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Andrew Watson About Andrew Watson

Andrew began his classroom life as a high-school English teacher in 1988, and has been working in or near schools ever since. In 2008, Andrew began exploring the practical application of psychology and neuroscience in his classroom. In 2011, he earned his M. Ed. from the “Mind, Brain, Education” program at Harvard University. As President of “Translate the Brain,” Andrew now works with teachers, students, administrators, and parents to make learning easier and teaching more effective. He has presented at schools and workshops across the country; he also serves as an adviser to several organizations, including “The People’s Science.” Andrew is the author of "Learning Begins: The Science of Working Memory and Attention for the Classroom Teacher."

Seriously: What Motivates Teachers to Be Funny?
Andrew Watson
Andrew Watson

To start 2021 in the right spirit, let’s think about humor in the classroom.

It seems that, obviously, humor might be a good classroom strategy. When the lesson slows down, a joke or two might brighten the mood.

Once we begin studying this question the way researchers study things, well, it gets much more complicated. (I once heard the claim that “laughter improves learning 44%!” Unsurprisingly, so vague a statement doesn’t hold up to much scrutiny. For starters, the cited research says 28%, not 44%…)

We might study, for instance:

What kind of humor do teachers use?

Are there differences between K-12 teachers’ and college professors’ use of humor?

Are there gender differences in use of humor? (Believe it or not, there’s a controversy here.)

What motivates teachers to attempt humor?

I’ve recently found research trying to answer this question:

What motivation traits prompt college professors to try content-relevant humor? (“Content relevant” means they’re not just telling jokes; they’re being funny about the topic they’re discussing.)

What did the researchers find?

Kinds of Motivation

Psychologists often divide behavior up into plausible categories for analysis.

For instance, if you know Carol Dweck’s work on mindset, you know that some people feel motivated to learn more, while others feel motivated to demonstrate what they already know.

In this case, college professors might want to improve at professing, or they might want to demonstrate that they’re already top-notch professors.

Also, motivations can be either positive or negative.

In this case, a professor might want to demonstrate that they’re good (positive), or not reveal that they’re bad (negative).

Researchers have other motivational categories as well.

In this study, they wonder if professors use humor to improve relationships with students.

And, they wonder if a prof’s desire to avoid work influences their use of humor.

To start answering these questions, the researchers had more than 250 professors fill out surveys that give insight into their motivation. (Important: these data, in other words, come from self report. Not everyone is persuaded by such data.)

They also asked students to rate — on a scale of 1 to 5 — their agreement with this statement: “Instructor enhances presentations with the use of humor.”

The Envelope, Please

So, what did they learn?

For instance: when did students endorse the statement that their professor “enhances presentations with the use of humor?”

Answer: when those professors themselves said s/he wanted to “build amicable and valued relationships with students.” That is: profs with relational goals use humor to build those relationships.

How about the reverse? When did students consistently reject that statement?

Answer: When their professors said they wanted to avoid looking bad. (If you’re keeping score, that’s a “negative performance” goal.)

In brief: professors who want to connect with students make content-related jokes. Those who fear looking incompetent remain humorless.

Three Interesting Points

First: the researchers here are scrupulous to distinguish between college professors and K-12 teachers. They don’t claim that these findings apply to earlier grades.

Second: This research team — contradicting others — finds that women use humor more often than men. (The controversy continues!)

Third: One word in particular jumps out at me: “enhances.” Students didn’t say that the professors “tried” to be funny, but that they “enhanced presentations with humor.”

That is: the students suggest that — for teachers who want to build relationships — humor really does make lectures better. The researchers don’t address that question directly, but — at least to me — that conclusion flows directly from this research.

Oh, what the heck. Let’s have another.

Fourth: In humor as in all things, personality matters. If you’re not a funny teacher, don’t feel that you have to start telling jokes to build relationships. You — almost certainly — have your own ways to do so. Use your own authentic strategies to connect with your students.

I can’t cite research, but I’m almost certain: your own honest self-presentation will be MUCH more effective at building relationships that forced humor.

The Best Teaching Advice We’ve Got
Andrew Watson
Andrew Watson

You want to improve your teaching with psychology research?

