Thanks, Mark Maynard and Madame Bartels!

Today I would like to thank two people.

1. This month, I had the occasion to hold a conversation with an family from French-speaking Africa, and I was able to do that because of the French I learned in high school--which wasn't exactly yesterday! No, my French wasn't perfect, but I was able to converse comfortably. And for that, I want to thank Madame Bartels, my primary high school French teacher, wherever she may be. Merci, Madame!

Picture taken from the Facebook Water Street Commons page.

2. I would also like to thank Mark Maynard for his work to engage the Ypsilanti community and report on Ypsilanti happenings--the good, the bad, and the fascinating. I love his interviews with Ypsilantians, but I am especially impressed by his work to make the Water Street Commons a reality. I love driving past the site and seeing people work on it. Until some real development happens, the Commons can create a beautiful, visual presence along Michigan Avenue. If you want to follow Mark Maynard's blog, here is the link.

If you want to follow--or help with--the Water Street Commons, you can find them on Facebook.



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Math Lessons for Language People

One of the books I read over the summer was  When Languages Die: The Extinction of the World's Languages and the Erosion of Human Knowledge by K. David Harrison.  This book tackles the issue of languages with only a few speakers remaining, and asks--what do we lose when we lose these languages? Overall, I thought the book was interesting but uneven. At times the author tries too hard to prove that we lose a lot. (I sort of thought that was obvious, but maybe it's not.) There were two sections that I found very thought-provoking. One of those sections is very rich reading for math teachers.

Sign Languages

Harrison does have a fascinating discussion at the end of the variety of sign languages that are being lost. As he writes:

So far, there are 121 identified and named sign languages used in deaf communities around the world, but potentially a great many more remain completely undocumented. Many sign languages are now rapidly vanishing. This is in part because many deaf communities possessing unique sign languages are small, indigenous, and rural. . . Signed communication systems arise spontaneously wherever deaf people live. . . as soon as there is a community of deaf people. . . these systems develop into full-fledged languages, rapidly becoming as complex as spoken languages (pp. 230-231).

Numbers and Language

The other chapter of the book that really got me thinking was the chapter on numbering systems. Here, I believe there is an opportunity for some really great math lessons (Chapter 6, pp. 167-200--I'm only going to talk about bases here, but for math teachers there is some really great food for thought in this chapter about all kinds of math concepts).

I was a very good math student, but a better "English and other languages" student. And one part of math that I never fully understood (I got it, but I never really "got" it) has to do with counting in other bases. Yes, we learned to count in base 2, and base 5, and base 12. . . but the truth is that my mind was really "converting" from base 10 to the other bases.

From reading this book, I started understanding that languages embody their math bases, and that not every language uses base 10. Chapter 6, Endangered Number Systems, is all about this. In the Pomo language of California (which now has fewer than 60 speakers), the counting system is in base twenty. The number 20 is "1 stick," and 400 is "1 big stick."

Some languages count with body parts. Fingers and toes seem obvious, but other counting systems rely on arms, elbows, and even nostrils and collarbones. The Kewa people of Papua New Guinea count in base 4, using the hand as the basic unit--but they omit the thumb!

It goes on--there are many languages in Papua New Guinea, and among them the Aiome employ a base-2 counting system; the Loboda use both base-5 and base-20 systems; the Huli use a base-15 system; and the Bukiyip use base 3 and base 4.

Harrison notes that non-base-10 languages may have a cumbersome way to say a number that we think is important, like 1,000, but on the other hand, "non-decimal bases make it easy to say other numbers. In base-15 Huli, 225 is expressed simply as ngui ngui (15 x 15). Compare this to the relatively complex English expression 'two-hundred and twenty-five (2 x 100) + (2 x 10) +5. (p. 191)."

As I read this, it occurred to me that developing lesson plans that teach the way some other languages think about counting would be a natural way to teach about various math bases. For instance, could students design their own (non-base 10) counting system using body parts or other things that we find around us? Which

And at the same time, it would achieve one of my ulterior motives--to keep U.S. students from thinking that what we do in our country, and in English, is the only or best way to do things.*

*Fueled by a recent conversation I had with a graduate of a local high school who told me she never took any foreign language because "I'm American, and I live here, and we use English, and I don't need it--it's not important." 

