November 2023 – Education & Teacher Conferences Skip to main content
Guest Post: “My Learning and the Brain Story”
Guest Post
Guest Post

Beth Hawks has taught science for 25 years. She now serves as the science department chair at Grace Christian School in Raleigh, North Carolina. A graduate of Orla Roberts University, Beth has taught 8th grade Physical Science, Physics, Chemistry, Algebra IB, among other courses. She frequently provides professional development to colleagues in her role as resident brain enthusiast.


When I started teaching at my current school twenty-one years ago, one of the “areas for improvement” on my year-end evaluation was that I didn’t seek out professional development.  I couldn’t disagree.  Back then, it never occurred to me to seek it out.  Both schools I had previously taught in said, “It is professional development day.  Go over there and learn.”  

Headshot of author and teacher Beth Hawks

While I read about teaching, I did not attend very many workshops or conferences that took place on school days.  I hated being out of my classroom, and every teacher knows what a pain it is to develop sub plans.  

That all changed when a brochure showed up in my mailbox for the 2018 Learning and the Brain conference.  

Teachers get a lot of brochures advertising workshops and conferences from a variety of sources, and we ignore most of them. I was on my way to the recycling bin with this one when a keynote speaker whose book I had just read caught my attention, so I opened the brochure.  As I looked at the names and credentials of speakers and the topics of sessions, I was impressed.  

By the end of that morning’s door duty, I was prepared to beg.  I said to my administrator, “You know how I never want to go to anything?  I’ve never wanted to go to anything more than this!”  They approved my request provided that I would teach my academic team what I had learned upon my return.  

Deal.

What I found when I got to Boston was not just one great speaker, but an incredible collection of researchers, scientists, and educators with deep knowledge.  More importantly, they were down to earth and transparent, willing to answer questions and talk and follow up with me after the conference because they cared about improving my practice, not just getting a speaking gig.  I couldn’t get enough of being taught by these experts.  

When I returned home, I was given time in a faculty meeting to present about what I had learned.  I had so much to present, I asked if I could have two.  It was lovely knowing that what I had learned would benefit classrooms other than my own.

In 2019, I attended the Boston conference again.  While the first year had been great, this was the year that I absolutely fell in love with the science of learning.  From the keynote presentations of Barbara Oakley, David Daniel, David Rose, and Sarah Jayne Blakemore to the sessions of John Almarode and Marcia Tate, I came home with both theory and practical advice that changed my classroom practice dramatically.  

  • I thought about encoding and engagement in new ways.  
  • I made a clumsy attempt at interleaving.  
  • I instituted more pre-questions and retrieval than ever before.  

Trying new methods was energizing because I was doing it with more sense of purpose and intention, knowing it was based on evidence.  

I emailed my principal from the airport and told her how much I had learned and that I was pretty sure I could develop a six session course for my colleagues.  She got it approved by our accrediting organization for CEU credit, and by January, nineteen of my fellow teachers were getting the benefit of my Learning and the Brain experience.  We had a great time learning together and brainstorming new ideas for our classes, which ranged from transitional kindergarten to AP Calculus.  

When we were all thrown into virtual instruction just two months later, it was reassuring to have a basis for decision making about what mattered regardless of location.  

  • Encoding looked different than it had in my classroom, but I could still adapt what I had learned about encoding to this new context.  
  • Retrieval would be done through an online chat rather than mini-whiteboards, but I could be confident about the fact that it was still important.  

Those who had taken the course expressed the same feelings, and I was grateful that I had been able to provide them with that reassurance by being a conduit of the Learning and the Brain experience. 

Because of this conference, I became a voracious consumer of cognitive science research.  Last year, when the school allowed me to run the six week course again, I had trouble staying within my time limits because I had learned even more from books, blogs, and podcasts that I would not have sought out without the experience of Learning and the Brain.  Now, I find myself making resource recommendations to the teachers around me several times a week.