We’ve got good news, and bad news.

And more good news.

Good News: we have lots and LOTS of research. We can talk about attention, or working memory, or the spacing effect, or motivation, or stress…the list is long. And super helpful.

So much practical advice!

Bad News: actually, the bad news is the same as the good news. We’ve got SO MUCH good research that it’s honestly hard to keep track of it all.

I mean, seriously. Should you start by looking at attention research? Or stress research?

Should we think about the motivational effects of student-teacher relationships, or the perils of working memory overload, or the benefits of desirable difficulty?

Which is most important?

Honestly, I think our next priority is not so much finding out new truths about learning, but organizing all the information we already have.

More Good News

If you agree that we really need someone to sort all these suggestions into a coherent system, you’ll be delighted to read this article by Stephen Chew (Twitter handle: @SChewPsych) and William Cerbin (@BillCerbin).

Other scholars — for instance, Barak Rosenshine — have put together a coherent system based on learning principles. Chew and Cerbin, instead, organize their system around cognitive challenges.

That is:

If students feel anxiety about a topic or discipline, that emotion will interfere with their learning.

If students have prior misconceptions, they will distort students’ understanding.

If classroom work or assignments go beyond working memory limits, students won’t learn effectively (or, at all).

When planning a course or a lesson or an assignment, teachers can think their way through these specific challenges. By contemplating each one, we can design our work to best facilitate learning.

Getting the Emphasis Right

If you’re thinking “this is such excellent news! It just can’t get any better!” — well — I’ve got some news: it gets better.

Chew and Cerbin write:

There is no single best teaching strategy for all students, topics, and situations. The proposed framework is not prescriptive … and can guide adaptation of teaching practice.

In other words, they’re not saying: here’s a list of things to do.

Instead, they are saying: here are several topics/problems to consider.

Teaching advice should not include “best practices.” (That’s a business concept.) It should include “best questions to ponder as we make decisions.” Chew and Cerbin make this point repeatedly.

Frequent readers know that I’ve been banging on for years with this mantra: “Don’t just do this thing; instead, think this way.”

We should think about our students’ working memory limitations. The strategies we use might differ for 1st graders and 8th graders.

We should think about the importance of transfer. A Montessori school and a KIPP school will (almost certainly) use differing strategies to reach that goal.

We should think about our students’ prior knowledge. The best way to measure that knowledge might be different for students with diagnosed learning differences.

Yes: we should consider these nine topics. But the ways we answer them must depend on our students, our schools, our curriculum, and ourselves.

For all these reasons, I recommend Chew and Cerbin’s article with great enthusiasm.

And, happily, you can meet Dr. Chew at our online conference in February! (In case you’re wondering: I was planning to write about this article before I knew he was joining the conference. A happy synchronicity.)

James Flynn Changed the Way We Think about Intelligence
Andrew Watson
Andrew Watson

In 1950, the average score on an IQ test was ~100. In 2020, the average score on an IQ test was ~100.

Nothing, it seems, had changed.

Those facts, however, disguise a surprising truth.

IQ tests are based on scaled scores. That is: the student’s raw test score is translated into an IQ score according to a formula. And — here’s the key part — that formula is readjusted every ten years.

So: the reason that average IQ scores haven’t changed is that the formula has changed to keep the average at 100. A lot. Raw scores on the underlying test have gone considerably over the history over the test.

If our grandparents’ raw scores were translated according to today’s formula, their average would be about 70. If our scores were translated according to our grandparents’ formula, the average would be about 130.

What’s going on here?

Are we really that much smarter than our grandparents?

https://www.ted.com/talks/james_flynn_why_our_iq_levels_are_higher_than_our_grandparents?language=en#t-524785

James Flynn, who first noted this astonishing increase, has a different way of thinking about this question.

He, instead, pointed to differences in schooling. For instance:

Children today, on average, get LOTS more schooling than did children when the IQ test was first developed.

Today’s schooling tends to focus more on abstract and hypothetical thinking than did school 100 years ago.

Flynn’s argument, of course, includes many more details and insights.

Even people who don’t care much for IQ as a way to measure intelligence admire the way Flynn has prompted us to think differently and deeply about the history of intelligence: how we measure it, how we develop it, how we understand it.