Guest Post: Meeting the Challenge of Adult Language Learning

My friend and fellow blogger Joan Lambert Bailey is doing the 2013 Blogathon from Japan! Once upon a time, however, she lived in Ann Arbor. Joan blogs about Japanese farmers and farmers' markets (read her blog, Japan Farmers Markets!), and I've been curious about how she communicates with the farmers. I myself am quite interested in language learning, so as part of a guest post swap, I asked her to address how she is teaching herself Japanese. About the pictures she has shared, Joan says, "I think the pictures pretty much capture why I study Japanese as much as I do." --Ruth

As an adult I've studied three languages seriously: Kazakh, Russian, and Japanese. Each time I was living in a particular country for an extended period of time and needed the language to go about my daily life. Kazakh and Russian came about when I served as a Peace Corps Volunteer in Kazakhstan, living in a small city in the flattest landscape I've ever known. Three months of intensive language training followed by tw

o years of daily life and regular meetings with a tutor brought me to an intermediate level.

Talking with Mita-san in his greenhouse during a visit to his farm in Okayama.

Now I live in Tokyo where, technically, I don't need to speak Japanese. English is everywhere - on signs, in shops, on the trains - and I could get by. But that's not really my style, and for the things I'm really interested in learning more about - food, farming, and farmer's markets - I need Japanese to ask questions and understand the answers. It is gratifying, but to say that it is challenging is an understatement.

As a writer I spend most of my time in English, alone, in front of a computer or a notebook. There are emails to editors, to friends and family. There are articles, blogs, and books to read. There are household chores, although by the small herd of dust bunnies that just went by it would be fair to say I'm starting to make excuses. Throw in weekday mornings spent at a local organic farm, a few private classes, sleep, and talking to my husband and I'm out of hours in the day. Where is the time to study?

As an adult learner I have responsibilities that I did not have as a student. There is no one, save my tutor and occasionally my husband, to hold my linguistic feet to the fire. I have to consciously choose to study, to make the time. If I don't a window that I've managed to pry open a tiny bit these last four years will slam shut.

Japanese, though, is hard, really hard. There are three alphabets - Kanji, Katakana, and Hiragana - that are used all the time and often simultaneously. It looks nothing like anything I know except something, perhaps, from a Rorshach test. Japanese people often don't use a subject, because it's understood from context. Verbs come at the end of sentences. There are polite and casual forms. I could go on, but it would continue to sound like the whining that it is.

Here are my strategies to keep that window open, to keep studying.

Anki - A spaced repetition software (SRS) program, Anki only shows me the flashcards I need to see when I need to see them. Interview questions, new vocabulary from my tutor, the farmers, and the farmers markets all get added in for eventual study. Daily study on my iPhone while I ride the train, go for walks to buy vegetables or working out means I build and reinforce my language abilities. [Ed. Note: Anki is useful for any project for which you need flashcards, not just Japanese language.]

A Tutor - I meet with a tutor once a week to read, to talk, to practice. Our rule is no English unless I'm bleeding or there's a really big earthquake. (The latter, of course, is a distinct possibility.) The investment in time and money is worth every yen I give her and then some. She corrects me, challenges my abilities, and makes learning fun. I practice interviews with her, record them, and listen to them over and over. Plus, she makes a mean edamame sweet bread.

After hours bonding with Mita-san during a visit to his farm in Okayama.
From left to right, Mita-san, Joan Bailey, Richard Bailey.

Podcasts - My weekday mornings are spent working at a local organic farm weeding, harvesting, planting, and helping get vegetables ready for sale that day. If I end up working alone as the three of us go about our respective duties. I plug one ear into the podcast of a Tokyo radio show while I work. At first, I catch just a few things here and there. Multiple listens later I'm understanding the conversation, learning new vocabulary, getting the drift of syntax and pronunciation.

Farmer's Markets - Tokyo has six major western-style farmers markets and I make a point of visiting at least one every weekend. If we're on a trip, I search out a market in that city. It is excellent speaking and listening practice, and there is nothing so wonderful as a chat with a farmer to motivate me to study more.

Farm Stays - Farmers often invite me to visit their farms when I meet them at the markets. Sometimes i take them up on their offer because they seem super nice or something they're doing, like natural farming, is of particular interest. (Usually it's both.) The stays end up being anywhere from three days to a full week. I'm exhausted at the end of each day as much from farming as I am from wrapping my brain around Japanese. And maybe from the homemade sake, too, but that's another story.

