2022 – Education & Teacher Conferences

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Andrew Watson

December 27, 2022

Warning: Misguided Neuroscience Ahead

I recently ran across a version* of this chart:

As you can see, this chart lists several neurotransmitters and makes recommendations based on their purported roles.

If you want to feel love, you should increase oxytocin. To do so, play with your dog.

If you want to feel more stable, you should boost serotonin. To do so, meditate, or go for a run.

And so forth.

On the one hand, this chart seems harmless enough. It recommends that we do quite sensible things — who can argue against “self-care,” or “hugging your children”? — and so can hardly provoke much controversy.

I, however, see at least two reasons to warn against it.

Willingham’s Razor

Most everyone has read Dan Willingham’s Why Don’t Students Like School? (If you haven’t: RUN, don’t walk, to do so.)

Professor Willingham has also written a less well known book called When Can You Trust the Experts?, which offers lots of wise advice on seeing though bad “expert” advice.

One strategy he recommends:

Reread the “brain-based” teaching advice, and mentally subtract all the brainy words. If the advice makes good sense without them, why were they there in the first place? **

In the lists above, do we really need the names of the neurotransmitters for that advice to make sense?

To feel a sense of accomplishment, accomplish something.

If you want to feel better, eat chocolate.

To calm down, walk (or run) outdoors.

Who could object to these suggestions? Do we need multi-syllable words to embrace them?

I worry, in fact, that such charts create bad mental habits for teachers. Those habits sound like this:

If someone knows complicated neuro-terminology, then their teaching advice must be accurate. When a blogger uses the phrases “corpus callosum” and “research says,” therefore, I have to take their teaching advice.

No, you really DON’T have to take their advice. LOTS of people use the language of neuroscience to make their suggestions sounds more authoritative.

As I’ve written elsewhere, neuroscience rarely produces classroom-ready teaching advice.

PSYCHOLOGY gives teachers great ideas about memory and attention and learning and motivation.

A biological understanding of what’s happening during those mental functions (i.e., neuroscience) is fascinating, but doesn’t tell teachers what to do.

In brief: beware people who use neuro-lingo to advise you on practical, day-to-day stuff. Like, say, that chart about “happiness chemicals.”

When Simplification Leads to Oversimplification

My first concern: the chart misleadingly implies that neuroscientific terminology makes advice better.

My second concern: the chart wildly oversimplifies fantastically complicated brain realities.

For instance, this chart — like everything else on the interwebs — calls oxytocin “the love hormone.”

However, that moniker doesn’t remotely capture its complexity. As best I understand it (and my understanding is very tentative), oxytocin makes social interactions more intense — in both positive AND NEGATIVE directions.

So: when we add oxytocin, love burns brighter, hatred smoulders hotter, jealously rages more greenly.

To call it the “love hormone” is like saying “the weather is good.” Well, the weather can be good — but there are SO MANY OTHER OPTIONS.

The statement isn’t exactly wrong. But its limited representation of the truth makes it a particular kind of wrong.

So too the idea that dopamine is a “reward chemical.” Like oxytocin’s function, dopamine’s function includes such intricate nuance as to be difficult to describe in paragraphs — much less a handy catchphrase. ***

By the way: the most comprehensive and useful description of neurotransmitters I know comes in Robert Sapolsky’s book Behave. As you’ll see, they’re REALLY complicated. (You can meet professor Sapolsky at our conference in February.)

TL;DR

Yes, walking outside and hugging children and exercising are all good ideas for mental health.

No, we don’t need the names of neurotransmitters to make that advice persuasive.

We might worry about taking advice from people who imply that neuro-lingo does make it more persuasive.

And we can be confident that neurotransmitters are much, MUCH more complicated than such simplistic advice implies.

* I’ve made my own modified version of this chart. The point of this blog post is not to criticize the individuals who created the original, but to warn against the kind of thinking that produced it. “Name and shame” isn’t how we roll.

** I’m paraphrasing from memory. I’m on vacation, and the book is snug at home.

*** [Update on 12/30/22] I’ve just come across this study, which explores some of the contradictions and nuances in the function of serotonin as well.

Erik Jahner, PhD

December 19, 2022

Thrivers by Michele Borba

Michele Borba begins this book by making a very important distinction: we have sought to raise children who strive, but while strivers can reach for more, they are left feeling empty and with dwindling psychological reserves when their goals are not met. A necessary ingredient is a deep inner strength and grounded identity where one explores who they are rather than simply trying to prove their worth with extrinsic grades and accomplishments. We need a generation of thrivers with strong cores and character strengths that will enable them to move forward with purpose as they build their identities and maximize their potential. In her book, Thrivers: The Surprising Reasons Why Some Kids Struggle and Others Shine, she prepares us to teach our children and create the best environment for kids to develop the seven core character strengths that lead to flourishing: increasing their self-confidence, empathy, integrity, self-control, curiosity, perseverance, and optimism. But we do this, not by imposing our beliefs, but by listening to our children and helping them discover who they are becoming.

