Skip to main content

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."

Is it Better to be a “Natural” or a “Striver”?
Andrew Watson
Andrew Watson

Consider top performers in a given field: inventors, artists, athletes, academics, and so forth.

Presumably, their elite performance results from some mysterious combination of innate ability and effortful practice.

But which of those two variables matters more, the ability or the practice?

And — here’s a super interesting question — does my answer to that explicit question line up with the implicit value judgments that I make in real life?

In other words: I might say I prefer ability (or practice), but end up valuing the practice (or ability).

How might we measure such a troubling possibility?

Expert Evaluators

Two researchers — Chia-Jung Tsay and Mahzarin Banaji — developed a clever strategy to answer this question.

Tsay and Banaji gave professional musicians brief bios of two pianists. One bio emphasized the all the hard work that the pianist had put into her growth as a musician. (In the researchers’ language, she was a “striver.”)

The other bio emphasized the innate ability that the pianist had. (She was a “natural.”)

The expert musicians then heard brief excerpts of recordings of these two musicians. They rated the performances on various scales, including their “musical achievement,” and whether or not they would like to hear the performance again.

Finally, they answered questions asking them directly whether they valued “effortful training” or “natural talent.”

What did the researchers learn from all these questions and evaluations?

The Envelope, Please

Tsay and Banaji’s research paradigm includes a surprise: the two brief musical excerpts came from the same pianist playing the same piece. Heck, they were from the same recording.

In other words: they were of identical musical achievement. And, we would predict that the expert evaluators would be equally eager to hear these two performances again — because they were the same performance.

When asked explicitly, the evaluators said they valued practice more than talent. (The d value here is 0.57, which is noteworthy.) So, presumably, given this set of circumstances, they might prefer the performance by the striver.

But, nope.

They preferred the natural. (The d value here is 0.79. That’s really big.)

So, even though the performances were equally accomplished, and the evaluators said they valued effort, their evaluations suggest that they actually valued talent.

Teaching Implications

First: we shouldn’t panic. This is one study looking at a specific evaluation of a specific kind of expert performance. Yes: Tsay and Banaji did all the responsible things to test their hypothesis in different ways — I haven’t summarized two related experiments they did.

But: before we extrapolate too zealously, we should be curious about other research into this question.

Second: Specifically, I wonder how much this preference for “naturals” over “strivers” has a cultural influence. This research was done in an American cultural context. Are Americans unusually keen on talent over effort? What do we find when we look within other cultural norms?

Third: Even with these caveats, I myself will be even more skeptical about my ability to judge between talent and effort objectively. I’m sure that, if you ask me, I’ll tell you I value the effort. But, this research suggest I’ll make decisions based on my appreciation of your talent.

To take a provocative example: when I talk with people who manage “Gifted and Talented” programs, I often hear they value hard work as much as “gifts and talents.” In the future, I will encourage people with those (laudable) values to look under the hood.

Do they have systems in place to measure hard work? Do those measurements, in fact, influence program decisions? Do they — more specifically — benefit people who truly work harder?

In sum: if we in fact value striving, then we should be sure we reward striving — even though it might not feel natural to do so.

“How We Learn”: Wise Teaching Guidance from a Really Brainy Guy
Andrew Watson
Andrew Watson

Imagine that you ask a neuro-expert: “What’s the most important brain information for teachers to know?”

The answer you get will depend on the expertise of the person you ask.

If you ask Stanislas Dehaene, well, you’ll get LOTS of answers — because he has so many areas of brain expertise.

He is, for example,  a professor of experimental cognitive psychology at the Collège de France; and Director of the NeuroSpin Center, where they’re building the largest MRI gizmo in the world. (Yup, you read that right. IN THE WORLD.)

He has in fact written several books on neuroscience: neuroscience and reading, neuroscience and math, even neuroscience and human consciousness.

He’s also President of a newly established council to ensure that teacher education in all of France has scientific backing: the Scientific Council for Education. (If the United States had such a committee, we could expunge Learning Styles myths from teacher training overnight.)

If that’s not enough, Dehaene is interested in artificial intelligence. And statistics. And evolution.

So, when he writes a book called How We Learn: Why Brains Learn Better than Any Machine…for Now, you know you’re going to get all sorts of wise advice.

Practical Teaching Advice

Dehaene wants teachers to think about “four pillars” central to the learning process.

