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Why, and When, Does Music Interfere with Reading?
Andrew Watson
Andrew Watson

We all know that listening to music makes life better.

And, we teachers all know teachers that listening to music while you study makes studying harder and less effective.

For instance, in this study, adults who read in silence scored more than 20% higher on a quiz about that reading passage than others who listened to music with lyrics.

Indeed. 20% higher. (You can read more about that study here.)

Even though we’ve seen this research finding many times, we might want a deeper understanding of this question.

For instance: are there particular points during reading that are particularly vulnerable to interference from music?

Answer #1: New Songs

To answer this question, researchers used eye-tracking technology to see how readers behaved with background music playing.

One answer that jumped out: the change from one song to the next interrupted fluent eye movements.

This finding, of course, makes intuitive sense.

When a new song comes on, we automatically perk up our ears. Even subliminally, we notice a change in our background circumstances. The attention we devote to that change makes it harder to attend to our reading.

The result: less fluent eye movements.

Professor Todd Rose (at Harvard’s Graduate School of Education) used to suggest that–if students insisted on listening to music–they should make a playlist of songs. Those songs should have no lyrics.

And, crucially, students should not press shuffleThey should, in other words, listen to those songs in the same order each time. Over time, students will habituate to those songs in that order, and be less distracted by the switch.

This research supports Rose’s suggestion.

Answer #2: Vocabulary

The second time that music particularly distracts readers: when they face an unusual word. As the authors poetically put it:

“An irrelevant auditory signal may impair sublexical processing of low-frequency words during first-pass reading.”

“An irrelevant auditory signal” means “music,” and “low-frequency words” means “difficult vocabulary.”

So, if you were listening to music while you read that paragraph you’d face particular difficulties. After all, in included several low-frequency words.

Based on this observation, I think we should worry more about homework that includes complex vocabulary–and, I’m guessing, even more so about homework that includes foreign-language vocabulary.

In other words: while listening to music is bad for reading comprehension, it’s especially bad for comprehension of passages with tricky vocab.

To Sum Up

We’ve always known that students make their cognitive lives harder when they listen to music during homework.

Now we have even more evidence showing when, and why.

An Exciting Event in Mindfulness Research
Andrew Watson
Andrew Watson

Let’s imagine a GREAT study on the benefits of mindfulness.

As school people, we’re happy that mindfulness might be helpful at home or at work, but we really want it to be helpful to students. So, we’d love for this study to take place at school.

We’d like the study to show that mindfulness changes mental processes. For instance, we’d love to know that it helps students feel less stress.

And, we’d like the research to look at brains as well as minds. That is: we’d like to have some fMRI data showing relevant changes in brain regions.

At the same time that students report they feel less stress (that’s the mind), we might see neural modulation typical of less stress (that’s the brain).*

Finally, the study’s methodology would hold up to scrutiny. It would, for instance, include a plausible control group. (I’ve written about problems with control groups, including this study about mindfulness.)

Lo and Behold

Sure enough, this study exists!

Working with 6th graders at a school outside Boston, Clemens Bauer randomly assigned half to a mindfulness program and half to a coding training program.

Both groups devoted 45 minutes, four times a week to this effort, for 8 weeks. And, by the way, students in both groups enjoyed this time equally. (So: AT LAST we’ve got a plausible and active control group.)

Bauer’s team had students fill out a stress survey before and after this 8-week stretch. (Sample question: “In the last month, how often have you been upset because of something that happened unexpectedly?”)

And, he performed fMRI scans on them before and after as well.

When looking at those scans, Bauer’s team had a specific prediction. High stress responses typically includes elevated amygdala activation. Often, we can manage that stress response by using the prefrontal cortex–the part of the brain right behind your forehead.

If mindfulness helps manage stress, we would expect to see…

…greater connectivity between the prefrontal cortex and the amygdala, and

…concomitantly reduced activity in the amygdala.

That is, we’d be able to see that mindfulness strengthened connections between self-control systems in the prefrontal cortex. In turn, this increase in self-control would help mitigate stress responses in the amygdala.

Of course, I’m offering a very simplified version of a fantastically complex neural story. Books have been written on these connections, and it’s not blog-friendly kind of information.

Results, Please

If you’re a fan of mindfulness, you’re going to LOVE these results.

Students who practiced mindfulness reported less stress than those in the control group.

They showed higher levels of prefrontal cortex connectivity with the amygdala.

They showed lower levels of amygdala activity when they looked at angry faces.

So: both in their mental activity (reported stress level) and in the neural activity (in the amygdala, between the amygdala and the prefrontal cortex), eight weeks of mindfulness led to beneficial results for these students.

