Turning iPhones into Microscopes

By Laura Moore

As I sat in the Active Learning Lab and observed Jordan Walker's biology class construct their microscopes, I couldn't help but grin.

Back in 2005, when I first embarked on my career in education, I recall the effort administrators and teachers put into preventing students from using their phones. In Dublin, to avoid any chance that students would be unable to resist the temptation of their device, students were asked to leave their phones inside their lockers. In Upper Arlington, even though students have been able to keep their phones with them for as long as I've taught in the district, they were discouraged from pulling them out during class.

Though the rigid phone rules have softened some over the last few years, the Upper Arlington Student Rights & Responsibilities Handbook still states that "Students may use wireless communication devices (WCDs) before and after school, during their lunch break, in between classes as long as they do not create a distraction, disruption or otherwise interfere with the educational environment, during after school activities (e.g. extra-curricular activities) and at school-related functions."

It still paints a picture of phones as an obstacle to learning.

And it still suggests they should only be used outside of an educational environment.

But what if devices were actually central to the educational environment?

What if phones were just as vital as paper, pens and books?

In an effort to make use of resources, many teachers at Upper Arlington High School have found productive and innovative ways to incorporate what was once the enemy into the fabric regular classroom instruction. From surveys and quizzes, to study apps and vocabulary apps, potential uses vary from course to course, but what Jordan Walker did last Monday in her biology class, seemed to take the concept of phone-as-an-educational-tool to a whole new level.

She showed her students how they could use their device to literally magnify life.

At the start of class, Ms. Walker asked students to get into pairs and then she passed out materials and instructions pre-packaged by her former Metro School colleague, Dr. Andy Bruening, who, in conjunction with working for Metro School is also the PAST Foundation's Director of Bridge Programs. Walker said that Bruening showed her a picture of what he was doing with his students and she presented the idea to her department. Inspired by the prospect of what the activity could unlock for students, her department secured funding to purchase supplies so every biology class had access to the experience.

Once students had their supplies, she told them they would be constructing microscope platforms so they could use their phones to explore specimen slides located at the back of the room.

Groups worked at their own pace, discerning instructions, spinning screws, lining up boards. Some took the entire period to put the platforms together. Others flew through the directions quickly and found themselves with ample time to gaze at samples ranging from grains of sand, salamander tails and blood smears, to a cross-section of a chick cell.

Slide after slide, students were encouraged to follow their curiosity, to choose their own specimens and to look at them for as long as they were interested in looking. Some even decided to create their own specimens, sliding erasers and fingertips beneath the lens, looking at the way both objects in their backpack, as well as the stamp of their identity, appeared beneath the glass.

As they studied each one, Ms. Walker asked them to record their findings on the board: the samples that worked and the ones that didn't. She also asked them to take on the inquiry challenge of determining the magnification of their phone-based microscopes.

Some took guesses based on the magnification of the microscope in their classroom. Others took a more methodical approach. Mr. Warren Orloff, whose classes would be building the microscope at a later date, was in the room observing. As he circled around and looked at what students were doing, he told one group to place a ruler under the lens so they could see how big a millimeter was. Then he showed them how to use that information to find the magnification.

While all groups worked at varying paces, regardless of their microscope construction speed, the number of slides they viewed, or whether or not they were able to estimate the level of magnification, all groups had the experience of making something--of grappling with the challenges of building--of following a third-party's set of directions, pulling pieces from a bag and determining how to put them together in an effort to make something magnificent. They experienced what it was like create a device and then use it, rather than merely walking up to an already manufactured device and taking the existence of it for granted.

As I watched students manipulate the hardware, the boards and yes, their cell phones, I was terribly moved by the power of innovation, by the prospect of imaging what could be and allowing students to see the ways those what-if ideas could become reality. I was moved by the fact that these students had the chance to use their fingers, their eyes and their brains to create a lens through which they could look at the world, and I am enormously excited for the potential of what's to come.

Breaking Through the Cement

By Laura Moore

Shut your eyes and picture a high school classroom.

Slip yourself back into those bellbottoms, those acid-washed jeans, those heavy wool jackets stitched with Varsity Letters, and waltz into your first period class. Imagine the space, the smell, the chalkboard at the front of the room, remnants of gum lingering under desks, people lined up in rows inside cinderblock walls. Listen to the heaters hum and rattle in the background. And remember the effort of pulling out papers and books, shuffling bags, scooting around, straining your neck just to connect eyes with the person behind you.