Pillar 1: Attention

Pillar 2: Active engagement

Pillar 3: Error feedback

Pillar 4: Consolidation

As you can see, this blueprint offers practical and flexible guidance for our work. If we know how to help students pay attention (#1), how to help them engage substantively with the ideas under discussion (#2), how to offer the right kind of feedback at the right time (#3), and how to shape practice that fosters consolidation (#4), we’ll have masterful classrooms indeed.

Learning, of course, begins with Attention: we can’t learn about things we don’t pay attention to. Following Michael Posner’s framework, Dehaene sees attention not as one cognitive process, but as a combination of three distinct cognitive processes.

Helpfully, he simplifies these processes into three intuitive steps. Students have to know:

when to pay attention

what to pay attention to, and

how to pay attention.

Once teachers start thinking about attention this way, we can see all sorts of new possibilities for our craft. Happily, he has suggestions.

Like other writers, Dehaene wants teachers to focus on active engagement (pillar #2). More than other writers, he emphasizes that “active” doesn’t necessarily mean moving. In other words, active engagement requires not physical engagement but cognitive engagement.

This misunderstanding has led to many needlessly chaotic classroom strategies, all in the name of “active learning.” So, Dehaene’s emphasis here is particularly helpful and important.

What’s the best way to create cognitive (not physical) engagement?

“There is no single miraculous method, but rather a whole range of approaches that force students to think for themselves, such as: practical activities, discussions in which everyone takes part, small group work, or teachers who interrupt their class to ask a difficult questions.”

Error Feedback (pillar #3) and Consolidation (#4) both get equally measured and helpful chapters. As with the first two, Dehaene works to dispel myths that have muddled our approaches to teaching, and to offer practical suggestions to guide our classroom practice.

Underneath the “Four Pillars”

These four groups of suggestions all rest on a sophisticated understanding of what used to be called the “nature/nurture” debate.

Dehaene digs deeply into both sides of the question to help teachers understand both brain’s adaptability (“nurture”) and the limits of that adaptability (“nature”).

To take but one example: research with babies makes it quite clear that brains are not “blank slates.” We come with pre-wired modules for processing language, numbers, faces, and all sorts of other things.

One example in particular surprised me: probability. Imagine that you put ten red marbles and ten green marbles in a bag. As you start drawing marbles back out of that bag, a 6-month-old will be surprised — and increasingly surprised — if you draw out green marble after green marble after green marble.

That is: the baby understands probability. They know it’s increasingly likely you’ll draw a red marble, and increasingly surprising that you don’t. Don’t believe me? Check out chapter 3: “Babies’ Invisible Knowledge.”

Of course, Dehaene has fascinating stories to tell about the brain’s plasticity as well. He describes several experiments — unknown to me — where traumatized rats were reconditioned to prefer the room where the traumatizing shock initially took place.

He also tells the amazing story of “neuronal recycling.” That is: the neural real-estate we train to read initially housed other (evolutionarily essential) cognitive functions.

Human Brains and Machine Learning

Dehaene opens his book by contemplating definitions of learning — and by contrasting humans and machines in their ability to do so.

By one set of measures, computers have us beat.

For instance, one computer was programmed with the rules of the game Go, and then trained to play against itself. In three hours, it became better at the game than the human Go champion. And, it got better from there.

However, Dehaene still thinks humans are the better learners. Unlike humans, machines can’t generalize their learning. In other words: that Go computer can’t play any other games. In fact, if you changed the size of the Go board even slightly, it would be utterly stumped.

And, unlike humans, it can’t explain its learning to anyone else.

And, humans need relatively little data to start learning. Machines do better than us when they can crank millions of calculations. But, when they calculate as slowly as we do, they don’t learn nearly as much as we do.

As his subtitle reassures us, brains learn better than any machine. (And, based on my conversation with him, it’s clear that “…for now” means “for the long foreseeable future.”)

Final Thoughts

At this point, you see what I mean when I wrote that Dehaene has an impressive list of brain interests, and therefore offers an impressive catalog of brain guidance.

You might, however, wonder if this much technical information ends up being a little dry.

The answer is: absolutely not.

Dehaene’s fascination with all things brain is indeed palpable in this book. And, his library of amazing studies and compelling anecdotes keeps the book fresh and easy-to-read. I simply lost track of the number of times I wrote “WOW” in the margin.

This has been a great year for brain books. Whether you’re new to the field, or looking to deepen your understanding, I recommend How We Learn enthusiastically.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?time_continue=62&v=23KWKoD8xW8&feature=emb_logo

Whose Online Teaching Advice Do You Trust?
Andrew Watson
Andrew Watson

Many people who offer teaching advice cite psychology and neuroscience research to support their arguments.

