What did/does the 'A' say to me?

In the previous post, I used the song What Does the Fox Say? to frame a discussion about what grades communicate to various stakeholders in education - in particular students and teachers. It is my view that we do not share a common understanding of what a grade means and this impacts learning. I suggested some of the different ways we interpret an A by modifying the song's lyrics. Readers responded in the comments with what an A grade meant to them as a student and what they hope it says to their students as a teacher. Now is the time for me to share my perspectives about what did/does the A say to me.

When I got an A, I thought that I had pleased my teacher. I distinctly remember having a conversation with a friend who was struggling in school about how I achieved success. I tried to find out what the teacher wanted and then went about meeting that vision. The grade I got would tell me how close I came to giving the teacher what he/she had in mind. It did not matter the subject, the teacher was the all-knowing arbiter of my work. For me, school was not so much about learning as it was mind-reading.

As a new teacher, I simply flipped this perspective. An A meant that the student had done at least 90% of what I expected (i.e. what I would do). To my credit, I did not want my students to read my mind so I made my expectations very clear. I got a lot of student-work that looked just like my work. Instead of mind-readers I was fostering mimics.

Now, I see an A as representing what Joyce and Showers (2002) called Executive Use. The student has demonstrated complete content competency (I was uncomfortable with idea that there might be a 10% gap in a teacher's knowledge) and an ability to analyze under what circumstances the learning could be applied appropriately (phronesis) or how to adapt it to new situations. Granted, because I mostly teach teachers, this standard might be easier to implement now than when I taught middle school math. Still, I have applied a similar idea in a College Algebra course with some success - it was a tough sell.

Basically, I want an A to say to students that they have achieved sustainability in the topic being graded. They can apply what they have learned beyond what we talked about in class, and they can learn more on their own if needed. The teacher (me) has become obsolete.

When do we stop chewing their food?

The birds have found the feeder. We moved it and a suet holder closer to the house this winter since the trees that used to shelter them were cut down over the summer. I was afraid that their proximity to the house might frighten the birds, but it has not been a problem. In fact, it has made it easier to watch the birds as they feed.

During the spring and summer, I watched as the adult birds fed the babies. The adults would grab food from the feeder and place it in the mouths of the babies waiting on nearby branches. I do not anticipate seeing much of this behavior over the winter. I could be wrong, but I think the birds that visit our feeder and suet cakes have outgrown the need to be beak-fed.

When does this happen in education? In other words: when do we quit feeding learners information and expect them to fend for themselves? This came up this past week as I talked with university colleagues about student evaluations. We have all had comments that our students want more lecture because that is how they "learn" best. I make up that these comments are from students who have come to expect that the teacher's role is to gather and chew up educational information for students to consume. Is that too harsh?

For the sake of completing this post, let us assume that this learned helplessness is indeed the problem. What can we do about it? This is where I try to apply the Teaching-Learning Cycle and the Gradual Release of Responsibility. The Teaching-Learning Cycle provides a framework where I can identify the information and the processes learners need to make it on their own, monitor learners' progress toward these goals, and plan and implement appropriate supports. The Gradual Release of Responsibility represents an instructional approach which helps learners to "fend for themselves" through a series of lessons that begin with demonstrations, move to collaboration, and eventually result in independent practice.

I am fortunate that my colleague, who teaches the prerequisite course for the one I am teaching now, uses these frameworks in his practice. Even after only a few days I have seen a difference in my learners. Not everyone of these learners had John's section, but those who did are able to share with the rest what is expected of them in and out of class. I get the feeling that there will be a lot less gathering and chewing on my part this semester. And for that, I am grateful.

Who controls the volume?

For that special date 11-11-11, NPR's All Songs Considered did a podcast based on the this clip from This is Spinal Tap:

No surprise - my thoughts went to education. I wondered about the ways I try to turn my teaching volume up to eleven. There are certainly times in my classroom where I want to REALLY impress upon my learners the importance of what we are exploring. While this might result in literally turning up the volume, it is more likely to manifest itself in elaborate planning and over-the-top presentation. It might get the learners' attention, and maybe even their interest, but this line of thinking seems too self-centered to be sustainable.