Technically speaking, that’s a home run.

What’s Next

First: to repeat, this study is powerful and persuasive. We can simply revel in its conclusions for a while.

Second: as teachers, we’re glad that student stress levels are lower. The next question is: do students learn more? We can assume they do, but we should measure as well. (To be clear: I think lower stress is an important goal on its own, whether or not it leads to more learning.)

Third: as the study’s authors acknowledge, the sample size here is relatively small. I hope they get funding to repeat it on a much larger scale.

As noted in this study, there’s a disappointing history in the world of mindfulness research. Small studies–often lacking random assignment or a control group–come to promising conclusions. But, the bigger the study–and the better the methodology–the smaller the results.

So: now that we’ve gotten strong effects with a randomized study and a plausible control group, I hope to see these same results at a much larger scale.

I might go sit quietly for a while, and try to clear my mind of extraneous thoughts.


* This sentence has been revised to read “neural modulation” rather than “neural behavior.” (9/18/19)

Brain Words: How the Science of Reading Informs Teaching by J. Richard Gentry and Gene P. Oullette
Rebecca Gotlieb
Rebecca Gotlieb

Far too many children are not learning to read well. New research about reading has not sufficiently informed teaching practices. In Brain Words: How the Science of Reading Informs Teaching, J. Richard Gentry and Gene P. Ouellette, expert reading researchers and education consultants, use the new science of reading to suggest ways to support students in becoming strong readers. They explain recent brain- and behavior-based findings about how kids learn to read.

Brain words, as used by the authors, are words for which students know the pronunciation, meaning, and spelling, such that they can read, write, and use the word correctly and comfortably. This book seeks to help instructors guide students in building brain words by offering ways to assess reading abilities as well as scientifically-backed practices for teaching reading. They emphasize especially the overlooked importance of teaching spelling. The authors offer specific, practical tips for teaching reading in kindergarten through sixth grade. They conclude with advice for schools and parents about how to support students with dyslexia.

Learning to read does not happen automatically. In fact, reading is effortful and as others, such as Maryanne Wolf, have explained, the brain’s distributed reading circuitry is not present at birth but rather develops with exposure to and instruction in reading.
Gentry and Ouellette state that most teachers are not trained in effective literacy instruction practices, and many do not have access to science-based teaching resources. As such, the authors review best practices for teaching reading in light of current research.

As Daniel Willingham and other reading experts have argued also, Gentry and Ouellette state that using both phonics and whole-word approaches to teaching reading is more effective than relying on only one of these strategies. Phonics is necessary for building reading skills, while whole-word reading provides motivation for engaging in active reading. Spelling is a critical step on the road to reading with comprehension, and yet accountability assessments do not measure spelling competence. As a result, many schools do not have spelling curricula. The authors call for a spell-to-read approach to reading instruction. They offer reflective questions that teachers can consider to improve their reading instruction.

Gentry and Ouellette detail a quick and effective way to determine students’ developmental reading phase based on a carefully designed spelling test. Students’ performance on this test can be parsed into phases. The non-alphabetical phase involves children using shapes that might resemble letters but not writing in any recognizable form. The pre-alphabetical phase involves using letters but the letters the child writes do not systematically correspond to sounds. The partial alphabetical phase involves some matching between letters and spoken language. In the full alphabetical phase children spell with one letter to represent each sound. When children can spell nearly or completely correctly, they can begin to read independently. With an understanding of students’ reading and spelling abilities it is possible to optimally facilitate reading instruction.

The authors suggest a “listen first” approach to learning spelling and reading in which students first hear a word, then say the word, write the word, read it, and use it. In older grades a spelling pretest, which students correct themselves while reflecting about the reasons for their mistakes, is an effective teaching tool. The most important measure for improving students’ vocabulary and reading abilities is to support the students in reading more.

Between five and twenty percent of the population is affected by dyslexia. This reading disorder has a neurobiological and a genetic basis. People with dyslexia are not less intelligent nor are they less hard working. The authors explain common signs of dyslexia at different ages (e.g., abnormal spelling, trouble articulating words, or trouble with arbitrary sequences). Early identification of dyslexia is very important for helping these students learn to read and achieve academically. Gentry and Ouellette conclude with suggestions for how parents and schools can support students with dyslexia.

Brain Words will inform educators about recent advances in the science of learning while also offering practical and effective techniques for improving reading instruction. This book can help educators help more students learn to read well.

Gentry, J. R., & Ouellette, G. (2019). Brain words: How the science of reading informs teaching. Stenhouse Publishers.

