Entries Tagged 'constructivism' ↓

Boys only?

According to the NCES, since 2004, girls have -in general- been shown to outdo boys in nearly every measure of academic success.  Girls outpace boys on nearly every one of our measures of “winning” when it comes to school.  And yet, when push comes to shove on earning degrees in engineering or computer science, boys still outpace girls by margins of 77% and 85% respectively.  The overarching assertion:  girls don’t tinker. Or at least, they aren’t often encouraged to.

Tinker. In nearly every published version, the origin of the word seems to trace back to an itinerant mender of kitchen utensils- and more specifically, those made of tin.  As a verb (of which we are obviously more interested here) it hints of clumsy, unskilled or experimental efforts.

After that little search, I’m even more interested than before.  Clumsy?  Haphazard?  Unskilled?  Somehow I have always elevated the word in my mind toward something more sophisticated.  I wonder why I so highly regard this word (and many of its associated meanings) when it seems this may not even be the general consensus at all.

Consensus?

Just last week I read an Education Week article entitled Teaching Girls to Tinker by author Lisa Damour.  As an educator of nearly twenty years and a father of two girls under three years of age, this article certainly gave me pause.  I’ve gone forty years (see how I slid that big number in as text) assuming that even if “tinkering” was not done with a specific purpose in mind, it was still a valuable effort.  The idea of tinkering being a valuable pursuit seems to be at odds with the definitions I found today.  And yet the truth remains…  at times, connotation means everything.  Think of how these two statements paint opposite connotations of the word:

He tinkered with the nation’s economy by regularly deregulating banks.

She tinkered with the lure in order to make it run deeper in the water.

Perhaps overall success… or gravitas plays a role here?  Of course my take on this comes through the lens of a teacher/instructional coach.  Before sitting here to type this evening, I even asked the Twitter crew what sort of off-the-top-of-your-head definition they’d give for the word.  Twelve of them responded with:

tweeps on tinkering

I see tinkering on par with the sort of purposeful play I so highly value in the classroom.  The kind of play we don’t do enough.  The sort of thing most NCLB required state exams force teachers to push aside.

I find it interesting that although some of the twelve Twitter responses speak of tinkering as simply “messing about,” most contain language that seems to elevate the activity a bit, such as: “investigate”, “modify”, and “explore.”  Several even mentioned it as something that leads to an actual accomplishment.  Is it perhaps that the vast majority of these people are educators?  Or is it that they are progressives?  Things got even weirder while writing this post tonight when I clicked a Twitter link to view the list of scheduled “conversations” at Educon2.2.  A quick scan down the list shoved me smack into a Sylvia Martinez presentation entitled “Tinkering Towards Technology Fluency.”  Her brief description of the session mentions that the content will surround themes she’s been exploring on her blog.  Networked digits provide digital serendipity, no?

Tinker vs. struggle?

Regardless of our take on the meaning of tinkering, apparently by some measures girls are not being afforded an equal share of the tink.  Damour points to the 1994 book Failing at Fairness which includes an observation that, “…teachers allow boys to struggle with mathematics problems long after they have rushed in and rescued girls from the same struggle.“  This seems certainly overlapped with the concept of “tinkering” mentioned here…  but it also seems to go in a bit of a different direction.  This quote speaks directly of struggle.  How much overlap do you see in these two words?

I try to create struggles every day.  More often than not, it’s my classroom modus operandi.  In short, I try to engage students in a concept…  address the fuzziness between what we know and what we don’t know… point towards the structure we’ll be using to explore it…  settle on how we’ll evaluate our work…  and then allow the relatively safe struggle between learning and meaning to take place.  My role is coach.  My day to day mission is to support this type of tinkering with ideas within the framework of standards in which we work.

This tinkering takes its highest form when actually following a problem through to include actual harvesting and analysis of data followed by conclusions that lead back to more problems.  In line with data presented in the article, my females generally tend to outpace my males in achievement.  How do the numbers hold up by the time my students graduate from college?  Even with the dawn of social media, this data is still fuzzy.  So I’m left to wonder…  could I too indirectly contribute to the tinker-divide outlined by Damour?

At home

The bottom line for me is that any article that comes back to haunt me a day later is a good one.  In fact, just the other night I found this one still on my mind.  That night my two-year old approached me in the kitchen with toy troubles.  She had stuffed far too many toys into a little lunchbox that holds critters.  While holding it up to me with two hands and two big eyes, she asked me to “fix it, Daddy.”  I looked down to see both ends of the latch not quite matching up with the strain of the critter load.

My gut reaction was to reach right down and latch it right up for my little dollface.  However, I stopped short…  sat down beside her and coached her through it without touching it myself.  I wonder how that might have played out if Delaney were a boy.  I don’t consider these tiny struggles to be “tinkering.”  I do, however, consider them to be related.

And yes, I still open doors for women.  When you’re forty (twice in one post!) and were raised to be (roughly) a gentleman, it is just something you do as a kneejerk.  Heck, to me it is a courtesy thing toward other humans in general.  So yes, I treat men and women differently on a conscious level.  It’s the subconscious level I wonder about.

Artwork

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Engagement

A friend gives you free tickets to an upcoming concert.  Although the group is fairly popular, you are not familiar with the artist’s body of work.  Assuming you elect to go, what do you do next?

Between now and the day of the concert, here’s betting that your old pal Google comes into play at some point.

What is the artist’s body of work?  For me, iTunes previews would quickly come into the picture.  I might even scan the reviews.  Then perhaps a dive into YouTube in a quest to actually see the band in action.  Maybe even an interview with the lead singer?  Does the band have a website?  What else have they done?  What does the bio tell me about where they are from and perhaps why they do what they do?

This approach works.  We know it does.  We’ve done it ourselves a thousand times before in similar situations.