One appreciates the important distinctions Borba makes as she compares not only strivers and thrivers but also draws important distinctions between self-esteem and confidence. This important attention to the words we use is one of the author’s fundamental strengths. The book teaches the reader not only what to do but clarifies a vocabulary that frames the discussion. But these distinctions are not platitudes, she backs them up with research even to the point of discussing research that shows the benefit of asking children for “helpers” as opposed to asking for “help.” When do we ask ‘why?’ When do we ask ‘who?’ Throughout the text, we are shown the benefit of these subtle changes that we can make that can mean a lot for identity development.

The research-driven focus of this book is grounded in the voices of young people and how they are making sense of the culture they are growing up in. We hear how children are interpreting the intentions of adults and how they view their personal strengths and aspirations. You will quickly find that these authentic voices echo the youth in your life, but here Borba helps us to situate these ideas into themes that allow us to deeply attend to what our kids are saying leading us to ways we can better support them. Importantly these pages also alert the reader to the questions we are not asking our kids. This rich dialogic structure makes the book a fun read as you see the frank, often funny, and always insightful ways kids explain their world. It is these voices that bolster the concrete recommendations that permeate the pages.

From the first chapter, you can navigate the book as you see fit guided by the early surveys to assess character strengths. The surveys and activities make for an interactive and reflective read while stirring your creativity as you develop the long-term project of trying to support a child’s development. While some of these activities are simple boards or charts to help children build these essential skills, much of the book is dedicated to helping you change your conversations. Borba takes simple regular activities and life events and suggests how we can converse with kids to grow their character strengths and explore identity and motivation.

While this book gives recommendations geared toward toddlers to young adults, I would also argue that it is loaded to the brim with concrete advice for self-improvement for the adult reader. Yes, of course, it can help one be a better mentor, but it also helps the reader to turn the activities on themselves. Who among us does not believe our self-confidence, empathy, integrity, self-control, curiosity, perseverance, and optimism can use some tweaking as we search for our own actualized selves? Many of the life hacks you will find in this book will apply to you as well. What is your own inner language you use to coach yourself? What are some of the character strengths you would like to improve? And how can you do some simple activities to explore yourself and help ground your own identity? If you are reading this book to be a better mentor, teacher, or parent, this book can take you along in their journey not as a guide, but also as a partner.

The Limitations of Retrieval Practice (Yes, You Read That Right)

Andrew Watson

December 18, 2022

The Limitations of Retrieval Practice (Yes, You Read That Right)

Last week, I wrote that “upsides always have downsides.”

That is: anything that teachers do to foster learning (in this way) might also hamper learning (in that way).

We should always be looking for side effects.

So, let me take a dose of my own medicine.

Are there teaching suggestions that I champion that have both upsides and conspicuous downsides?

Case in Point: Retrieval Practice

This blog has long advocated for retrieval practice.

We have lots (and LOTS) of research showing that students learn more when they study by “taking information out of their brains” than “putting information back into their brains.” (This phrasing comes from Agarwal and Bain.)

So:

Students shouldn’t study vocabulary lists; they should make flash cards.

They shouldn’t review notes; insted, they should quiz one another on their notes.

Don’t reread the book; try to outline its key concepts from memory.

In each of these cases (and hundred more), learners start by rummaging around in their memory banks to see if they can remember. All that extra mental work results in more learning.

SO MUCH UPSIDE.

But wait: are there any downsides?

Let the Buyer Beware: Retrieval-Induced Forgetting

Sure enough, some researchers have focused on “retrieval-induced forgetting.”

Yup. That means remembering can cause forgetting.

How on earth can that be? Here’s the story…

Step 1: Let’s say I learn the definitions of ten words.

Step 2: I use retrieval practice to study the definitions of five of them. So, I remembered five words.

Step 3: Good news! Retrieval practice means I’ll remember the five words that I practiced better.

Step 4: Bad news! Retrieval-induced forgetting means I’ll remember the five words I didn’t practice worse. Yes: worse than if I hadn’t practiced those other five words.

In brief: when I remember part of a topic, I’m likelier to FORGET the part I didn’t practice. (Although, of course, I’m likelier to REMEMBER the part I did practice.)

So, retrieving induces forgetting. Now that’s what I call a downside.

Potential solution?

How do our students get the good stuff (memories enhanced by retrieval practice) without the bad stuff (other memories inhibited by retrieval practice)?

Here’s an obvious solution: tell our students about retrieval-induced forgetting.

Heck, let’s go one step further: tell them about it, and encourage them to resist its effects.

One research group — led by Dr. Jodi Price — tried just this strategy.

The research design here gets quite complicated, but the headline is:

They ran the same “retrieval-induced forgetting” study that others had run, and this time added a brief description of the problem.

In some cases, they added encouragement on how to overcome this effect.

So, what happened when they warned students?

Nothing. Students kept right on forgetting the un-practiced information (although they kept right on remembering the practiced information).

In brief: warnings about retrieval-induced forgetting just didn’t help. (Heck: in some cases, they seemed to promote even more forgetting.)

Alternative Solutions?

