(This is an email I just sent out to my ELL department chair, my vice principal, my principal, two sixth grade teachers, the school counselor, and the IT teacher. Just so you know, a smart board is kind of like a projector screen that you can write on)
Well,
not really one of those emails I like to write, but here goes (note
that while this email is quite long and detailed, it's not exceedingly
urgent, so please peruse at your own
pleasure):
I was working with Ali and Diana on a transcript of a Spongebob episode at the table. We were reading about Spongebob and Patrick talking about gloves, and I asked Ali and Diana if they knew what gloves were. Ali didn't know, so I rolled over to my desk, pulled up google images, and typed in gloves. A bunch of gloves appear on the smartboard. Then Diana talked about her golf gloves, I talked about my baseball glove, and Ali talked about his gloves he uses when he goes skiing. Quite the magical teacher's award moment, if I do say so myself.
While all that was going on, Momoka was working on a paragraph about a time when she got lost (which correlates to the upcoming Spongebob clip we're about to see), as she's at quite a different level than they are. After my discussion with Ali and Diana about gloves, Momoka walks over to the table to tell me that she's finished her paragraph, so I let Ali and Diana continue to work through their transcripts, changing present tense verbs to past tense verbs as they go. I start reading through Momoka's paragraph, circling errors so that she can start fixing them (mind you, I'm working at the long table in my room, facing away from the projector and the computer). In that one 15 second interval, *@(# hits the fan as Momoka looks at the projector, sees that google images is open to gloves, decides in her mind that "Hey, I wonder what happens when I type my name into Google images"(as we all probably have at some point), walks over to the computer (I'm looking at her paper, I'd assumed she'd be looking too as I circled the errors for her), and types in her name.
As I circle the last of the errors on her paper, I hear a gasp come from her and an "Oh my God!" and then from Ali and Diana I hear some other expressions of horror which escape my mind. I swiftly swivel around my chair, and come to the stark realization that Momoka must share names with a very popular Japanese porn star, as many bare-brested pictures of some random Japanese girl are displayed on the smart board.
I roll over to the computer at top speed, grab the mouse, and click the minimize button.
The kids are stunned, but soon enough start laughing and laughing. Even though Momoka's really embarrassed, she starts kinda laughing too.
Ok, so that's the end of that story. Here's what I did:
In the heat of the moment, I just didn't really say anything. I feel that if you make a big deal out of something with kids, it just makes it a really big deal for them, whether it actually is or not. So, I just kinda chuckled and said, "Ok, that was really bad, but Momoka, you fix your errors and Ali and Diana, let's get back to reading through the transcripts." I would say within 30 seconds we were all focused back on our work, which I think is pretty key in these situations. After that I just carried on with the lesson, and before I knew it the bell rang and Diana's sister, Deborah, showed up in the room.
She went to go put a song on the computer, and we all shouted, "No, don't touch the computer!" and I wheeled over and right-click-closed the browser without anyone seeing anything else. In hindsight I should've done that right away after I'd minimized it from the start, but I was pretty frazzled and was really intent on getting the kids to just get back to work. Anyways, I pulled everyone aside and said "Guys, this needs to be our secret. We don't want to embarrass Momoka or make her feel sad."
Ali said he wouldn't say anything, and so did Diana. Ali had probably had the most laughs out of it all, but he's a standup kid, so I think he'll keep his promise pretty well. Also, I doubt he could explain what happened in English.
Diana likes Momoka, and again, I doubt her English vocabulary includes the words necessary to describe the situation. As for Momoka, I doubt she would say something, but she's always seemed like kind of a gossip to me, so who knows. I guess it kinda depends on how embarrassed she feels.
Deborah, Diana's sister, really shouldn't have been privy to my little talk, but again, this is like a once in a lifetime event (so far), so the next time I'll be sure to end class earlier, collect myself, close the program, and then have the talk with just the kids involved before more kids enter the room. Anyways, it is what it is, and she just asked, "What are you talking about?" and I said, "Nothing, we just had an accident" and Diana just didn't say anything and acted nonchalant.
At that point the kids left, Deborah's friend came in the room and they started dancing to some k-pop songs, and I tried to organize my desk and think through what had transpired.
I've thought about a few ways to avoid this from happening again:
1. Become a personal effects boundary nazi and make it abundantly clear that students are not supposed to touch the computer. Personally, I don't think it's a great idea. I mean, students never really work the computer anyways, as I'm the one who's always selecting what we're doing. Also, I let students use the smart board all the time. I mean, that's kinda what it's made for: to use the computer.