This scene is all-to-familiar for many of us, particularly those who attended schools built 50 or more years ago. Yet despite these challenges, community members and teachers work hard to make spaces meaningful for students. The PTO offers grants for SMART Boards, teachers develop and propose new curriculum and establish connections with authors, businessmen, politicians, biologists, physicians and droves of other disciplines as their lessons call for it.

All of this is in an effort to create meaningful connections, dynamic moments of thinking, minutes spent in questioning and discovery, in analysis and synthesis, in explaining and extending and evaluating.

In finding circles and moving walls inside a rigid, rectangle of cement.

But what if those walls turned to glass and the chairs morphed into swivel seats? What if the desks became modular tables, transitions took 30 seconds, and groups had the chance to spread out, to dive in, to discover and discuss without talking over neighboring groups sitting three inches away? What if students had white boards to write on, comfortable cushions to sit on, soft lighting to mellow the mood, tabletops covered in paper and shelves to store their bags so they're not in the way?

Fortunately, we don't have to imagine it anymore.

Last March, Upper Arlington applied for and received a grant that allowed us to create a classroom environment the way it could be. Steelcase, a leading educational furniture company, awarded the grant, and teachers, administrators, students, community members and consultants from Battelle for Kids worked with LOTH to create an engaging space. Once the furniture and white boards were set, the Upper Arlington Education Foundation purchased glass walls and doors, and with the help of installers and custodians who worked hard throughout the summer and early fall, the Active Learning Lab (ALL) came to life on the second floor of Upper Arlington High School's learning center.

In August and early September, the space was a spillover spot for small groups and study hall students, but as our protocols are beginning to evolve, it is turning into a place where teachers can invite students to spread out and discover in ways typical classrooms do not allow. Because of the arrangement possibilities, inside the space, students can move freely, shifting their focus to different places in the room without dragging a desk, jostling their computer, or tripping over bags. They can actually connect with their peers without straining their necks, and they have table space to sort objects without loosing them between the cracks.

Teachers are slowly starting to use the space to enrich their curriculum. In late September, Jim Kenny brought his AP Calculus class to the ALL so students could engage in a lesson of discovery. He divided students into groups of 3 or 4 and gave them slips of paper showcasing derivatives and functions. The groups were supposed to match the two; however, Mr. Kenny didn't dictate how they should approach the problem. He didn't suggest methodologies or assign groups strategies. Instead, he allowed them problem-solve, to take risks, to make mistakes, and to find success.

As the period wore on, groups utilized different methods and because they were spread out throughout the room, each group had to find their own way. They couldn't look over their shoulder at what the group next to them was doing. They were forced to figure out a plan, to test that plan, and to find their own solutions. Some decided to pick up functions and draw their derivative first. Others engaged in various methods of sorting: grouping the similar ones or identifying the ones that were most different. And the final group picked them at random.

The following day, Mr. Kenny engaged his class in a discussion of strategies and students had the chance to critique methods, to evaluate other courses of action. When he asked how they chose their strategies, groups realized the leaders of the group dictated the direction, except for the group where a leader didn't emerge. Those three students arrived at their method through discussion and consensus. As students engaged in this reflection, they gained a conscious awareness of not only the problem they solved, but how they solved it, how else they could have approached it and what they would do differently if they approached it again.

As soon as this discussion ended, Mr. Kenny gave them another chance. Adding descriptions of the derivatives and functions into the mix, he asked students to engage once more in an exercise of matching; however this time, influenced by the reflection moments before, he said every group tried a different approach.

Mr. Kenny could have attempted this lesson in room 214, but by removing his students from a rectangle dotted with rows and allowing them to spread out in the ALL, he was able to facilitate an experience that truly allowed students to discover, to explore and to problem-solve in whichever way the group saw fit. He was able to guide them as they evaluated their strategies, and he was able to bring to light the way leadership and collaboration emerged or didn't emerge, the way leaders influenced decisions, and the importance of exploring and valuing different ways of learning and doing. If the groups had been elbow-to-elbow in room 214, attempting to spread out slips across uneven desk surfaces, they might have understood functions and derivatives by the end of the period, but they probably wouldn't have had the same chance to discover them on their own.

It would be a tremendous understatement to say how excited I am to watch other teachers shift mindsets in this space, to see how learning will evolve, how this room will allow educators to explore what's possible, and give students the chance to break through the cement.