What are your strategies as an adult learner? I'm all ears!

Joan Lambert Bailey currently lives in Tokyo where she is lucky enough to get her hands dirty on a local organic farm. You can follow her adventures in food and farming at JapanFarmersMarkets.com.

Skyline High School and the Shortest Poem in the English Language

At the end of this school year I went to the Skyline "Pinning" Ceremony. The "pinning" ceremony is where honors students get their honors pins. The speaker for the event was a well-loved Skyline teacher--Collin Ganio. I really enjoyed the speech, and I thought you would too. So I contacted Mr. Ganio--who teaches Latin and etymology--and asked for permission to publish it. Permission given!

Permission given, with the caveat that I mention that the story about Ali's speech to the graduating class was originally told by the sportswriter George Plimpton.  He tells it in the film When We Were Kings, and I've put the youtube link (if you want to see Plimpton tell it) at the very bottom of this post.

The Shortest Poem in the English Language

by Collin Ganio

Good evening, everyone.  Those of you who know me know that I love words.  I really do.  I honestly think they’re the most powerful tool humanity has ever created.  Words have started wars, words have ended wars, and—when we’ve gotten really lucky—words have averted wars altogether.  I love it when people use words well.  And whenever I hear someone using words poorly, it makes me throw up in my mouth just a little.  If you know me, you also know I love telling you stories, so here’s one last one for you.

Muhammad Ali—there was an amazing wordsmith.  You know, he struggled with dyslexia, but rhymed with ease.  He composed extemporaneous poetry about his upcoming fights all the time.  One of my favorites: “I done wrestled with an alligator, I done tussled with a whale.  I’ve handcuffed lightning an’ thrown thunder in jail.  Yesterday I murdered a rock, injured a stone, hospitalized a brick.  I’m so mean I make medicine sick.”  There are plenty of others. Just go google ‘em and you can find ‘em easily.

Muhammad Ali bust portrait by Ira Rosenberg. Available from the Library of Congress.

His most thought-provoking poem (for me, at least) is also the shortest poem in the English language.  Harvard had invited him to come speak to their graduating class.  He gave a great speech about how he had not had access to their education, and how the new graduates should take the opportunity that they had been given to go out and change the world.  At the end of his speech, as the applause died down, someone yelled “Give us a poem!”

He looked out at the class of graduating seniors, people very different from him in so many ways.  He gestured to himself and said “Me.”  Then he opened his arms to include all the students and said “WE.”  The crowd went wild.

What a poem!  Two simple pronouns, without even a verb.  Four letters in all.  The first letters of each word are just reflections of one another.  Is the second word the opposite of the first word, or just a reflection of it?  The meaning of this poem is so much greater than the poem itself, when you think about it.

We’re all part of Generation ME—anyone born in the 1970’s, 80’s, or 90’s is a part of this generation—and we’ve been taught largely that the self is the most important thing out there.  “What’s in this for ME?  How does this benefit ME?  What am I going to get out of this?  How is this going to help ME succeed?”  And the internet, which theoretically broadens our social horizons to include a global community, ironically tends to focus on the self—Myspace, Facebook, and Twitter are all, ultimately, in a way, tools for the narcissistic.

With two little words used so simply, Ali suggested that this world might be a happier place if we spent less time thinking about me and more time thinking about we.  I issue the same challenge to you—think less about Myspace and more about Ourspace.  Use your agile minds and big hearts—ask the deep questions—in order to make this world better not just for yourselves, but for everyone around you.  I mean, think about it—if everyone worked to better a community for their fellow citizens, then we might not spend a lot of time working to make our own lives better, but we might not need to, since everyone around us would be doing that for us. 

And wouldn’t that be a hell of a thing?  Thank you.  Good night.

Thank you, Mr. Ganio!

 

Evaluation, Part II: The World Languages Partnership

Three weeks ago, I promised a second post about evaluation. The first post can be found here. I said at the time that I wanted to do this because the Ann Arbor schools are considering an alliance with UM for a "lab school," and since we already have a partnership program--the Ann Arbor Public Schools Languages Partnership--it is worth taking a look at how it is being evaluated, who is doing the evaluating, and what is being evaluated. This might offer some valuable insights for the future. As I wrote before,

The point of assessing the assessment is decidedly NOT to point fingers at what is not working, and it is NOT to praise what parts of the program are working. The point is to see what is being evaluated, who is doing the evaluation, and whether and/or how those things that need to be evaluated are being examined...

