Below is a paragraph from a student's discussion of why we crave technology.
Smartphones give students the ability to accomplish basic skills. When texting or writing an online post, if there is a word that is not spelled correctly, auto correct helps spell the word out right. Also, there are voice activated translators that help sound out words. The reason we have "'allow me'' databases, is "Because to misspell is human; to have no idea of correct spelling is to be semiliterate" (Gelernter). When smart phones correct every misspelled word, it is hard to learn commonly missed mistakes. Students regularly rely on spell check that smartphones provide. They like it because it is a shortcut to learning the simple words and makes life easier. Basic skills are important abilities to learn, but having shortcuts for spelling and grammar is convenience smartphones provide.
This paper prompts two observations:
The cost for an app to correct errors in writing and pronunciation is free.
But what of the literacy and intellectual debt being mounted by education's heavy reliance on these popular "helps"?
A base assumption of the movement toward use of electronic aids in teaching is that the "helps" do more than help. They are often marketed as things that fill gaps in education rather than assist in the execution of educational activities.
ReplyDeleteIn the student paragraph above, the lack of coherence, the missing transitions, the misuse of the quote, the stilted sentence structure--all of these give the lie any proposed reliance on electronic aids to replace the repetitive practice required to learn skills.
That turns me back to the idea of "grit." Part of it involves learning how to use a tool, no simply rely on a tool. When considering the word, invariably my mind turns to memories of my father. I have his toolbox and use what's inside weekly. However, if he hadn't forced me to work with those tools in order to perform larger tasks, I wouldn't be able to use them now, or, more importantly, build off of the lessons I learned from him to apply those tools to related situations.
ReplyDeleteOnce, he had me watch him change the oil and filter in one of our car; I was distracted at best. He asked me if I could do the other. "Sure," I said. Twenty minutes later, I went into the house and asked him why the oil was red. I had drained the transmission fluid. When I attempted to put new oil in, it naturally overflowed and coated the engine block. I know how to change the oil now, even in cars I've never encountered before. Grit.