Friday, October 16, 2009

Are teachers too sensitive?

~From Why Don't Students Like School: A Cognitive Scientist Answers Questions About How the Mind Works and What It Means for the Classroom by Daniel T. Willingham, page 154:

The positive comments [on another teacher’s teaching] should outnumber the negative ones.  I know that principle seems corny, because when listening to positive comments a teacher can’t help but think, “He is saying that only because he knows he is supposed to say something positive.”  Even so, positive comments remind the teacher that she is doing a log of things right, and those things should be acknowledged and reinforced.

In this section of the book, the author is talking about how teachers can improve their teaching by recording themselves, viewing the recordings with other teachers, and commenting on other teachers’ teaching.

I find this paragraph, and the paragraphs surrounding it, to be pretty corny, as the author says they might.  But I think the author is just trying to defend teachers (after all, the book’s target audience is teachers).  There are, in my experience, plenty of teachers who do very little right.  (And some who do nothing right.)

But what I really don’t like about the paragraphs is how sensitive they make teachers seem.  The teachers will get the same amount of money on their paycheck no matter how many students hate them.  They don’t get graded, and they don’t get assigned homework by students in subject areas that don’t interest them.  I’m not saying that teaching is one of the easiest jobs in the world, but in a teacher-student relationship, I think being on the teacher side is the easier side.  Disclaimer: I am not, have never been, and doubt I ever will be a teacher.  But I have plenty of experience being a miserable student.

So this whole “be more positive than negative” message just makes me think “oh please, gimme a break!”  Would you say that teachers should be more positive than negative in feedback to their students, even when they completely fail a test?

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Experience is not practice

~From Why Don't Students Like School: A Cognitive Scientist Answers Questions About How the Mind Works and What It Means for the Classroom by Daniel T. Willingham, page 149:

Until now, I have been a bit casual in how I have talked about practice.  I have made it sound synonymous with experience.  It is not.  Experience means you are simply engaged in the activity.  Practice means you are trying to improve your performance.  For example, I’m not an especially good driver, even though I’ve been driving for about thirty years.  Like most people my age, I’m experienced—that is, I’ve done a lot of driving—but I’m not well practiced, because for almost all of that thirty years I didn’t try to improve.

Just a good thing to keep in mind.

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AI: American Intelligence

~From Why Don't Students Like School: A Cognitive Scientist Answers Questions About How the Mind Works and What It Means for the Classroom by Daniel T. Willingham, page 131:

Americans, like other Westerners, view intelligence as a fixed attribute, like eye color.  If you win the genetic lottery, you’re smart; but if you lose, you’re not.  This notion of intelligence as fixed by genetics has implications for school and work.  One implication is that smart people shouldn’t need to work hard in order to get good grades—after all, they are smart.  As a corollary, if you work hard, that must mean you’re not smart.  The destructive cycle is obvious: students want to get good grades so that they look smart, but they can’t study to do so because that marks them as dumb.  In China, Japan, and other Eastern countries, intelligence is more often viewed as malleable.

I don’t really like that generalization of how “Americans view intelligence” especially since I’m sure a lot of Americans don’t view it that way at all.  When I was in school, I knew the reason I didn’t get perfect grades was because I didn’t study quite enough (because I didn’t care that much about getting the best grades, and I certainly didn’t care about some of the material).  And it was kind of liberating to know this, since it meant my grades didn’t necessarily reflect on my “intelligence” ... they reflected how much I studied, which reflected how much I really cared about getting a good grade.  If I wanted awesome grades, I could work for them and get them.  But it wouldn’t really be worth it for me.  (Similarly, that I can’t play the piano doesn’t really bother me because I know I could learn if I wanted to put in the work and practice.  And someday I might...)

So, while I agree with the view that intelligence is malleable, I don’t think realizing this necessarily leads students to better grades, especially if they don’t care about “looking smart,” as I certainly didn’t.  (To a degree, at least.)

In fact, perhaps more students than the author realizes share the view that intelligence is malleable.  Sometimes when students say “I’m not going to study, it’s a sign that I’m dumb!” is really just an excuse to not study because it’s hard uninteresting work, and “looking smart” is just not worth it.  Easier to accept the label of “dumb” and just not work as hard.  Lowers everyone’s expectations too.

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Everyone’s special ... and smart

~From Why Don't Students Like School: A Cognitive Scientist Answers Questions About How the Mind Works and What It Means for the Classroom by Daniel T. Willingham, page 127:

I am willing to bet you have heard someone say, “Every student is intelligent in some way,” or ask students to identify “What kind of smart are you?”  I think teachers say this in an effort to communicate an egalitarian attitude to students: everyone is good at something.  But there are a couple of reasons to be leery of this attitude.  First, this sort of statement rubs me the wrong way because it implies that intelligence brings value.  Every child is unique and valuable, whether or not they are intelligent or have much in the way of mental ability.

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Third, for reasons I describe in the next chapter, it is never smart to tell a child that she’s smart.  Believe it or not, doing so makes her less smart.  Really.