Building schema

Here-  you are building schema.  It is what you do.  In this particular scenario…  it is what our students do as well.  Schema.  In terms of learning theory, the word was first used by Piaget as early as 1926.  Apparently, R.C. Anderson, a respected educational psychologist, expanded these notions into a more solid theory.

My wife and I just recently scored tickets to see Mason Jennings at a small club in Lawrence, Kansas.  I have listened to his music for years.  Erin however, has only known him from his appearance in the many playlists and mixes heard in the car and throughout the house.  His latest release wholeheartedly scored a new fan in my wife.  She had heard my favorite tracks many times over, but she wasn’t really privy to his larger body of work.

So what did she do?  Much as you might expect, she trolled the web finding as much as she could.  Given such a rich opportunity to experience an artist doing what they do best… live and in person…  she was going to make the most of it.  It was while watching these actions unfold that it hit me how similar this very behavior is to one I strive to honor as a classroom teacher.

We’re more attuned to a musical performance when we can identify with the art as it is unfolding.  This is not “rocket science,” folks.  I doubt anyone reading this far believes so.  Therefore, a quick transfer into the classroom should be a fairly easy proposition, right?

So what is it then that prevents us from a similar approach to concepts within our core content areas?  Why would we not make an attempt to harness this simple passion for constructing knowledge in other areas?  What do we know about the flow of learning?

Learner-based learning

“But I don’t get to take my kids to something as cool as a concert.”  I get it.  I understand that external holdup.  However, aren’t we the content experts our community pays to deliver lifelong learning for our children?  Can we not impart at least a sense of excitement about some future learning goal in order to generate student engagement toward that end?  Here’s me thinking that if we are to swallow the goals of problem (or better “challenge-based”) learning as our instructional model… we had first better devour the concept of establishing an environment that honors the learner first and foremost.

A purely constructivist learning environment is one that we are not remotely able to deliver given the rigid accountability brought on by NCLB in the last ten years.  Design, yes…  deliver, no.  And yet, that does not in any way stop us from building in the essential constructs of student-centered pedagogy.  We simply have to set students up to win when it comes to grasping the core concepts of our curriculum.

Aquatic example

A few weeks ago, I knew that I would be taking my Dual-Credit Biology students to the MWSU campus to conduct a couple of field studies concerning species diversity.  One of these prescribed lab events required that students sample organism populations within a gorgeous little freshwater pond found on site.

If I hadn’t started with what students know…  their current schema…  I would have driven them down a path that many were quite unfamiliar with.  Who would guess that Midwestern students weren’t intimately acquainted with the life found in a freshwater pond?  I wouldn’t exactly call my school an “urban” school.  And yet, three or four out of our group had almost zero familiarity with pond life at all.  Yes, these students had never been to a pond.  Sure, I could have asked a question to elicit this data.  However, this realization would do little good toward building student knowledge for each of my twenty students individually.  Diversity, schmercity.  That knowledge would help me, not we.

One of the main uses of our online network is rich reflection.  This reflection is found throughout all phases of learning from engagement to evaluation.  In this case, we did what we normally do.  Prior to embarking on a well-worn lab design…  we explored what we already knew about ponds.  This was done first on real tables with real chart paper, real markers, and real student conversation.  Our work then proceeded to the digital realm to find anything and everything we could about the inhabitants and structures of freshwater pond ecosystems.  Our biology textbook can only deliver generalities.  Students gathered this information and presented it to one another and the world on a forum thread at Principles of Biology.

Students with a rich schema in this area were allowed to demonstrate that reality as well as search for more in-depth knowledge.  Students for whom the pond was a mystery…  and likely wrapped in misconception…  were also allowed to explore and share.  The difference is found within the reflections posted at the site.  In this arena, at this point, student knowledge isn’t judged for its breadth and depth.  Instead, it is valued for its inherent honesty and the deep reflections that follow.

After the hands-on field study at the pond, students were invited to return to the site and post direct replies to their previous posts…  highlighting the learning that took place and the knowledge they had constructed throughout the process.  What we end up with is a digital record of these experiences unfolded transparently in digital space for all to see.  And they do see.  Our site analytics show a flurry of activity surrounding this post as well as others.  Principles of Biology is full of similar cycles surrounding many topics embedded within our curriculum.

As students and teacher, we know we enter any given concept at different places.  We also know that through loosely-structured (but structured nonetheless) classroom experiences we will all push our knowledge far beyond what it was prior to engaging in the topic.  We also know that this will be done not only for ourselves, but for those who live vicariously through us via the web.

Or, I could line up the curriculum goals and objectives and march forward to hit each one in step whether or not the students “get there” with the rest of us or not.  They should have studied harder.  They should have paid attention as these ideas were skillfully presented in turn…  right?

So really…  when we wonder why the next course-level expectation or state-level curriculum objective doesn’t immediately resonate with glee…  take a step back.  Marching forward down the lineup of objectives does little for deep student learning if we are the ones doing the driving.  Instead, let your students take the wheel.  Step aside.  Plug in enough structure to encourage constructive discourse and let students learn.  Learn with them.  Seriously.  You already know it all?  Don’t assume anything.  Dive in yourself.  Learn with them.  Assess your learning every step of the way.  Ask questions.  Push students to ask even more.  Build schema to the point that you can all communicate as you move forward as learners.

Artwork

Establishing tone

I believe information literacy is the responsibility of all content teachers.  The following piece is a bit about how I tend to kick off a new year, and how to easily aim at info literacy from very early on.  As I have said here before, I do not like to go shy into the new school year.  Our students are learning from us every second of every day.  The real question then is what are they learning.  As the lead learners in the classroom, this is under our control.

With this in mind, it is my goal to have my students leave the room on that first day with a few things spinning around in their heads like…

1.  “Wow. This class is active.  I was working with ideas and classmates the entire period.”

2.  “This guy means business.  He is infectiously passionate and serious about this class, and yet has room for humor within all of the intensity.”