If you don’t have time to read that underlying research — or even the expertise to evaluate its nuances — how can you know whom to trust?

There are, of course, MANY answers to that question (for instance: here and here and here). I want to focus on a very simple one today.

My advice comes in the form of a paradox: You should be likelier to TRUST people who tell you to DOUBT them.

Example #1

I thought of this paradox last week when reading a blogger’s thoughts on Jeffrey Bowers. Here’s the third paragraph of the blogger’s post:

I am a researcher working in the field of cognitive load theory. I am also a teacher, a parent and a blogger with a lot of experience of ideological resistance to phonics teaching and some experience of how reading is taught in the wild. All of these incline me towards the systematic teaching of phonics. I am aware that Bowers’ paper will be used by phonics sceptics to bolster their argument and that predisposes me to find fault in it. Bear that in mind.

In this paragraph, the blogger gives the reader some background on his position in an ongoing argument.

He does not claim to read Bowers’s work as an above-the-fray, omniscient deity.

Instead, he comes to this post with perspectives — let’s just say it: biases — that shape his response to Bowers’s research.

And he explicitly urges his reader to “bear [those biases] in mind.”

Of course, in the world of science, “bias” doesn’t need to have a negative connotation. We all have perspectives/biases.

By reminding you of these perspectives — that is, his limitations — the blogger gives you reasons to doubt his opinion.

And my argument is: because he reminded you to doubt him, you should be willing to trust him a little bit more.

The blogger here is Greg Ashman, who writes a blog entitled Filling the Pail. Lots of people disagree with Ashman quite vehemently, and he disagrees right back.

My point in this case is not to endorse his opinions. (I never write about reading instruction, because it’s so complicated and I don’t know enough about it to have a developed opinion.)

But, anyone who highlights his own limitations and knowledge gaps in an argument gets my respect.

Example #2

Over on Twitter, a professor recently tweeted out a quotation from the executive summary of a review. (The specific topic isn’t important for the argument I’m making.)

Soon after, he tweeted this:

“When I tweeted out [X’s] new review of [Y] a few days ago, I pulled a non-representative quote from the exec summary.

It seemed to criticize [Y] by saying [Z] … [However, Z is] not the key criticism in the review. Here I’ve clipped more serious concerns.”

He then posted 4 substantive passages highlighting the review’s core critiques of Y.

In other words, this professor told you “I BLEW IT. I created an incorrect impression of the review’s objections.”

You know what I’m about to say now. Because this professor highlighted reasons you should doubt him — he blew it — I myself think you should trust him more.

We all make mistakes. Unlike many of us (?), this professor admitted the mistake publicly, and then corrected it at length.

In this case, the professor is Daniel Willingham — one of the most important scholars working to translate cognitive psychology for classroom teachers.

He’s written a book on the subject of skepticism: When Can You Trust the Experts. So, it’s entirely in character for Willingham to correct his mistake.

But even if you didn’t know he’d written such a book, you would think you could trust him because he highlighted the reasons you should not.

In Sum

Look for thinkers who highlight the limitations of the research. Who acknowledge their own biases and gaps in understanding. Who admit the strengths of opposing viewpoints.

If you hear from someone who is ENTIRELY CERTAIN that ALL THE RESEARCH shows THIS PSYCHOLOGICAL PRINCIPLE WORKS FOR ALL STUDENTS IN ALL CLASSROOMS — their lack of self-doubt should result in your lack of trust.

I’m Curious: Does Curiosity Promote Learning?
Andrew Watson
Andrew Watson

Conventional wisdom tells us that curiosity is bad for cats but good for learning.

What does psychology research tell us?

We’ve got a few decades of research showing links between curiosity and learning. A precise description of those links a) would be REALLY helpful for teachers, and b) is hard to complete.

In a recent study, Dr. Shirlene Wade and Dr. Celeste Kidd tried to fill out that description.

Four Key Variables

Wade and Kidd invited adults to take a trivia test. The test included quite challenging questions: “What U.S. president’s face graces a $100,000 bill?” (In case you haven’t handled any $100,000 bills lately, the answer is: Woodrow Wilson.)

After the participants guessed the answer, they rated a) their confidence that they got the answer right, and b) their curiosity about the actual answer. They then saw the correct answer to the question.

After being distracted for a while, they then tried to answer the same trivia questions again.

This research paradigm allowed Wade and Kidd to measure

Participants’ curiosity: how much did they want to know the answer?

Their confidence: how much did they think they already knew?