The podcast was really about the songs that listeners want to turn up to eleven, though. This was evident in the following exchange:

Bob Bollen: "I think most people, when they think of 'cranking up', they think of pop music. They think of turning up the radio that they’re listening to when that song comes on." 

Jacob Ganz: "Yeah, that’s the instinct. You’re listening to the radio and something comes on and you either reach to change the channel or you reach to crank it."

BB: "It was the original 'like' button. Only there was no feedback. If the station could have gotten that information that you turned the dial up …"

In my way of thinking, the listener represents the learners in my classroom. While I certainly have wished that I could receive immediate feedback on how engaged learners were in the lesson, when it is put this way I am uneasy. It too closely resembles a consumer approach to education - find out what they want and then give them more of it. This seems representative of some of the student-centered approaches that I find unsustainable.

Instead, I would like to have learners be more reflective about what they like or don't like about a lesson. Here is where the analogy breaks down because listeners do not need to connect with every song, but I want learners to be prepared to engage with every lesson. This is a metacognitive act that will allow them to participate more fully in boring lessons that they might otherwise tune out.

I still want to develop lessons that showcase my enthusiasm for the topics being addressed. Enthusiasm can be contagious. As the course goes on, however, I need to be ready to gradually release responsibility to the learners. They must find ways to connect to the learning regardless of their level of interest. After all, learners ultimately control the volume of what they want to hear. I just want to help them to make critical and sustainable choices.

Whose problem is it?

"Education systems, teachers, school districts all over the world are going crazy about problem-based learning - nothing like a good problem to solve. But they are looking at the wrong bit of it. The thing we're neglecting is to find a generation of problem finders."

The above quote comes early in Ewan McIntosh's talk at TEDxLondon. This really connects with my goal to foster sustainable learning. Here is the entire talk (it is well worth the eight minutes):

I want learners to come up with their own problems - to be able to answer, "Now what?" for themselves. Most times when I try to implement a problem finding curriculum, however, two issues interfere: trust and control. You see, I know what they need to know because I know what I learned and how it has helped me. How can I be sure learners will follow the correct path, find the right problems, if I do not lead them either explicitly or implicitly?

Here is a good example. Over the winter holiday break, I went on a hike through a state managed forest. Along the trail were a variety of signs describing interesting facts about the trees and forest management. The sign below was of particular interest to me.

I thought it had a lot of potential for use in a course on teaching and learning middle school mathematics that I am scheduled to lead this semester. It would provide a great context for the geometry section as I asked my learners to make Biltmore and Merritt Rule Sticks using the information provided. The problem was perfect, but as Ewan points out, it was also mine.

Given my interest in sustainable learning, I would be better off owning the problem myself and using it as a demonstration. It would offer an opportunity for thinking aloud about identifying problems in contexts that interest me - the first step in the gradual release of responsibility. Then, with my support, the learners could begin to find their own problems in whatever math content we must address. By the end of the course, hopefully, the learners could find problems for themselves.

With awareness and effort, I have gotten better at letting my learners lead the way. Every success allows me to trust them a little bit more and give up trying to control the curriculum. Maybe 2012 will be the year I learn to really let go.

Now what? Part I

Learners who lose the ability to make decisions are disempowered.

Brain Cambourne

This quote comes from Cambourne's theory of learning as it relates to responsibility. I see this "disempowerment" in the secondary math classes that I observe and the college courses that I teach. Students are constantly waiting for someone else, usually the teacher, to tell them what to do. The time when this is most evident is when a student finishes an assigned task and sits back waiting for the teacher to answer the question, "Now what?"

Disempowerment has tremendous consequences. It removes from the student the responsibility to be a self-directed learner. Once a task is complete, they fail to consider what might come next which results in a loss of cognitive momentum - disengagement. Their need to be directed by others to explore beyond the assigned task is unsustainable. What happens when a teacher is not available to tell them what comes next? They sit and wait.

