#and these notoriously complex topics suddenly make sense and the fact that they even make sense feels so humbling and as if

[canisvesperus]

Math can be so fascinating and mysterious and FUN if you have the right professor to inspire those feelings. It really shouldn’t be a chore. Math is as amazing as linguistics, if not more so.

[cerealwatch]

I made sprites for my 2 year old danganronpa ocs that I found buried deep in an art folder, who I forgot about for a time but am now very invested in, suddenly. Info under the cut, from left to right.

Ren Seishi — SHSL Hypnotist, twin to Nagisa, and gentle-souled protagonist of this particular killing game. What initially began as nothing more than simple street magic quickly flourished into tricks and predictions beyond human comprehension. Ren’s abilities as a hypnotist are extreme— they can make enormous groups of people fall asleep at once, can predict exactly what many people are thinking, and can even cause others to forget core pieces of their memory. If they didn’t have such a strong reason to live, they would win the Killing Game easily. Luckily, their soft, soothing voice carefully guides the group towards victory rather than despair.

Fuyuki Fukumori — SHSL Engineer, who initially comes off as a very professional and polite fellow, when in fact he is an enormous nerd in his field of study. Socially, he is devastatingly awkward and has a difficult time making conversation with just about everyone, though he’s always willing to try, but if you get him talking about his one true passion, engineering, then good luck getting him to stop! Surprisingly, he is not an easy one to scare, but he is quick to cry, with his soft spot for cute animals and over-dramatic rom-coms.

Mayu Inazuma — SHSL Police Officer, serving as the moral compass and strong logic during trials. Mayu will always use fact over fiction, never hazarding on guesses, making decisions only when she knows she is correct. She has a strong sense of justice stemming from her work, and takes great pleasure in being able to help with cases or around the complex. However, she holds many secrets in her past, and any one of them somehow managing to slip out would surely be devastating...

Akemi Yoshiya — SHSL DJ, unmatched in skill when it comes to making a playlist or remix, fingers moving across her soundboard in a dance of its own. Her firm philosophy is that there’s a song for every mood. At least, that’s what it was before she found herself in the killing game. She’s a very hardy and stubborn person, not easy to break under pressure. However, she quickly gets frustrated if the argument isn’t going anywhere, which actually comes in handy in that she keeps the argument going, even when all hope for finding a culprit seems lost. However, she has an almost sisterly side to her, as she is strangely good at comforting others with or without her music.

Taro Ogasawara — SHSL Soccer Player and human battery. His enthusiasm is at once both infectious and overwhelming. Give him a task, and he’ll put his all into it. Even if it’s as simple as cleaning the bathroom or folding his bed. He preens with praise, but too much, and he’ll be glued to your side for hours. His decisions are made purely on self-proclaimed gut feelings and instinct, causing him to be somewhat unhelpful in trials. Yet, somehow he always manages to bounce back when shot down. Seriously, who gave this kid so many energy drinks?

Nagisa Seishi — SHSL Gardener, twin to Ren (and the elder of the two), and playing the part of secondary protagonist, Nagisa acts as Ren’s voice. She is not nearly so gentle or laid-back as her sibling, her tongue sharper and more scrutinizing, while still maintaining an air of carelessness. She takes great pride in her work as a gardener, and will fiercely support her sibling in any of their endeavors, but she is also deceptively clever, and has learned quite a few things from Ren in reading peoples’ expressions. She acts as something of a wildcard, possessing all sorts of random tidbits of information.

Hotaru Shimono — SHSL Lawyer and supportive protagonist throughout the story. Her mannerisms can be very snide, standoffish, or ruthlessly straightforward, but she does operate solely on a base of logic and diplomacy, making her a key asset during discussions and trials. She is hauntingly good at picking apart even the slightest flaw in someone’s argument, essentially painting an enormous target on her back for any aspiring killer. Luckily, she has all sorts of secret pacts and agreements on her side to keep herself safe whilst she solves the mystery of the Killing Game. Despite her no-nonsense nature, she and the often distant Seishi twins get along seemingly instantaneously, but no one knows exactly why.

Suzuki Eijiri — SHSL Arson and all around asshat. The only things he seems to take joy from are antagonizing his classmates and lighting any flammable object on fire. He is of no help during trials, serving only to rile up his classmates and mess with evidence. His lab, which is full of kerosene, explosives, and all sorts of other destructive items, has to be kept on a constant watch, with Suzuki himself absolutely not being allowed inside. He’s sly, yet careless. Arrogant, yet wise, both childish and mature. It’s hard to like him at all, even with his good looks.

Asuna LeClair — SHSL Acupuncturist and officially the shortest member of the entire group, surpassing even Nagisa in slightness of stature. Half Japanese and half French, her enthusiasm, at times, can be somewhat overbearing, and most of the time she can be seen as airheaded, ditzy, and clumsy. The only thing she truly fears are spiders— which may be why she can handle needles and blood with such unnerving optimism. She’s the closest thing the group has to a forensic specialist, with her intimate knowledge of the human body, but getting her to stay on topic is a herculean task itself.

