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Working Memory Overload Throws Neurons Out of Synch
Andrew Watson
Andrew Watson

My English classroom often includes discussions like these:

When we read Zora Neale Hurston’s Their Eyes Were Watching God, I might ask my students “who is the antagonist?”

To answer this question, my students must recall several bits of factual information:

the definitions of “antagonist” and “protagonist”

the major characters of the novel

their most important actions and goals

Once they’ve recalled those facts, my students have to rearrange all that information into new conceptual patterns.

Which character’s actions and goals best align with the definition of “protagonist”? (In this case, that’s an easy question. Janie Crawford is far and away the likeliest nominee. )

Who’s the antagonist? That is, which character’s actions and goals thwart Janie’s?

That’s a much harder question, and students must wrestle with several possibilities as they develop a plausible argument.

Let’s Talk About the Mind

Where do my students hold and process all this information?

For a psychologist, that’s an easy question: working memory.

Working memory allows students to select, hold, reorganize, and combine information held in long-term memory: in this case, the novel’s events.

It also allows them to select, hold, reorganize, and combine information perceived from the environment: the question I just asked about antagonists.

Because we constantly ask our students to hold and combine bits of information, our students use working memory all the time.

When we ask students to calculate the volume of a solid, or to compare historical figures, or to explain a trophic cascade, or to predict what will happen when I roll a ball down a ramp, we’re asking them to use working memory.

By the way: this truth hold for skills and processes as well. Why is learning to drive a stick shift so hard? Because you must hold, combine, and co-ordinate several distinct physical processes.

And, here’s an essential point: we don’t have lots of working memory to use.

Let’s Talk About the Brain

We know a lot about the mental processes involved in working memory. (I might have written a book about them.)

But, the neuroscience of working memory has been harder to study.

In the world of psychology, we know that WM can be easily overwhelmed.

But, in the world of neuroscience, we don’t know exactly what happens at that moment.

In other words: what’s happening in the physical object of the brain that accounts for the mental difficulty?

What happens, for example, when I can’t shift gears properly on this stupid manual car?

Are neurons somehow disconnecting from one another? Are electrical signals going haywire? Perhaps neurotransmitters are watching kitten videos on Youtube ?

Today’s News

We’re starting to get an answer to that question.

New research suggests that successful working memory functioning requires that distinct brain regions operate synchronously.

When they reach overload, those regions fall out of synch.

Once those regions no longer synchronize, then students might struggle to solve math problems, or sound out a word with new phonics rules, or conjugate a verb in a freshly learned tense.

Like much neuroscience research, this study is fantastically complicated. Luckily, it’s been described quite well by Jordana Cepelewicz over at Quanta Magazine. (No need to worry about the “seven plus or minus two” formula.)

The good news here is clear: we’re starting to get a clearer picture about the neuroscience of working memory overload. Because teachers should be obsessed with working memory overload, we might well be intrigued by this news.

We should keep in mind, by the way, that this research so far has been done with monkeys. Whenever considering new research, always keep this rule in mind:

Never, never, never change your teaching practice based on research into non-human animals.

At some point, we might get neuroscience research that helps teachers manage working memory load. Although that day isn’t today, we should be glad that research possibility is clearer now than before.

Is Failure Productive? (Hint: We Should Ask a Better Question)
Andrew Watson
Andrew Watson

Do students learn better after they experience failure? Two recent studies over at The Science of Learning help us answer that question.

In the first study, professors in a Canadian college wanted to help their Intro Bio students learn difficult concepts more effectively. (Difficult concepts include, for example, the “structural directionality of genetic material.”)

They had one Intro Biology section follow a “Productive Failure” model of pedagogy. It went like this.

First, students wrestled with conceptual problems on these difficult topics.

Second, they got in-class feedback on their solutions.

Third, they heard the professor explain how an expert would think through those topics.

Another Intro Bio section followed these same steps but in a different order:

First, they heard the professor explain how an expert would think .

Second, students wrestled with conceptual problems.

Third, they got in-class feedback on their solutions.

So, all students did the same steps. And, they all followed an “active pedagogy” model. But, one group struggled first, whereas the other group didn’t.

Who Learned More?

This answer proves to be unusually complicated to determine. The researchers had to juggle more variables than usual to come up with a valid answer. (If you want the details, click the link above.)

The headlines are:

On the next major test, students who experienced productive failure learned more.

On the final exam, however, only the “low performing” students did better after productive failure. For the middle- and upper- tier students, both strategies worked equally well.

Conclusion #1:

So, we can’t really conclude that productive failure helps students learn.

Instead, we’re on safer ground to say that – over the longer term – productive failure helps “low performing” students learn (compared to other kinds of active learning).