3.  “He seems to have a longview for us in the class.  I can tell he has plans for us and cares that we are “in” as much as he is.”

4.  “I might be headed for a music major in college next year, and this will likely be my last formal science course, but I am actually thinking this class might be built with people like me (as well as the biology geeks) in mind.”

5.  “I had better get used to sharing my learning.  This class is open.  I will certainly have to step out of my comfort zone a little on this one.”

6.  “Not sure how I feel about construc…. whatever he called it…  but if it means I won’t have to sit while he talks all period, then I’m for it.”

I obviously believe in creating the ultimate mental model, and then working from there with my planning framed by those ideals.  This year we started the school year with built-in early release days and short periods.  Last Wednesday was our first full period of instruction.  I just don’t believe that on that first day you can just go gently into your course.  It is my philosophy to swing hard from day one.

So how can you teach your students who you are, what to expect, what you stand for, what and how they’ll be learning during the year…  all in one day?  As usual, I’m still debriefing the success of this one lesson, but I do believe that all of this is possible.  Stick with me on this one.  Here in a bit, I’ll ask you to help me assess some of this by scanning through the pages of online student writing about this lesson.  Here’s a small sample as a preview:

I believe this type of learning is important… the activity split up our class in two sections making each side work together in a very short amount of time. This helps build chemistry between everyone in our class which I believe is very important since we’ll be around each other for a whole year. It was also important, because it made all of us think and learn about a topic we most likely hadn’t heard anything about. Science has a lot to do with the unknown and I believe this issue on shark cartilage really challenged us on something we had no clue about. We had to work to decide whether or not the shark cartilage was effective and for that matter whether or not the information we were given was reliable.” ~Kerstyn Bolton

Day one

I don’t do stand-alone “ice breakers” any longer.  That’s not a criticism of those who do, but in my thinking that says to the students:  “we had to construct a special event outside of our normal work in this class in order to talk to and learn about one another.”  I design my first day to be authentic collaboration and sharing among students where classmates must rely on one another to complete a content-related task, or solve a content-related problem.

My learning goals for the day were rather broad.  It was day one.  They were as follows:   1. Setting classroom tone.  2. Building the foundation of a learning environment.  3. Proving the concrete, daily value of science.  4. Team-building.  5.  Evaluating and debating a scientific assertion in the field of medicine.  6.  Establishing an academic spirit for our first online work at Principles of Biology.

Shark cartilage?

So, to trim down a rather complex story…  We divided into two large groups (10 students each side) to examine the idea that shark cartilage supplements can be used as a safe and effective treatment for some types of cancer.  This is fringe alternative-medicine stuff.  There is a ton of web chatter on both sides of this issue.  Though the medical community is rather aligned on this issue, as with any “natural” treatment, there are many proponents on the fringes.  The data found on the web is, in short, a big area of gray to most people.

The information on this issue is all over the board.  There are a few freely accessible journal articles on the web, there are terribly crackpot e-commerce sites, and there are hundreds of examples in the gray area between the two.  Because I had to have a brisk pace to finish in one period, I constructed two packets… one for each group.  One group of ten got a packet full of public websites representing the “for” side of using shark cartilage supplements as a treatment for cancer.  The other group of ten were given a packet representing sites that represented the “against” side of the issue.

With no formal instruction on argument nor debate, the students were led through a protocol to digest the content of the packet in short order and prepare a speedy argument aligned with their given viewpoint.  I led them through a series of skimming, compiling, active reading, and sharing tasks to help them build structure for an argument in about 20 minutes.  Considering this was a group of ten working with a subject they knew nothing about, that is saying something.  The action was fast and furious.  Frankly, they ended up engaging in a better debate than I had even anticipated.  Battles over sources cited and inherent biases came out without being prompted.

“I LOVED learning like this because I think it gave everyone a chance to teach everyone else.” ~Hannah Rush

Ultimately, they were to take their thoughts from the day and reflect on both the content learning as well as the process of the day’s learning events.  To me, I never go a day without sharing the strategic purpose for that particular event.  If I don’t have a best-practice reason for doing what I’m doing the way I’m doing it…   then I (and they by default) would quite possibly be wasting time.  This keeps us all on our toes and makes the “game of school” completely transparent within my class.

So let’s see where the rubber meets to road on this one.  If you haven’t been tempted to click through to the discussion thread on this already, please do so now.  I think you’ll be pleasantly impressed by the willingness to dive head first into this one and really discuss the issues.  As of this morning, there are seven pages of student discourse.  I think you’ll appreciate this look into how students approach the task of reflecting deeply over their learning in this class.

“I really thought what you said about “You learn only 10% of what you read, but you learn 95% of what you teach” was very interesting…  …This makes our activity in class so much more exciting to me! I remember a lot of what my section said about shark cartilage and that’s because I had to, because my team needed me…” ~Kerstyn Bolton

My LMS can beat up your LMS

Not only should information literacy not be an add-on, nor should your Library Media Specialist.  At Benton, we are undergoing a true paradigm shift in library media services.  By hiring Melissa Corey, we have in the span of a summer updated our services to bring the library’s digital tendrils into every classroom in our building.  Last year, the physical space of our library was scrapped for a full redo to bring it up to date as a learning space for 2010.  This year, we have the personnel to put the plan into action.

As this lesson was unfolding, I realized that I was setting up our new Library Media Specialist to fly in the next period, cape and all, to deliver the way to a more rigorous online research process.  What I didn’t know is how personalized this service would be.  Boy-  were we in for a surprise.  For starters, here is the slide show she used to help deliver our learning for the day:

Thanks

Backyard classroom

Have you ever wondered why we build sandboxes for children?  That’s exactly what I did today.  Today I wondered while wandering about the yard, putting the finishing touches on a landscape and backyard garden update.  I wondered long and hard about the role of play in learning new things.  In between digging holes, sinking plants, and spreading mulch…  I took short breaks to watch my two year old daughter play with sand.  This backyard classroom is every bit as much mine as it is hers.

