Distance learning and snow defense

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Even if we intuitively know that a virtual school is not the same as a real school, distance learning is also accepted in a culture where the representation is mistaken for the original language. Perhaps Korskisky’s motto should be updated to “Computers are not classrooms.”

In 2014, New York State approved a $2 billion bond bill to improve school technology. In February of this year, Governor Andrew Cuomo approved US$60 million in technology spending for 72 school districts in the state, of which the second largest project was US$16.7 million for “school interconnection.” In my own small area in northern New York City, hundreds of thousands of dollars have been spent on software programs for distance learning. One of the snowy days of this school year made my children very Annoyed, was declared a virtual study day. It is difficult not to look at some of these decisions with the fallacy of sunk costs.

Snow is the opposite of sunk costs. It comes from a calm assessment of the current situation, and for a child, this spontaneity produces a kind of rationalistic wrist pain. When I was in elementary school in the 1980s, there was no website in our small town in New Jersey to check or automatically make calls to remind my family if it was snowing, and it was not mentioned in the TV news. In contrast, moms (usually only moms) own the phone chain-my mom will receive a call from another mom, and then she must call the next mom on the list. This is the literal expression of the phone game, but the information is too concise and clear, and it is difficult to understand along the way. If the ground was covered in white early in the morning and the phone rang, I knew it was just one thing: glorious freedom.

I grabbed my red plastic sledge, or pulled the sledge in our yard, which has a gentle slope from the wooded area to the open plain of the main yard, or I went to school, a happy hour ten minutes from my home. There, behind the building, are huge hills leading to the fields, sledging for hours. A dozen children often gather there. However, the strange thing is that, like I often stay alone in my own world, sometimes for a few hours, the only sound is my boots rattling in the snow. sssshh Sleigh racing down the mountain. Eventually, I will go home and walk through the basement. Due to the temporary snow, I will walk through the dim darkness, despite the hidden light bulb. Upstairs, I tasted the hot chocolate in a small package and revived the miniature marshmallows in the warm liquid.

The novelty of those years, breaking conventions, having fun outdoors, connecting with nature instead of sitting in a classroom, has been resonating strongly over the years. After changing some details, my children (10 and 12 years old respectively) reflected this routine by themselves every winter…until they cancelled the snowy day earlier this school year. (Their school had a mixed schedule at the time, so half of the students would never miss a day with their loved ones. Even though they all missed the holiday.)

Even for the few students who need or prefer distance learning, the value of a surprising snow holiday is still worth accepting. It is believed that eliminating several vacation opportunities each year will “catch up with the children” and at the same time prevent unorganized and often spontaneous play from escaping. This is why so many American students are overworked but have low education levels. .


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