2. Talk to Momoka again about not using the computer. Again, it's an option, but I'm not a big fan of it. I'm quite confident she's bright enough to figure out that her touching the computer resulted in not good things. Also, I feel that the more you bring up references to stuff like this, the more it lingers in their minds, and, well, lingering minds are the devil's hands, or something like that.
3. Check to see what kind of filters are set on Google Images for my computer, and adjust if necessary. Done and done. By default it was set to 'moderate (recommended)', and I switched it to 'strict'. Honestly though, I just tested it again as I'm writing this, and instead of 15 or so sets on the screen I was only graced with a measly one or two. So, that's not a surefire cure.
4. Refrain from ever using Google images. Again, not something that I would advise, but I figure I'd like to give my two cents on this one. I'd like to start by saying that Google images kicks the crap out of any dictionary out there when it comes to helping translate physical nouns. Online dictionaries such as Google Translate are notorious for giving incorrect and misleading definitions. Not only that, but in this case, a picture really is worth a thousand words. Think about this situation: A Mexican student doesn't know what the word 'eggs' means. The teacher pulls out her handy dandy Spanish-English dictionary she has on the shelf, looks up the word eggs, and says to the kid "huevos". Whether the kid bursts out laughing or not is a null point, because 1st language interference is going to happen - that's just the nature of the game - and the kid will most likely at some point think that eggs means 1.) eggs and 2.) testicles, because those are the meanings of 'huevos'. Just think about how many words in English have 2 or 3 or more meanings: ball, run, dart, crane, date, engage, foil, net, leaves, point, right (this one expecially), rose, type, kind, etc. English, while notorious for homonyms, is certainly not alone in its abundance of them. Pictures are a great way to deal with this problem.
"So why not just use printed cards?" An average, educated adult English speaker knows about 15,000-20,000 words, the lion's share of which are nouns. 'Nuff said.
"Why not pre-load all the images to make sure they're safe?" Honestly, a lot of the times, I do just that. I know that google images is a tricky bunny, so I will often preload images of things I know we'll be talking about. The catch is that a lot of the time, I can't predict what kids will or will not know, and I can't always predict what they will ask or be curious about.
"Why not use a kids' image search engine?" If you know one that is as useful and efficient as Google images, please let me know. However, the ones I tried tend to suck, to be blunt, or are really nothing more than a mirror of Google images with the 'strict' setting turned on (for example). Also, I doubt even the hardiest of search engines would stand up to the 'Momoka Test', in that search engines tend to filter by word, not by image. Yes, the technology does exist for even a handheld camera to tell when you blink, but even that is faulty, and I have a hunch that scanning hundreds of millions of pictures and only selecting those without nipples (which tend to have a similar look and placement to buttons) or genitalia or buttocks is just not something that's feasible and/or foolproof at this moment in history.
To sum up this novella, I've been using Google images for about 5 years in the classroom environment, and this is the first time I've viewed nude images with a class. I chalk that up to me knowing what not to type into Google, and also to not letting kids use my computer unsupervised as well as my habit of prescreening and selecting images whenever possible. I feel that what Momoka did was a one-off, in that I don't allow my kids to use the computer unsupervised, and she's not in the habit of touching my computer anyways. The way I figure it, it was an unfortunate, freak incident, yet the benefits of using the internet far outweigh the cons of not using it. I feel it's simply how technology works nowadays: it's incredibly powerful, it opens up millions of doors like never before, and it's simply not perfect, just like anything else in life. Putting some kind of plan in action simply for the sake of putting a plan in action seems altogether too common and detrimental in this day and age, and so I feel that we should just kinda log this one in the books and wish it a quick and speedy death.
I'll readily admit that if I had to change anything, I would simply change the fact of immediately closing the program instead of just minimizing it (in hindsight, I think I was afraid of losing unsaved work), and I would've made sure to stop class well before the bell rang and have a short talk before any other kids showed up. Again though, I was in damage control mode, and damage control mode dictated that I carry on like it wasn't a big detail and focus on the task at hand. Actually, I'd like to rescind my earlier statement and point out that saying something would just make it a bigger deal in their minds, so perhaps I made the wrong choice there, and I should've just let it go. Oh well.
Thoughts, questions and advice from all are welcome (specifically admin), and feel free to just keep an ear out for anything that the kids involved might be talking about tomorrow (while also sitting back in your chairs right now and thinking "Ha, glad it wasn't me").