You can read Wikipedia’s article on the Flynn Effect here.

Today’s Sad News

James Flynn died last week in New Zealand, where he had been a professor for decades.

He’s being remembered not only as a giant in the field of intelligence research, but also as an unusual combination of intelligence and kindness.

Over on Twitter, Richard Haier — editor of the journal Intelligence — tweeted:

Jim Flynn became famous for showing a global secular rise in IQ scores but he was admired even more for engaging with critics as a gentleman. In a field raked with controversy and not without personal attacks, Jim sought out contrary opinions and engaged intellectually.

We have learned from Flynn’s insights into human cognition. We can also learn from his example on conversing with people we disagree with.

December Book-a-Palooza
Andrew Watson
Andrew Watson

When I started in this field, back in 2008, teachers really didn’t have many helpful books to draw on.

Books about teaching? Sure. Books about psychology and neuroscience research? Absolutely. Books bringing those topics together? Not so much…

What a difference a decade makes!

These days, we’ve got so many books that it’s hard to keep up. My “Read This Now” pile has been growing for months. Only in the last few weeks — since I sent my own book to the publisher — have I had time to read again.

I want to share a few recent discoveries with you.

Generative Learning in Action

A new series of books, edited by Tom Sherrington, focuses on research “in Action.” They’re all quite short — less than 100 pages — and carefully focused on practical classroom applications of research.

Sherrington kicked off this series with Rosenshine’s Principles in Action last year. Now, Zoe and Mark Enser’s book explores Fiorella and Mayer’s theory of Generative Learning.

Unlike many such books, this one focuses more on what students are doing. Specifically, generative learning invites them to do mental work that makes sense of their learning.

The Ensers describe eight distinct kinds of generative learning. Some — like “summarizing” — seem straightforward, even mundane. Others — like “drawing” or “enacting” — might feel more daunting to some students.

In every case, Generative Learning explains how these activities require their big three mental activities: selecting, organizing, and integrating information. When students “map” a topic, for instance, they have to select relevant ideas, organize them into meaningful patterns, and integrate them into a coherent whole.

The Ensers take care care to offer specific classroom examples of these eight strategies. Several chapters include “case studies” from other teachers who have put them to use.

They also emphasize the limitations that might make them less helpful. (Researchers call these “boundary conditions.”) For instance, almost all of these techniques require some working memory headroom. They also benefit from a fair amount of explanation and practice.

One important caveat. As noted above, generative learning strategies focus on the cognitive work that students do. The Ensers explicitly emphasize that such generative learning does not replace teaching but follows teaching. That is: we don’t use these strategies so that students might figure out concepts on their own. We use them so that students might consolidate ideas they learn in class.

In brief: this book — which takes less than an hour to read — provides clear explanations and practical examples. If you want both new ideas to try and new ways to think about your students’ classroom work, give Generative Learning a read. (Next up in the series: Ollie Lovell explores Cognitive Load Theory.)

The Science of Learning: 77 Studies that Every Teacher Needs to Know

In our work, you’ll often hear that we teachers should try a certain technique because “research says so.”

“What research?” we ask. “Well — you know — the research,” comes the reply.

In this usefully skimmable book, Bradley Busch and Edward Watson (no relation, that I know of) briskly summarize 77 research studies that might usefully guide our practice.

For each study, they describe its design, its main findings, and its classroom applications.

Should we really spread practice out over time? Check out #4. (BTW, I’ll give you a hint. “Yes.”)

How do we make feedback more effective? #25 has some answers.

What does PISA data tell us about helping disadvantaged students? The answers — summarized in #62 — might surprise you.

In this book, Busch and Watson provide lots of useful information. AND, they offer insights into reading and understanding research studies.

The more of these recaps you read, the more insight you’ll have into the strategies researchers use to answer the questions that they ask. (However: don’t be fooled by the repeated tagline “the one about” — as in, “the one about reading out loud.” ALL psychology research requires MANY studies.)

Like Generative LearningThe Science of Learning makes for a helpful, easy, and informative read.