Much of the time, we benefit our students by telling them about reserach in cognitive science.

I routinely tell my high-school students about retrieval practice. I show them exactly the same studies and graphs that I show teachers in my consulting work.

In this case, however, it seems that sharing the research doesn’t help. Telling students about retrieval-induced forgetting didn’t stop retrieval induced forgetting.

Conclusion: it’s up to teachers to manage this side effect.

How? We should require retrieval of all essential elements.

For example:

When I teach my students about comedy and tragey, the definitions of those terms include lots of moving pieces.

I know that ALL THE PIECES are equally important. So I need to ensure that my retrieval practice exercises include ALL THE PARTS of those definitions.

Students don’t need to remember everything I say. But if I want them to remember, I need to ensure retrieval practice happens.

Each of us will devise different strategies to accomplish this goal. But to get the upside (from retrieval practice) we should mitigate the downside (from retrieval-induced forgetting).

TL;DR

Retrieval practice is great, but it might cause students to forget the parts they don’t retrieve.

Alas, we can’t solve this problem simply by warning our students.

So, we should structure our review sessions so that students do in fact retrieve EVERYTHING we want them to remember.

If we create such comprehensive retrieval, students can get the upsides and without the downsides.

Price, J., Jones, L. W., & Mueller, M. L. (2015). The role of warnings in younger and older adults’ retrieval-induced forgetting. Aging, Neuropsychology, and Cognition, 22(1), 1-24.

Upsides Always Have Downsides: “Side Effects” in Education Research

Andrew Watson

December 11, 2022

Upsides Always Have Downsides: “Side Effects” in Education Research

Here at Learning and the Brain, we believe that research can improve education.

Specifically, research into psychology (“how the mind works”) and neuroscience (“how the brain works”) can help teachers and schools. After all, we spend all day working with students’ minds and brains!

Every now and then, we should stop and look for flaws in our assumptions.

Are there ways that research might not help learning? Might it actually limit learning?

A recent article by Yong Zhao explores this important — and troubling — question.

The Medical Model

Doctors have long relied on research to test their hypotheses.

Does this treatment work better than that treatment? Let’s run a “randomized control trial” to find out.

Notably, medical research always includes this important question: what side effects* does a treatment produce?

That is:

Any treatment might produce specific benefits.

And, it might also produce specific harms.

Medical research looks for and reports on BOTH.

Sadly — and this is Zhao’s key point — education research tends to skip the second question.

Researchers look for benefits:

Does mindfulness reduce stress?

Can retrieval practice enhance learning?

Should students exercise mid-class?

When they measure the potential upsides of those “treatments,” they don’t always look equally scrupulously for downsides.

And yet: almost everything has downsides.

What to Measure, and When?

Why do we overlook the downsides?

Zhao offers two hypotheses.

First, we all agree that education is good.

If doing X helps students learn, then X is good! Its obvious goodness makes potential badness invisible.

Second, downsides take time — and alternative methods — to discover.

An example. I hypothesize a particular method will help students sing better. So, I test my method in a randomized control trial.

Sure enough, students with the new method sang better! My method worked!

However, my new teaching method just might make students hate singing.

To discover this “side effect,” I have to measure different variables. That is:

I need to check how well they sing (one set of measurements),

AND how much they like singing (a different set of measurements).

It’s also possible that the downside takes longer to arise. The improvement (right now) results in less enjoyment of singing (later on). If I don’t keep measuring, I’ll miss this “side effect.”

New Habits

As Zhao argues, our habit of overlooking potential downsides creates real problems.

For instance, Zhao takes the example of Direct Instruction.

Its proponents can show lots of research suggesting its strengths. Its detractors likewise.

How can these contradictory realities exist?

Well, any complex teaching method will have benefits and detriments. If we focus only on one — if we measure only one — we’ll necessarily miss the other.

Instead, Zhao argues, we should develop the rigorous habit of looking for both: the benefits of any teaching strategy, and also its downsides.

This realisic, complex reality will allow us to make better decisions in classroom and schools.

One More Step

Although Zhao doesn’t mention “opportunity costs,” I think they’re an important part of this conceptual re-think.

That is:

Every time I do use a particular teaching strategy, I don’t use the other one.

If I take time for this stress-reducing technique, I don’t have time for that stress-reducing technique.

Even if a strategy has good research behind it, even if it has relatively few “side effects,” I always want to know: have I given up a better strategy to make time for this merely good strategy?

For example, this point often comes up in discussion of Learning Styles Theory.

If you’ve spent any time in this field, you know: Learning Styles Theory simply doesn’t have good research support behind it.

Alas: it has LOTS of popular support, even among teachers.

When I show teachers the comprehensive research reviews contradicting the theory, they occasionally respond this way:

“Okay, but what harm is it doing? It might be true, so why not teach to my students’ learning style?”

For me, the clear answer is opportunity cost.

If we teachers ARE spending time on teaching methods that have no research support, we ARE NOT spending time on those that do.

If students ARE studying on the treadmill because they’re “kinesthetic learners,” they ARE NOT using study strategies with research support behind them.