Trying to Prove Yourself Wrong
Andrew Watson
Andrew Watson

You want the best research to inform your teaching. That’s why you’re reading this blog.

What’s the best way to be sure–or, as sure as you can reasonably be–that you’ve reached the most researchy conclusion?

For example: what should you do if you discover contradictory research?

That’s the problem that Blake Harvard faced over at Effortful Educator.

Here’s the story…

The Setup

Harvard teaches psychology to high school students. He knows A LOT about the mind and the brain. He’s careful to base his teaching practices on deep knowledge of research.

In fact, he even tries occasional experiments to study different teaching practices in a (relatively) controlled manner. In this post, for instance, he writes about his exploration of flexible classroom seating.

In brief, he knows his stuff.

Harvard’s conclusions, at time, challenge current trends. For instance: he describes himself as a relatively traditional teacher: more persuaded by research on direct instruction than by constructivist approaches.

You might not agree with those conclusions. But, if you read his blog, you’ll be impressed by his command of the research.

So, what did Harvard do when he came across research seeming to contradict his beliefs?

What if, for instance, a study headline says that students learn more from (“constructivist”) active learning than from a (direct-instruction-y) lecture?

Heck: the study was even highlighted in the Harvard Gazette. (To be clear: the Blake Harvard I’m writing about doesn’t work at Harvard, the university in Cambridge, MA.)

Key Lesson #1: Try to Prove Yourself Wrong

After a moment of understandable trepidation, Harvard forced himself to do what he tells his psychology students to do: confront their biases.

That is: Harvard (the teacher) thinks that the right kind of lecture will result in more learning than most active learning paradigms: exploratory discussions, for example, or projects.

When he finds research that purports to show the opposite, he had a great opportunity: he could disconfirm his prior convictions.

This may be the very best strategy to achieve the goal at the top of this post: to base our teaching on excellent research.

If you think that strategy X will result in the most learning for your students, you should:

First: assume that someone has found contradictory evidence (someone always has), and

Second: actively seek out that contradictory evidence. (Try Google Scholar.)

When you find it, give that evidence a thoughtful read. You’ll end up facing one of a few options.

Option 1: the contradictory evidence is more persuasive than the evidence you’ve been following. As a result, you’ll be able to improve your teaching practice. That’s great news!

Option 2: the contradictory evidence isn’t very persuasive. As a result, you know you’ve been doing it right up to now. That’s great news!

Option 3: both evidence pools are equally convincing. Now you know that your former certainty isn’t supported by the best evidence. You can try out both approaches with your students. You’ll find the answer that works best in your context. That’s great news!

In any case, your scrupulous attempt to prove yourself wrong will lead to a better teaching result.

Key Lesson #2: Precise Definitions Really Matter

As it turns out, when Harvard tried to prove himself wrong by reviewing the research, he ended up focusing carefully on the study’s definition of “lecture” and “active learning.”

His ultimate conclusion–whether or not he changed his mind–came down to a very precise understanding of the specific teaching techniques used in those two classes..

For instance: if you read a study saying that “metacognition improves learning,” you should find out exactly what the researchers DID. What, precisely, was the metacognitive strategy that students employed?

And: does that technique make sense for you and your classroom?

Until we know the answers to those questions, we can’t know if this research makes sense in our specific classrooms.

A Final Point

You’ve noticed, I suspect, that I haven’t told you what (Blake) Harvard decided about Harvard (University’s) research.

Why?

Partly because I think you should read his post.

But also because the answer to that question–in my view–isn’t as important as these two broader conclusions.

Try to disprove your own beliefs.

Be sure you know exactly what happened in the research.

If you follow those two strategies, you can be increasingly certain that you’re following the best research-based advice around.

The result: your students will learn more.

 

 

What Helps After a Stressful Day? Mindfulness Apps or Digital Games?
Andrew Watson
Andrew Watson

In education research, TECHNOLOGY and MINDFULNESS exist in dramatically different realms.

The stereotypical technophile wants the very latest gizmo to connect with countless others as quickly as possible.

The stereotypical mindful-phile wants ancient traditions to help slow life down and disconnect from most everything.

The Venn diagram overlap between these two fields just isn’t very large.

So, what happens when we run a competition between them?

If we want to “recover” after a stressful day, is a mindfulness app more helpful than a digital game?

First Things First

As I’ve written before, we’re tempted to approach such questions as partisans.

That is:

If I’m on Team Mindfulness, I’m sure that the mindfulness app will be better (or that the study was badly designed).

If I’m on Team Tech, I’m sure that the digital game will promote recovery more effectively (if the research isn’t hideously biased).