I watched her take that first chartreuse-shovel scoop into a fresh sandbox today.  I sat beside her as she pirated empty plant pots and filled them scoop by scoop with moist sand fresh from the bag.  I saw her level off the orange pots and pour one into the other, and the other into another.  Aside from the obvious tactile pleasures like digging naked toes into cool wet sand, there just seems to be so much going on with sandbox play.

A quick look at the packaging on the toy set which includes buckets, scoops, shovels, etc., reveals three things that are supposedly developed with these toys.  The three listed are:  fine motor skills, hand-eye coordination, and cause and effect.

And more?

I think those three skills/concepts are easily seen in this type of play.  You could argue that the majority of toddler toys target those very things.  However, I just really feel like there is something more going on here- something far more sophisticated.  What did I see today?  I saw what seemed to be a child unknowingly acquiring the roots of understanding two critical concepts:  volume and mass.  Can she define either?  No.  Can she really even talk about it much?  Not really.  That doesn’t mean it isn’t happening.

The brain of a human child is an unparalleled learning machine.  Beyond grasping for nipples and blinking at bright lights, the first thing it does beyond survival is play.  I would argue that this play is not merely pastime.  I would contend that it is far more than fun.  I would suggest that it is fun for a toddler because that is what is needed to feed the brain at that developmental stage.  All a child needs at this point is the opportunity.

Though a child’s mind cannot comprehend an abstract concept like volume, the roots are taking hold in those moments.  Filling buckets… emptying a small one into a larger one several times, and on and on.  Today I wondered about whether we realize why we build sandboxes.  I bet the average parent doesn’t think about the why any more than the two year old does playing.  Not consciously thinking about it doesn’t mean it isn’t happening.

Fast-forward to the end of formal public schooling.  The brain inside the skull of your local quarterback cranked through calculus and physics last Friday night in an attempt to connect time and time again with his pass-catching receivers.  He managed perhaps hundreds of variables without flinching in order to control the trajectory of a very odd-shaped object.  He may or may not graduate having sat in a chair during a formal session of calculus or physics, but he’s doing it every day.  Even if nothing more than a calculation machine, the human brain is an amazing thing.  I am awed by its power on a daily basis.

Think about a student’s ability (or willingness) to grasp those first formal attempts at abstracts such as volume or mass in a school setting.  What if those attempts hinge to a certain degree upon backyard experiences from age two or so?  Thoughts like that poke at my gray matter.  We almost universally agree about the power of diverse background knowledge as it relates to success in school.  Hearing complex conversation in your home.  Growing up surrounded by books.  Museum visits for “fun.”  Travel.  Experiences.  These are not things that happen in a typical high school setting (this is why you might want to continue reading past the first section of the aforementioned book),  and yet all is not necessarily lost.

So what?

So where is the “sandbox” in your classroom?  Does it even exist, and if so, is it really a place?  Perhaps it is a time?  Or is it rather interwoven throughout the environment you build for children?  Do you purposefully employ “play” in your classroom?  How similar is this “play” to the “explore” phase of the learning cycle model?  Do current practices in your school allow for purposeful play, or has it been politically pushed out of the classroom?

Artwork

Find

The following video was recently posted by a colleague on a nascent district network that will go “public” in a few short weeks.  In what I see as an emerging “best practice” in setting up and facilitating online networks, we are busy adding rich instructional content prior to inviting members.   In other words, making it look -even upon first glance- as if “someone is home.”  Far too many folks try to set up a network on the Ning platform only to have it flail about in cyberspace because it doesn’t immediately grab people as a place where they can imagine investing a little of their time.  Take five minutes to watch the video before reading further…

How great is that?  In Angie’s (a fellow instructional coach) description immediately below the video, she said: “A great video with amazingly appropriate music to show goal setting and teamwork to achieve a goal.” I certainly do see those ideas reflected within the video.  However, I clicked to view the video full screen before reading, and my personal reaction was somewhat different.

Think

To me, even more than goal setting and teamwork… this video speaks to the idea of honoring a constructivist approach to learning… and the gentle scaffolding required to get students to the ultimate goal within such a framework.

It seems that I chose to see the video not through the interactions with “momma squirrel” but instead through those that happened between the baby squirrel and the human observer. To me, the human (with the bigfat human brain) was the person in that situation who clearly knew how to achieve the objective.  You could easily argue that the momma squirrel didn’t get it.  Although, we truly have no idea what the ultimate goal was.  Perhaps going a different route, one that avoided the wall altogether, was not an option.  Though perhaps it was.  This we’ll never know.

Like a teacher honoring the fact that all true learning takes place within the brain of the learner… the observer(s) didn’t intervene at first.  They allowed the most powerful personal learning (in the brain of the baby squirrel) to take place first. They gave credit to the struggle that is inherent in accomplishing anything of real and lasting worth. They allowed small failures themselves to “teach.”

However, they ultimately they chose a strategy in which to intervene in a “least invasive” way… and then carried it out.  This initial strategy did not prove immediately successful for the learner.  The baby squirrel simply didn’t succeed after the “help” was applied.  The observers then took a step back, rethought the situation, likely looked around for other pertinent resources, and then applied another strategy to facilitate the baby squirrel’s accomplishment.

This series of calculated interventions is a good metaphor for what I see as one best case scenario for teaching and learning. Of course with today’s tricky world, and the complex sphere of standardized assessment we live within… allowing this full continuum of experience to play out with every learning objective is just not feasible. Yet, if we are truly focused on constructivism as a “best case scenario” for learning, then we will all make room for that very thing within our classrooms.  We can’t exist in a purely constructivist world today.  However, this is not an “out” for studying and practicing this approach to learning.  It is merely something to consider as you map out the classroom environment for you and your students as learners.