Their prior knowledge: how much did they actually know?

and

Their learning: how many additional answers did they get right?

And, of course, Wade and Kidd could start looking for relationships among these variables.

What Promotes Curiosity?

Participants, of course, weren’t equally curious about all the answers. Instead, their curiosity depended on their confidence.

Specifically, when participants were almost sure — but not completely sure — that they knew the right answer, then they were most curious.

Notice, crucially, that their actual prior knowledge didn’t predict curiosity. So, if they thought they were probably right (high confidence) but were actually quite badly wrong (low prior knowledge), they still were highly curious about the answer.

What Promotes Learning?

The early part of the study shows that confidence (not actual knowledge) predicts curiosity.

But: what predicts learning? If a participant got a question wrong initially, what helped him/her learn the correct answer and get it right on the later test.

The answer is: not curiosity. Instead, the answer is actual prior knowledge.

So, back to the question about the $100,000 bill. If I had predicted that … say … Mahatma Gandhi’s picture were on the bill, well, that’s just wildly wrong.

But, if I had predicted that William Howard Taft’s face were on the bill, well, I was pretty close. If nothing else, Taft served as president immediately before Wilson. And, Taft was also Chief Justice of the Supreme Court — so his historical importance might justify being on such a big bill.

So: students who think they’re almost right will be more curious; students who are almost right will learn faster.

Teaching Implications

As always, I should emphasize that this is just one study. And, in this one study, adults learned answers to trivia questions. They were tested almost right away.

This research paradigm leads to interesting findings, but it doesn’t tell us exactly how to teach our students (who might not be adults) our curriculum (which, almost certainly, isn’t answers to trivia questions). And, we can’t be 100% certain that it resulted in long-term learing.

In any case, I think the teaching implications are: we should focus both on our students’ curiosity and on their prior knowledge.

That is: we want them to reasonably believe that they’re close to learning the answer. And, we want them to have enough prior knowledge to absorb the answer when they get it.

That interpretation doesn’t sound shocking.

However, it does offer some useful warnings. If we hear of a teaching methodology that focuses entirely on curiosity, or entirely on prior knowledge, we should hesitate before embracing it.

After all: curiosity inspires students to keep working. And prior knowledge allows them to learn from their curiosity-inspired efforts.

Retrieval Grids: The Good, the Bad, and the Potential Solutions
Andrew Watson
Andrew Watson

Retrieval Practice is all the rage these days — for the very excellent reason that it works.

Study after study after study suggests that students learn more when they pull information out of their brains (“retrieval practice”) than by putting information back into their brains (“mere review”).

So, teachers naturally want to know: what specific teaching and studying strategies count as retrieval practice?

We’ve got lots (and lots) of answers.

Flashcards — believe it or not — prompt retrieval practice.

Short answer quizzes, even if ungraded. (Perhaps, especially if ungraded)

Individual white boards ensure that each student writes his/her own answer.

So, you can see this general research finding opens many distinct avenues for classroom practice.

Retrieval Grids: The Good

One strategy in particular has been getting lots of twitter love recently: the retrieval grid.

You can quickly see the benefits.

In the retrieval-grid quiz below, students answer short questions about Macbeth. Crucially, the grid includes questions from this week (in yellow), last week (in blue), and two weeks ago (in red). 

Because students get more points for answering older/harder questions, the form encourages retrieval of weeks-old information.

So much retrieval-practice goodness packed into so little space. (By the way: this “quiz” can be graded, but doesn’t need to be. You could frame it as a simple review exercise.)

Retrieval Grids: My Worries

Although I like everything that I’ve said so far, I do have an enduring concern about this format: the looming potential for working memory overload.

Students making their way through this grid must process two different streams of information simultaneously.

In part of their working memory, they’re processing answers to Macbeth questions.

And, with other parts of their working memory, they’re processing and holding the number of points that they’ve earned.

And, of course, those two different processing streams aren’t conceptually related to each other. One is Macbeth plot information; the other is math/number information.

As you know from my summer series on working memory, that’s a recipe for cognitive overload.

Retrieval Grids: Solutions?

To be clear: I’m not opposed to retrieval grids. All that retrieval practice could help students substantially.

I hope we can find ways to get the grid’s good parts (retrieval practice) without the bad parts (WM overload).

I don’t know of any research on this subject, but I do have some suggestions.

First: “if it isn’t a problem, it isn’t a problem.” If your students are doing just fine on retrieval grids, then obviously their WM isn’t overwhelmed. Keep on keepin’ on.