I’m not sure telling a child they are smart necessarily makes them dumber, but I can definitely understand how someone telling you that you’re smart can have an effect on how you compare your intelligence to everyone else’s, as if it can indeed be measured and compared, as if that measure has value, and as if you have some appearance of intelligence that you should uphold.

So ... and I definitely agree with this quote, and I think it’s a good thing to remember.

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Cognitive equipment to compose music

~From Why Don't Students Like School: A Cognitive Scientist Answers Questions About How the Mind Works and What It Means for the Classroom by Daniel T. Willingham, page 109:

A music class may well emphasize practice and proper technique, but it may also encourage students to compose their own works simply because the students would find it fun and interesting.  Is such practice necessary or useful in order for students to think like musicians?  Probably not.  Beginning students do not yet have the cognitive equipment in place to compose, but that doesn’t mean they won’t have a great time doing so, and that may well be reason enough.

I think there’s this notion that playing music on an instrument (violin, piano, whatever) and composing are more similar than they truly are.  Yes, they both have to do with music, and they both require thinking about music in a certain way, but performing on an instrument is much more of a motor skill.  Composing music never makes you a better performer.  And performing doesn’t necessarily make you a better composer (though I think it can help you recognize patterns in music that already exists, which can help).

I have met some performers who don’t compose at all, and I know there are composers out there like me who can’t really play an instrument.

“Teaching music” is a bit ambiguous.  Composing, performing, and music theory are all different aspects.

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Irrelevance is irrelevant

~From Why Don't Students Like School: A Cognitive Scientist Answers Questions About How the Mind Works and What It Means for the Classroom by Daniel T. Willingham, page 65:

Is the Epic of Gilgamesh relevant to students in a way they can understand right now?  Is trigonometry?  Making these topics relevant to students’ lives will be a strain, and students will probably think it’s phony.  Second, if I can’t convince students that some material is relevant, does that mean I shouldn’t teach it?  If I’m continually trying to build bridges between students’ daily lives and their school subjects, the students may get the message that school is always about them, whereas I think there is value, interest, and beauty in learning about things that don’t have much to do with me.

And you wonder “Why Don’t Students Like School”?  If you find “value, interest, and beauty” in learning about things that don’t have much to do with you, doesn’t that “value, interest, and beauty” MAKE IT HAVE TO DO WITH YOU?!  If students don’t find any “value, interest, and beauty” in subjects they will never use, it’s just too bad for them, because you do?  And, what, is school not always about students?  When is it about something else?  Is it for teachers, who get paid instead of graded?

It’s the author once again not wanting to face the ultimate criticism of modern day education: that a lot of the crap taught just isn’t important.  So he says “well, I’m certainly interested in subjects that I don’t necessarily use everyday.”  Well, whoop-a-dee-doo-da!  You’re going to force everyone else to spend time with those subjects for that reason?

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The Importance of Knowledge

~From Why Don't Students Like School: A Cognitive Scientist Answers Questions About How the Mind Works and What It Means for the Classroom by Daniel T. Willingham, page 35:

I began this chapter with a quotation from Einstein: “Imagination is more important than knowledge.”  I hope you are now persuaded that Einstein was wrong.  Knowledge is more important, because it’s a prerequisite for imagination, or at least for the sort of imagination that leads to problem solving, decision making, and creativity.

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I don’t know why some great thinkers (who undoubtedly knew many facts) took delight in denigrating schools, often depicting them as factories for useless memorization of information.  I suppose we are to take these remarks as ironic, or at least interesting, but I for one don’t need brilliant, highly capable minds telling me (and my children) how silly it is to know things.

I think the author is missing the point of these quotes.  These “brilliant minds” are not saying that knowledge is completely unimportant, as the author seems to be inferring.  How did these thinkers gain the knowledge that was important to them?  They sought it out themselves.  Yes, knowledge may be a requirement for imagination to work well, but that doesn’t mean just shoving any old facts into your head is necessarily going to help.  Imagination, creativity, decision making ... these processes will lead you to knowledge that will be useful.

Now, obviously some material taught in schools is important to everyone, such as knowing basic math, how to read, how to communicate within our traditional rules of grammar, etc.  But over the years, society has collectively shoved more and more information into schools, information that can be both of no interest or use to students.  Teachers, and perhaps this author, might argue “well, students might use it one day!”  So what?  You could say that about a lot of material that isn’t being taught in schools.

I can’t get into the minds of Einstein and Mark Twain and such and defend what they really meant when they spoke about their thoughts on schooling, but rather than viewing their quotes as “denigrating the importance of factual knowledge” (as the author thinks), I view them as defending the notion that not all knowledge is useful knowledge, and the idea of forcing students to learn a specific amount of knowledge for little reason (or just because they might use it someday) is simply stupid.  Knowledge is more useful, easier to gain, and more worthwhile gaining when the student has interest and purpose in gaining it.  Force-feeding calculus and chemistry and history and physics to minds that will only forget it with disuse is a complete waste of time.

I like to think that that’s why some “brilliant minds” are not so enthusiastic about schooling.

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