Once a teacher gives credit to the power of this approach to learning… they then begin to see its potential in more and more places. I think this is the point where we become sharp about when to allow this type of learning to run its course and when we have to “cut and run” to nail down the less “essential” objectives in order to allow the time for everything we want (and are responsible to) for our children.

Conclude

So yeah, in short… I love the video as a reflection and teaching tool. In fact, I wrote 75% of this blog post in the comments section of that particular video on our network.  I could link to my comment there, but then I’d have to break my rule of going public with a network before it is already a microcosm of what I want it to eventually become.  You wouldn’t want me to hedge on my own philosophy for this would you?

Ask

So what do you think?  Did you see something different?  What metaphors did you see in the video?  How might you use this little clip as a teaching tool?

Artwork

Fuel

Lately, my students and I have been studying not only the effectiveness of biological illustrations, but also the efficacy of their own illustrations to personally enhance the knowledge of abstract concepts.  As well, I have been engaged in some short but interesting discussions with Dr. Mishra at MSU concerning the validity of visualizations.  None of these interesting interactions, however, hold a candle to those between my eldest daughter and I.  Big surprise, huh?

She has shelves upon shelves of amazing books that have come from her mom and I, gifts from others, or direct picks from Delaney herself.  One of these books is the subject of this post.  I had noticed the scientific inaccuracies on “number seven” before today.  Yet-  I hadn’t really looked seriously at what was going on because I generally hate this book, and usually try to get mommy to read this one when it comes up.  Yes, this one was a gift.  No biology instructor would ever purposefully unleash this one upon their progeny.

Details?  Who cares?

I understand where you are coming from if you tell me the content details that are so fouled up here aren’t important at age two.  I get that.  However, this kid can tell the difference between a barracuda and a salmon in one book, and then be able to transfer what a barracuda looks like and “does” when seeing a photograph of mine flash across my laptop’s screen saver:

I don’t know.  As I’ve said before, I’m no early childhood expert.  My learning about EC education occurs as we experience it through our lovely daughters.  However, I have to at least give myself props for keen observation skills and an active framework for constructivist learning (as well as other approaches).

However, page seven of this book is just… well…  dumb.  Page seven features an octopus as a painter with tubes of paint in all tentacles.  Not only is this the representative creature for the number seven, it has seven tentacles.  Yes-  count them.  Seven tentacles.  One tube of paint in each.  Not to menton the fact that the page goes on to suggest that seven rainbow paints can “…make a world of make-believe or Never Never Land.”  Wow.  Perhaps this is a feeler to draw kids in to the Never Land Ranch? If so, sorry Mike, my girlie’s not remotely interested.

All silliness aside…  are you kidding me?  Page seven?  The octopus sits on page seven in this book?  I mean, this creature isn’t named “tentacle-critter.”  It is named “OCTO-pus” as in:  eight.  Eight of something-  you don’t even need to know what.  But ask someone before you put the brush into the paint can next time.  Seriously.  Or wait-  perhaps the illustrator simply applied color to the author’s words?  Regardless, there you have it in the end, a seven-tentacled beast staring gleefully back at you.  Am I saying that a children’s author needs to hold a degree in biology?  Not remotely.  Though I would argue that if you wish to publish, take note of basic prefixes.

What I thought a few weeks ago was a glaring error, just tonight became a full-on dumbfest.  A silly soiree.  When skipping to page ten, we see ten terrific sea turtles.  Actually, according to the book, we see “ten tiny tortoises swimming in the sea.”  Yeah-  no.  No we don’t.  I am willing to bet no one has seen tortoises swimming in the sea.  Considering the general common language surrounding the taxonomic order Chelonia is that all are turtles.  Those spending their lives near water (and especially those spending it in water) are always referred to as turtles.  Only those living the most terrestrial of lives get to be called tortoises.  Even those in the middle, who spend some of their lives near water are often referred to as terrapins…  but never tortoises.  A book depicting “tortoises” doing loop-de-loops in the sea, is not for me.

What is this-  a conspiracy?

I have no author to blame here.  Honestly, I can’t.  This book hasn’t an author listed, an illustrator credited, etc.  The front and back covers depict a series of books called “Animal Crackers” to which this particular volume belongs, although there is no other information to be found.  I would chalk this up to the nature of a children’s book, though all of our others seemingly have a plethora of documentation and credits.  I do suspect that it makes some sick sense to not want any sort of “credit” for this remarkable work to be placed upon your resume.  The only thing I can find on the back cover is “Copyright 2005 Edicart – Printed in China for Books Are Fun Ltd., 1680 Highway 1 North, Fairfield, Iowa.”

My wife is from Iowa.  Smart people hail from Iowa.  So tell me readers…  why am I crazy here?  Why is this really no big deal at all?  Why is it not embarrasingly funny and sad all in one icky-literacy-burrito?

Tough connections

Me: “Jeeeez Gramps, doesn’t it seem weird to call this job ‘painting’ when we only paint about once in every ten days.”

My Grandpa: “You know… some of our competitors just show up to a job with brush in hand.“

This post has been rolling around in my skull for a while now.  Honestly, once the due date for our new babe arrived, that is really all I have been able to think about.  So now on a lazy Saturday, I will tap this one out while pining for birth.

Blogging does fun things inside my head.  It seems the furniture up there is now more regularly re-arranged through a very connective filter.  While contemplating the roles of a coach this past week, one of those good, solid life lessons learned from positive adult proximity came back into my short-term.  While attending the funeral of a beloved uncle yesterday, my grandpa again nailed a good one on memory.  While realizing something he couldn’t quite recall, he remarked that those memories aren’t really lost…  it’s just that you can’t always bring them back the very moment you need them.  Amen.

Well this one did come rushing back when I needed it.  When pondering the wit of the moment, the memory above came bolting back to latch onto this post on coaching roles while it was still in mental space.  The arrival of this memory, while walking out of the funeral home, was welcomed, warm and wonderful.