Who On Earth Are You

Given the importance of cross-cultural understanding, it would be great to find a wise guide for negotiating its inherent difficulties.

How do different cultures think about time? About hierarchy? About uncertainty?

How do those differences influence teaching, learning, and schoolkeeping?

In his new book — Who On Earth Are You?: A Handbook for Thriving in a Mixed-Up World — Peter Welch brings several perspectives to these complex questions. (The illustrations are by his wife, Suzanne Shortt.)

Clearly, Welch knows A LOT of research. For instance, he explores Richard Lewis’s theory about cultural modes of communication: linear-active, multi-active, and reactive.

Despite his scholarly knowledge, Welch keeps his book light and personal.

Having lived in many countries and many continents, he has humorous and sad and enlightening stories to tell.

Having taught in schools — and run schools — from Africa to Turkey to Singapore to Finland to Thailand, he particularly understands how cultural differences shape educational expectations and experiences.

Welch has more than the usual share of “I thought it would turn out this way, but gosh was I wrong!” stories to illustrate the questions he explores. (For instance: the production of Romeo and Juliet he staged in Lesotho included — to his great surprise — lots of spontaneous audience participation.)

If you teach — or plan to teach — in a school with a rich cultural blend, Welch’s humility, humor, and insight offer new ways to think about living and teaching in our “mixed-up world.” He makes a thoughtful and encouraging guide on this adventure.

Possible Selves in STEM: Helping Students See Themselves as Scientists
Andrew Watson
Andrew Watson

Why don’t more students sign up for STEM classes, and enter STEM careers?

Could we increase the number, and the diversity within that group?

Researchers in California came up with a simple strategy: one that offered powerful results.

Here’s the story…

Possible Selves

This research team, let by Jeffry Schinske, wondered if students avoided science classes because they simply couldn’t see themselves as scientists.

“I am this kind of person,” students might think. “Scientists are that kind of person. I’ll just never belong.”

To push back against this false belief, Schinske’s team tried a straightforward strategy. Their biology students learned not only from a textbook, but also from primary sources. By learning course information from a broadly diverse range of scientists, these students expanded their sense of who scientists might be.

That is: they might learn about neurobiology by studying the work of Dr. Ben Barres. In this way, students learned about diseases of the nervous system and about trans scientists. (If you’re interested in Barres’s remarkable story, we introduced him on this blog a few years ago.)

They didn’t learn about biology concepts as a series of abstract truths. Instead, they learned about these topics through the people (Black or White or Asian or Hispanic; gay or straight; cis or trans; on the spectrum; funny or serious) who investigate them.

In other words: Schinske’s team wanted to increase their students’ sense of possible selves by showing scientists who resembled them.

Results?

Sure enough, this strategy worked. A few key findings.

Compared to students in an active control condition, students who did this “Scientist Spotlight” homework…

… thought of scientists in less stereotypical ways,

… felt they could individually relate to scientists as people like themselves (and felt that way for at least 6 months),

… felt more interested in science, and

… got higher grades.

Because of the study design, not all these findings are causal. That is, Shinske doesn’t claim that the Scientist Spotlight caused the higher grades.

But, it’s an intriguing possibility — especially because it doesn’t take additional time for either students or teachers.

In Their Own Words

More than most research, this study includes passages from surveys that the students completed. The students’ own words helpfully communicate the power of this technique. For instance,

For my whole life I … wasn’t exposed to any scientist who was of African American descent. That, as a fellow African American, brought me joy as it shows that African Americans are no longer abiding to the negative stigma we have. She’s representing a powerful positing for us and  people have noticed her work. It gave me incentive to push for my own dreams and to succeed.

Or

I found this Ted Talk with Charles Limb incredibly interesting mostly because I am a musician myself who has been trained both classically and in jazz.

Or

Before I learned about scientists in this class, I thought scientists were like “nerds” or what they show in movies. The characters would be very geeky, had glasses, spoke monotone, and thought they were above everyone. However, through all the research I’ve done in this class, scientists are just normal people like myself. They love to learn new things, they have a life outside the laboratory, they are fun … My opinion of people who do science has completely changed thanks to this class.

Clearly, this strategy strongly influenced these (and many other) students.