Measuring opportunity cost requires subtle and humble calculations. We just might have to give up a long-prized approach to make time for an even better one.

If our students learn more, that sacrifice will have been worth it.

TL;DR

Like medical researchers, we should look both for benefits and for potential harms of any teaching suggestion.

This balanced perspective might take additional time, and might require consideration of opportunity costs.

It will, however, result in a more realistic and useful understanding of teaching and learning.

* Many years ago, I read that the phrase “side effects” is misleading. It makes unwanted effects seem unlikely, even though they’re just as likely as the wanted effects.

For that reason, I’m putting the words “side effects” in quotations throughout this post.

I believe it was Oliver Sacks who made this point, but I can’t find the citation so I’m not sure.

If you know the correct source of this insight, please let me know!

Zhao, Y. (2017). What works may hurt: Side effects in education. Journal of Educational Change, 18(1), 1-19.

Getting the Details Just Right: Retrieval Practice

Andrew Watson

December 06, 2022

Getting the Details Just Right: Retrieval Practice

Can we ever research a topic too much? Can we reach a point where, well, there’s nothing really more to say about teaching better and learning more?

Perhaps, for instance, we’ve reached peak retrieval practice.

Blog readers – and conference attendees – know that actively recalling information results in greater learning than simple review.

For example: rather reminding my students of yesterday’s discussion of the Harlem Renaissance, I can ask them to write down the key details from memory. When they make the mental effort to remember, they learn more.

This blog and many authors have written about this topic at length. What more is there to say?

I recently found a study that reminds us: there’s always more to say. If we want to combine teaching experience with researcher insight, we need to take time to get the details just right.

Here’s the story.

A Problem, a Solution, Another Problem

One problem with retrieval practice: it takes time.

I ask the question.

The students write their answers to the question.

I check their answers.

The minutes tick by.

Wouldn’t it be great if we could skip a few steps. How about this abbreviated version:

I ask the question.

The students think about their answers to the question.

I move on.

If my students truly think about the answers, then they’ll get the retrieval practice benefit in much less time.

This solution, however, creates its own problem.

If my students don’t write anything down, how can I know they actually think about the answers? Couldn’t they just nod and look earnest?

After all, what’s their motivation to do the thinking?

Let’s Check

A respected research team in this field has explored this set of problems, and their potential solutions.

In a recently published study, Megan Sumeracki and Johanny Castillo wanted to see if that first problem exists.

They had college students read a short passage. Some wrote answers to review questions; some were instructed to think about answers to those questions.

What happened a few days later?

Sure enough, the students who just thought about (but did not write down) answers were relatively confident that they’d remember information. (That is: they were more confident than those who wrote answers down.)

However, the thinkers actually remembered less than the writers.

Sure enough, as we predicted, students don’t always follow instructions to think about answers.

In other words: when I solve the first problem (retrieval practice takes time) by asking students simply to think, I create a second problem (students don’t really think).

How do we solve this conundrum? Can I solve BOTH problems?

Despair Not

Sumeracki and Castillo had an idea.

They repeated the “think about it” strategy, but this time with an additional ingredient: cold calling.

That is: they asked students to try retrieval practice by thinking about the answer. AND then they cold-called one student at random. (That is, they called on one student who hadn’t raised a hand.)

The researchers hoped to communicate this message: when told to think about the answer, students really should think about it – because they might actually have to answer the question.

What did they find?

Sure enough: students who thought about the answer now remembered as much as the students who wrote down their answers – presumably because they really did the thinking.

This two-part strategy – “retrieval practice by thinking” plus “cold calling” – takes less time AND produces the learning benefits of retrieving.

Problem solved!

One More Problem?

Some readers will have noticed that I raced past a potential controversy.

Truthfully, people do worry about cold calling.

Teachers worry that it creates a hostile, punitive environment. One grad school professor told me that cold calling ramps up stress, and stress destroys the hippocampus, so cold calling is malpractice.

Honestly, we don’t have lots and lots of research here.

One study I’ve found pushes back on the “ramps up stress” narrative. Others support that narrative.

And, as far as I know, we just don’t have good research in K-12 classrooms.

My own instincts say: yes, cold calling can be done badly. But, anything can be done badly. The key point is that cold calling can be done well.

If we create a classroom environment where making mistakes is an entirely normal part of the class routine – an environment that Doug Lemov calls a “culture of error” – then the potential stress of cold calling shouldn’t be a problem.

But, until we have actual research in many different classrooms, I can’t make that recommendation too emphatically.

The Sumeracki and Castillo strategy strikes me as a sensible solution to a real problem. More research on cold calling will make it more persuasive still.

Sumeracki, M. A., & Castillo, J. (2022). Covert and overt retrieval practice in the classroom. Translational Issues in Psychological Science.

Walking Promotes Creativity? A Skeptic Weighs In…

Andrew Watson

November 28, 2022

Walking Promotes Creativity? A Skeptic Weighs In…

When teachers try to use psychology research in the classroom, we benefit from a balance of optimism and skepticism.

I confess, I’m often the skeptic.