Although those thoughts are entirely predictable, they’re probably not terribly helpful. If we really want to know the answer to the question, we should be aware of the biases we bring to this study.

My suggestion–as always–is to shift deliberately to a stance of curiosity. “What an intriguing question,” I push myself to say. “I wonder what the researchers will find. It could go either way, I suppose…”

An equally important point: the answer to the question will depend substantially on our definitions.

In this case: what exactly does “recovery” mean? (That’s why I keep putting it in quotation marks.)

For this study, researchers used two measurements.

First, they had participants fill out a survey of how tired or energetic they felt. So: “recovery” means “more energetic and less tired.”

Second, participants filled out a second survey covering four “aspects of recovery”:

Detachment–spending time not thinking about work

Relaxation

Mastery–the sense of gaining skills in something other than work

Control–the experience of having control within or over activities”

In this study, then, participants “recover” better if they are energetic, detached from work, relaxed, and experiencing mastery and control.

That seems like a plausible definition–although, as I’ll note below, I’m not sure both teams are equally interested in all those outcomes.

The Studies, The “Answers”

Researchers did what you’d want them to do in order to answer these questions effectively.

In the first study, college students spent 15 minutes doing challenging arithmetic problems. Some of the students used a mindfulness app after this stressor, while others played the game Block! Hexa Puzzle. (A third group sat quietly, and had a fidget spinner handy if they wanted something to do.)

In the second study, researchers followed professionals coming home from a long/stressful day at work. For five days, these adults either used the mindfulness app or played the digital game. (No fidget spinners this time.)

What results did the researchers find?

Speaking precisely, they did get statistically significant results.

For the college students, the digital game led to higher energy levels on the first survey. However, there were no significant differences for the “recovery” survey of detachment, relaxation, and so forth.

For the adult professionals, there were no statistically significant results to report. The researchers argue that the digital game helped on the recovery survey increasingly as the week went along, whereas the meditation app helped less. (I’m sure that’s mathematically true, but the graph isn’t very compelling.)

Interpretations

How do we interpret these results?

If I’m on Team Tech, I’d read this study and say: Look! The digital game helped more! Take that!

If I’m on Team Mindfulness, I’d read this study and say: The differences were barely meaningful! And–they measured things our team doesn’t even care about! Bah!

But, I’m not on those teams. I’m on Team Curious. Here’s what I say:

In this research paradigm, both a mindfulness app and a digital game were (more or less) equally effective in helping adults recover after mental stress.

I mean, yes, there were minor differences. But there were A LOT more similarities.

For that reason, we don’t really need to push people one way or another. If a college students wants to recover though mindfulness–that’s great! If they want to recover by playing a digital game–that’s great! Either path should be helpful.

By switching from partisanship (“I’m sure THIS is correct”) to curiosity (“I wonder what we’ll learn here–so many possibilities are plausible!”), we can discover more useful and more honest interpretations of the research we discover.

A Final Note

Because this study works with college students and adults, I myself wouldn’t extrapolate to draw conclusions about younger students–especially much younger students.

It’s possible that “both work equally well” applies to–say–3rd graders. But, at this point, I don’t know of a research answer to that question.

My guess is: as is so often true, it will depend on the 3rd grader in question.

 

 

Flipping the Classroom: Asking the Right Question
Andrew Watson
Andrew Watson

When teachers hear about an intriguing new approach, like–say–“flipping the classroom,”we’re inclined to ask: “but does it work?

Let me propose a different question: under what circumstances does it work?”

After all, we should assume that many teaching techniques work for this teacher instructing these students in this topic. Alas, those same techniques might not work for that teacher teaching those students this other topic.

So, ask not “does flipping the classroom work?” Instead, ask “does flipping the classroom help seventh graders in Germany learn three basic algebraic principles?”

That question might sound obscure. (Okay, I’m sure it sounds obscure.)

But: research can answer that second question. It can answer the first only by answering the second dozens (or hundreds) of different ways.

So, Does It?

Here’s a very particular example. Doctors in Finland have to write very particular kinds of insurance certificates. Therefore, Finnish medical schools have to teach future doctors to write them.

So our question is: “Does flipping the classroom help Finnish medical students learn to write insurance certificates?”

To answer that question, researchers did everything you’d want them to do. They had one professor teach the lecture-only version of that skill. The med students then practiced at home.

For a different group of med students, the professor created a short video for students to watch at home. And, they practiced the skill in class with the professor’s guidance.

Which group learned better?

The Envelope, Please

The flipped classroom group learned better. A LOT BETTER. The cohen’s d value was 2.85. (I’m typically delighted by a d value of 0.50 or higher. I can’t remember another 2.85.)

