Author Archives: Andrew Watson

Because we teachers are a busy lot, we sometimes want simplicity and clarity:

“I’m honestly too busy to sort through all the options and variables; just tell me what to do.“

In fact, when I went to my first Learning and the Brain conference in 2008, that was exactly my plan.

The researchers would tell me what to do.

I would do it.

VOILA: brain-based teaching.

The more time I spend in this field, the more I doubt that logical chain. In fact, I frequently warn people against that kind of thinking.

My regular mantra:

“Don’t just DO this thing. Instead, THINK this way.”

In other words, we teachers always have to translate research-based advice to our own context.

Today’s News

I recently came across a study looking at twelve different instructional activities in English and math classrooms.

In this study, “instructional activities” include …

… open discussion among teacher and students,

… use of whiteboard by teacher

… students working in groups

… one-to-one teaching

… students copying from the whiteboard

And so forth.

The research team asked: do students benefit from the same instructional activites in both disciplines?

To answer this question, researchers had observers keep track of teachers’ instructional activities. These observers — during more than 2500 visits! —  recorded whether teachers did these 12 activities “none or very little,” “some of the time,” or “most or all of the time.”

And, they then looked at the students’ scores on national exams in English and math. (This study was done in England, where most students take the GSCE when they’re 16 years old.)

So, what did they find when they put all those pieces together.

Fascinating Results

First, this research team found that teachers do different things:

Some teachers spend much of class time using traditional direct instruction, including lecturing and the use of textbooks, while other teachers devote more class time to students working with their classmates or individual practice.

For instance: one third of teachers use “open discussion” most or all of the time, but one quarter don’t do so at all.

Second, those different instructional activities matter.

In math classes, students benefit from a) practicing on their own, and b) teachers’ checking for understanding.

Students who engage in these activities “all or most of the time” score significantly higher than those who do so “some of the time.” (In this case, “significantly higher” is a bit hard to describe. Probably the easiest way to say this is: both statisticians and the students themselves would notice the difference.)

In English classes, however, students benefit from working and talking with each other (and the teacher).

So, to answer the question in this post’s title: at least according to this study, we shouldn’t teach all disciplines in the same way.

What This Finding DOES Mean

If you teach math or English to high-school students in England, I think you should give this study a careful look to guide your classroom practice.

That is: I’ve given an introduction — but the study includes A LOT more information that could be practically helpful to you.

Even more important:

If you don’t fit in that teaching category, this study means that research-based teaching advice always requires translation and adaptation.

Students benefit from different instructional activities in math and English. And, presumably, in other disciplines as well.

That is: you might go to a conference session that highlights the importance of mind-maps. (I’m picking this example at random.) That session shows research about its effectiveness in helping students learn.

However, this study clearly reminds us that we might need to adapt that advice to our own classrooms.

High-school English teachers might have students create mind-maps together; remember, students benefit from “working and talking together.”

High-school math teachers might have them create mind-maps solo; students benefit from “working on their own.”

More generally, this study might prompt you to ask some direct questions during that mind-map session. Was the research done with students in different grades? In different school or community cultures? Studying different topics? With diagnosed learning differences?

In other words: this specific research finding reminds us of a general lesson. We should be curious about and open to research-based suggestions. AND, we should check and be sure the research aligns with our teaching context before we make drastic changes.

What This Finding DOESN’T Mean

The flipside of my last point is: this research should encourage you to adapt your teaching practices only if your classrooms look like these classrooms.

Do you teach history? This research might not (or might) talk directly to you.

Do you teach second grade? Ditto.

Perhaps you teach in a different cultural context — say, Korea, Cairo, or Kansas.

Perhaps your school has a specific teaching philosophy (a Montessori school; a military academy) that rules out these approaches.

In other words: don’t just DO what this research tells you to do. THINK about your teaching practice with these ideas in mind — and see if they fit and make sense in your world.

Burgess, S. M., Rawal, S., & Taylor, E. S. (2022). Teachers’ use of class time and student achievement (No. w30686). National Bureau of Economic Research.

If we’re going to make “research-based” claims about education — and we are! — then we better have the research goods.

So, how can we at Learning and the Brain — and you as teachers and administrators — find and evaluate research?

For a few years now, I’ve relied on two great sources.