The human graph

Two summers ago, I had the pleasure of attending a coaching workshop in downtown Chicago.  Robin Fogarty and Brian Pete, authors of From Staff Room To Classroom, orchestrated three very worthwhile days of learning.  During one of those sessions, all participants were asked to queue up into one of four columns along the front wall.

Those columns formed around what Fogarty considers the four roles of a coach.  We were to decide on the one word that applied most often to the work we were currently doing as a coach in our building.  Though this workshop was aimed at instructional coaching, I am quite certain that the wisdom here applies to coaches of all flavors.  In fact, allow me here to make the case that this logic also transfers into many other educational roles.  Before transferring, let’s be sure we can at least somewhat agree on applicable definitions for four words that tend to overlap a great deal.  Allow me to summarize:

instruct: to give a person direction, information, or authorization, aka: to teach

encourage: to give support, confidence, or hope to someone.  to raise awareness to the point where one might attempt to do what is difficult

empower: to the give someone the authority or power to do something.  to make someone stronger and more confident

inspire: to create a feeling in someone.  fill someone with the urge or ability to do or feel something, esp. to do something creative.  to animate one to action

The strategy that began with this column construction was coined the “human graph,” and for good reason.  Before step two even commenced, I was already making inferences about the “data” filing in.  Step two then was to turn to the folks in your immediate vicinity to discuss why you decided to land there.

This, of course, was the meat of the strategy.  Discussion was deep as folks defended their decision to plant in any given column that had now formed.  After a period of time, each column was asked to anoint one or two as speakers to share the rationale of that group’s placement.  Once the four reports were made, the participants were allowed to switch columns based on the new information.  Finally, we were asked to speak up with an analogy of the “data” represented in the columns.

In a group of over 100, I remember speaking up first by announcing that the graph reminded me of what was then the “Cingular” ad depicting “more bars in more places.”  That was pretty much the visual.  There was an almost perfect progression from low numbers of those who aligned with instructing, to the highest numbers found in the empower and inspire lines.

So what?

When the instruct line explained their rationale, they said they felt that more often than not, they were acting more as a trainer.  They were modeling, demonstrating, and overall doing most of the doing themselves.  Progressively up the scale, each group provided descriptions that tended to include less and less concrete action performed by the coaches themselves.  At that point, I felt like my coaching role tended to land mostly in the empowerment role.

As I recall, many of the folks in the instruct line were elementary school coaches.  The secondary school coaches of differing roles tended to fall into the two roles at the other side of the graph.  I think this is natural tendency given the fact that elementary teachers are more closely aligned with general expertise in a wide range of disciplines, but more or less as experts in kids.  A coach in a secondary school lives in a world of content experts.  At best, we are masters of instruction within our realm of world knowledge.  At worst, we are subject matter experts with a disconnect from kids.

Arriving brush in hand

What does this mean for those who are not coaches?  Can a teacher be a coach?  Isn’t the move from instructor to facilitator essentially a move toward coaching?  Wouldn’t this same lesson work to start some good conversation with your faculty?  Imagine this at PD#1.  If every school day were carried out with this lesson on coaching in the back of our heads, wouldn’t we naturally become more reflective about our day to day roles as educators?  I know it works for me.

So then why are teachers still standing in their classroom door on day one…  brush in hand?  Why do we still hand out textbooks and “assignments” on the first day?  Why do we blindly begin the year instructing when we have yet to figure out where our instruction needs to begin?  We spend 100% of our time with a focus on Bloom’s cognitive domain without an organized approach to what he knew was also crucial:  the affective domain.  I will likely dig into in this domain many times here in the future.  This will surprise my principal none when I do so.

I would like to say, “you wouldn’t paint a house before scraping off loose paint.“  I would like to say, “you wouldn’t open a can of paint before you had washed every ounce of dust from a home.” I would love to say, “move the first friggin benchmark exam back three weeks so teachers feel empowered to meet their students-  let alone learn about them.“  However, my radical voice would be outnumbered by those who show up each day in order to follow the plan as opposed to making the plan.  Adherence is far safer than creation.

I will go so far as to say that those who are respected as educators know how to inspire their students.  They know how their field of study impacts the world and how to bring their students to at least some of this understanding.  And most importantly… they do so before trying to instruct them on the mundane facts of cHaPTeR oNE!!1!!!  (sorry-  i get dizzy in middle age when i get this fired up)

I dare you

Walk up to a house in disrepair.  Look at it from the street, put your arm around a kid and say “This will be beautiful when we get through with it.“  Do that.  Do it, and mean it.  Mean it, and then deliver it.  If you put a scraper in a kid’s hand in September and expect him to rejuvenate a home by May, you had better darn well have inspired him first.

Artists:

Which letters to use?

Call it what you like: “problem-based learning”, “project-based learning”, “project-based science”, etc. Heck, use an acronym if you want to come off as in-the-know (or snooty depending on who you ask). Regardless of your fondness for the names or symbols, they all surround a solid educational tenet: learning should be experiential. If you cannot provide kids with a particularly valuable experience, then engineer one. Allow virtual experience. Create experience by proxy. Ideas experienced are far better than ideas discussed.

Bottom line in naming almost anything: in order to market something, you can’t just market “something”. Simple enough? I thought so.

In my district, an administrative push toward constructivism in our secondary schools has come complete with labels. It is important to note that I do understand the need to possess a common language. Getting to the heart of any issue is simpler if the involved parties do not have to talk the long way around issues. Get a common set of terms, figure out what they mean, inform all parties, stick with them. I get it.

However, I would assert the thing that gets lost in translation here is the commonality. Science inquiry, reading and writing workshop models, math investigations, and problem or project-based approaches in social studies…  are all learner-centered constructivist approaches. In reforming curricula for school toward the 21st Century, it is important -in my opinion- to focus on student ownership and engagement. Omission of these facets risks an educational system that is even more disconnected for future students than it is for so many today.