So, clearly all teachers should start flipping the classroom–right?

NO WE SHOULD NOT.

This study showed that Finnish med students learned certificate writing better this way.

But, this is a niche-ey topic indeed.

These are fourth year med students. They’re nearing the end of a highly technical education. They’re as good at school as any students on the planet.

Also, they’re learning a discrete skill. I don’t know much about Finnish medical insurance, but I’m guessing it’s quite a distinct genre. The video covering this skill lasted four-and-one-half minutes.

In other words: if you’re teaching very advanced students a very narrow topic, then this study might encourage you to flip the classroom.

But, if you’re teaching beginners, or you’re teaching complex and abstract material, you might want to find other research before trying out this technique.

For instance: this study of students learning epidemiology showed that flipping the classroom made essentially no difference.

Final Thoughts

I have a research adjacent (although, not research supported) opinion about flipping the classroom.

As always, I think the key variable is working memory. The headline is: teachers should have students to do the heavy WM work in the classroom.

So: I guess that the basic principles of insurance certificate writing are easy to understand. But, applying them to specific circumstances can be more challenging.

That is: the application takes more WM. For that reason, watching a video at home and practicing in class with the prof makes sense.

In the case of–say–analysis of literature, those demands are reversed. Students can read stories quite effectively on their own. So, that should be the homework. But, the analysis of that literature requires lots of complex working memory initiative. This sort of discussion should be in-class, with the teacher, and not online.

I’ve never seen research consider flipped classrooms from a WM perspective. But, that framework seems to offer reasonable guidelines–especially if you can’t find research that matches your situation.

 


After I drafted the post above, I found this recent meta-analysis. The headline is that it found modest benefits to flipping the classroom, but that they were subject specific. Alas, the abstract doesn’t say which disciplines do and don’t benefit. I hope it becomes public soon, so we can find out!

When Facing Dramatic Blog Headlines, Ask For Evidence
Andrew Watson
Andrew Watson

Over at the Blog on Learning and Development, they’ve penned a dramatic headline: Exams May Damage Teenagers’ Mental Health and Restrict Their Potential.

Damage mental health.

Restrict teenagers’ potential.

That’s got your attention.

Your response to such a headline might well depend on your current beliefs about exams.

If you already think that exams harm students, you might cry out a triumphant “I told you so!”  You might send a link to your principal, along with a proposal to cancel the lot of them.

If you already think that exams hold students (and teachers) beneficially accountable for the information and skills they ought to have mastered, you might dismiss the blog post as yet another refusal to maintain strict but helpful standards.

I have an alternate suggestion:

Don’t take sides.

Instead, ask yourself a reasonable and straightforward question:

What pertinent evidence does the blog post offer to support its claims?

After all, you’ve decided to join Learning and the Brain world because you want to go beyond opinions to arrive at research-informed opinions.

So, as you review the blog post beneath that dramatic headline, don’t look for statements you agree (or disagree) with. Instead, check out the quality of the evidence provided in support.

Which Door?

Let’s start by asking this question: which kind of evidence would you find most persuasive?

A survey of high school principals, focusing on student stress levels.

A study comparing the mental health of students who took exams to the health of those who didn’t.

An online poll of high school students and their parents, asking about the highs and lows of high school.

An opinion piece by a noted neuroscientist.

A survey of therapists who work with teens.

Presumably, given these choices, you’d prefer door #2: the research study.

In this hypothetical study, researchers would identify two similar groups of adolescent students. One group would take exams. The other wouldn’t.

When researchers evaluated these students later on, they would find higher rates of mental health diagnosis in the exam group than the no-exam group. (For a relevant parallel, check out this study on developing self-control.)

Such a study would indeed suggest–as the blog states–that “exams may damage teenagers’ mental health.”

The other methods would, of course, reveal opinions. Those opinions might well be informed by different kinds of experience: the students’ experience, their parents’, their teachers’, their therapists’.

But, even well-informed opinions can’t root out the biases that well-designed research seeks to minimize.

Let the Sleuthing Begin

As you begin reviewing this blog post, you’ll find several links to research studies. That’s a good sign.

However–and this is a big however–those cited studies don’t investigate the blog’s central claim. That is: they don’t explore the effects of exams on teens.

Instead, they offer evidence that adolescence is an important time for neuro-biological development. That’s true and important, but it’s not the blog post’s central claim.

Once the author has developed the (important and true) claim that brains change a lot in adolescence, the blog arrives at its core assertion: “GSCEs [exams] impose unnecessary stress on adolescents.”

