Latest Publication

I had an essay of mine published in the Louisville Review last year, and it's been my goal to get back on the train of writing and getting things out there again.  After having a baby and packing up and moving our family from busy Chicago to peaceful Ohio, I've finally somewhat found the ability once again to slow down and breathe (in between working and raising 2 toddlers) and write.  I was nervous that teaching would start sucking this abililty dry for me, but the opposite has happened, thank goodness.  Teaching is a funny thing--it's not as though the information is departing and you're giving it away.  You're learning from your students and the pitfalls they face because you've smashed your face a thousand times in those same pitfalls.  Anyway, the bottom line is, I'm happy to still find even a miniscule amount of time to dedicate to writing. 
I submitted an essay for the Erma Bombeck competition, and I should be hearing about that within the next few weeks--fingers crossed!  The article I'll paste here today is for something called Faculty Forum where I work.  I'm just an adjunct, so to have my work accepted is encouraging.  My goal is to teach there full time, so my hope is that it will reach the right eyes within the college.
Happy reading and I hope spring is in the air wherever you are!
-Rebecca

Can They Hear Me Now?

Rebecca Rine-Stone

Today’s student is being pulled in several different directions: school, work, and often a family to take care of. These distractions can wear even the most dedicated student down. Juggling life is the goal of a typical Sinclair student; however, when the door closes to my classroom, life has to wait on the other side. When class begins, we are now on an island away from the mainland of information-overload insanity. And on this island there’s no cell phone reception.

Asking students to turn their cell phones off in class is giving them an opportunity to be yanked in one less direction, allowing them the chance to devote the class solely to learning. Otherwise, they fool themselves (as we all do) into thinking they can continue to do what they do on the other side of the door—multitask—a word that is highly misleading. How can a student possibly be immersed in a discussion regarding the power of a well-placed simile or metaphor if he/she is texting LMAO ur 2 right cu 2nite.

When I first switched to this cell phone-free zone of teaching, I asked myself, “Are you being an old-school ogre or what?” But I’ve since come to the conclusion that prohibiting the use of cell phones in class is not an irrational demand. Why can’t I, the person armed with the responsibility of reaching students, ask for their undivided attention? Why must a stuffy, elbow-patch-blazer-wearing stigma be attached to this very reasonable request?

That’s not to say I turn into a fire-breathing dragon when someone pulls out a cell phone. In fact, I rarely have to address this issue because the parameters are set on the first day: No cell phones allowed. They’re not needed in English class the same way ovens, blenders or circus clowns are not needed in an English class.

Although cell phones are not allowed, my classroom is anything but a media-free zone. It is an island, not Amish country. Nearly each class refers to videos, music or the Internet to draw participation from the class. I understand this is the sort of learning students are craving now and I embrace that, but cell phones have nothing to do with this technology-based learning. Delivering an active learning atmosphere that sparks an interest and engages the student is what I strive to do with technology, and cell phone usage gets in the way of this immersive learning. Cell phones are simply a distraction that I choose to take out of the equation, since I know from experience that students will often not have the self-discipline to put their phones away if they’re not asked to.

I’ve received rebuttals from students and teachers alike regarding cell phone usage, claiming that I’m not being realistic—cell phones are just a part of everyday life and they need to be accepted. I whole-heartedly accept cell phone usage outside the classroom, and I get that this is the world we now live in, but never before have there been exceptions made in the classroom for distractions simply because “that’s just how students are nowadays.” In the 1950s were students allowed to leisurely leaf through the latest Mad comic book in class?

Sure, they might be able to sit back and text if all I were doing were delivering a stagnant lecture, but I strive to do more than that, so the students’ job entails much more than sitting back and being a passive listener. They should be getting their hands on the information, collaborating with their peers to make sense of it and come to conclusions by engaging in conversation and adding insight. Prohibiting the use of cell phones doesn’t magically create a perfect classroom filled with attentive, hungry students who eagerly volunteer their thoughts—I’m not that naïve. It does, however, take away one temptation to get sidetracked and fall short of success.

Yes, students complain and let out groans of frustration as I catch their fingers reaching for their phones, but that’s okay. Hands-on learning can be uncomfortable at first because it is perhaps something new to them and it takes more vulnerability and confidence, but I hope to give them an experience that will begin to translate to other parts of their lives. I remind students they didn’t come to college to remain unchanged; they came to become stronger, more critical thinkers.

Part of the education comes from the book and our instruction, but I’d argue the other part comes from slowing down and focusing on the task at hand. This slow, purposeful attention to detail is something that is no longer inherent in our conveyer-belt world, so I add it to my list of objectives. Our attention spans have become frenetic spits and spasms because that’s the cadence of society, but I want students to come to the realization that their waning attention span is actually something they can train, mold and discipline to stay on track, blocking out Facebook updates that celebrate the fact that Katie’s dog looks great in his tutu.

Soon enough the class is over and we have to leave the island of literary respite and return to the world of nonstop chatter. Sure, when class ends, I often see a room full of hands reaching down to their pockets for their phones in anticipation as if we were in a showdown in an old Western movie. But for 50 minutes we can say we slowed down and focused on things that might otherwise be overlooked in the busy world that lurks outside the door. I hope by disconnecting, they connect with themselves and each other.