Again, sorry for the length and the quasi-pedagogical meandering at the end. My apologies.
Cheers,
Ryan
I was working with Ali and Diana on a transcript of a Spongebob episode at the table. We were reading about Spongebob and Patrick talking about gloves, and I asked Ali and Diana if they knew what gloves were. Ali didn't know, so I rolled over to my desk, pulled up google images, and typed in gloves. A bunch of gloves appear on the smartboard. Then Diana talked about her golf gloves, I talked about my baseball glove, and Ali talked about his gloves he uses when he goes skiing. Quite the magical teacher's award moment, if I do say so myself.
While all that was going on, Momoka was working on a paragraph about a time when she got lost (which correlates to the upcoming Spongebob clip we're about to see), as she's at quite a different level than they are. After my discussion with Ali and Diana about gloves, Momoka walks over to the table to tell me that she's finished her paragraph, so I let Ali and Diana continue to work through their transcripts, changing present tense verbs to past tense verbs as they go. I start reading through Momoka's paragraph, circling errors so that she can start fixing them (mind you, I'm working at the long table in my room, facing away from the projector and the computer). In that one 15 second interval, *@(# hits the fan as Momoka looks at the projector, sees that google images is open to gloves, decides in her mind that "Hey, I wonder what happens when I type my name into Google images"(as we all probably have at some point), walks over to the computer (I'm looking at her paper, I'd assumed she'd be looking too as I circled the errors for her), and types in her name.
As I circle the last of the errors on her paper, I hear a gasp come from her and an "Oh my God!" and then from Ali and Diana I hear some other expressions of horror which escape my mind. I swiftly swivel around my chair, and come to the stark realization that Momoka must share names with a very popular Japanese porn star, as many bare-brested pictures of some random Japanese girl are displayed on the smart board.
I roll over to the computer at top speed, grab the mouse, and click the minimize button.
The kids are stunned, but soon enough start laughing and laughing. Even though Momoka's really embarrassed, she starts kinda laughing too.
Ok, so that's the end of that story. Here's what I did:
In the heat of the moment, I just didn't really say anything. I feel that if you make a big deal out of something with kids, it just makes it a really big deal for them, whether it actually is or not. So, I just kinda chuckled and said, "Ok, that was really bad, but Momoka, you fix your errors and Ali and Diana, let's get back to reading through the transcripts." I would say within 30 seconds we were all focused back on our work, which I think is pretty key in these situations. After that I just carried on with the lesson, and before I knew it the bell rang and Diana's sister, Deborah, showed up in the room.
She went to go put a song on the computer, and we all shouted, "No, don't touch the computer!" and I wheeled over and right-click-closed the browser without anyone seeing anything else. In hindsight I should've done that right away after I'd minimized it from the start, but I was pretty frazzled and was really intent on getting the kids to just get back to work. Anyways, I pulled everyone aside and said "Guys, this needs to be our secret. We don't want to embarrass Momoka or make her feel sad."
Ali said he wouldn't say anything, and so did Diana. Ali had probably had the most laughs out of it all, but he's a standup kid, so I think he'll keep his promise pretty well. Also, I doubt he could explain what happened in English.
Diana likes Momoka, and again, I doubt her English vocabulary includes the words necessary to describe the situation. As for Momoka, I doubt she would say something, but she's always seemed like kind of a gossip to me, so who knows. I guess it kinda depends on how embarrassed she feels.
Deborah, Diana's sister, really shouldn't have been privy to my little talk, but again, this is like a once in a lifetime event (so far), so the next time I'll be sure to end class earlier, collect myself, close the program, and then have the talk with just the kids involved before more kids enter the room. Anyways, it is what it is, and she just asked, "What are you talking about?" and I said, "Nothing, we just had an accident" and Diana just didn't say anything and acted nonchalant.
At that point the kids left, Deborah's friend came in the room and they started dancing to some k-pop songs, and I tried to organize my desk and think through what had transpired.
I've thought about a few ways to avoid this from happening again:
1. Become a personal effects boundary nazi and make it abundantly clear that students are not supposed to touch the computer. Personally, I don't think it's a great idea. I mean, students never really work the computer anyways, as I'm the one who's always selecting what we're doing. Also, I let students use the smart board all the time. I mean, that's kinda what it's made for: to use the computer.