Riichi Endo — SHSL Archer, who at first glance is cold, aloof, and unfriendly. In reality, he is fiercely passionate about his interests: archery and staying alive. He has a watchful eye, sharp reflexes, and impeccable aim, and is also very easily riled up, but cools just as quickly if reminded of the situation. Clearly, something happened to him to make him so angry all the time, but while he is willing to help to survive, prying information out of him is a no-go. Get close to him, however, and he is a ride-or-die companion like no other. 

Yasue Hattori — SHSL Construction Worker. Yasue is good-natured, and loves joking around and having fun. He’s always willing to lend a helping hand, and despite the nature of it, really enjoys his work or having something to do. He loathes having idle hands. What’s even more surprising, considering his talent, is that he is a notorious klutz, tripping over seemingly nothing one moment and then tripping over everything in the next. With how many time’s he has bashed his thumbs with a hammer, he claims to have no feeling in them anymore, and no one can tell whether this is another joke or not.

Shiki Toyama — SHSL Theorist and mastermind of this particular killing game. On the outside, Shiki is a very laid-back and often distracted person, claiming his thoughts are often buried in the far-off sciences and philosophies. Initially admitted into Hope’s Peak Academy due to his world-changing proposals on the foundations of life, he was quickly sought out by Junko and brainwashed to her side, using his brilliance to further her own twisted goals. He comes off as something of an airhead, but his thoughts are somewhere deep and dark and very, very distant.

Haruka Sasaki — SHSL Bartender and complete opposite of Suzuki. Haruka is gentlemanly, thoughtful, and always a willing listener. He’s always got an entertaining story on hand from all his years tending the bar, and he is a colossal help in keeping the spirits of the group high. He is very easy to like with his natural, genteel charms and honest face, but is too easy to back down when facing opposition, making him give up in arguments quickly. He would much rather dispel tension than create it.

Kenta Fujimaru — SHSL Radio Announcer, making him very naturally talkative. Kenta always seems to know exactly what to say and when, his sentences somehow perfectly timed, regardless of the situation. He’s very charismatic and dubs himself “punk-like,” despite him only vaguely fitting into the stereotype. His voice is the kind that demands attention, but doesn’t command. His mood is always of high-spirits, regardless of the time. Sometimes you have to wonder if he’s even human. Does he ever run out of things to say?

Madoka Uesugi — SHSL Cheerleader and master of putting on a false face. On the outside, she is cheerful and inspiring like no other, but her emotions seemingly balance on a tightrope. She appears to be easily swayed in arguments, and has a surprisingly foul mouth. However, in reality, she is something of a master of getting people to do what she wants using social status and guilt-tripping. Surely there must be a reason for all of this...

Chikara Kitagawa — SHSL Golfer and this class’s designated traitor. In the beginning, he’s something of an awkward wallflower, and would rather not talk to anyone given the option. He hates being engaged in conversation, and doesn’t really seem to like anybody. Because he estranges himself so, it is easy for Shiki to approach him and lure him into being a spy for despair, purposefully messing with evidence as well as his classmates due to his newfound lust for Shiki and Junko.

[zipgrowth]

How My Teaching and Technology Almost Failed One of My Students

I am a tech innovator, and my students are just like those kids in the Microsoft commercial—you know the one starring the rapping teacher in the bright blue vest with perfect hair, in the classroom where everyone looks happy and enthusiasm is exploding. Except that isn’t real, at least not in my experience.

Sometimes technology isn’t smart enough to pick up on why a student doesn’t understand a concept, or it’s not adaptive enough to pivot and present an alternative way of learning. It’s not just the tech though. Sometimes teachers unintentionally set kids up for failure by making assumptions about the prior knowledge and experience they bring into the classroom like presuming that all students grow up in a home with conversation about the political climate in our country, or that they’re all born digital natives with an iPhone in hand.

That just isn’t the case in College Park, GA, where many families struggle to find a place to call home. Many of my students qualify for free or reduced lunch and don’t have access to devices or WiFi outside of school. When tech—and teachers—make assumptions about what, why and how students learn, it can create a tangled web of challenges for students.

I teach 11th grade American Literature to at-risk youth in Atlanta and the struggle is real. Traditional curriculum has been unsuccessful for most of my students, so over the years, I’ve had to rewrite it from the ground up, using trends from student assessments and prioritizing relevance and accessibility.

At the beginning of each class, my students take an online diagnostic test on USATestprep that I’ve designed from scratch according to specific standards. The diagnostic provides data on their strengths and weaknesses by standard. For example, the results might show that a student has mastered how to determine themes and central ideas but struggles to distinguish between direct and indirect meaning.