If you try this out with your own scientists, please let me know what you find!

Two New Ways of Thinking About Memory
Andrew Watson
Andrew Watson

In our classroom work, we teachers focus on learning; in their research, psychologists and neuroscientists often focus on memory. We have, in other words, different frameworks for talking about the same topic.

Photo by Vlad Tchompalov on Unsplash

When I find one review article that provides TWO fresh ways to understand memory and learning, well, that’s worth sharing.

Humans have MANY memory systems with many daunting (and overlapping) names: working memory, declarative memory, semantic memory, and so forth.

In our day-to-day lives, we often focus on episodic memory. As the name suggests, this memory strand acquires vividly detailed pictures of specific events:

My birthday party (I can describe the cinnamon in the chocolate cake, and why my brother was looking so grouchy).

The time you found a stranger’s wallet (You can remember the chilly, opaque puddle from which you plucked the wallet, and the stranger’s shocked gratitude when you sleuthed down his phone number to return it).

The day the principal literally dropped the mic (Students still talk about the hollow bang and the agonizing reverb when the mic hit the stage floor in the gym).

Episodic memories fill our scrapbooks and dinner-table stories.

Over time, episodic memories gradually turn into semantic memories: general knowledge of abstract facts.

For instance:

At one point, probably in school, you learned that Abraham Lincoln had been assassinated. That evening, you had an episodic memory of learning that truth. You could say which teacher told you; you might wince at the sound of squeaking chalk as s/he wrote on the board.

Over time, however, that detailed episodic memory has become semantic memory. You know the abstract fact (Booth killed Lincoln), but not the rich details of when you learned it.

You no longer remember — episodically — when you learned that fact, but you remember the fact itself — semantically.

In psychology language, your brain semanticized this episodic memory.

Too Much of a Good Thing

Truthfully, we want our students to semanticize most of their learning.

For instance: I don’t want them to know that 3 + 4 = 7 at this specific moment.

I want them to abstract a general, semantic rule: three of something, combined with four more of the somethings, add up to seven somethings. (Unless those somethings are rumors, in which case they add up to a billion.)

I want them to know that the pen is mightier than the sword is an example of metonymy. But I don’t want them to limit their knowledge to that one example.

Instead, I want them to recognize other metonyms — which they can do if they semanticize that example.

At times, however, students can abstract too far.

If they conclude that a roundish number (like 3) plus a pointy number (like 4) add up to seven, then they might conclude that a roundish 8 plus a sharpish 1 add up to seven. In this case, they over-generalized: that is, over-semanticized.

If they conclude that the words pen and sword are always metonyms — that they never mean literally “pen” and “sword” — then they have gone too far.

When learning to speak, children pick up the abstract rule that “-ed” makes words past tense in English. But, they over-semanticize when they say “goed” instead of “went.”

As teachers, we want students to get the balance just right. We want them to translate individual examples into abstract rules.

But: we don’t want them to over-apply those abstract rules to inappropriate situations.

Teaching Implications?

At this point, you might worry: gosh, ANOTHER set of teaching techniques I have to master.

This research team has good news for you: the techniques you’ve heard of at Learning and the Brain conferences help students get this balance right.

That is: retrieval practice helps students get the episodic/semantic balance right.

So do spacing and interleaving.

So does sleep, and (probably) mindfulness and mindful rest.

This episodic/semantic balance is a new way of thinking about old teaching techniques, not a call for new teaching techniques.

Second “New Way”

Authors van Kesteren and Meeter also offer a neuroscientific account of long-term memory formation.

The (very) brief summary goes like this.

We know that both the prefrontal cortex (PFC) and the hippocampus participate in new learning.

In their framework, the PFC helps connect new information with pre-existing mental models (often called schema). And the hippocampus helps organize new information that doesn’t align with a pre-existing mental model/schema.

That is: the brain’s response to new information depends on our current knowledge of it.

If we know something, the PFC does lots of the memory work.

If we know very little, the hippocampus does lots of the memory work.

As always, this neurobiological account wildly oversimplifies a hugely complicated series of events. (This is a blog, after all.)

