On Tuesday morning as I stood at the podium, fingers flying over the keys as I pulled up the slides and various info I needed for my class, it occurred to me how second-nature all of this had become.
When I first started teaching at the college level, the podium was a mysterious place where things went wrong almost as often as they went right, and where trouble-shooting was an art in which I had no training or apparent skill. I lived in fear of being unable to access the slides that simultaneously shaped my discussions and afforded my students a visual.
No longer. I mean, those thoughts cross my mind, but they rarely intrude, because such things rarely occur.
Uh huh. You know where this is going.
Yesterday, I stood at the same podium in the same room, but the computer refused to cooperate. I did the trouble-shooting that has, by now, become second-nature. Then, when I failed to resolve the issue, I asked my students if anyone was a good tech troubleshooter (I no longer think that just because I stand up front I need to know everything. But that's another post).
One sweet student (who'd previously served as my fellow in my first year seminar) came to my rescue, finding something I'd missed.
We were on our way.
Until we weren't, and the same inscrutable screen presented itself.
I joked to my waiting class (all of whom were very content talking among themselves and/or doing something on their phones) that the computer and I were engaging in a battle for world domination and it was winning. I told them I'd be a few minutes.
But the problem was bigger than my skills, so I gave in and called IT. Meanwhile, I pulled up my class slides on my phone, and invited my students to do the same on their devices and I began teaching, albeit not in the way I had planned.
When I write about organizing, I very rarely address technology-based solutions.
And this is why.
For me, tech is a great tool, but it's one that requires back-ups. In addition, one of its assets (keeping everything tucked away, and therefore looking tidy) is a terrible fit for my dominant style, I need to see it.
But, for many of you, technology is more than a viable option -- it's the best option. Like the IT wizard who appeared at my door very shortly after my call and solved the problem before I'd gotten very far into the material (doing something I couldn't do, for those of you keeping score at home), technology is an extension of you. It's the way you keep track of appointments and special days, the way you keep clutter to a minimum by saving files electronically instead of generating printed hard copies, and a place to keep photos safe and organized.
And that's just the tip of the iceberg.
So, why don't I write about it more often?
Because my vision of tech as an organizing tool is limited. I'm an I need to see it, paper-and-pencil, hard copy girl all the way. I love my iPhone and iPad, and I don't know how I ever taught lugging a laptop and an adapter back and forth to campus as I did pre-COVID. Some days, my school bag is so much lighter because everything I need can be accessed from the networked computer on the podium at the front of a classroom.
Wait. Some days?
Yes. Other days, I carry the book(s) my students are reading in my bag. I love my Kindle, too, but when I'm teaching, I like to reference my books the old-fashioned way.
There is no one personal or organizational style that includes or precludes the use of technology, just as there is no one right way to organize. If you've found a tech solution that helps you to reduce clutter, organize your time and/or other key elements of your life, congratulations! Use it, love, it, make it your own. Share it in the comments below if you'd like so that other folks might try it out, too.
I might be one of those who checks it out. But, when pushing buttons comes to shoving papers, it might not be the tool that works for me.
Because one size, no matter how luxurious, never fits all.
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