This November, I had the awesome opportunity of bringing a friend with me to the conference.  Watching him appreciate the experience deepened my love for it even more.  I enjoyed introducing him to people I respect, and we both got to meet some of our academic heroes.  Talking through what we had learned on our walks back to the hotel helped us both learn even more.  While I appreciate that the virtual option exists for those whose budgets won’t allow travel, I greatly value the things that happen in person.  The ability to talk directly to someone whose work I admire (e.g. Daniel Willingham) can’t be replicated digitally.  I would recommend to anyone that they attend the conference in person if they can. 

I am writing this during Thanksgiving week, so let me end with this.  I am thankful for Learning and the Brain.  If that brochure had not appeared in my box five years ago, I would not have grown in my teaching as much as I have or been able to help my colleagues grow in theirs.  I am thankful so many educators get to learn and grow and communicate with each other, and I am grateful to call them friends.

Attention Span by Gloria Mark
Erik Jahner, PhD
Erik Jahner, PhD

attention spaNIn our world we now spend over 10 hours a day in front of screens; our mind wanders, we get distracted, and before we know it, we have accomplished next to nothing. So, we subscribe to podcasts, read self-help books (not unlike this one), and search for the hacks that can keep us in a strong state of optimal “focus” or “flow.” We feel that regular focus at work is the goal; we give ourselves very little wiggle room; and we often make digital media the enemy. We need to learn to focus better. Gloria Mark reframes all of this in Attention Span, an intriguing exploration of our attention spans in the digital era.

Mark provides a balanced view on focus and distraction. She challenges common myths throughout.  Contrary to popular belief, constantly striving for intense focus while using computers doesn’t always equate to productivity; it’s healthy to have less concentrated moments too. The ideal state of ‘flow’ with technology is beneficial, but it’s not a mandatory goal for every task. Distractions and multitasking aren’t just a result of notifications or lack of discipline; they often arise from various factors beyond our control. Also, we should not underestimate the value of what seems like mindless activities on our devices; these can actually provide necessary mental breaks that boost our overall productivity and add to happiness at work. Understanding these aspects can lead to a more balanced and effective approach to our digital lives.

The book is dominated by her refreshing and unique approach to research and thinking that drive the structure of the book from life to interviews to lab. She starts from a common ground, exploring well-known concepts like ‘flow’ – the deep immersion in an activity, and then evaluates whether this strived-for experience is found in real practice and if it’s all it’s cracked up to be. Is it really the optimal experience? Mark acknowledges that while the concept of flow is intriguing, its occurrence in the workplace is not as frequent as one might think. As with other concepts in the book, rather than discarding this idea, she takes it further, testing and applying it in real-world settings. She adapts similar research methods, poses fresh questions, and rethinks approaches based on her observations. This dynamic between scientific rigor her curiosity and real-world applications creates an engaging narrative that captivates the reader throughout the book.

A core idea in the book is the idea of kinetic attention. The ability to shift strategically between attention types of rote activity, frustrated, focused, and bored is an important attentional skill. And she suggests ways to master it. But one of the first steps is really understanding attention as a dynamic activity that changes across the day, across the week, and other cycles of life. However, keeping this in mind she writes with subtle evaluation of free will throughout the book with a direct intriguing discussion at the end. What does it mean to control attention? Why do some people feel they control their minds and environment while others feel like they are at the whim of notifications and distractions?

There are many fresh and interesting ideas that make you widen your eyes. She teases us with “You may not have thought that playing Candy Crush can actually help us achieve a psychological balance in our workday, but that might soon change” (p. 210). What?!  I wanted to read more. And her hope of integrating technology and not demonizing it is really a nice touch of reality. Another intriguing finding from Gloria Mark’s research might make you rethink your beliefs about Facebook: people who spent more time on Facebook tended to report higher levels of happiness at the end of the day. In contrast, the amount of time spent in face-to-face interactions throughout the day didn’t demonstrate a significant correlation with changes in their mood by day’s end.