This is why I spend a great deal of time in my classes, especially those populated with teachers-in-training, encouraging them to ask the "Now what?" question to themselves and not wait for me to tell them what comes next. Granted, this is not easy at first since it runs counter to years of training, but with time I have found that I can gradually release the responsibility of identifying extensions to my learners. It usually starts with me explicitly identifying the disempowerment issue and modeling what self-directed learners might do with extra time on their hands. After modeling this behavior multiple times, I share with my learners the responsibility of coming up with ways to maintain our momentum. My goal is that eventually learners will develop their own approach to extending their learning and thus empowering themselves.

An example of sharing this responsibility comes from a probability and statistics course I have taught for preservice K-8 math teachers. The activity is based on an article from Ann Lawrence, "From The Giver to Twenty-One Balloons: Explorations with Probability." I like this article because it models several possible extensions students might consider to further their learning. For example, after working on several probability problems related to The Giver, the middle school students in the article are asked to write their own problems given the story's context. Here are the results of this extension:

Novice teachers are sometimes hesitant to turn over this responsibility of generating problems to students because they feel unprepared to deal with what might be messy stories. Therefore, I ask my preservice teachers to look at Mark's story and consider possible solution methods and then what comes next. With practice, these future teachers can become more adept at dealing with unpredictable situations. Also, I explicitly state that their "Now what?" question can focus on either pedagogy (responding to Mark) or content (exploring the math) - it's up to them. Empowerment!

Before I share the typical results, I want to provide you the opportunity to explore Mark's problem. A chance to ask and answer your own "Now what?" question. I hope you will share your learning in the comments.

What was I thinking?

AKA: Making my thinking for my TEDxGrandValley Talk visible

Saturday’s TEDxNYED motivated me. Actually, it was Dr. Gary Stager’s Twitter-stream following his talk that inspired me to action. His tweets expressed my feelings exactly upon completing a TEDx Talk. There was so much more I wanted to say and a better way to say it but the format (which I love as an observer) is in many ways unforgiving to a presenter.

After my talk, good friend and colleague, John Golden, mentioned that I had seemed uncharacteristically nervous (we’ve done several presentation together). He was right; I was nervous and beginning to feel like I had blown an opportunity to make clear ideas I thought worth sharing. During the dinner celebrating the event, I connected with another friend and colleague, Sean Lancaster, who had also given a talk. He, too, expressed frustration regarding his performance and we commiserated together.

Not long after these conversations, I came up with what I thought was a great idea – TEDTalks Take Two: Ideas Worth Sharing but Better this Time. Using a digital camera we could record our improved talks and put them on the web ourselves.

Like many of my “great ideas” this went nowhere and once I watched the TEDxGrandValley videos I thought our talks went better than it felt at the time. I did not need a complete “do-over.”

Still, there were things I thought I could/should make clearer. And then it came to me – I needed a commentary. Yes, I am one of those people who actually enjoy listening to directors or actors provide insight into their thinking about their work. Therefore, I decided to write a commentary to accompany my talk that would make some of my thinking more visible.

First, here is my original talk from TEDxGrandValley:

Now, here is my commentary:

Before the talk:

I was fairly confident going into the talk. It was not my first presentation, and I was familiar with the content and the TED format. I like Sir Ken Robinson’s style and thought that I would emulate it by telling a series of one-minute stories.

I even went to the hall the day before to check out the space. The person in charge of technology said that there was a bit of a glitch with using the embedded video but they fixed it by running parallel PowerPoints on two different computers. I was asked if I wanted to run through the talk but I declined because I wanted to keep it fresh. This was a mistake.

During the talk:

The story about the phone call is true and it did have an interesting effect on my confidence. Maybe it contributed to my nervousness. In any case, from the beginning I was searching for words. I even forgot TED’s catchphrase, “Ideas Worth Sharing.” What was meant to take 30 seconds took over a minute – not a good start.

Yet I remained committed to providing the audience with time to activate their schema using the venn Diagrams. In a weird twist, the glitch with the embedded videos provided me with some extra time as I accidentally skipped over my slide introducing the Council on 21^st Century Learning [C21L]. Two of their videos provide the backbone for my talk, however, and I want to give them their due. I hope this makes up for the unintended slight. I was grateful for the extra time, though.