In other words: I am not evaluating the program itself. I am evaluating the evaluation process and product.

I've posted the documents, which I received from the district, on the web site Ann Arbor Area Government Document Repository, and this is the documents link. This is a very cool web site where people can post files they have acquired from local governmental units and make them widely available.

What I got was an assessment of third graders who had gone through the partnership program. There is a "CEFR grid," which lays out the broad, overarching goals of the program based on an internationally-recognized standard. There is a sample of the assessment tool that the students filled out.  And there is a summary of the students' assessments.

Was what was done, done appropriately? Done well?
For instance--is it appropriate to use the Common European Framework guidelines? Absolutely. That reflects an international standard for language learning.
Was the assessment the students filled out appropriate for third graders? I thought so! Take a look:

It seems age appropriate to me. Later on in the survery there were some places where students had an opportunity to write more. The summary document describes that 1,034 students were surveyed, and shares items such as "60% say they learned most of what was taught."

So--that's fine. It seems like an age-appropriate, large-scale survey of 3d graders.
There's only one problem, and that is that this survey is as far as it goes.

Although this is a fine assessment of how the students felt about learning Spanish, it is a terrible fail as far as assessing the Languages Partnership Program.

Let's remember that this is a new program. 
Before we expand it, isn't there more that we want to know?


NOTE: Since this was my written request, "Can you please send me copies of any evaluations that AAPS has done about the Ann Arbor Languages Partnership," I'm going to assume that what I got is all that there is at this point. It is certainly possible that there is other material out there.

On the academic side:
It's really nice that 60% of the students say they learned most of what was taught, but does any independent assessment--say, by their teachers--bear that out?
If some students are not learning, who are those students? 
Does this appear to decrease, or increase, the achievement gap?
It's really nice that a majority of students feel their teachers (who are for the most part, I believe, pre-student teachers) teach "very" or "pretty" well, but is there any other assessment of that? By university supervisors, AAPS mentors, or principals?
What about the students' regular teachers--do they feel that this program is value-added, or that it takes away from other activities? [I think this is important to know, as the program gets expanded.]
What about the school principals? Do they feel that this program is value-added? 
If school time is at a premium, and it is a zero-sum game, do we lose anything by adding Spanish? If so, what is it? If teaching a language is important, did we give enough time to it or should we give more time?
How much repetition should teachers be expected to do as we expand the program to fourth and then fifth grade? Will they be doing numbers and colors over and over again?
What did we do with students who already know Spanish from their homes? Were they classroom helpers? Were they given other things to do? How did that work?
Does it work to use pre-student teachers? 
What happened at the end of April when the UM winter term ended? Did the lessons end then?
Were the apprentice teachers responsive and responsible?
Were community members used, and if so, did that work well, or not? If not, what were the roadblocks?


On the financial side:
What was the original budget? Did we go over the budget? Under the budget?
Did either the University or AAPS have unexpected costs that they had to cover, and if so, what was the cost?
What lessons did we learn about the financing?
Is this program sustainable going forward?


On the partnership side:
Is the partnership working overall?
Were there any surprises? What were they?
What parts went smoothly and what parts did not?

And two more things...
First, from the A2LP web site:

While classes this year were taught in the Media Center at each school, and Media Specialists served as mentors for our ATs, in the 2010-2011 school year, classes will be held in students’ regular classrooms, with classroom teachers as mentors.

Under which setting do things seem to go more smoothly...in the media centers or in the classrooms? Do the classroom teachers feel prepared to be mentors for Spanish language apprentice teachers?

Second, from the A2LP web site:

Future research studies will include the perspectives of community members, whether or not they are parents of students participating in A2LP.  While many community members expressed their opinions at board meetings and in online discussion forums prior to the program’s start, the Partnership is interested in formally documenting the response to the program after several months/years of operation.

In fact, the A2LP brochure specifically states:

The Partnership will be advised by a community committee, which will be chaired by the Superintendent and the University’s Director of Teacher Education.

 But when I asked about the committee, I was told that:

There is not a committee as of yet. There is a plan to initiate the committee in the coming months. The main goal of the committee will be to help secure funding for professional development and promotion of the programs.

