Inseamna ca lectiile de informatica sunt un succes

One of the homework questions for my seventh grade computer students about Microsoft Word was, "What is the purpose of headers and footers? What information can these things contain?" One girl responded perfectly to the first part, and then got creative in the second part of her response:

"These objects can contain: important information, scholastic information, information for teachers, information for students and lastly, secret information that only the principal should know."

The answer is too entertaining to be marked wrong.

Dor de anii trecuti

After class today, I noticed nearly a dozen men, of whom I know several and who are major figures in the village, standing around on the first floor of the school. I said hello and then continued upstairs. On the way to the computer lab, I saw Raisa, one of the cleaning ladies. I struck up a conversation:

"Why are practically all the men in Mereseni at the school right now?" I said, exaggerating.

"It's a Communist party meeting," Raisa said. "They want the Communists in power."

This was the first time I had heard of a local Communist party in the village, but it didn't surprise me. Before I could respond, Raisa summed up the political thinking of many Moldovan villagers, rooted in nostalgia for the times when food was cheap and salaries came on time:

"I would be in favor of the Communists," she said, "if I thought that they could make things the way they were back then."

Rusia sub conducerea lui Putin

This is an interesting article about Russia under Putin, published by the Foreign Policy Research Institute. As a volunteer in a former Soviet country, it's easy for me to be pessimistic about Russia's influence in the region and to want to smash my head against a wall when I see Russia's version of political maneuvering. This article challenged some of my assumptions about the country, although I still have a long list of things that I don't like about it. It's a good read for everyone.

Apasati pe Control pentru a impusca

Every Friday evening for the past month, I've time-travelled back to 9th grade. Back then, my friends and I would meet at my house, where my dad had installed a 16-port 10/100 Base-T ethernet hub and had wired nearly every room in the house with network ports. We would set ourselves up in different rooms and play Quake, Quake II and Myth: The Fallen Lords for hours and hours. The hallways were filled with the sounds of shotgun blasts, grenade explosions and shouts of, "How ya like dem apples!?"

Now, I'm reliving those online playing days in my school's computer lab. In February, several students asked me to open the computer room for games in the evening. It sounded like something I would enjoy doing and something that could easily raise money for improving the school's computer equipment in a few basic ways. After getting approval from the school principal, I began running game nights every Friday from 4 to 6 p.m.

Every week since then, over a dozen boys have come to play games on these aging but still fun computers. They pay two lei per hour, and with eight computers available, we are able to raise 32 lei (about $2.50) per week. When I started in February, I only had Doom II, Sim City, Civilization II, Quake II and Monster Truck Madness on the computers. We also had no network on which to play the games, because the power adaptor for the ethernet hub had been either lost or stolen.

Two weeks ago, two major things happened; we raised enough money to buy a power adaptor for the hub, and I received a shipment from my dad full of memory chips and some of the best games from the mid- and late-90s, including Warcraft II, Quake and Starcraft. I installed the memory, upgrading each computer from 16 or 32 MB of RAM to 192, their maximum capacity. A memory upgrade like this would have cost thousands of dollars when the computers were new in 1997, but it cost a total of about $40 for all eight computers when my dad bought the chips on eBay earlier this year. I then installed the new games, plugged in the ethernet hub, and let the games begin.

My first test drive of network gaming (the nerds who read this can get nostalgic; it was over an IPX network) was playing Quake with three 8th-grade girls who had been typing up their English papers after class and another 6th-grade girl who didn't have anything to do after school. My old instincts came back, and I soundly defeated a handful of newbie girls. It was not the most challenging match-up I've ever had. I also ran some tests with Starcraft and Monster Truck Madness before the big Friday night showdown.

By Friday night, word had spread that we had a functioning network in the lab. Turnout was higher than usual, and all the boys wanted to play on the network. I watched them scramble around for two hours, and then announced that I would keep the lab open for extra time only if I got to play Quake with them.

I joined their game, the rules of which said that the first player to 10 kills was the winner. I beat three of my 7th-grade students in four straight games, although I was nearly beaten once by Ion, a boy who had very good mastery of the controls for a first-time player. After an extra half-hour of games, I closed the room and sent the boys home.

This is the kind of small project that works in Moldova, for two reasons:

First, it's not dependent on creating new capital. The computers were already there, and with less than $100 of financial help from myself and my father (I also bought CD-ROM drives and new batteries for each computer in December), we have greatly added to the value of the school's computer lab without needing to write big grants. Now that some basic items have been installed, game nights at the lab can generate over $2 a week, which can pay for the school's internet fees or other technology-related expenses, such as filling up the printer cartridge.

Second, the idea of a game night was proposed by Moldovans, and I can pass it on to Moldovans very easily so that they can run it when I'm gone. It's these small successes, the successes that are sustainable, that I think I'm going to be happiest about when I leave in five months. That, and I'll be happier after the virtual therapy of shooting my students with a rocket launcher.

