Modeling Machines

1 Comment

20130119-194557.jpg

I wrote about this photo in a different context recently on a makers grimoire, but reflecting back on the moment I built this model of a force pump, I’m taken by the awareness I had at the time.

At the time, a student in our eighth grade science class had asked me what a force pump was, and I responded by leading the student over to the computer, where we looked it up on Google. The definition was singularly unsatisfactory to me: (the one in the link doesn’t match the one in the quote, but it’s similarly vague) “a machine for pumping water from one place to another.” She was, though, and read the definition off the computer screen with this tone of voice, “Oh!” that teens use to suggest “I have enough of an answer, o adult; thank you for assisting me.”

The designer in me was dissatisfied with that answer though. I flipped over to Google images. Shortly I had a picture of a force pump. And from that image, I built a 3-D model of a force pump — tape, a wooden dowel, and two cardboard tubes.

(Those tubes were left over from the playground project several months ago. We had gathered a lot of cardboard and now we have cardboard out the wazoo. Too much.)

So, I showed my model to the student who’d asked in the first place, and this time she said “Oh!” in that tone of voice that kids use to say, “wow, I now understand something I had no idea I needed to understand that deeply before it made sense.”

A few moments later, another eighth grade student looked at my paper model and said, “now I have a clear image in my mind of how such a thing works! Thanks, Mr. Watt!”

And of course, the awareness I had at the time was pleasure. I love helping people understand stuff, and this seemed like a great one to help kids understand — a common enough machine in our world. Yet I found myself wondering — how many such models should I and my colleagues and students build? Would a video have been enough? Could you have watched a two-minute Khan Academy video and have understood a force pump?

I’ve written before about teaching creativity by using model, language and value, but I think this is something I need to return to again soon. It turns out that the mindset I’ve cultivated — “oh, hey… I should build one of those…” — is difficult to teach through direct instruction. Yet it pays off massive dividends in learning. Ultimately it’s better when that mindset can be transferred to students than to adults, though. And I wonder how to accomplish that.

You can’t think with tools you don’t have

7 Comments

Three short stories, and an axe to grind. Bear with me, and I’ll get to the point.

You can’t think with tools you don’t have. Seems simple enough, right?

Story number one. My mother saw the new computer at college that I’d bought through the tech department’s arrangement with Apple Computer, and said, “what do you need one of those for?” I told her, “writing papers, making art, sending email, publishing a newsletter. You have to get one.” she asked me, incredulously, “what would I use it for?” I told her to get one first, and find out what she used it for later. Twenty-five years later, she’s used it to be the president of a board of trustees, to be a graphic designer, a home-business entrepreneur, an accountant, a data-gatherer, a phenomenal correspondent and a journalist.

If she’d waited to get a computer until she knew what she was going to do with it, she’d still be waiting.

Story number two. My friend Josh has built a pair of headband-mounted cat ears on servos, attached to an EKG reader and an Arduino chip. When you wear the ears, and mount the EKG sensor on your forehead with a little grounding clipped to your ear, the ears swivel left and right, up and down, depending on how much attention you’re paying to what’s going on around you. To build them, he needed a soldering iron, a Cupcake MakerBot (3-D printing), various electronics parts, and a community of folks interested in Arduino devices and having them read code from EkG sensors. Ultimately, he even needed the expertise of some serious electronics designers to solve a power problem.

But he couldn’t have done any of it without a set of tools he already knew how to use, and some ambition (in the form of a cosplaying lady friend).

Third story. Around a million years ago, more or less, our hominid ancestors started making tools. They’d been making “tool” for around a million years, but the Acheulian Hand Axe was our go-to device for a million years. The archaeological record strongly suggests we didn’t know how to make anything else. But then, over a few thousand years, we invented a stunning number of tools in very short order — hammers, knives, needles, fishhooks, harpoons, bowls, cups, baskets, fishing line, arrows, bows, swords… The list goes on and on, and really the business of inventing specialty tools hasn’t stopped at any time in the last million years. A million years of tool-making.

I’m simplifying these tales a lot, because I want to grind an axe, and then I want to chop a point onto this spear I’m pointing. Today, an adequate “school kit” should contain more than just pens and pencils. I realize we’re worried about violence in schools, but safety scissors are dumb. Can we please give kids real tools, and let them have at least a pocket knife in their school bag? For a million years, kids as young as two have been given sharp implements and instruction in how to use them effectively. This is the patrimony of the planet, and if a kid doesn’t know how to use a knife safely by the time she learns to read, how is she going to feed herself, hmmm?

End of axe-grinding. Onto the point.

If the Kavad, and my designer friends, have taught me anything, it’s that you can’t learn to think through problems with tools you don’t have or have never learned to use. Walking around my friend Matt’s new house with him, we thought nothing of looking at misplaced doors and locations where there should be windows. He’s a carpenter! Walls in old houses aren’t solid to him. He has the tools and technology to rebuild them. My friend C takes apart commercially-made toy puppets because they don’t serve his hands very well. He rebuilds them to suit his improv games. He knows how to use a sewing machine and a glue gun, and he knows how fabric behaves when it has a head-shaped piece of foam under it. My friend Jared codes websites for a living, because he understands CSS and HTML and Java from the process of goofing around on his computer, and learning these tools. My friend K is a moderately successful chef in large part because he was cutting vegetables and making food from an early age. He knows his way around a kitchen.

These are anecdotes, of course. But it doesn’t change the reality — tools are the heritage and patrimony of the human species, and yet most schools expect and count on students to graduate with only a strong familiarity with six of them: pencil, pen, college-ruled lined paper, textbook, and correcting pen. If they’re really lucky, scissors, glue stick, ruler, rubber band, and (cheap, plastic) geometry compass will appear on the secondary list. oh, and one of the most villainous tools of all, they learn to use quite well: the bubble test.

This is appalling.

One of the things that appears so often on the list of things that American businesses want from employees is creativity. Yet they can’t get creativity from their employees because their employees learned to be creative despite (rather than because of) schools. It’s seen as an “extracurricular” skill at best. Kids learn to analyze literature only, instead of learning to create it. They study history to learn what they’re stuck with, rather than how to change it, or how to make it. And left to themselves, students learn how to use Facebook instead of learning how to make memes that take over Facebook.

So, in the comments here, i’d like you to name five tools that belong in a new, revamped “back to school kit.” They can be digital or analog. They can be online tools or physical objects. At least one of them has to be sharp, and one of them has to be upsetting. You can specify grade level or type of class, but be a little risky, and a little frisky.

Go on, I dare you.

Follow

Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.

Join 1,320 other followers