And, it doesn’t provide new teaching strategies. We don’t “teach the PFC this way, and teach the hippocampus this other way.” (If you hear someone say that, be SUPER skeptical.)

However, it does offer a fascinating theory about the brain activity underlying our amazing mental abilities.

Putting It Together

This post’s title offered “two new ways to think about memory.”

First, teachers can think about converting episodic memories into semantic memories (without going too far).

Second, we can think about the PFC’s role in adding to existing schema, and the hippocampus’s role in developing new schema.

Neither new framework changes your teaching — assuming you’re already using the strategies that you hear about at LatB conferences so frequently. But, both offer us new ways to view our teaching from new perspectives — that is, to use both our PFCs and our hippocampi at the same time.


For earlier thoughts on episodic (also called “autobiographical”) memory vs. semantic memory, click here. And here for Clare Sealy’s discussion of the topic.

Gratitude in School, 2020 Edition
Andrew Watson
Andrew Watson

Here’s a pre-Thanksgiving question: How much good news can you pack into one psychology study?

Lots of psychology research focuses on human difficulties:

Why is it hard to learn and develop?

Why do people struggle to connect?

What happens when mental health decays?

The field of positive psychology — as the name suggests — turns its focus to the upsides of mental experience: human flourishing, connection, wellness, and development.

For instance: how about gratitude?

What does research tell us about gratitude? After all: we could all use a little positive focus these days…

Benefits of Connection?

A research team in Hong Kong wanted to know: how does the feeling of connection with other people help us in schools?

Working with high school students, they measured lots of variables:

students’ connection with parents, teachers, and peers

their perceived academic confidence, with things like:

study skills, time management, & creative thinking

Because they measured these variables at different times, they could identify an interesting causal pattern.

Students who felt more connected to teachers, parents, and peers (that’s good!) also felt higher levels of gratitude (that’s also good!).

And: that gratitude boost resulted in higher levels of things like study skills, time management, creative thinking, and investment in learning (those are all good too!).

This good thing (connection) led to that good thing (gratitude), which increased these other good things (school work habits and values). That’s a whole lotta positive in one psychology study.

Research Implications

Honestly, I don’t know we teachers will do much differently as a result of this study. I suspect we were in favor of connection before we saw this research, and we’re still in favor of connection now.

We were pro-gratitude; we still are.

At this time of year — after a 2020 that hasn’t given us much to celebrate — it might lift our spirits to see such results. Many of us got into teaching because, well, we value the connections we have with our students.

Yes: Shakespeare is great. Yes: an appreciation of Mali ‘s Imperial past inspires awe. Yes: black holes are amazingly cool and fun to study. But it’s the people we study with that really make the job joyful and worthwhile.

In other words: schools should devote lots of time to our students’ knowledge.

And: the time we take to connect with our students helps them master that knowledge.

In this year that has created so much stress — at a time we remember all that makes us thankful — it’s good to know: gratitude itself is something we can be grateful for.

Parachutes Don’t Help (Important Asterisk)
Andrew Watson
Andrew Watson

A surprising research finding to start your week: parachutes don’t reduce injury or death.

How do we know?

Researchers asked participants to jump from planes (or helicopters), and then measured their injuries once they got to the ground. (To be thorough, they checked a week later as well.)

Those who wore parachutes and those who did not suffered — on average — the same level of injury.

Being thorough researchers, Robert Yeh and his team report all sorts of variables: the participants’ average acrophobia, their family history of using parachutes, and so forth.

They also kept track of other variables. The average height from which participants jumped: 0.6 meters. (That’s a smidge under 2 feet.) The average velocity of the plane (or helicopter): 0.0 kilometers/hour.

Yes: participants jumped from stationary planes. On the ground. Parked.

Researchers include a helpful photo to illustrate their study:

Representative study participant jumping from aircraft with an empty backpack. This individual did not incur death or major injury upon impact with the ground

Why Teachers Care

As far as I know, teachers don’t jump out of planes more than other professions. (If you’re jumping from a plane that is more than 0.6 meters off the ground, please do wear a parachute.)

We do, however, rely on research more than many.

Yeh’s study highlights an essential point: before we accept researchers’ advice, we need to know exactly what they did in their research.

