The Next Page Entry 38: iPads? Really?

The Next Page Entry 38: iPads? Really?

woman using iPad

iPad distribution day…

I gave out index cards [I now have controlling interest in the Dollar Tree simply based on my unlimited purchases of index cards.] 

I had them write their name on the card. 

Pretty straightforward.

And I called out seven names. 

And I asked them to stand up. 

And I didn’t say anything…kind of fun to have them puzzle over whether they were caught snacking during read aloud or cutting in the cafeteria line or slipping an overdue book under the library door. 

And then they started crossing their arms [Well, Beth Carson did. No surprise there. And no surprise that her name was chosen—I think she rigged my own deck of name cards—I don’t know how she would do it, or, not knowing my reason for calling names—why she would do it, but hey, that’s Beth! And that’s me…being paranoid.]

Anyway, I picked up the box of iPads and gave one to each of the students standing.

I gave them a handout with the following info: 

“You are the iPad team captains for the next week. You will receive a list of your team members in the next five minutes. In the meantime, come up with a list of ways you and your team might use the iPad for the purpose of learning or for creating something.”

After that five minutes, the new teams met for five more minutes of brainstorming other ways to use the iPad.

I can tell you this…we’re going to get a lot of footage of our field trip to Buy Mart.

The Next Page Entry 34: iPads? Really?

The Next Page Entry 34: iPads? Really?

So, there I was in the workroom a week ago and I noticed an unlabeled box on an upper shelf. The true teacher in me knows to snap up loose, unattended boxes for, well, you never know—math manipulatives, projects to bring home for review [and 90% of the time return, unreviewed], science supplies, lost-and-found-and-not-yet-catalogued-for-corner-dust-collecting, you name it.]

When I swiveled the box in my direction, there was unexpected resistance. And a label appeared on the other side: Mrs. Snyder–iPads. I pulled down the box, opened it, and eyed a stack of eight iPads. Interesting. And tempting. But I returned the box. I mean, you never know if someone else had laid claim to them. I jotted a checkmark in the lower corner.

A week later, I looked again. Checkmark in place. The box hadn’t moved. The unwritten ‘teacher statute-of-limitations’ had lapsed. It was time to give these babies a home. As tech-deficient as I am, even I checked for the power supplies. Yep. And home they came for a recharge. 

Thank you, Bobbi Snyder. I hope you’re enjoying retirement.