When I hear that – say – “retrieval practice helps students learn,” I hope that’s true, but I want to see lots of research first.

No matter the suggestion…

… working memory training!

… dual coding!

… mindfulness!

… exercise breaks!!!

… I’m going to check the research before I get too excited. (Heck, I even wrote a book about checking the research, in case you want to do so as well.)

Here’s one surprising example.

Because I really like the outdoors (summer camp, here I come!), I’d LOVE to believe that walking outside has cognitive benefits.

When I get all skeptical and check out the research…it turns out that walking outside DOES have cognitive benefits.

As I wrote back in May, we’ve got enough good research to persuade me, at least for now, that walking outdoors helps with cognition.

Could anything be better?

Yup, Even Better

Yes, reader, I’ve got even better news.

The research mentioned above suggests that walking restores depleted levels of both working memory and attention.

“Yes,” I hear you ask, “but we’ve got other important mental functions. What about creativity? What does the research show?”

I’ve recently found research that looks at that very question.

Alas, studying creativity creates important research difficulties.

How do you define “creativity”?

How do you measure it?

This research, done by Oppezzo and Schwartz, defines it thus: “the production of appropriate novelty…which may be subsequently refined.”

That is: if I can come up with something both new and useful, I’ve been creative – even if my new/useful thing isn’t yet perfect.

Researchers have long used a fun test for this kind of creativity: the “alternative uses” test.

That is: researchers name an everyday object, and ask the participants to come up with alternative uses for it.

For example, one participant in this study was given the prompt “button.” For alternative uses, s/he came up with…

“as a doorknob for a dollhouse, an eye for a doll, a tiny strainer, to drop behind you to keep your path.”

So much creativity!

Once these researchers had a definition and a way to measure, what did they find?

The research; the results

This research team started simple.

Participants – students in local colleges – sat for a while, then took a creativity test. Then they walked for a while, and took second version of that test.

Sure enough, students scored higher on creativity after they walked than after they sat.

How much higher? I’m glad you asked: almost 60% higher! That’s a really big boost for such a simple change.

However, you might see a problem. Maybe students did better on the 2^nd test (after the walking) because they had had a chance to practice (after the sitting)?

Oppezzo and Schwartz spotted this problem, and ran three more studies to confirm their results.

So, they had some students sit then walk, while others walked then sat.

Results? Walking still helps.

In another study, they had some students walk or sit indoors, and walk or sit outdoors.

Results: walking promotes creativity both indoors and out.

Basically, they tried to find evidence against the hypothesis that walking boosts creativity…and they just couldn’t do it. (That’s my favorite kind of study.)

Just One Study?

Long-time readers know what’s coming next.

We teachers should never change our practice based on just one study – even if that study includes 4 different experiments.

So, what happens when we look for more research on the topic?

I’ve checked out my go-to sources: scite.ai and connectedpapers.com. (If you like geeking out about research, give them a try – they’re great!)

Sure enough, scite.ai finds 13 studies that support this conclusion, and 3 that might contradict it. (In my experience, that’s a good ratio.)

Connectedpapers.com produces fewer on-point results. However, the most recent study seems like a very close replication, and arrived at similar findings.

In brief: although I’m usually a skeptic, I’m largely persuaded.

TL;DR

Walking outdoors helps restore working memory and attention; walking either indoors or outdoors enhances creativity (at least as measured by the “alternative uses” test).

I’d love to see some studies done in schools and classrooms. For the time being, I think we have a persuasive foundation for this possible conclusion.

Our strategies for putting this research to good use will, of course, be different for each of us. But it’s good to know: simply walking about can help students think more creatively.

Oppezzo, M., & Schwartz, D. L. (2014). Give your ideas some legs: the positive effect of walking on creative thinking. Journal of experimental psychology: learning, memory, and cognition, 40(4), 1142.

ADHD and Asperger Syndrome in Smart Kids and Adults by Thomas Brown

Erik Jahner, PhD

November 22, 2022

ADHD and Asperger Syndrome in Smart Kids and Adults by Thomas Brown

In ADHD and Asperger Syndrome in Smart Kids and Adults: Twelve Stories of Struggle, Support, and Treatment, Thomas Brown shares engaging and informative stories of gifted individuals with ADHD. This series of case studies takes on the traditional definitions and misconceptions of both ADHD and Asperger’s syndrome, focusing instead on how clusters of symptoms including social-emotional skills and an in-depth understanding of the individual’s social environment reveal a fascinating and useful approach to diagnosis and treatment.

Brown does not shy away from critiques of the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders (DSM) and illustrates his perspective by walking us through several diagnoses and treatments for individuals with these symptoms from across age groups. Particular attention is given to one of the interesting puzzles of ADHD in which the symptoms are situational and not consistently expressed. When an individual is engaged in an activity they are interested in, the symptoms of ADHD seem to subside, and strong executive function may be expressed in that context. As a result, parents, teachers, and individuals with ADHD may inappropriately interpret the attentional and emotion regulation problems as simply a lack of willpower. Throughout each of the cases, Brown demonstrates how the symptoms of ADHD often lead to these types of misunderstandings and how diagnoses can lead to a sense of relief and enable the utilization of medical and psychotherapeutic interventions to manage the symptoms.

