Russ Gibb may not be your typical technology teacher, but he sure gets results.
Michigan's 1999 Technology Teacher of the Year is a flamboyant 68-year-old former rock promoter who used to fly a chopper to school, treats his kids as equals, and shuns conventional pedagogy.
Gruff, bold, and bossy, he's often moved to tears by the irrepressible talent of his award-winning video production students at Dearborn High School.
Gibb is beating on the bulwarks of teaching traditions in his effort to make way for something better.
"Conventional methods of teaching aren't working and it's time to throw them out," growls Gibb, his voice showing signs that during his younger days he definitely inhaled.
A teacher for 40 years, Gibb has been rewarded by the success and innovation of his students. His class has received national media attention for its wearable this video camera, which landed them in the pages of The New York Times and on the set of NBC's Today Show.
His students are currently building a 24-hour, Web video and radio station, funded in part by a US$10,000 grant from Dearborn Cable Communications. The award was the result of a proposal that the kids wrote themselves.
Gibb has taken his class of overachievers on cross-country research trips, including a recent trip to the Sony Training Institute in Sunnyvale, California.
Sony agreed to let the high schoolers take part in a class, normally reserved for college and grad students, on how to handle system setups and troubleshooting, which they'll apply in their school studio.
Senior Teresa Savonty, the only girl on the Sony trip, said she has gotten a sense of direction from her four-year involvement with the group.
"Video has given me a chance to explore fields which I would never be exposed to before college," said Savonty, who plans to study computer science at the University of Michigan.
Although Gibb has turned the Dearborn darlings into something of a national phenomenon, he turned down the governor's invitation to receive his teaching award in person because he didn't want attention for himself.
His wisdom is anything but conventional. Gibb is not afraid to say, "there's been a scam in education – the notion that you have to be good in school in order to succeed."
"These kids here, they all tested off the charts," said Gibb, pointing a thumb toward the 11 excited teenagers assembled around him. "Some of them don't do so well in school, but that doesn't mean they won't do well out in the world. And it's the world I'm trying to help prepare them for."
"Mr. Gibb gives us freedom that some teachers would not dream of," said junior Matthew Fanto. "Most teachers have a tough time keeping their students in class, while Mr. Gibb has a hard time getting his students out of the studio."
One favorite Gibb-ism: "There are no illiterate children. They are reading television."
There's no point in fussing over the hours teens spend staring at the TV or the computer screen, he said. Just use the medium as best you can.
"Video is the new literacy. This is the way we talk."
Gibb said he trusts his students implicitly, but he also holds them to high standards. He gives them almost round-the-clock-access to hundreds of thousands of dollars worth of equipment and free rein in the school's video and radio studio.
In that way he gives kids the most valuable thing an awkward teenager can have – confidence. In fact, his students are bursting with it.
"You should see some of the videos I made this year – they are definitely gonna win a bunch of awards," said senior Brandon Will, with the self-possession of Scorsese.
In his no-bullshit style, Gibb might playfully cuff a kid on the head for showing up late to class – while simultaneously reminding the kid how gifted he is.
"How would you, as an adult, like to have six different bosses to report to each day?" he asked. "Well, that's what high school is normally like, so my feeling is, I treat them the way I would like to be treated, none of this 'I am the teacher, you are the student crap.' We're all each others' teachers and students now, and the world is our classroom."
Gibb and his class were recently approached by Darla Davenport-Powell, creator of Niya (Swahili for "born in a new country"), a talking African American doll that speaks English, Spanish, and Swahili.
Davenport-Powell, who also works as a business communications integrator for General Motors in Pontiac, Michigan, wants the class to help create a multilingual interactive voice response system for the doll. She believes that with Gibb's backing, they can rise to the challenge.
"With Russ, teaching is not just a profession, it's a calling," she said. "He teaches them life skills. And he's honest enough to share his own true-life stories with them."
His fellow teachers agree that Gibb's unorthodox relationship with his students pays off.
"What sets Russ apart? The difference between Russ and a lot of other teachers is that he is accessible virtually all the time.... It's because he really cares about them," said Kurt Doelle, 38-year-old video instructor at Dearborn High.
Doelle and Davenport-Powell agree that Gibb's unique teaching method works well with kids who are on the verge of adulthood. Teenagers who resent the traditional authority-figure dynamic between a student and teacher warm to Gibb's treatment of them as equals.
"But he also demands excellence from them," said Doelle. "I've learned a lot from him."