Scite.ai helps me see if a particular study is an outlier, or in alignment with other research findings.

Connectedpapers.com shows a spider web of research studies on any given topic.

They’re great, and you should check them both out. (I’m on those sites several times a week.)

But, we’ve heard A LOT about AI in recent weeks. Can we rely on newer websites to help us out?

I spent an hour or so on Monday playing around on two sites; here’s what I found.

The Inevitable ChatGPT

I won’t rehash all the Twitter agita on this subject, but gosh ChatGPT has gotten lots of attention. (Twitter tells me it’s either the savior of education, or the end of education, a deranged stalker of New York Times reporters, or a nothingburger.)

Can it help us explore research into education?

To answer this question, I asked Chat GPT to describe “schema theory.” Here are the first two paragraphs of its answer:

“Schema theory” is a cognitive psychology theory that describes how people understand, organize, and store information about the world. The theory suggests that people use mental frameworks or “schemas” to categorize information and simplify their understanding of the world around them.

A schema can be thought of as a mental structure that represents knowledge about a particular category of information, such as objects, events, or social interactions. For example, a person might have a schema for a “restaurant” that includes information about the typical layout, menu items, and social norms associated with dining out.

So far, so good. (The restaurant example of schema is quite common.)

I asked it to dig a bit deeper, and to identify problems or limitations with schema theory. Again, I got a solid set of answers. For instance, a limitation:

Overgeneralization: Schemas can sometimes lead to overgeneralization, causing people to perceive things in a stereotypical or biased manner. For example, people with a schema of a “criminal” may unconsciously associate criminal behavior with certain groups.

When I asked it for research supporting schema theory, its first three answers were several decades old, so I asked it for research from the last 20 years.

Of the three it listed, this one looked most promising:

Lee, J. J., & Anderson, N. (2015). The role of schema in the interpretation of ambiguous scenes. Memory & Cognition, 43(8), 1186-1197.

But, strangely, when I tried to find that study on Google Scholar, it didn’t seem to exist.

Stranger still, when I went to the website for the journal Memory and Cognition, it also doesn’t exist. (To be clear: the journal exists; the article doesn’t exist in it.)

You’re not going to believe this, but it seems that ChatGPT simply MADE UP a research study supporting schema theory.

The Chat Gets Awkward

I pointed out to ChatGPT that the source doesn’t exist, and it responded:

I apologize, it seems I made a mistake. The study by Lee and Anderson (2015) that I mentioned in my previous answer does not seem to exist. As a language model, I strive to provide accurate and up-to-date information, but sometimes I may make errors or misunderstand the information given to me. I appreciate your feedback and will take this into account in my future responses.

Okay, I’m not happy about this. But it did fess up to its mistake, and promise to do better.

So, the conversation continued:

Few debates rage hotter in education circles than that between educational progressives and educational traditionalists. (I’m emphasizing “educational” in these phrases, because they don’t necessarily align with political trad/prog divides. This blog doesn’t do politics.)

One recent summary — relying heavily on Dewey — describes the debate this way:

Educational traditionalists “argue that teachers should carefully select and sequence the best knowledge from their subject areas and then deliver it directly to the whole class, while maintaining order.”

Whereas

Educational progressives “argue that teachers should focus on facilitating individualised learning experiences in which pupils can explore their natural inclinations, thus nurturing their interests and developing general thinking skills.”

Of course, the debate gets MUCH more complicated than these summaries, but it’s handy to have a quick definition. According to this summary article cited above, roughly 2/3 of teachers side with one or the other of these two positions.

But: do we have research favoring one approach or the other?

Problems and Solutions

Because both educational philosophies encompass substantial sets of teaching ideas — everything from pedagogy to curriculum to motivation to metacognition — they resist efforts to evaluate them in their entirety.

We might run a study that shows … say … this “ed prog” unit motivates 6th graders more strongly than the analogous “ed trad” unit. However, such a study doesn’t necessarily mean that the philosophy itself works for all students, all subjects, all cultures, and all definitions of “works.”

So, what to do?

Education scholars Dr. Sam Sims and Dr. John Jerrim have found an ENORMOUS data set from Germany that just might make this possible.

It shows how much academic progress several thousand German students made over several years.

It measures their expressed motivation for studying German and math.

Heck, it even tracks their metacognative facility.