What makes Brown’s case studies so important is that he takes an integrated view of ADHD. He argues that an emotional component of the diagnosis is crucial and often neglected. Individuals differ in their emotional regulation problems and these case studies illustrate these regulatory symptoms and their situational nature. Bringing emotional and cognitive features into the same diagnosis criteria connects well with the literature on the fallacy that cognitive skills and emotional skills are separate psychological functions; both rely on the same neural circuitry leading to motivation, regulation, and potential disruption. Pooling together the traditional reliance on regulating focus as a primary symptom with the regulation of working memory, regulation of emotional reactions and frustration, the initiation of effort, self-monitoring, the regulation of actions, and the ability to activate engagement in work rounds out the diagnosis to include the whole person. This is especially useful when teachers or parents view ADHD as a more academic skill and are made aware of how ADHD is a lived experience across life domains.

Important for this text is also a deep impassioned discussion concerning the now absent diagnoses of Asperger’s syndrome which has now been absorbed into the updated diagnosis of autism spectrum disorder. To be honest, this was an area I began to read with a certain amount of trepidation, but the author offers very convincing arguments for the reintroduction of Asperger’s syndrome into the DSM giving me great pause in my preconceived beliefs. The unique clusters of symptoms and ways to manage symptoms separate this disorder in convincing ways from Autism. Moreover, the integration of ADHD and Asperger’s into this text shows the important and informative comorbidity of the symptoms.

The development of his case studies respects the social ecology of individuals in this group, relying not solely on standardized diagnostics but evaluating how impairments may be displayed differentially across a person’s life. Asking questions of the patients to reveal their unique symptomology rather than imposing a diagnosis. The individual’s perceived relationships with family, friends, coworkers and teachers are key to effective interventions. Building on this, the book also has an extensive final section offering resources for diagnosis and treatment.

While this book is great for the clinician, it would also be of great use to individuals who interact with this population regularly. It helps the reader understand their stories and teaches the reader how the skilled clinician listens to get more complete stories of the individual – not treating the individual as a collection of symptoms but understanding the complex role ADHD plays in their lives. In addition, this book is a useful window into a variety of diverse human experiences. In some ways, these stories are unique while simultaneously speaking to us all – building a sense of compassion for the miraculous ways the brain contributes to what it means to be human and part of a community.

The Most Important 5 Minutes in Class: The Primacy/Recency Effect

Andrew Watson

November 20, 2022

The Most Important 5 Minutes in Class: The Primacy/Recency Effect

As we put our lesson plans together, we teachers want to know: are some minutes more valuable than others?

That is:

Do students remember most at the 10-minute mark of the lesson, because they’re mentally revved up?

Or, perhaps they remember most from the final five minutes, because the whole class has led to this grand conclusion.

Or, perhaps some other time slot generates the most learning, because psychology reasons.

What does the research tell us?

Start Here

I occasionally see teaching advice that seeks to answer this question. That advice typically begins with a fascinating research pool.

Here’s the story.

Researchers present students with — say — a list of 15 words. After distraction, how many words do students remember? And, can we predict which ones?

Several studies suggest a consistent answer.

Students tend to remember words from the beginning of the list. Researchers call that the “primacy” effect.

And, they remember words from the end of the list. That result gets the moniker “recency effect.”

Going all the way back to 1962, this primacy/recency effect has a lot of research behind it. (For a more recent study, click here.)

Lab to Classroom

So, how should teachers plan our lessons based on this particular finding?

Let’s imagine that I tell my students a list of 8 instructions. Because of the primacy/recency effect, I suspect they’ll remember the early and late instructionst better than the ones in the middle. (Hint: maybe I should write down a long list of instructions…)

But: what does this effect tell us about the most valuable teaching time during a class period as a whole?

From time to time, scholars who translate psychology research for classroom teachers make this argument:

The primacy/recency effect suggests that the first several minutes of class, and the final several minutes of class, have the greatest effect on learning.

That is: For the same reason that students remember the first and last instruction from my list of 8, they’ll learn the most during the first and last minutes of class.

Voila: a research-based answer to the question.

I confess, however, that I myself have doubts.

The argument says, in effect:

Rules governing mental processes for 60-120 seconds also govern mental processes for 45-80 minutes.

Honestly, I’m just not sure that’s plausible. My doubts spring from two sources.

Doubts, and More Doubts

In the first place, I doubt this advice because it extrapolates so far beyond the initial research conditions.

If research tells me something about — say — college students, that conclusion might also apply to 1st graders. But it might not. 1st graders aren’t college students.

If research tells me something about adolescents in Iceland, that conclusion might apply to teens in Brazil. But it might not. Icelandic culture differs from Brazilian culture.

And, if research tells me about mental functions over one minute, that conclusion might apply to 20 minutes. (Or 45, or 80.) But IT MIGHT NOT. One minute isn’t twenty.