Ce facem cu elevii buni?

The widely accepted theory in American schools is that students who act out are doing it largely for the attention that they think notoriety will bring them. That's why in American schools, students with failing grades or poor behavior are dealt with on a personal level and are rarely rewarded with attention in front of the entire class. On the other hand, students in America who behave well and receive good grades are praised and encouraged by everything from stickers in elementary school to citizenship awards in middle school to trophies in high school. This system isn't perfect, but it is relatively successful based on one principal: students must understand that misbehaving will isolate them from their peers, but demonstrating excellent behavior and doing well academically will earn them praise in front of their classmates.

Contrast that with what is practiced at my school and, based on conversations I've had, most others in Moldova. At every Monday's school assembly, the class that served as hall monitors for the previous week presents its behavior summary in front of the entire school. The student representative, in either 8th, 9th or 11th grade, names a handful of students who misbehaved in the hall during the week. Those students are forced to step forward and, so the theory goes, face the judgment and condemnation of their teachers and peers.

If we were still in the politically charged atmosphere of Soviet Union, being branded as a problem child in school would taint a student's entire life. A student would be so ashamed of not being a good Pioneer that he would quickly conform to the system. The problem is that the Soviet Union ended over 15 years ago. At my school, the same handful of boys are pulled to the front of the assembly every week, and they're often smiling. The teachers yell at them for misbehaving, and the boys either deny that they did anything wrong or come back with a quip that makes the entire student body laugh. One of the more vociferous teachers will then attempt to belittle the misbehaving student, but the comment usually comes across as a flustered raising of the white flag, and all of the students laugh even more. I have seen this over and over, and I have concluded that this system is fundamentally broken. The misbehaving boys are being rewarded with attention, and they don't seem to mind that it's negative.

Sometimes my school gets it right. A month ago, the principal picked several students out of the assembly to show how students should dress for school, with a collared shirt and ironed pants or a skirt. The students up front felt that they were being rewarded for doing something right (even if it was for something as materialistic as wearing the proper clothes), and the next day, the majority of students came to school better dressed than they had the previous day.

In my own classroom, I've tried to emphasize rewards over punishments. My attempt in September and October to give students detention didn't work because I didn't have time to enforce it after school (instead, I keep the computer lab open for kids to work in, which I think is far more useful than detention in the long run). So since my punishments lack teeth, I've relied on rewards to coax students away from the Dark Side.

Every month, I give an award for the student of the month in each of my six English classes, choosing students who impressed me during the previous month through a combination of grades, effort, attendance or the respect that they showed their classmates. I take their pictures and post them on the wall, and they can choose a prize from the prize table, which offers everything from Fruit Roll-Ups to Swiss Miss hot chocolate to lanyard bracelets to their own personalized mix CD of English-language music (by far the most popular choice). I always say what the student did to impress me, and then I ask three other students to tell me what the student of the month did to earn the award.

In my seventh and eighth grade classes, the good students take their award in stride. The medium-level students who don't normally receive awards but are singled out for their effort that month stand up and pick their prize with a proud smile. My fifth and sixth graders, on the other hand, get excited when the month is coming to an end, and I can usually milk a week of good behavior out of those classes at the end of the month by saying, "I still haven't picked the student of the month for this month. Anyone can still win, and I'm watching extra carefully trying to decide who it will be." Almost universally, a medium-level student who wins student of the month has an even stronger month after winning.

I've also had success with my "Race to 50," a system of incentives that gives classes points for perfect homework participation, perfect attendance and respect. Classes can also lose points if three or more students are late for class or don't do their homework, or if the class doesn't quiet down when I start counting to three. When a class reaches 50 points, they win a party during class time, complete with card games, English-language music, soda, cookies and candy. (The fifth and sixth grades had their first parties today, at 8:30 and 9:15 a.m. I almost never use caffeine, so drinking soda and eating candy for an hour and a half in the morning nearly killed me.) Classes like to compare themselves to one another to see which are the best-behaved, and they love the party. They also force the boys who normally would cut class to come, just so they can get the extra point for perfect attendance, and they get indignant toward students who don't come to class on time or don't do their homework.

The American system is not perfect, and I will never defend it as being perfect. I've never heard of a gun being fired in a Moldovan school, and there have only been one or two serious fights at my school in the past year and a half, compared to America, where both of these things are frighteningly common. But the Moldovan system needs to emphasize the good qualities in its exemplary students instead of making a circus atmosphere every Monday and showering attention on a handful of punks.

Last week, my school's ninth-grade homeroom teacher announced to the faculty that she would be holding a parent-teacher meeting later that week. "So if you have any problems that you need to tell the parents about, come to the meeting," she said.

"Well, can we come and say anything good?" I said with a smile.

No one deemed my question worthy of a response.