And,

It asks questions about their teachers’ expressed place on the ed prog/ed trad continuum.

It also asks questions about the teachers’ educational practices (PBL, lecture), to see if they align with those expressed beliefs.

WOW.

If we crunch the numbers just right, we should be able to answer several questions:

Do students learn more in one or the other of these approaches?

Does their motivation vary depending on them?

Is one approach or another better for more or less successful students?

So, what do Sims and Jerrim discover when they run their equations?

Not What I Was Expecting

The blog title promises something “weird.” So, here goes…

Because the ed prog/ed trad debate has an ethical valance to it, it often prompts dramatic calls:

“This way is the right way, so our profession really must do it right! After all, anything else is wrong.”

This study — weirdly — comes to an astonishingly bland conclusion.

That is:

Which philosophy helped students learn more?

Honestly, both worked equally well.

But wait: which one helped struggling learners more?

Meh. Both worked equally well.

But surely one fostered student motivation more than the other!

Well, kinda. Educationally traditional teaching practices resulted in slightly higher levels of motivation in German. But, not in math. And, not much even in German.

Um, metacognition?

Again, no big difference — although a slight benefit for team ed trad.

So, this ferocious debate we’ve been having for decades? Maybe we’ve been arguing about the wrong topics…

Trying to Process

Honestly, I’m still trying to wrap my head around this research. (By the way, I heard about it from Peps Mccrea. If you haven’t signed up for his “Research Snacks,” do so NOW. And, you can hear his webinar on motivation March 18th.)

Here’s a random grab-bag of my early thoughts:

First, I don’t doubt that LOTS of people will simply reject these findings. One easy way to do so: they’re published not in a peer reviewed journal, but as a working paper.

Debates about the relative merits of peer review rage in the scholarly community. Readers who typically reject working papers for their lack of formal peer review might simply set this one aside.

Second, if these two approaches basically work equally well, then we shouldn’t focus on choosing one or the other: we should focus on doing both as well as we possibly can.

My own view is that cognitive science will help us do so. For instance: no matter my educational philosophical stance, my students will benefit if I understand how working memory works.

Third, the finding about motivation seems especially surprising — or at least provocative.

Champions of educationally progressive education typically trumpet motivation as one of its obvious benefits. (Hence the contemptuous phrase “drill and kill” to mock direct instruction.)

This research suggests that educationally traditional methods produce slightly higher levels of motivation (in one of the two subjects they measured).

But wait: if students in ed trad classes felt more motivation but didn’t learn more, something very strange is going on.

Perhaps (dare I write it?), motivation doesn’t matter for learning? (How can that possibly be?)

Perhaps (dare I write it?), ed trad methods produce slightly more motivation but slightly less learning — and those two effects balance each other out? (All my ed trad friends just howled in rage.)

Or perhaps there’s some other obvious explanation I’m missing?

Currently, I’m stumped.

Next Steps

Me, I’m going to watch the responses to Sims and Jerrim’s working paper, and see what additional wisdom shakes out.

If you’ve got additional or alternative perspectives, I hope you’ll share them in the comments.

WordPress informs me that this is the 601st article I’ve posted on this blog. That’s a few hundred thousand words since 2015 or so.

I’ve been honored over the years to meet so many of you who read this blog, and who think aloud with me about its topics. (If you see me at a Learning and the Brain conference, I hope you’ll introduce yourself!)

And, I thoroughly enjoyed the opportunities I’ve had to chat with researchers and other scholars as I try to understand their arguments.

As I look back over these years, some emerging themes stand out to me:

A Man, a Plan

When I attended my first Learning and the Brain conference in 2008, I knew what was going to happen:

Step 1: the “brain researchers” would tell me what to do.

Step 2: I would do it.

I would, thus, be practicing “brain-based teaching.” My students would learn SO MUCH MORE than they had in the past.

How hard could it be to follow researchers’ instructions? It turns out: it’s extremely hard simply to “follow researchers’ instructions.”

In the years since that conference, I’ve realized — over and over — how little I knew about what I didn’t know.

Surprise #1: One Size Does Not Fit

The first problem with my 2-step plan: I almost certainly SHOULDN’T DO what the researchers did.

Why?

Let’s say researchers studying the spacing effect asked college students to study three math topics.