Long-time readers know I always focus on “boundary conditions.” From my perspective, this advice goes WAY beyond the boundaries of the initial research.

By the way: I’ve asked SEVERAL wise people if they know of primacy/recency research that goes beyond a minute or two. So far, the answer is “no.”

The second reason I doubt this advice because of the specific mental functions involved.

As far as I can tell, researchers explain the primacy/recency effect by talking about short-term memory and working memory.

Both of these mental faculties describe very short-term mental functions. In my grad-school classes, our profs typically said that working memory holds information somewhere between 5 and 30 seconds.

If, in fact, the primacy/recency effect results from short-term and working memory functions, then those findings almost certainly won’t apply to mental processes that take 30+ minutes.

Like, say, our classes.

Just Answer the Question

If this advice doesn’t hold, what can research tell us about the “most important five minutes in class”?

I’ve got two answers.

Answer #1:

I’ve asked lots of people if they have a resaerch-informed answer to this question. So far, no one has a strong “yes.” But, If I hear of one, I’ll pass it along.

And, btw, a friend has answered “we really have to research that question!” So, I’ll let you know if/when his results come through.

Answer #2:

Long-time readers know my mantra: “don’t just do this thing; instead, think this way.”

In this case, I don’t think we can plausibly identify any one time slot that consistently generates the most learning.

Instead, we want to use core ideas from cognitive science to structure lesson plans effectively.

Use retriveal practice.

Beware working-memory overload.

Foster attention.

Activate prior knowledge.

And so forth.

If we follow this approach, every minute will build ultimately — and more-or-less equally — toward students’ learning.

Castel, A. D. (2008). Metacognition and learning about primacy and recency effects in free recall: The utilization of intrinsic and extrinsic cues when making judgments of learning. Memory & Cognition, 36(2), 429-437.

Andrew Watson

November 13, 2022

Working Memory in Everyday Life

Imagine this scenario: you’re standing in the CVS toothpaste aisle, trying to decide.

You think you should be able to recognize something familiar, but honestly there are so many choices.

Which brand are you loyal to?

Do you want mint?

Fluoride? Foaming? Whitening?

A patented “sensitive teeth” formula? Bacon flavor?

I think I made up the bacon. But, given all those choices and all the combinations, you simply can’t decide.

If you’re like me, you feebly grab at something plausible and make a dash for the register.

If you’ve had a long day of grading, you might just give up entirely.

So: what on earth is going on in your head? Why is picking a box of toothpaste so exhausting?

Cognition Im/possible

When I meet with teachers, I regularly discuss the importance of working memory.

This vital cognitive capacity allows students to hold on to several bits of information, and to reorganize/combine them into new facts, processes, and mental models.

Oversimplifying a bit, you could say it’s where the learning starts happening in the mind.

This essential mental process, however, creates two important problems.

The first problem: our students just don’t have very much working memory.

If you see students forget the question they were about to ask, or give up on a shockingly simple task, or lose focus completely, you might just be looking at working-memory overload.

It happens all the time.

The second problem: most of the ideas that we want our students to learn already exist in our own long-term memory.

We really struggle to see the working-memory load included in their work, because we already know how to do it.

Why can’t they do this simple math problem?

Why do they struggle to use new vocabulary words into a sentence?

And, why isn’t the answer to a history question perfectly obvious?

In every case, the correct answer is in our long-term memory, but students must wrestle with it in their working-memory.

In other words, our own expertise obscures our students’ mental struggles from us.

But: when we go to the CVS toothpaste aisle, we know exactly what they’re going through. Too many mental variables – not enough headspace. Ugh.

When In Rome…

I’ve spent the last week in Rome for a conference, and – believe it or not – found myself thinking about all that toothpaste.

Why? Because: museums.

I visited several museums, and was repeatedly struck by my own working-memory overload.

For example, the room with all those coins:

What should I be learning from the hundreds (and hundreds!!) of doubloons and coppers and denarii?

Which are the most important examples?

Should I spot trends or cycles or dramatic shifts?

Of course, the museum folks know that I have those questions, so they provide answers:

Hundreds and hundreds of little cards with LOTS of information about the coins.

All that information includes specialized vocabulary.

And those vocabulary words get helpful definitions in parentheses.

All these answers – the information, the vocabulary, the definitions – benefit other experts in ancient coins.

But they leave me even more confused and overwhelmed.

In other words: like some teachers, museum experts did not recognize the cognitive overload experienced by many students/museum-goers.

I wanted to learn.

I wanted to understand.

Certainly I wanted to appreciate.

But I just didn’t know how to process SO MUCH STUFF. And, don’t get me started on the rooms with helmets or wine-jugs…

Inherent Expertise

At the same time I noted my own experience of working-memory overload, I experienced several museum collections that did NOT overwhelm my brain.

For instance, the first room (more or less) in the Vatican Museum includes several hundred busts: matrons, soldiers, children, priests, emperors, even an enslaved person.

To my surprise, I didn’t feel overwhelmed; instead, I felt curious and enticed. I wanted to look at the faces and speculate about their identities and stories and personalities.

