face-to-face human interactions require a unique skillset of me nearly extinct from the general public today. These men don’t just embrace the lost art of genuine conversation, they live it. It’s true: In arguably the best part of the day, they go Analog.
So how, then, do men twice my age know so much—and all without immediate, simultaneous, arms-length access to all-things-digital on multiple devices? Yes, I’m sure many watch the news on TV, email, and probably surf the net for various info periodically, but NOT during coffee time, except maybe to check a text from a loved one. And time is also on their side; they can access prior knowledge from a plethora of unique life experiences. So there I sit, taking it all in. Entertained and learning–in analog.
Learning is unlimited in time, space, and form. It’s healthy for learners of all walks to experience and appreciate learning in all formats. When educators themselves appreciate diverse learning styles, they are more apt to embrace a wider range of student learning preferences. They’re more willing to traverse canyons separating student choice from student voice. Too often in education, we get hung up on ONE learning format. Too often, we get hung up on the latest and greatest technologies, kits, publishing companies, book series, and buzzwords.
Flashy things shine brightly in the eyes of the unsuspecting edu-marketers’ prey, but the 360° educator strategically preys on what’s best for student learning.
And sometimes that means that the best technology is NO technology. Sometimes that requires educators to vary instructional delivery methods throughout each day. Sometimes that means going outside in the fresh air for hands-on learning in nature. Sometimes it means repurposing furniture, spaces, and schedules to flexibly meet student needs. And sometimes it means going to coffee with the big guys.