Those students did five practice problems once a week for five weeks.

Voila: those students learned more than students who just did all 25 problems at once.

So, I should have my students do five practice problems once a week for five weeks, right?

Hmmm.

I’m a high school teacher. I teach English. I might not teach only three topics at a time. I might have more than 25 practice problems.

So, I can’t simply use the researchers’ formula for my own teaching plan.

Instead of doing what the researchers did, I should think the way the researchers thought.

The researchers’ successes resulted — in part — from the goodness of fit between their method, their students, and their topic.

To get those same successes in my classroom, I have to adapt their ideas to my particular context.

And: all teachers have to do exactly that kind of adapting.

In Step 2 above, I can’t just do what the researchers did. I always have to tailor their work to my teaching world.

Surprise #2: People Are COMPLICATED

Back in 2008, I assumed that “brain-research” would consistently show the same correct answers.

If I knew a correct answer, I could simply do the correct thing.

Alas, it turns out that research studies doesn’t always arrive at the same answer — because PEOPLE ARE COMPLICATED.

So: is focusing on Growth Mindset a good idea?

Although Mindset Theory has been VERY popular, it also generates lots of controversy.

Should schools require mindful meditation?

Ditto.

How much classroom decoration is too much?

If you look at the comments on this post, you’ll see that many teachers REALLY don’t like research-based answers to that question.

In other words, I can’t just “do what the research tells me to do,” because research itself comes up with contradictory (and unpopular) answers.

Surprise Research #3: “Brain Research” Isn’t (Exactly) One Thing

Throughout this post, I’ve been putting the words “brain research” in quotation marks.

Why?

Well, I was surprised to discover that researchers study the “brain” in at least two different ways.

If you really like biology, and want to study the “brain” as a physical object, you’ll go into a field called “neuroscience.”

You’ll look at neurons and neurotransmitters and glial cells and fMRI and EEF and myelination and the nucleus accumbens.

You’ll look at cells under microscopes, and prod them with pointy things while wearing gloves.

BUT

If you really like thoughts and emotions, and want to study the “brain” according to its mental processes, you’ll go into a field called “psychology.”

You’ll look at attention and memory and stress and learning and perception.

Notice: psychologists don’t look at attention under a (literal) microscope. They can’t pick up “stress” the way they can pick up a brain or an amygdala. They don’t need to wear gloves. Nothing damply biological is happening.

Yes, these days these neuroscience and psychology are blurring together. We have people interested in “neuro-psychology”: the biological underpinnings of all those mental processes — memory, curiosity, generosity.

But that blurring is very recent — a couple of decades at most.

And most people in those fields don’t blur. They stick to one team or the other. (For most of the 20th century, these two fields eyed each other with disapproval and suspicion.)

Surprise #4: Psychology First

I don’t like the sentences I’m about to type, but I do think they’re true.

Back in 2008, when I first got into this field, I was REALLY interested in the neuroscience. 

The very first question I asked at a Learning and the Brain conference was “where does attention happen in the brain?”

But, the more time I spend in this field, the more I think that teachers need information from psychology more than from neuroscience.

Yes, the neuro is fascinating. But, it almost never helps me teach better.

For instance:

I don’t need to know where long-term memories are stored in the physical brain. (That’s a question that neuroscientists try to answer.)

I do need to know what teaching strategies help students form new long-term memories. (That’s a question that psychologists try to answer.)

I focus on this topic — the relative importance of psychology for teachers — because so many people use neuroscience to boss teachers around.

Heck, I recently wrote a post about the bizarre claim that “neurotransmitters are happiness chemicals“: a claim that uses neuroscience to tell teachers what to do.

I myself think that anyone who wants to tell teachers “do this new thing!” should have tested that new thing directly with students. We call that research “psychology.”

TL;DR

Here’s what I would tell my 2008 self:

“This field you’re entering will help you and your students SO MUCH!

And, you should know:

You’ll always be translating research findings to your own classroom.

Because researchers and teachers disagree, you’ll always sort through controversy before you know what to do.

Neuroscience research is fascinating (fMRI is SO COOL), but psychology research will provide specific and practical suggestions to improve your teaching and help your students learn.”

I hope this blog has helped make some of those ideas clear and interesting over the years. And: I’m looking forward to exploring them with you even more…