 Uh-Oh. As far as I'm concerned, that's a piece of the assessment that I can comment on: Fail. First of all, the program is a year-and-a-half in (if you include planning time, it's more), and there is no community committee yet. Second, the goal of the committee is no longer advising, but securing funding?

[It's no accident, I think, that I signed up for a committee during the budget forums last year, and have heard nary a word about them yet.]

On the AAPS web site, the Ann Arbor Languages Partnership program information is embedded in the World Languages page. There is a fuller description on the UM web site. The UM one closes with these words:

The program is the first of its kind in the School of Education and we want to ensure that its development is data-driven.

From the AAPS side, don't we absolutely agree? In order to make our work data-driven, our evaluations cannot simply be about students' assessments of themselves. They must be about the program operations as well, and they should be reflective in nature so that the partners know whether the program is working and/or financially sustainable, how well it is working, and what could be done to make it work better.

The Proof of the Pudding...

Is in the Eating.

That is the traditional text of the proverb that you may have heard shortened into, "The proof is in the pudding."

But either way, you probably could have figured out that what it means is that:

Results Matter.

And in the same way that one might try to improve pudding, we should be working to evaluate our school programs with an aim toward improving them.

Seriously, people DO work to improve their puddings! Just today I was reading the blog Kitchen Sin Carne, which has this little gem (no, we did not coordinate. . . and I even thought of the proverb before I saw the post!):

I've had various attempts this week on making vegan pudding. That's right. So first I tried chocolate pudding...FAIL. I tried it again, even more of a fail! Today I tried pumpkin pudding, and the first time it was so runny, and I tried to reduce it more and little pearls formed of like, cornstarch. I was really confused. Now in the fridge I have a little pumpkin 'pudding' but its more of a weird custard. Whatever. I'll try again!! I know I can do this!!

 So...where am I going with this? This is not really a food post. No, it's about language learning.

A couple of years ago, with big fanfare, the Ann Arbor schools announced that they would be working with U of M to get some Spanish language lessons into all of the third and fourth grade elementary school classes. To be specific, UM would provide the students to teach two 30-minute lessons a week to the third and fourth grades. Here is an annarbor.com article about the program launch. Here is the UM web site about the Ann Arbor Languages Partnership. 

At the time, I didn't say anything about this. I sort of thought it was a dumb idea because there is plenty of evidence that 60-minutes a week of a language, in isolation, is not going to teach anyone a language. Other countries actually teach kids languages by using daily instruction. On the other hand, I understood that the Burns Park PTO (a powerhouse fundraising group) was raising money to pay a foreign language teacher, which made some of the other schools want some foreign language lessons as well. So there was some internal pressure. I also thought that maybe any step forward in promoting second language acquisition could be a good thing.

Side note: the way second languages are taught in the Ann Arbor middle schools (6th-8th grade) has not been at all consistent from school to school, and it hasn't consistently promoted language learning either. In some schools, a program that gives you a "taste" of several languages has been promoted. How many languages can you count in, or say "pencil," "desk," and "teacher?" In others, it is "pick a language and stick with it."

Well, now this program has been in existence for a year. It is time to evaluate the program publicly.
"The proof of the pudding..."
Did the students learn a lot of Spanish? My guess is "no."
Did the UM students learn a lot? My guess is "yes."
Were parents satisfied?
I can't speak for all parents, but I do know that some parents were very satisfied...very happy...that their kids were getting some lessons in a second language. And guess what? NOW, they are pissed!

Q: What happens to Spanish language learning in fifth grade?
A: Nothing.

I don't know why 3d and 4th grade were chosen, but we have now instituted a program where students learn Spanish in 3d and 4th grade, nothing (second-language related) in 5th grade, and then in 6th grade either get some kind of exploratory language program or start taking a language which may or may not be Spanish. Does that make any sense at all? Not to me.

So let's look back now: why are we doing this? What outcomes would constitute success? Cui bono? Who benefits?

I don't know, because I haven't done or seen an evaluation (has one been done?), but I will conjecture that the beneficiaries, in this case, are the UM students--not the AAPS students.
It's not bad, by the way, for UM students to benefit. They just cannot be the only ones.
If in fact that is the case, then we [by "we" I mean AAPS parents, students, and taxpayers] need to be extra careful, in considering a "lab school" partnership, to make sure that the AAPS students benefit.