2. Talk to Momoka again about not using the computer. Again, it's an option, but I'm not a big fan of it. I'm quite confident she's bright enough to figure out that her touching the computer resulted in not good things. Also, I feel that the more you bring up references to stuff like this, the more it lingers in their minds, and, well, lingering minds are the devil's hands, or something like that.
3. Check to see what kind of filters are set on Google Images for my computer, and adjust if necessary. Done and done. By default it was set to 'moderate (recommended)', and I switched it to 'strict'. Honestly though, I just tested it again as I'm writing this, and instead of 15 or so sets on the screen I was only graced with a measly one or two. So, that's not a surefire cure.
4. Refrain from ever using Google images. Again, not something that I would advise, but I figure I'd like to give my two cents on this one. I'd like to start by saying that Google images kicks the crap out of any dictionary out there when it comes to helping translate physical nouns. Online dictionaries such as Google Translate are notorious for giving incorrect and misleading definitions. Not only that, but in this case, a picture really is worth a thousand words. Think about this situation: A Mexican student doesn't know what the word 'eggs' means. The teacher pulls out her handy dandy Spanish-English dictionary she has on the shelf, looks up the word eggs, and says to the kid "huevos". Whether the kid bursts out laughing or not is a null point, because 1st language interference is going to happen - that's just the nature of the game - and the kid will most likely at some point think that eggs means 1.) eggs and 2.) testicles, because those are the meanings of 'huevos'. Just think about how many words in English have 2 or 3 or more meanings: ball, run, dart, crane, date, engage, foil, net, leaves, point, right (this one expecially), rose, type, kind, etc. English, while notorious for homonyms, is certainly not alone in its abundance of them. Pictures are a great way to deal with this problem.
"So why not just use printed cards?" An average, educated adult English speaker knows about 15,000-20,000 words, the lion's share of which are nouns. 'Nuff said.
"Why not pre-load all the images to make sure they're safe?" Honestly, a lot of the times, I do just that. I know that google images is a tricky bunny, so I will often preload images of things I know we'll be talking about. The catch is that a lot of the time, I can't predict what kids will or will not know, and I can't always predict what they will ask or be curious about.
"Why not use a kids' image search engine?" If you know one that is as useful and efficient as Google images, please let me know. However, the ones I tried tend to suck, to be blunt, or are really nothing more than a mirror of Google images with the 'strict' setting turned on (for example). Also, I doubt even the hardiest of search engines would stand up to the 'Momoka Test', in that search engines tend to filter by word, not by image. Yes, the technology does exist for even a handheld camera to tell when you blink, but even that is faulty, and I have a hunch that scanning hundreds of millions of pictures and only selecting those without nipples (which tend to have a similar look and placement to buttons) or genitalia or buttocks is just not something that's feasible and/or foolproof at this moment in history.
To sum up this novella, I've been using Google images for about 5 years in the classroom environment, and this is the first time I've viewed nude images with a class. I chalk that up to me knowing what not to type into Google, and also to not letting kids use my computer unsupervised as well as my habit of prescreening and selecting images whenever possible. I feel that what Momoka did was a one-off, in that I don't allow my kids to use the computer unsupervised, and she's not in the habit of touching my computer anyways. The way I figure it, it was an unfortunate, freak incident, yet the benefits of using the internet far outweigh the cons of not using it. I feel it's simply how technology works nowadays: it's incredibly powerful, it opens up millions of doors like never before, and it's simply not perfect, just like anything else in life. Putting some kind of plan in action simply for the sake of putting a plan in action seems altogether too common and detrimental in this day and age, and so I feel that we should just kinda log this one in the books and wish it a quick and speedy death.
I'll readily admit that if I had to change anything, I would simply change the fact of immediately closing the program instead of just minimizing it (in hindsight, I think I was afraid of losing unsaved work), and I would've made sure to stop class well before the bell rang and have a short talk before any other kids showed up. Again though, I was in damage control mode, and damage control mode dictated that I carry on like it wasn't a big detail and focus on the task at hand. Actually, I'd like to rescind my earlier statement and point out that saying something would just make it a bigger deal in their minds, so perhaps I made the wrong choice there, and I should've just let it go. Oh well.
Thoughts, questions and advice from all are welcome (specifically admin), and feel free to just keep an ear out for anything that the kids involved might be talking about tomorrow (while also sitting back in your chairs right now and thinking "Ha, glad it wasn't me").
Again, sorry for the length and the quasi-pedagogical meandering at the end. My apologies.
Cheers,
Ryan
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