Too often, we just look at headlines and apply what we learn. We should — lest we jump without parachutes — keep reading.

Does EXERCISE helps students learn?

It probably depends on when they do the exercise. (If the exercise happens during the lesson, it might disrupt learning, not enhance it.)

Does METACOGNITION help students learn?

It probably depends on exactly which metacognitive activity they undertook.

Do PARACHUTES protect us when we jump from planes?

It probably depends on how high the plane is and how fast it’s going when we jump.

In brief: yes, we should listen respectfully to researchers’ classroom guidance. AND, we should ask precise questions about that research before we use it in our classrooms.

The Source of Student Motivation: Deeper than We Know?
Andrew Watson
Andrew Watson

Usually I blog about specific research findings that inform education.

Today — to mix things up — I thought it would be helpful to talk about an under-discussed theory pertinent to education.

This theory helps us at least two ways:

First: it gives useful insights into student motivation. (Teachers want to know everything we can know about motivation.)

Second: it provides useful background for a second up-n-coming theory — as I’ll describe below.

Education and Evolution

Let’s zoom the camera WAY BACK and think about individual human development from an evolutionary perspective.

Certain human interests and abilities can promote our evolutionary fitness.

Tens of thousands of years ago, humans who — say — understood other people and worked with them effectively probably had a survival advantage.

So did humans who took time to make sense of the natural world around them.

Oh, and the physical world as well.

Given those probabilities, humans who learned about people, the natural world, and the physical world would — on average — thrive more than those who did not.

If that’s true, then we probably evolved to learn those things relatively easily. (Obviously, this is a great oversimplification of evolution’s complexities.)

For instance: we rarely teach children to recognize faces — our species evolved to be good at that. We don’t teach them to walk or talk; they do so naturally. (We encourage and celebrate, but we don’t need to teach.)

We don’t have to encourage people to explore the natural or physical world. Throwing rocks, climbing trees, jumping in puddles, chasing small animals: we evolved to be intrinsically interested in those things.

Primary and Secondary

Evolutionary Psychologist David Geary describes these interests as biologically primaryWe evolved to be interested in and learn about what he calls “folk psychology” (people), “folk biology” (the natural world), and “folk physics” (the physical world).

Geary contrasts these several topics with others that we learn because human culture developed them: geometry, grammar, the scientific method, reading. He calls such topics biologically secondary because need for them does not spring from our evolutionary heritage.

We are MUCH less likely to be interested in biologically secondary topics than biologically primary ones. We didn’t evolve to learn them. Our survival — understood on an evolutionary scale — does not depend on them.

Said the other way around: if I don’t explicitly teach my child to walk, she’s highly likely to do so anyway. If I don’t explicitly teach my child calculus, she’s highly unlikely to figure it out on her own. (Newton and Leibnitz did…but that’s about it.)

If you’re keen to understand its nuances, Geary’s 100 page introduction to his theory is here.

Implications: Motivation

If Geary’s correct, his theory helps answer a persistent question in education:

Why don’t students love learning X as much as they loved learning to climb trees/play games/mimic siblings/build stick forts/etc.?

This question usually implies that schools are doing something wrong.

“If only we didn’t get in the way of their natural curiosity,” the question implies, “children would love X as much as those other things.”

Geary’s answer is: playing games is biologically primary, doing X is biologically secondary.

We evolved to be motivated to play games. Our genes, in effect, “want” us to do that.

We did not evolve to learn calculus. Our culture, in effect, “wants” us to do that. But cultural motivations can’t match the power of genetic ones.

In effect, Geary’s argument allows teachers to stop beating ourselves up so much. We shouldn’t feel like terrible people because our students don’t revel in the topics we teach.

Schools focus on biologically secondary topics. Those will always be less intrinsically motivating (on average) than biologically primary ones.

Implications: Cognitive Load

A second theory — cognitive load theory (CLT) — has been getting increasing attention in recent months and years.

CLT helps explain the role of working memory in human cognition. (Frequent readers know: I think working memory is the essential topic for teachers to understand.)

In recent years, CLT’s founders have connected their theory to Geary’s work on biologically primary/secondary learning.