Ancient Knowledge, Modern Knowledge

You may remember that I have been following the happenings at the landslide-created Attabad Lake on the Hunza River in northern Pakistan (Gilgit-Baltistan) ever since I was introduced to them by Dave's Landslide Blog. In fact, I wrote about the dramatic occurrences, in a land far away, at the end of May.

Recently, I was very interested to read a piece in the Pamir Times about how risks increase when ancient knowledge is lost.

In their interaction with local environment, the people of Gilgit-Baltistan have been able to acquire knowledge that was embedded in the geography. It is this knowledge which enabled local communities to survive in the harshest climate and terrain of the world with meager resources. The indigenous knowledge pervades every sphere of life in the traditional society. Isolated from knowledge of the outside world, the inhabitants had to rely on indigenous knowledge, gained through experience, and perfected through trial and error.

This scribe [the piece's author, Aziaz Ali Dad] visited Ghich village in district Ghizer last year. This village faced death and destruction in a flash flood in the summer of 2006. The old people shared their knowledge about dealing with an approaching flood, landslides, formation of artificial lakes, relocation of settlements etc. Farzand Shah, a shepherd, said ‘there was no system to transfer that knowledge to the new generation.’ The local community was more vulnerable because it neither had traditional knowledge nor modern technology.  (Emphasis added.)

He continues with an example:

Most of the old settlements in Gilgit-Baltistan contain houses concentrated in the ‘kot’ or fort settlement as a safeguard against threats from nature as well as human beings. The settlement around the fort is safe from rock falling, avalanche, flood and human invasion. This pattern is visible across Gilgit-Baltistan...With the passage of time growing populations started to spread from the nucleus settlements of the fort to open areas defying the barrier between human settlement and nature. Cultural ethos also plays a crucial role in rebuilding of risks.

I think that is probably true for communities everywhere. Our educational systems don't really accommodate the transfer of traditional knowledge.

The people of Gilgit-Baltistan are minority populations in Pakistan, with their own ethnic identities and languages. One of these languages is Wakhi. Wakhi is an Indo-European language, a branch of the (south)eastern Iranian languages.

In any case...it is an ancient language that is endangered and is getting used less and less. So I find it interesting that some people are trying to use modern technology to teach this traditional knowledge. Witness this blog: Let's Learn Wakhi.

Outlining

When I was in high school, I often wondered about the point of outlining. Natch, I was good at it, but--it was so boring, and it seemed so pointless.
Yet in this Dave Askins' column in the Ann Arbor Chronicle, I finally see the light. Read the column, and see how outlining can be used to good effect--not just to list, but to synthesize and analyze.
Column: Making Sushi of Obama’s Speech

If You Think Languages Are Cool...

This is a totally awesome project.



I wonder what endangered languages can be found in Washtenaw County?

Things I Read Recently That I Liked

Time Magazine article on School Lunches
Blogging for Michigan post (mostly) on taxes
The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Society (book)
New York Times article on how to pronounce the name of the Icelandic volcano, Eyjafjallajokull
Today's Detroit Free Press article on the Kalamazoo Promise

Bo

Based on the title, you might think this post is about Bo Schembechler, former University of Michigan football coach.
Sorry, no. This post is about Bo, an ancient language from India's Andaman Islands. Unfortunately, the last native speaker of Bo just died recently. (If you click on the link and scroll down, you can listen to a recording of Boa Sr speaking the language Bo.) You can read more about endangered languages here and here.
My grandparents, who grew up in Europe and immigrated to the United States, spoke at least four or five languages. Living where they did, where the land changed hands between countries fairly frequently, and where different ethnic groups lived close to each other, that was a necessity. Here in the U.S., there is a tendency to see people as geniuses if they even speak one language other than English fairly well.
The main Ann Arbor high schools teach three Romance languages: Spanish, French, and Latin; and one Germanic language, German (plus English, which is also a Germanic language). And at Skyline now they are teaching Chinese. I have felt it is too little. Why isn't the rest of the world represented?
I just got a glimpse of the Skyline class scheduling options for next year. All of the AAPS high schools are now offering the possibility of taking online classes in Math (algebra, geometry) and English (ninth grade and tenth grade English).
So here is what I don't understand. If we are offering online classes for subjects where we already have perfectly good local teachers, why on earth can't we offer online classes for languages where we don't already have local teachers? Why can't we offer Arabic, Japanese, Hindu, and even Ojibway on line? Isn't that the point of this kind of technology?