Why the different reaction? Here’s my hypothesis:

I have no expertise in coins (or wine jars), and so all those samples felt overwhelming.

However, I have LOTS of expertise with faces. I spend most of my days interacting with them and the personalities behind them.

My inherent expertise with faces meant that 1000 busts felt fun and interesting, whereas 1000 helmets filled me with boredom and dread.

Classroom Implications

I said above that our teacherly expertise makes it difficult for us to spot our students’ working memory struggles.

For that reason, I think we should always look out for the working-memory overload that we all experience.

Driving to a new location in a rental car? Wondering where the rear defrost button is, and when to turn left? Could be working memory overload…

Navigating a new cafeteria, trying to find the silverware and the beverages and the gluten-free options? The salad dressing is where again? Yup: working memory overload…

Too many options when you’re trying to choose a hotel on that website? Perhaps you’re furious about all those helpful pop-ups? You know the feeling…

In brief: the better we get at recognizing working-memory problems in our own lives, the better we may become at spotting the problems our students are likely to have.

Empathy may be the pathway to understanding.

And, that empathy just might help us teach better.

Earworms and Sleep: What Will They Research Next?

Andrew Watson

November 06, 2022

Earworms and Sleep: What Will They Research Next?

Just last week, I spoke with middle- and upper-school students about learning.

We all know — and these students certainly know — that learning is hard. So, does cognitive science have any practical suggestions to help them study and learn?

Yes, reader, it does.

We know that retrieval practice helps learning much more than simple review.

We know that multitasking really isn’t a thing.

And, we know that exercise and sleep really help learning.

This last point — the importance of sleep — can be tricky.

After all, students say that they don’t have time to sleep — they have too much homework.*

Several students asked me: “I’m having trouble falling asleep. What do you suggest?”

In the moment, I suggested having a routine. Go to bed at the same time every night (as much as possible).

But, just a few days ago, a new study came across my desk…

Music and Sleep

I’ve often written about Dr. Michael Scullin’s research (for instance, here and here). He typically researches really practical questions. And, he studies and writes about them in unusually clear ways.

So, I’m a fan.

His most recent study looked at an unexpected topic: earworms.

You know: those infuriating tunes that get stuck in your head.

You just can’t get rid of them. (No, I’m not going to mention a song about very young scary fish that have huge teeth and eat seals and occasionally terroize people. “Doo doo doo doo doo doo.”)

What effect do earworms have on sleep?

Questions and Answers

Research into sleep can get quite technical. We start talking about “spindle detection” and “polysomnography” and “frontal slow oscillation activity.”

Rather than go into the details, I’ll offer a quick summary of the conclusions:

First: survey results suggest that most people (87%!) think that listening to music will improve sleep (or, at least, not harm it).

However — a big however — people who reported listening to relatively more music also report relatively lower sleep quality.

Second: the same survey results suggest that “earworms” make up a big part of this problem.

That is: the more music I listen to, the more earworms I experience. And, the more earworms I experience, the worse I sleep.

YIKES.

Third: you might think that music with lyrics results in more earworms than music without lyrics. Scullin’s team, in fact, thinks that’s the “intuitive view.”

Well, as so often happens, our intuitions are wrong.

Believe it or not, people who listen to instrumental versions of popular songs have more earworms — and worse sleep — than those who listen to the songs themelves.

So, What To Do?

What advice should we be giving students about sleep — other than, “get at least 8 hours”?

Scullin’s team sums up their study this way:

There are few behaviors as prevalent in young adults as listening to music, and many regularly listen to music as part of their bedtime routine. Listening to music feels relaxing, but familiar and repetitive music can trigger involuntary musical imagery that worsens sleep quality and daytime functioning.

In other words: to reduce earworms and sleep better, don’t listen to music before going to sleep. And, instrumental versions of popular songs seem to be especially likely to generate earworms.

I can’t believe I’m typing this, but: Listener beware!

* When students say to me, “I can’t sleep, I have too much homework,” I say, “Let’s think about this:

‘Homework’ is anything that helps you learn more.

Sleep helps you learn more.

Therefore, sleep is homework.

Do your sleep homework, and you will learn more.”

Scullin, M. K., Gao, C., & Fillmore, P. (2021). Bedtime music, involuntary musical imagery, and sleep. Psychological Science, 32(7), 985-997.

Older posts

Willingham’s Razor

When Simplification Leads to Oversimplification

TL;DR

Case in Point: Retrieval Practice

Let the Buyer Beware: Retrieval-Induced Forgetting

Potential solution?

Alternative Solutions?

TL;DR

The Medical Model

What to Measure, and When?

New Habits

One More Step

TL;DR

A Problem, a Solution, Another Problem

Let’s Check

Despair Not

One More Problem?

Yup, Even Better

The research; the results

Just One Study?

TL;DR

Start Here

Lab to Classroom

Doubts, and More Doubts

Just Answer the Question

Cognition Im/possible

When In Rome…

Inherent Expertise

Classroom Implications

Music and Sleep

Questions and Answers

So, What To Do?

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