To support that claim, it offers this link.

Credible Sources

This link reveals good news, and bad.

Good News: the argument that “exams might damage teens’ mental health” comes from a newspaper article covering a neuroscientist’s speech. That scientist–Sarah-Jayne Blakemore–has done lots of research in the world of adolescent brains. She does splendid work.

In fact her most recent book, Inventing Ourselves, has been enthusiastically reviewed on this blog. Twice.

Bad News: the concern that exams might damage mental health is Blakemore’s (very well informed) opinion–but it’s an opinion. She’s giving a speech, not describing a study.

The hypothetical study outlined above–the one that was your first choice for evidence–hasn’t been done. (More precisely: it’s not cited by the blog, or by Blakemore.)

More Bad News: when Blakemore says that “exams” might damage mental health, she means very specific exams: the General Certificate of Secondary Education exams–a kind of a mandatory SAT exam in Great Britain.

That is: Blakemore does not say that exams in general harm students. Despite the headline, nothing in this article even indirectly suggests that schools shouldn’t have final exams.

If you want to persuade your principal to cancel all exams, this article simply doesn’t help you make that case.

Back to the Beginning

Let’s return to the blog headline that got us started: Exams May Damage Teenagers’ Mental Health and Restrict Their Potential.

I think this headline sets up a reasonable expectation. I expect (and you should too) that researchers have done a relevant study, crunched some numbers, and arrived at that conclusion.

They don’t just have an opinion. They don’t just have relevant expertise. They’re not making a prediction.

Instead, they have gathered data, controlled for variables that might muddle their conclusion, done precise calculations, and arrived at a statistically significant finding.

In the absence of that study, it’s genuine surprising that a blog (for an organization that champions brain research) has made such an emphatic claim.

Important Notes

First: I don’t know if the blog-post’s author wrote the headline. Often those two jobs fall to different people. (In newspapers especially, that arrangement can lead to misunderstanding and exaggerated claims.)

While I’m at it, I should also acknowledge that I myself might be guilty of an occasional hyperbolic headline.

I try to stick to the facts. I try (very hard) to cite exactly relevant research. I try to limit my claims to the narrow findings of researchers.

If you catch me going beyond these guidelines, I hope you’ll let me know.

Second: You might reasonably want to know my own opinions about exams. Here goes:

I haven’t seen any research that persuades me one way or the other about their utility.

I suspect that, like so many things in education, they can be done very badly, or done quite well.

Can exams become hideous exercises in mere memorization, yielding lots of stress but no extra learning? Yes, I’m sure that happens.

Can exams be inspiring opportunities for students to show their deep mastery of complex material? Yes, I’m sure that happens.

As is so often the case, I think global conclusions (and alarming headlines) miss the point.

We should ask: what kind of learning we want our students to do? What kind of learning climate we want to create? And, we should ask what kind of exam–including, perhaps, no exam at all–produces that result for most of our students.

Welcoming Students by Welcoming Their Values
Andrew Watson
Andrew Watson

What happens when students have the chance to write about their own values?

Could an exercise that simple make a difference in school? Could it help especially vulnerable students?

This idea sounds too good to be true, but it has increasing support behind it. The most recent news comes from Great Britain…

The Background: Stereotype Threat

Back in the 1990s, Claude Steele and other researchers found that stereotypes led to a complex, counter-intuitive thought process.*

The short version goes like this: students who know they might be stereotyped often want to disprove those stereotypes. Paradoxically, their efforts to do so lead them to adopt counter-productive strategies.

As a result, they do less well than they otherwise might have done — and (tragically) reconfirm to themselves the stereotypes they’ve been trying to defeat.

Steele dubbed this process stereotype threat.**

As researchers explored this phenomenon, they quickly got to work trying to figure out solutions.

Solutions: “Values Affirmation”

Happily, we’ve got lots of strategies to combat stereotype threat.

It turns out that growth mindset interventions have a big effect. For instance, this study by Walton & Cohen still amazes me.

A less well-known approach follows this chain of logic:

If students in my class feel a valued and welcomed member of it, they’ll have less cause to worry about potential stereotypes in the atmosphere.

If that’s true, then anything I can do to promote a feeling of belonging should reduce ST.

What, then, might I do?

Several researchers in the US have tried a simple writing strategy. Students have the opportunity to write about their values system.

In theory, this writing should make them feel more welcome, should reduce the salience of stereotypes, should thereby let more learning happen. (Of course, the theory is more complex, but that’s the gist of it.)

The approach is called values affirmation.

Exporting Solutions to Great Britain

Values affirmation has been tested as an anti-stereotype-threat strategy in the US, and has had good results.  (For instance, here.)

