I recall my high school history courses well and one in particular stands out quite vividly. During my senior year at Kimball Union Academy, a small boarding school of approximately 350 students in Meriden, N.H., I took a semester-long elective on constitutional law taught by a man whose enthusiasm and passion for his course were well established.

Mr. Bishop, “Bish” as he was known around campus, ate, breathed and slept “con-law.” Even if at first we had no desire to learn about constitutional law, the raw experience of taking his course would leave you inspired to know more, if not at least amused and entertained by his wild antics. Either way, you were bound to learn something interesting. When Bish became excited about a certain topic in class, he’d gesticulate wildly and scamper about the room scribbling notes on the chalk board. As Bish was adding color and drama to the extensive (and often dry) reading we had done the night before, a small white speck of wet spit would form in the middle of his lower lip. When this happened you knew you were in store for a lecture worthy of a Stage Actor’s Guild award. To say the students were dialed into his lesson (and his spit bubble) would be spot on. I don’t recall exactly how I did in Bish’s class but I think I did okay. Regardless of the final mark I received, I remember him, the man and the teacher, because of his passion and desire to have his students embrace his subject as much as he did. 

Sometimes I wonder what Bish would make of today’s high school classrooms, in particular the use of so much technology. In my relatively brief time as a history teacher before moving to the Vineyard, and my current role as a substitute teacher here on-Island, one of my biggest challenges, and the one I’ve heard other colleagues struggling with, is how to balance the use of technology in the classroom with other modes of teaching and learning. In Bish’s day, the iPhone, iPad, Smart Board and laptop were not competing for attention in class. The teacher was it. In essence, teachers were compelled to become good actors to teach their material effectively and hold a student’s interest.

Most students today take notes using their tablets or in some cases snap a quick photo of the notes on the board using their tablets. In fact, I seldom see anyone with a pencil and a three ringed notebook taking notes longhand. It has become obsolete, like the chalkboard and the aluminum lunch box. This is great news for the environment, but note taking is a skill that students in high school need to master, whether they are writing longhand on a yellow legal pad or typing furiously on a tablet keyboard.

Plus, in some cases, while attempting to clarify or explain something from a class reading, I often notice that most of my students’ eyes are fixed on their tablet screens. To gauge what is happening I sometimes stop talking for a second to see if anyone notices the pause. Some do and look up at me inquisitively, but many continue looking at their screens, perhaps having conversations among themselves on Facebook, Twitter or any number of social media sites.

We should want our classrooms to be wired but at the same time we need to be vigilant. I know of schools that have firewalls in place, but the reality is that students in the digital age (those who have an email address assigned to them before they receive their social security numbers, it seems) will always be able to figure out ways to surf the net while you attempt to enlighten them about Napoleon’s insatiable appetite to conquer Europe.

One of my strategies is to be as vigilant and proactive as I can. When I know that for 20 minutes of class time I am going to be discussing something in detail and it’s not imperative for students to take notes but just engage in active listening, I ask the class to put all tablets away. And when the students break into smaller discussion groups to carry out further class research, tablets in hand, I circulate throughout the class, encouraging and cajoling, while checking their screens, too. In a way this is not unlike Mr. Bishop once did, never using his desk as a hideout, preferring the open stage of the classroom. But I wonder — have the students noticed any white speck of spittle forming on my lower lip? I hope so.

Peter Sprayregen is a substitute teacher on Martha’s Vineyard.