But Wait, There’s (Much) More

Two weeks after they published the study about Canadian college students in Biology classes, Science of Learning then published a study about German fifth graders learning fractions.

(As we discussed in this post, watching students learn fractions helps researchers measure conceptual updating.)

In particular, these researchers wanted to know if students learned better after they struggle for a while. (Again, for details click the link.)

In this case, the answer was: nope.

So, we arrive at Conclusion #2:

Some college students, but not most, learned more from productive failure in a biology class – compared to those who learned via other active learning strategies.

However, fifth graders did not learn more about fractions – compared to those who learned via direct instruction.

Got that?

The Biggie: Conclusion #3

When teachers come to research-world, we can be tempted to look for grand, once-and-for-all findings.

A particular study shows that – say – students learn better when they use an iPad to study astronomical distances. Therefore, we should equip all our students with iPads.

But, that’s NOT what the study showed. Instead, it showed that a particular group of students studying a particular topic with a particular technology got some benefit – compared to a particular alternate approach.

So, Conclusion #3:

Teachers can often find helpful research on teaching strategies.

We should assume that results vary depending on lots of highly specific conditions. And therefore, we should seek out research that includes students (and classroom subjects) as much like our own as possible.

And so: if you teach biology to college students, you might give the first study a close look to see if its methods fit your students well. (Given that it worked particularly well with struggling students, that variable probably matters to you.)

If, however, you teach fractions to fifth graders, you should probably hold off on productive failure – unless you find several other studies that contradict this one.

In other words: teachers can learn the most from psychology and education research when we investigate narrow and specific questions.


A final thought. I’ve only recently come across the website that published these studies. Congratulations to them for emphasizing the complexity of these research questions by publishing these studies almost simultaneously.

I’m sure it’s tempting to make research look like the last word on a particular topic. Here, they’ve emphasized that boundary conditions matter. Bravo.

The Simplest Motivation Strategy that You’re (Probably) Not Using
Andrew Watson
Andrew Watson

In school as in life, sometimes we just need to get stuff done. And, truthfully, getting stuff done can be a real challenge.

For instance: I’m about to start writing a book. Based on previous book-writing experiences, I can predict the mundane problems that will get in my way.

My cats invariably need attention just as I’m starting to get in the zone.

The alerts from my email account lure me away from difficult writing passages.

I can never decide: stop for a snack now, or wait until lunch?

Luckily, we’ve got a remarkably simple strategy to get over these predictable hurdles.

Give Me Three Steps

Step 1: make a list of the potential problems. (I’ve already done that.)

Step 2: figure out the most plausible solutions.

So, for instance: instead of responding to my email alerts, I can simply close that browser. Problem solved.

Step 3: turn the first two steps into an “if-then” plan.

IF I get an email alert while working on my book, THEN I’ll close my email browser rather than look at the email.

Believe it or not, this simply process makes it much likelier that I will, in fact, ignore the email. (Or the cat, or my hunger.) And, because I’ve taken care of the most common obstacles, I’m much likelier to get my book written.

(Ask me six months from now how it’s going.)

Two More Steps?

This technique is even more effective when combined with another technique called “mental contrasting.”

In a recent article summarizing research in these fields, Marc Hauser describes mental contrasting this way:

In [mental contrasting], the individual first identifies and vividly describes a desired goal or wish. To be effective, this wish has to be feasible, but not easy.

Next, the individual identifies an obstacle that might get in the way of achieving this goal and vividly describes it [too].

Doing both together — vividly describing the goal AND vividly describing the obstacle — turns out to be much more helpful than doing just one or the other.

The Proof in the PSAT, and the Pudding

These techniques seem so simple that it’s hard to believe they work. In fact: why should we believe it?

Well, we’ve got some good research to persuade us. Hauser’s article, in fact, does a very helpful job summarizing both the theoretical background behind these strategies, and the studies that show their effectiveness.

For instance, Angela Duckworth (yes, that Angela Duckworth) worked with high-school students who wanted to prepare for the PSAT. Those who went through this process did 60% more practice problems than those who did a control task instead.

In fact, we’ve got good findings for non-academic tasks as well: limiting drinking, smoking, snacking, and so forth.

Practical Applications for Students

This technique, it seems to me, could be VERY easy for teachers to use. When we talk with our students about their homework habits, we can guide them through this process.

In fact, when I work with students in schools, I bring a specific form to guide them through the process.

(Here’s another approach from Ollie Lovell.)

Equally helpfully, we can use this technique to get our own work under control as well. We might not all have books to write, but we all have plenty of lesson-planning to do.

IF my phone rings while I’m preparing tomorrow’s class, THEN I’ll switch the phone to airplane mode without looking at the caller ID.

Problem solved!