Would it work elsewhere?

Researchers in Great Britain asked that question, because stereotypes depend so much on local context.

For instance: academic stereotypes in the United States focus largely on race and gender. Unsurprisingly, most US research focuses on those two topics.

In Great Britain, stereotypes about social class prove much more damaging. So, Ian Hadden and others wanted to know if values affirmation counteracts stereotype threat based on social class (as well as ST based on race and gender).

Details of the Study

Several hundred students took part in a free-writing exercise three times a year.

One control group wrote about their morning routine.

A second control group wrote about

“values that are the least important to you, but might be important to someone else.”

The experimental group wrote about

“values that are the most important things for you personally, and why these things are important for you.”

In earlier studies, for example, people wrote about friendships, or service to others, or their religious faith.

As predicted, these values affirmation prompts neither helped nor hurt the students from relatively high socio-economic status. After all, in this context, this group faced no stereotype threat.

However, these writing assignments made a substantial difference for those who receive free- or reduced-price lunch (that is: students from low socio-economic status families.)

By one measure, they cut the achievement gap by 62%.

Technically speaking, that’s AMAZING.

In Sum

It sounds too good to be true, but…

By letting students write about their own values, teachers in this school helped students from low socio-economic status families feel more welcome in their classrooms.

As a result, they experienced stereotype threat less often.

And, as a result of that, students learned more.

Simply put: we can welcome our students by welcoming their values.


* In recent years, several non-replications have led scholars to doubt early research into stereotype threat. This is, in other words, a controversial research pool. I myself think the early research holds together well, and that — given the complexity of the process that leads to ST — non-replications aren’t wholly surprising. To be clear: some thoughtful and knowledgeable disagree with me.

In any case, this study (a non-non-replication) suggests that the theory might well have merit.

** In my experience, people often react very badly to that phrase. It seems to imply blame: “if only you bad people didn’t promote stereotypes,” some people hear, “then this problem would go away.”

However, Steele explicitly rejects that kind of blame. He defines the problem not so much in individuals as in the environmentEveryone knows the stereotype that X people are bad at Y, and so stereotype threat takes place even if none of the people in the room believe the stereotype.

To repeat: Steele isn’t blamingHe’s identifying the social contexts in which counter-productive thought process get started, and trying to fix them.

Sleep Is Essential. And, COMPLICATED.
Andrew Watson
Andrew Watson

My cat and I enjoy blogging about sleep, for the obvious reason that sleep is delicious.

And, of course, essential for learning.

Most often, I’ve written about the importance of high school start times. Occasionally, I write about naps as well. For instance, a recent study in Brazil found that in-school naps promoted learning. (My cat was pleased, but not surprised.)

I’ve come across two studies recently that help us think about sleep (and its relatives) in new ways.

Study #1: Memory Benefits of “Brief Wakeful Resting”

We’ve got lots of research showing that naps promote learning. Heck: even a 6-minute nap enhances subsequent learning. (Not joking.)

Let’s push the envelope on this question. If a six minute nap helps learners remember, perhaps actual sleep isn’t essential. Perhaps a period of mental down time might do the job.

For instance: maybe a ten minute period of “brief wakeful resting” might be enough to promote better learning.

Sure enough, in this study, participants remembered a story better if they “reste[ed] quietly with their eyes closed in the darkened testing room for ten minutes” than if they engaged in active cognitive task.

In fact, they remembered the story better a week later. In other words: this benefit wasn’t merely temporary, but lasting.

The teaching implications here are intriguing.

Should we build in brief intervals of “wakeful rest” after complex lessons? Should we redesign school schedules to allow such breaks?

At present, we don’t really know–because this research was conducted with 70-year-olds. Now, I have nothing against 70-year-olds. Some of my best parents have been in their 70s. But, few of us teach 70-year-olds.

So, I hope that this research will be tried with younger learners. Perhaps we might find a whole new way to organize the school day.

Study #2: The Best Way to Sleep Too Little

You read that right. Is there a better way to get insufficient sleep?

Of course, we know that adolescents simply don’t sleep enough. (Did I mention high-school start times?)

We’ve got lots of research showing that they benefit from more sleep. For instance, we know that they learn more if they get afternoon naps.

But: what if we could keep the total amount of sleep constant, and change the sleep schedule? Is there a better way to get too little sleep?

Researchers tested this question in Singapore. They had one group of adolescents get 6.5 hours of night-time sleep during the week, and 9 hours of sleep over the weekend.

In other words: like many teens, they’re just not sleeping enough on school nights.