C21L has another video comparing students versus learners that I decided against using because of time constraints, but it related to my first sustainability question, “Will this be on the test?” If you watch the video I did not include, you will see that I was trying to channel the student’s perspective regarding consuming content. With all the focus on high-stake testing, this idea of covering content is particularly pernicious.

In retrospect, I wish I had included a picture of Admiral Ackbar (from Star Wars) to go along with my belief that “When will we ever use this? is a trap. Probably just as well as it might have been too obscure and distracting. What is interesting is the number of times I have seen variations of this question/trap asked during recent observations of student teachers. The result is usually the same: teachers scrambling for an answer that students tear apart or don’t accept.

The beauty of a commentary is I can provide a glimpse into my actions as well as my thinking. The “there’s an App for that” line was an opportunity for me to grab my iPhone which had my notes on it. I saw that I was running out of time and wanted it available just in case.

The “Why don’t you just show me?” question really gets at my frustration with the current system that fosters a consumer mentality. Students consuming what teachers are selling. This question is the crux of my argument that the current system is unsustainable. Students need to learn how to survive beyond teachers or textbooks always feeding them the information.

Again, the second video snuck up on me. I guess there is something to be said for rehearsal.

Kathy searching for answers (or Nessie)

John suggested that I use pictures from my trip to Scotland to support the second part of the talk. I am glad he did because they provided a series of strong metaphors for the ideas inherent in teachers fostering learners instead of students.

Roslyn Chapel under canopy

Using Roslyn Chapel for the support example was a bit of a reach. In Scotland we saw a lot of buildings surrounded by scaffolding. They do not simply tear down historic buildings; they repair and rebuild. Sometimes the support became a part of the rebuilt structure. Other times it is removed once the structure is sound. This was the point I was trying to make. Unfortunately, I did not take any pictures of these scaffolds. Consequently, I went with a slightly different approach with the canopy. I think it makes the point, just not as well.

In introducing the workshop model, I had a quote from Jon Stewart that I wanted to use but forgot. “Creativity comes from limits not freedom… When you have a structure then you can improvise off of it…” Instead, I spent some time connecting to earlier talks – a mainstay of the TED format. But I still wish I had used that Stewart quote because it makes the point that creativity is not devoid of structure.

Kathy was not exactly happy that I included this picture of her in front of the “pile of rocks.” I convinced her that she always looks good and that it would be up only briefly. Besides, it was the perfect example of the role choice place in empowering learners and adventurers.

The ideas associated with the awareness, acceptance, and adjustment slide comes from my yoga story. You can read it here. No point to me repeating it in this post.

Apprentice Pillar

With the Apprentice Pillar, I intended to expand upon the story of the mentor’s murder of the apprentice as a cautionary tale of the problem with conformity in schools. I do not want my learners limited by me. A teacher’s role is to develop sustainable learners not unsustainable students.

At this point I was a bit panicked by how little time was left. I felt like I zoomed through the Gradual Release of Responsibility model. The Model, Mentor, and Monitor alliteration comes from Jeffrey Wilhelm. I wanted to give him credit. I also wanted to talk about how Debbie Miller uses the model to ensure that her classroom transforms from the teacher modeling in September and October to the learners doing in March, April, and May. By the way, the line about wanting my learners to make better pillars came from John.

The last slide worked out about how I wanted. I just wish I had ended with sustainable learners instead of sustainable students. Though I like the alliteration, it does not fit with the rest of the talk.

After the talk:

I hope that you can accept this bit of navel-gazing. We ask our learners in the mathematics education course at GVSU to do a lot of reflection. Often, it looks similar to a commentary as we ask them to annotate their work in order to make their thinking visible. A book I read recently by Dr. James Zull, affirms our commitment to reflection as being essential for learners to grow and become self-sustaining.

Putting together this talk in the first place helped me to consolidate my thoughts about where we are (consuming information) and where I think we need to be (creating understanding). Writing this commentary has further solidified my own understandings and strengthened my resolve to doing things differently. Thanks for humoring me as I try to make this thinking visible (if only to myself).