The rub

However, there are arguments that fly in from both sides on this issue and they can be quite direct at times. Even a quick search will net individuals and groups who contend that constructivist practices are the hope for the future, and at the same time, the bane of the current day.  Both sides of this argument hold merit.  How can this be, you ask?  Usually when pure arguments fall flat either way, it is due to the fact that the reality is far more complex.  I would go so far as to say that the only people likely failing our children today are delivering instruction in a completely laissez-faire or purely direct way.

If you could just sign the dotted line on your teacher contract and follow one or the other school of thought until the day you retire with little thought, then you could argue that teachers might be paid too much.  In reality, those reading this blog likely know that this is simply not the case.  Learning, and thus teaching, is an incredibly difficult and nuanced endeavor.  My biology background allows me to see human beings as the complex entities that they really are.  Perhaps that is part of my personal angle into charting a path for my students.

My personal approach

I would suggest that my classroom is as constructivist-leaning as possible in secondary science in my corner of the world.  We try to focus on process over content.  As a generalist instructional coach in a high school, I have been perhaps able to more quickly make a move further down the constructivist pipeline considering I have to prep for far fewer classes.  In fact, all you have to do for a glimpse of this reality is peek into a classroom reflection from October 24th.  To be perfectly honest, October 24th of this year marked the first day where what most would refer to as “direct instruction” was utilized in my classroom.

My students are “big kids” and I tend to let them in on these decisions.  It is interesting here to see how many of my students were huge advocates for the “direct instruction” approach to biological molecules.  Even kids who had been brought along this year with nary a hint of teacher-driven content still harbored a longing for it.  However, perhaps they just inherently knew that this was a curricular piece where they would have floundered at first on their own.  We talk about scaffolding in class.  They get it.  They also get those instances where the gap between the curricular goal and background knowledge is just too large to scaffold in an appropriate time period.

I would have to say that has been building for some time.  A favorite friend and coach (Jincy Trotter) and I, years ago, would lament how our practices at the beginning of the year would leave us “behind” most of our colleagues.  Though we knew we were bringing our kids into the fold the best way we collaboratively knew how, we still felt pressure to “keep up” with the curricular bullet train.

In a constructivist classroom

*The following suggestions are from In Search of Understanding: The Case for Constructivist Classrooms by Brooks & Brooks, 1993, and were adapted by the Southwest Educational Development Laboratory in 1995:

Student autonomy and initiative are accepted and encouraged.
By respecting students’ ideas and encouraging independent thinking, teachers help students attain their own intellectual identity. Students who frame questions and issues and then go about analyzing and answering them take responsibility for their own learning and become problem solvers.

The teacher asks open-ended questions and allows wait time for responses.
Reflective thought takes time and is often built on others’ ideas and comments. The ways teachers ask questions and the ways students respond will structure the success of student inquiry.

Higher-level thinking is encouraged.
The constructivist teacher challenges students to reach beyond the simple factual response. He encourages students to connect and summarize concepts by analyzing, predicting, justifying, and defending their ideas.

Students are engaged in dialogue with the teacher and with each other.
Social discourse helps students change or reinforce their ideas. If they have the chance to present what they think and hear others’ ideas, students can build a personal knowledge base that they understand. Only when they feel comfortable enough to express their ideas will meaningful classroom dialogue occur.

Students are engaged in experiences that challenge hypotheses and encourage discussion.
When allowed to make predictions, students often generate varying hypotheses about natural phenomena. The constructivist teacher provides ample opportunities for students to test their hypotheses, especially through group discussion of concrete experiences.

The class uses raw data, primary sources, manipulatives, physical, and interactive materials. The constructivist approach involves students in real-world possibilities, then helps them generate the abstractions that bind phenomena together

While Jincy & I were busy turning kids on to the beauty of science, assessing their prior knowledge and experiences, engaging them in collaborative situations to teach classroom procedures, and building rapport, our friends nearby were blazing ahead on the prescribed pathway.  Though we mostly caught up by year’s end, we preferred to err on the side of deep student engagement and learning as opposed to curricular coverage.

Original purpose

So perhaps the real bottom line here is that I suck as an educational blogger.  I have been doing this for so little time that whenever I want to drop a cool link on my readers, I end up attaching 18 years of experiential baggage.  Honestly, once again while I read the GenYES blog by Sylvia Martinez, I felt moved to write.  Her post entitled:  What Makes a Good Project inspired me to scribble a few lines in the direction of project-based learning.  Look at what that got me. I guess succinct is just not my style

So to cut to my original goal, the document Sylvia refers to is located here in .pdf format.  This document outlines “eight elements to guide great project design.”  I would have to agree that these are all solid things to consider when planning a project or problem-based learning experience.  The article references Seymour Papert’s constructionism.  This is a very closely-aligned idea in many ways.  The “questions worth asking” is also an important section, especially from the perspective of a coach.  Outside consultation is always a valuable commodity in any worthwhile undertaking.

The important thing to keep in mind here, which is one of the criticisms of “project”-based learning, is that often in these classrooms, the approach means less than the “product”.  If this is your hang-up, then be sure to key in on this quote while you take this article in:

“…artifacts are commonly thought of as projects, even though the project development process is where the learning occurs.”

To me, the bottom line is that this type of learning is often deeper, richer and more memorable than other approaches.  It takes longer to develop.  Even with a thorough understanding of the ways in which a curriculum can contain both coverage as well as depth, this is no easy task.  Our secondary schools largely contain content experts with a smattering of pedagogical input throughout their brief teacher certification experience.