That connection takes too much time to explain here. But, if you’re interested in cognitive load, be aware that Geary’s work might be hovering in the background.

Watch this space.

Reactions

Some scholars just love the analytical power provided by the distinction between biologically primary and secondary learning.

Paul Kirschner (twitter handle: @P_A_Kirschner), for instance, speaks of Geary’s theory with genuine admiration. (In one interview I read, he wished he’d thought of it himself.)

Others: not so much.

Christian Bokhove (twitter handle: @cbokhove), for instance, worries that the theory hasn’t been tested and can’t be tested. (Geary cites research that plausibly aligns with his argument. But, like many evolutionary theories, it’s hard to test directly.)

I myself am drawn to this framework — in part because evolutionary arguments make lots of sense to me. I do however worry about the lack of more evidence.

And: I’m puzzled that so little work has been done with the theory since it was first published in 2007. If it makes so much sense to me (a non-specialist), why haven’t other specialists picked up the topic and run with it?

For the time being, I think teachers should at least know about this theory.

You might start considering your students’ interests and motivations in this light — perhaps Geary’s distinction will offer a helpful perspective.

And, I don’t doubt that — as cognitive load theory gets more attention — the distinction between biologically primary and secondary learning will be more and more a part of teacherly conversations.

“But How Do We Know If It Works in the Classroom?”: The Latest on Retrieval Practice
Andrew Watson
Andrew Watson

We’ve heard so much about retrieval practice in the last two years that it seems like we’ve ALWAYS known about its merits.

But no: this research pool hasn’t been widely known among teachers until recently.

We can thank Agarwal and Bain’s wonderful Powerful Teaching for giving it a broad public audience. (If you had been attending Learning and the Brain conferences, of course, you would have heard about it a few years before that.)

Of course, we should stop every now and then to ask ourselves: how do we know this works?

In this case, we’ve got several answers.

In addition to Agarwal and Bain’s book, both Make it Stick (by Brown, Roediger, and McDaniel) and How We Learn (by Benedict Carey) offer helpful surveys of the research.

You could also check out current research. Ayanna Kim Thomas recently published a helpful study about frequent quizzing in college classrooms. (It helps!)

All these ways of knowing help. Other ways of knowing would be equally helpful.

For instance: I might want to know if retrieval practice helps in actual classrooms, not just in some psychology lab somewhere.

Yes, yes: Agarwal and Bain’s research mostly happened in classrooms. But if you’ve met them you know: it might work because they’re such engaging teachers! What about teachers like me — who don’t quite live up to their energy and verve?

Today’s News

A recent meta-analysis looked at the effect on retrieval practice in actual classrooms with actual students. (How many students? Almost 8000 of them…)

Turns out: retrieval practice helps when its studied in psychology labs.

And, it helps when vivacious teachers (like Agarwal and Bain) use it.

And, it helps when everyday teachers (like me) use it.

It really just helps. As in: it helps students learn.

A few interesting specifics from this analysis:

First: retrieval practice quizzes helped students learn more when they were counted for a final grade than when they weren’t. (Although: they did help when not counted toward the grade.)

Second: they helped more when students got feedback right away than when feedback was delayed. (This finding contradicts the research I wrote about last week.)

Third: short answer quizzes helped learning more than multiple choice (but: multiple choice quizzes did produce modest benefits).

Fourth: announced quizzes helped more than unannounced quizzes.

and, by the way

Fifth: retrieval practice helped middle-school and high-school students more than college students. (Admittedly: based on only a few MS and HS studies.)

In brief: all that good news about retrieval practice has not been over sold. It really is among the most robustly researched and beneficial teaching strategies we can use.

And: it’s EASY and FREE.

A Final Note

Because psychology research can be — ahem — written for other psychology researchers (and not for teachers), these meta-analyses can be quite daunting. I don’t often encourage people to read them.

In this case, however, authors Sotola and Crede have a straightforward, uncomplicated prose style.

They don’t hold back on the technical parts — this is, after all, a highly technical kind of writing.

But the explanatory paragraphs are unusually easy to read. If you can get a copy — ask your school’s librarian, or see if it shows up on Google Scholar — you might enjoy giving it a savvy skim.