Researchers had a second group of students sleep 5 hours at night and take a 1.5 hour nap during the day.

That is: they also got 6.5 hours of sleep–but that total amount of sleep was divided into night-time sleep and a nap.

Did that make a difference?

Results, and Implications

Sure enough, the group that slept 5 hours at night and 1.5 hours during the day showed superior cognitive function, compared to the group that slept 6.5 hours straight through at night.

More specifically, they did better on visual learning tasks, and on factual learning tasks.

In other words: they had a less-than-optimal amount of sleep. But, they had a better schedule for their less-than-optimal-sleep.

What are the implications?

My own view is: this study gives us reason to believe that afternoon naps will benefit adolescents.

Either teens will get more sleep–which will benefit them.

Or, even if they foolishly sleep less at night knowing they can nap during the day, this split-sleep schedule will still help them learn.

That’s as close to “win/win” as we get with teenagers and sleep.

So, what’s next?

In my experience, most teens currently use afternoons to practice their extra-curriculars: sports, or theater, or debate. That is: if we encourage them to do more afternoon napping, we necessarily leave them less time to do these other things.

For this reason, I hope that soon we’ll see research comparing students who nap to students who exercise.

Information about those bigger-picture trade-offs could give schools, teachers, and parents helpful–and practical–guidance.

A New Book on Dual Coding (That Redefines the Word “Book”)
Andrew Watson
Andrew Watson

Oliver Caviglioli has written a book about dual coding. (Nope. That’s not it. Let me start again.)

Oliver Caviglioli has created a new genre.

It’s 50% scholarly essay, 40% graphic novel, 5% Ulysses, and 5% its own unique magic.

Let me explain.

Back in the 1960s, Allan Paivio developed a theory about cognitive processing. The short version is: humans can process information more effectively if we take in some of it through our eyes, and some through our ears.

Because it encourages us to use two different channels for processing, it’s called dual coding.

Writing a book about dual coding, however, invites paradox. Books, especially traditionally scholarly books, rely almost exclusively on words, and have only occasional images.

But such a “traditional scholarly book” would contradict the very theory that Caviglioli wants to explain. So, he had to come up with something new.

Indeed he has: Dual Coding with Teachers is like no book you’ve seen before.

The Parts

Caviglioli divides his “book” into seven “chapters” — although each is more a free-standing entity than the word “chapter” suggests. (For the sake of convenience, I’m just going to call them chapters.)

Chapter 1, called “Why?”, offers a substantial explication of Paivio’s theory. It goes into schema theory, different conceptualizations of working memory, and even embodied cognition. It reviews lots of persuasive evidence for many segments of the theory.

Following chapters take up different topics for using dual coding theory thoughtfully.

Chapter 2 (“What?”) sorts uses of the theory into specific categories: graphic organizers, walkthrus, sketchnotes, and so forth.

Chapter 3 (“How”) explains the process of creating a successful version of each category.

In every case, Caviglioli combines words with icons and images to map out the concepts and their relationships.

That is: he employs dual coding to explain the theory and practice of dual coding.

Said in other words: readers can learn as much about dual coding by studying the design and execution of the book as they can by studying the book’s contents.

The Sum of the Parts

I suspect few people will want to treat Caviglioli’s creation like a typical book. That is: you won’t read it from beginning to end.

Instead, you’ll probably use it more like one of those 800 page manuals that used to come with complex software. You’ll dip in and out; leaf around looking for pointers or for inspiration.

If you’re having trouble deciding which kind of visual to use, have a gander at chapter two.

If you’re dissatisfied with the look of your poster, check out chapter 4 (“Which”). It offers some essential design principles, and even pointers on how best to hold a pencil. (Not joking.)

If you’re looking for inspiration, savor Caviglioli’s longest chapter: “Who.” These 70+ pages (!) offer dozens of examples where teachers, psychologists, and others show how they use dual coding to teach, persuade, clarify, organize, simplify, and deepen.

As a final strategy, you might check out Caviglioli’s Twitter account: @olicav. Since the book came out, teachers have been trying out his approach and asking for online feedback. The result: a day-by-day tutorial in applying the principles of dual coding to a complex variety of classroom needs.

Closing Thoughts

Because Caviglioli has created a new genre, he makes extra demands on his readers. These pages–although beautiful–can be informationally dense. If you’re like me, you won’t so much read each page as dwell upon it for a while.

In fact, you’ll probably go back to re-dwell on earlier pages as you try to put the pieces together.

My suggestion: be patient with yourself. You might need more time to explore Dual Coding than you do with most books. You might also find that extra time well worth the revelation.