The final part of the book is packed with practical advice, from setting goals to managing interruptions and incorporating mindfulness practices. These tips are invaluable for anyone looking to improve their attention span in a world rife with digital distractions.

Gloria Mark doesn’t just discuss problems; she provides a roadmap for thriving amidst digital distractions and opportunities, making it a must-read for educators, students, professionals, or anyone seeking to optimize their attention in this screen-filled age. Screens are not going away, and neither are other distractions. Distractions need to be understood not simply avoided.

Classroom Cognition Explained, or, Dual Coding Just Right
Andrew Watson
Andrew Watson

The Good News: research into cognitive science can be SPECTACULARLY USEFUL to teachers. (That’s why we have Learning and the Brain conferences….)

Book Cover for Teaching & Learning Illuminated

The Less Good News: ideas that come from cognitive science can be MISUNDERSTOOD and MISAPPLIED with alarming frequency.

For example: as I’ve written elsewheredual coding has lots of potential benefits for reducing working memory load — and thereby helping students learn. That’s the good news.

But — less good news — dual coding has too often been interpreted to mean “put icons on things to make them better.”

Wouldn’t it be great if someone could bring together LOTS of ideas from cognitive science, AND explain them with well-executed dual coding?

Yes; Yes It Would…

Well, someone has done exactly that. Three someones, in fact.  Bradley Busch, Edward Watson (no relation), and Ludmila Bogatchek have written Teaching and Learning Illuminated: the Big Ideas, Illustrated.

As that title promises, this book illuminates (that is, dual codes) the greatest hits from cognitive science: retrieval practice, cognitive load theory, Rosenshine’s principles, mindset, and a few dozen more.

Each section combines a pithy description of a particular concept with a visual representation of its core ideas.

So, for instance, page 35 summarizes dozens of studies looking at the benefits of spreading practice out (“spacing”) and practicing related topics together (“interleaving”).

And, the facing page offers a carefully considered graph that depicts learning over time. One path (“cramming”) looks good because it works so well in the short term. But the second path (“spacing and interleaving”) results in more learning over time.

Voila: “desirable difficulties” in one thoughtful graph.

Unlike so many examples of dual coding of the “put-an-icon-somewhere” school, Busch, Watson, and Bogatchek create substantial, meaty visuals that both require and reward careful study.

I never looked at the illustrations and thought: “gosh, that’s pretty.”

Instead, I thought:

Oh, gosh, I need to stop and study this for a bit.

Wait, why is that line there?

Ok, now I get it. Presumably this axis is labeled…oh, right, so cool!

In other words, the visuals both require thought and support thought. The result: readers understand these complex ideas even better.

So Many Shelves

I’ve written in the past that the “best book to read” depends on the reader’s current knowledge.

If you’re somewhat of a beginner in this field. I think you should probably read a book that focuses on just one topic: long-term memeory, or attention, or cognitive load theory.

Once you understand lots of the pieces, it’s time to read the books that put them all together.

Teaching and Learning Illuminated looks like an easy read — so many cool pictures! At the same time, it includes an ENORMOUS number of research-based insights and suggestions.

For that reason, I think of it as an “early-advanced” book more than one for those who are new to the field. Those illustrations are welcoming, but they also create cognitive demands of their own.

Full Disclosure

Because this field is relatively small, I know one of the three authors — Bradley Busch — a bit. (I recently recorded some brief video snippets for his website.)

I don’t believe our conversations have influenced this review, but the reader should know of them in making that evaluation.

I’ll also note: yes, I have written a book about Mindset; and yes, this book includes a mindset chapter called “The Watson Matrix.” But: their matrix isn’t about my summation of mindset theory.

 

An Argument Against “Chunking”
Andrew Watson
Andrew Watson

Learning and the Brain exists so that we can talk about good teaching together.

Although such conversations can provide great benefits, they also run into problems.

We might disagree with each other’s beliefs.

Or, we might disagree about research methods.