My students actively participate in self-analysis and I hold individual conferences so we can collaborate to set up curriculum, course content and assignments, which are then plugged into Microsoft OneNote, where they have the freedom to explore their own pathways to mastery.

I try to empower each learner to shape their curriculum and after three years using this approach, I like to think my process is solid, but sometimes it doesn’t pan out quite like I planned.

One of my students, Andre, took the diagnostic test and scored low in figurative language standards, specifically distinguishing indirect meaning, but exceptionally high in literal standards, particularly in nonfiction texts. This made sense. Historically, abstract concepts such as satire and figurative language have been the lowest scores for my students so I always plan extra time to focus on them.

I made note of this trend and delivered Andre my unit on satire, complete with recently curated videos and teacher exemplars that he could work through at his own pace, but that didn’t happen. Actually, not a whole lot happened other than him staring at a screen and occasionally checking text messages. I was baffled. I had won awards for tech innovation in the classroom; why wasn’t this approach working for Andre?

I asked if there was anything I could do to support him, and he requested that I sit with him and help him with the work. We looked at the first task, which asked him to read an article from “The Onion,” Itinerary For Trump’s Trip To Asia, and analyze specific lines I had highlighted in red to identify the type of satirical device used and how it was used.

Satirical device task, Image Credit: Farhat Ahmad

Andre said he understood irony and satire, but as he read through the red lines carefully, he wasn’t able to spot any instances. When I asked him to define the terms, he was able to verbally, and he could even give me examples outside of this assignment. I was dumbfounded.

I stepped back and reflected on the first writing assignment Andre ever did in my class, a personal essay about the violent death of a family member when he was younger. I recognized that he was originally from a notorious neighborhood in Atlanta and his life was completely foreign to me. He grew up with different cultural values, experiences and hardships than I had. It almost seemed like we grew up speaking two different languages. He couldn’t relate to the privileged world of political satire I was trying to introduce him to. Suddenly, the problem hit me like a ton of bricks—it wasn’t the skill, it was the context.

Though I had used technology to assess his strengths and weaknesses, and used data to tailor curriculum, I hadn’t met Andre’s needs. And if I hadn’t sat down with him that day, I might not have ever realized the unfair situation I had inadvertently put him in. I didn’t want Andre’s confidence to deflate because he didn’t have a frame of reference for the text I had assigned, or because the device he was working on didn’t have the intuition to find out what the root of his problem was and change course.

We had a long conversation and I told him that what had happened wasn’t an indication of his mental capacity, but rather a perfect storm of complex issues that caused hurdles for him. We sat there together for a moment staring at the same screen and then started to unpack things together.

I felt awful. This scenario stemmed from a combination of my choices in content, my assumption that every student understood the political climate and the fact that I had used technology to deliver curriculum. The tech couldn’t pause, engage in error analysis or present Andre with another example to see if he could make the connection. It just repeatedly marked him as failing that standard.

I assumed he would understand the current political commentary and inherent humor and satire that lends itself to the Trump administration, but this wasn’t in Andre’s wheelhouse. He knew who Trump was, he recognized that his policies weren’t popular in his neighborhood, but that’s as far as it went.

Sitting their together, I asked him a series of questions to gauge his understanding but he continuously shrugged. We kept going back until we found a good starting point, the two-party system, and in a very abbreviated conversation we discussed why the current political arena is in the state it’s in right now.

Andre picked it up right away. It’s not that he couldn’t understand the topic, it was just never a part of the conversations in his home. Yes, he took Civics and U.S. History but it isn't uncommon to simply push students through, and that’s what had happened to Andre.

Soon enough, this is where we landed:

Satirical device task with Andre's response, Image Credit: Farhat Ahmad

It’s not perfect. Andre doesn’t go into detail about how that statement is verbal irony, but he does provide evidence he understands what verbal irony is and with further prompting he was able to complete the assignment on his own.

This is where things get dicey as a teacher. The expectation was for to identify the satirical device and explain how it was used independently, and Andre couldn’t do that, but he had come a long way in a short amount of time so I took this as a win. He would likely face some challenges proving his knowledge in a short essay for the final part of this analysis, but it was a first step, and we both felt proud.

When it came down to it, tech didn’t help Andre and neither did my personalized curriculum. What helped was human intervention—pausing to have conversation, empathizing with his situation and taking one step at a time.

It’s hard to watch my students stare blankly at a screen after millions of dollars in federal grant money was spent to purchase devices to get a failing school up to date. Sometimes tech succeeds and sometimes it fails, and the same is true about teachers. But teachers are able to dig deeper, reevaluate and consider how to best support a student who typically experiences failure more than success.

How My Teaching and Technology Almost Failed One of My Students published first on https://medium.com/@GetNewDLBusiness