Connect

So to the millions of content experts without a background in curriculum, hang in there.  Creating a learning environment where the prior knowledge of students is honored is a big step.  Respect of student autonomy and initiative should be encouraged, as well as higher-level thinking and rich student dialogue about content and understanding.  If you are feeling frustrated about a curricular piece that doesn’t seem to fit this approach, it very well may not.  Our curricula have input from many outside influences and implementing one approach to solve all issues rarely works.

If you wonder where, when and how constructivist practices should be implemented into your classroom, find a consultant.  Find someone to help you reflect along the way.  Grab the shirtsleeve of your coach, call your curriculum coordinator, bug an experienced colleague.  Whatever you do, find someone.  Implementing engaging and rich experiences for our kids deserves the best collaboration and reflection you can get your hands on.

What do you call constructivism in your corner of the world?  How do you manage student vs. teacher generated elements of your practice?  Weigh in if you dare…

Artwork:

Glass has been the main component in creating the flat surface in windows as early as the 17th Century. It is a simple substance- the main chemical component being silicon dioxide (SiO2). This is one technology that people of 2008 would scarcely consider “technology”, as it contains not even a single computer chip. However, a few fun observations of late have led me to a better understanding of the true nature of constructivist learning principles.

I have known for years that the ultimate birth of my children would bring profound changes in my life. Perhaps that is why I waited until I was 38 years old to undertake such an awesome task. Almost daily my schema on learning changes as a result of observing and interacting with my precious daughter during her everyday exploits.

You see, secondary teachers rarely enter the profession from a constructivist vista. Yes- we are creatures in love with learning. However, we are also creatures in love with a particular field of study and the body of knowledge that accompanies it. This is no doubt a pretty noble thing in itself. To love learning about a system of knowledge so amazing and awesome that we choose to dedicate our lives creating an environment where others can arrive at the same epiphanies is largely an honorable and unselfish thing. Nonetheless, I would argue that our weaknesses often center around the ways in which we came to learn the nuts and bolts of learning itself.

Delaney has a love/hate relationship with glass. At times, she stands tall with her bengal cats to take in views of the outside world through the eight-foot picture window in the front room. The butterflies that flit to and fro for their delight as well as the flying by of cars that evoke a “vrooooooom” from her lips are simple delights for felines and 18-month-olds alike. And yet, lately her interactions with glass can produce mild terror as well.

When my babe was an infant, a roll through the local automated carwash was a breeze from the viewpoint of her cushy carseat in back. This same event, for the past few months has been anything less than pleasant. Just today it hit me- my daughter simply does not understand glass. This ubiquitous substance we have taken for granted for so long is still so mysterious in her world.

Today, upon completion of my weekly mowing ritual, I set about watering the myriad flowering plants that adorn the entrance of our home. Delaney loves flowers. She also loves her Daddy. These two facts combined created a most interesting reaction today as she keenly watched my work from behind the glass of our front door. Sensing her gaze, I quickly turned to her with hose in hand and sprayed water carelessly into the air around me for the sole purpose of seeing her nose crinkle and eyes glisten as she laughed at me like she does so wonderfully often.

She didn’t laugh. She didn’t crinkle her nose impishly. In fact, her first move was a simple backward step so as not to get wet. Her second was to let out a squeek letting her Mommy know she was quite scared. She looked at me as if my very next move might douse her with damp droplets of cold cold water from the hose. She looked at me with an uncertainty that made me pause mid-swipe with the hose and dampen the ground where my feet tread bare. After repeating the action a time or two (i am a scientist by training and multiple trials are needed for any real conclusion) it was quite clear that she was terrified that she might actually get soaked within the shelter of the front hallway she has come to love.

Glass is ethereal. It is such a subtle technology we take it for granted until it becomes soiled. It provides shelter and yet allows views of the world from inside the refuge of our homes. Behind glass, we are safe from all but the most terrifying of storms. Though apparently, from my observations of late, glass is so mysterious at some level of development that we don’t just “get it” at first glance. Who teaches us about glass? Who sits us down in front of chalk or PowerPoint extolling the wonders of this see-through substance?

See my point? Glass is Delaney’s “photosynthesis”. Glass is her “pythagorean theorem.” At eighteen months, glass is her “democracy”, her “cubism”. How will she ever come to understand the simple realities of such a mundane, yet developmentally-abstract thing?

Well, I must tell you… I am working on the lecture as you read this. “Look here… see… it doesn’t hurt you.” “You aren’t getting wet… Daddy is… big time.” As silly as that sounds, that is largely what we do in high schools and universities across the nation and likely, the world. While we inherently know that the path toward understanding of something as simple as glass to a child is marked with trial and error, we continue to deliver beasts such as “tone” and “metaphor” as things to listen to… to remember… to write down in a notebook for later use.

Tonight I will rest assured that our windows will soon seem a shelter for my babe. I know she will come to this understanding on her own. I also wonder how I might enhance this learning, how I might “teach” her sooner that she has nothing to fear of water behind glass. As humans and as parents we know that through creating safe situation after safe situation for our kids to realize that all is well, we might hasten the learning of our children. Building an environment ripe for learning is our number one goal at home. Why is it less than simple in our classrooms?

I know we have a thousand standardized bits of knowledge to impart. I know that benchmarks loom which require a march through a sometimes-scripted curriculum. Do we really think that a lecture and discussion will suffice in delivering the concept of a coffee table that will not collapse? Regardless of what the “ticket out” says that day, do we believe in our hearts that this shotgun approach to learning will leave our students with a true understanding of what it means to deliver a speech to a specific audience?

Inside, I know we don’t believe that. We are a collection of intelligent and creative people. This is why I believe that the only true path toward reformation of our schools is to learn again all we can about what it means to discover “glass” all over again. We need to drop the bravado that comes with being amazingly smart in the subjects we teach. We need to sink not only our minds but also our hearts into the ideals that Piaget first dabbled in and figure out how to create an environment for our children to learn about the complexities of our world in the 21st Century.

*image of stained glass graciously attributed to “Wealie” on FLICKR.