Even when we do agree, we might struggle to communicate effectively about shared beliefs.

For example: jargon.

When specialists talk with each other about “theory of mind” or “p3” or “element interactivity,” the rest of us often think “what the heck does THAT mean?”

Effective communication stops when words don’t have recognizeable meanings.

Another, subtler problem also hampers communication:

Effective communication stops when we use the same word to mean different things.

Sometimes this problem happens between disciplines.

The word “transfer,” for instance, has different meanings in neuroscience, education, and psychology.

Other words get us all tangled up, even within the same discipline.

I’m looking at you, “chunking.”

Television for All

I believe I first heard the word “chunking” to describe this mental phenomenon:

Imagine I ask you to memorize this list of letters:

CN NAB CFO XHB OCB S

Or, I might ask you to memorize THIS list of letters:

CNN ABC FOX HBO CBS

From one perspective, those lists are identical. They are the same letters in the same order. I just moved the spacing around a bit.

But, when I moved those spaces, I “chunked” the letters.

Penguins grouped together into the shape of a heart

That is: I organized those letters to align with your prior knowledge.

As teachers, we can reduce working memory load by “chunking”: that is, by aligning new ideas/information with ideas/information our students already have.

“Chunking” means “alignment with prior knowledge.”

Cool.

Or, wait a moment…

Curiouser and Curiouser

I’ve also heard “chunking” used in entirely different ways.

The second meaning: “break larger pieces down into smaller pieces.”

If I’ve got a list of ten instructions I want my students to follow, that list will almost certainly overwhelm their working memory. So, I could break that list down.

Three instructions.

Then three more.

An additional two, followed by the final two.

VOILA, I “chunked” the instructions.

Of course, this kind of chunking (breaking down into smaller bits) doesn’t mean the same thing as the first kind of chunking (aligning with prior knowledge).

Nor does it mean the same thing as the THIRD kind of chunking: forming a link with prior knowledge.

That is:

You could learn that “hamster” is another “mammal” that people keep as a “pet.”

You’ve formed a new “chunk”: mammals that are pets.

Or, you could learn that “Saratoga” is another surprising military victory, like “Agincourt” and “Thermopylae.”

You’ve formed a new “chunk”: unlikely military victories.

You see the problem here?

In Sum

So, as far as I can tell, “chunking” means either…

… aligining new information with prior knowledge, or

… breaking large information dumps into smaller pieces, or

… connecting new information with well-known information (which sounds like the first meaning, but isn’t exactly the same thing).

If I tell a colleague, “I think that part of the lesson would have benefitted from more chunking,” s/he doesn’t really know what I mean.

Even worse: s/he might THINK that s/he knows — but might understand chunking one way when I mean it another.

Ugh.

To be clear: I am IN FAVOR of all three strategies.

After all: all three ideas reduce working memory load. And, I’m a BIG FAN of reducing WM load.

However, when we use the word “chunking” to describe three different teaching strategies, we make our advice harder to understand.

That is: we increase the working memory demands of understanding strategies to reduce working memory demands. The paradox is both juicy and depressing.

So, I am enthusiastically in favor of all the strategies implied by the word “chunking,” but I think we should stop calling them “chunking.”

Instead, we should use more precise vocabulary to label our true meaning.

Do Animations Improve Learning? A Definitivie Answer, Please…
Andrew Watson
Andrew Watson

Recently I discussed working memory overload with a group of wise and thoughtful teachers.

I showed them one of my favorite GIFs:

a glass (representing working memory),

slowly filling up with stuff (teaching methods, complex information),

so that there is ultimately no room left in the glass (that is: no room left for understanding).

VOILA: working memory overload in one handy animation.

I love this GIF, and show it often.

Young woman draws an animated storyboard

Yet when I gave these teachers time to discuss this animation, they honestly didn’t like it very much. They had lots of specific (and insightful) suggestions, but the overall message was: thumbs down.

So: should I ditch the GIF?

Where to Start

For a guy who writes a blog about research-informed teaching, the next step seem obvious: find out what the research says!

Surely I can find an answer — maybe even a definitive one.

Alas, I quickly stumbled into a quandry.

On the one hand, we’ve got lots of good research suggesting that — on the whole — students do NOT learn more from animated information.

One of the best known studies — led by the much-esteemed Richard Meyer — supports the static media hypothesis: “static illustrations with printed text reduce extraneous processing and promote germane processing as compared with narrated animations.”

In this study, researchers used animations about everything from lightning formation to toilet tanks to see if they helped students understand.

These animations never helped, and often hurt, student learning.

One the other hand, a substantial meta-analysis of 40 studies finds a “beneficial effect of the presence of animated display for learning dynamic phenomena.”

So: what to do when we’ve got persuasive — and contradictory — evidence?

A Feature, Not a Bug

For people unfamiliar with research-world, this kind of contradiction might seem like a failure. If the people who do the research can’t agree on an answer, surely we should just ignore them.

I would offer a different interpretation.

Teaching is complicated. Learning is complicated. PEOPLE are complicated.

So, any time we do research about people teaching and learning, we’re looking at enormously complicated questions.

Some disagreement is inevitable.

And — here’s the surprise — the fact that we found contradictions means that we’ve been looking hard enough. (If I didn’t find contradictory research, I probably haven’t looked very hard…)

What, then, should we do to resolve the (inevitable, helpful) contradictions?

One useful step: get granular.

In this case: presumably some kinds of animations are helpful under some kinds of circumstances. But others: not so much.

We need to know more about the specifics.

Okay, Some Specifics

With that in mind, I found a more recent study trying to understand when and why animations might hinder understanding.

The study, in effect, looked at two questions:

Are the animations essential to understanding the topic, or are they basically “decorative”?

and

Is the material being studied cognitively challenging?

Two scholars — Annabel Pink and Philip Newton — had students study slides with information on them. Some slides had animations; others didn’t.

And — useful to know — the slides covered complex material: human physiology and enzyme kinetics.

Sure enough, students remembered LESS information from the slides with animations. And they rated those slides as cognitively MORE challenging.

In other words:

When deciding whether or not to break out the GIFs, we can ask ourselves:

Am I just decorating the slide, or does animation help clarify the meaning of the material?

and

Is this material a cognitive heavy lift?

When I ask these questions about my working memory overload GIF, I arrive at these answers:

The GIF illustrates a complex process: it’s not decorative, but meaningfully connected to an understanding of the ideas.

BUT

The ideas are — in fact — quite complicated.

The animation, in other words, might add cognitive load to an already mentally challenging concept. Hence the teachers’ unhappiness.

Small, Medium, and Big Pictures

What should we teachers do with this information?

Narrowly stated, we can consistently ask the two questions above: a) is the animation “decorative”? and b) is the material cognitively challenging?

If either answer is “yes,” then we should hesitate to add animations.

More broadly, we should continue to look for detailed guidance about when to use, and when to avoid using, animations to help students learn.

As far as I can tell, we just don’t have a clear picture about the boundary conditions within which they help students learn.

The big picture looks like this.

Psychology research rarely gives us an absolute, definitive answer to questions like: “should we add animations or not?”

Teachers always need to look at research specifics, compare them to the classroom conditions where we work, and use our own expert judgment to analyze the goodness of fit.


Mayer, R. E., Hegarty, M., Mayer, S., & Campbell, J. (2005). When static media promote active learning: annotated illustrations versus narrated animations in multimedia instruction.. Journal of Experimental Psychology: Applied, 11(4), 256-265. https://doi.org/10.1037/1076-898x.11.4.256

Berney, S., & Bétrancourt, M. (2016). Does animation enhance learning? A meta-analysis. Computers & Education101, 150-167.

Pink, A., & Newton, P. M. (2020). Decorative animations impair recall and are a source of extraneous cognitive load. Advances in Physiology Education.