But, if your students do struggle with this format, try reducing the demands for simultaneous processing. You could…

Second: remove the math from the process. Instead of requiring 15 points (which requires addition), you could simply require that they answer two questions from each week. You could even put all the week-1 questions in the same row or column, in order to simplify the process. Or,

Third: include the math on the answer sheet. If they write down the points that they’ve earned at the same time they answer the question, they don’t have to hold that information in mind. After all, it’s right there on the paper. So, a well-designed answer sheet could reduce WM demands.

Fourth: no doubt, as you read this, you are already coming up with your own solutions. If you have an idea that sounds better than these — try it! (And, I hope you’ll share it with me.)

To Sum Up

Researchers work by isolating variables. Teachers and classrooms work by combining variables.

So: researchers who focus on long-term memory will champion retrieval practice and retrieval grids.

Researchers who focus on working memory might worry about them.

By combining our knowledge of both topics, we teachers can reduce the dangers of WM overload in order to get all the benefits of retrieval practice.

That’s a retrieval-grid win-win.

Should Students Exercise DURING Learning? A Twitter Debate Rages…
Andrew Watson
Andrew Watson

Edu-Twitter loves a good battle, and one irrupted just this week.

A teacher posted a video of students reading while peddling exercise bikes.

Comments roared in thick and fast.

Several people responded with “AWESOME” or “<3 this” or some other emoji for upbeat enthusiasm. But — at least in my Twitter feed — the angry skeptics were as scathing as the early fans were enthusiastic. (The word “bonkers” showed up frequently.)

Twitter doesn’t allow space for nuance (one reason I still write thousand word blog posts). In this case, I think, the twitter “debate” would have been greatly improved by context. In fact, it really needed two distinct categories of context.

Context, Part I: The Teacher*

Skeptics who responded to this post — reasonably enough — worried that reading while exercising might interfere with the students’ ability to do either thing well. (I’ll explore this concern in the next section.)

However, I didn’t see any commentary that focused on this important fact: the teacher who created this initiative is a physical education teacher. That is: it’s his job to think about and promote his students’ physical health.

In fact, he has quite a history of trying out imaginative approaches to that goal.

He’s got students playing drums with glow-in-the-dark drumsticks. (And, yes: they’re playing drums in the dark.) He’s got them doing fun obstacle courses. He’s got them kicking field-goals in the gym…by projecting goal-posts on the gym’s upper wall! If nothing else, you know his students will enjoy his class.

And, he cites lots o’ research showing the benefits of aerobic exercise for long-term memory formation. (Again, I’ll talk about this research below.)

So: we might quite reasonably worry that this biking-while-reading initiative won’t have the effect that the PE teacher wants it to. At the same time, any teacher who experiments as frequently as this teacher does will, no doubt, try some things that don’t work along the way.

But, heaven knows, I try plenty of things that don’t work in my teaching — that’s simply the price of being committed to trying new things.

And — again — this guy teaches PE. In my view, he SHOULD be trying to find ways to get more physical activity into his students’ daily schedules. Even if exercise bikes aren’t exactly the right answer, he’s questing in the right direction.

Context, Part II: The Research on Exercise and Learning

So, what does research say about exercise and learning?

In the first place, we can state with real confidence that physical fitness improves learning. We can measure this effect in many ways. But, for instance, if I increase my fitness — trust me, I’m trying! — research strongly suggests I’ll improve several cognitive functions: attention, reaction time, and so forth.

We also know a lot about the neuro-biological mechanisms. For instance: exercise boosts production of brain-derived neurotrophic factor (BDNF). And, BDNF does lots of splendid things to improve synapse formation.

To explore this general pool of research, you can start with John Ratey’s book Spark: The Revolutionary New Science of Exercise and the Brain. It’s more than a decade old now, but still a great introduction to this field.

If you’d like to watch a super-upbeat neuroscience+exercise Ted Talk, click here.

Research on Exercise DURING Learning

But, in the second place, can we conclude that exercise during learning provides benefits, above and beyond the exercise itself? I asked Dr. Steve Most, whose lab has done some really interesting work on exercise and cognition. (You can follow him on Twitter: @SBMost.)

Here’s part of an email Dr. Most sent me:

Most of the research cited [by the teacher who posted the video] seems to do with links between general exercise/fitness and cognition. I think that’s a pretty well established link, but most of it doesn’t say anything about exercise during learning…

I’m not really convinced. One could even imagine that the scenario in the clip entails divided attention (depending on how much attention kids pay to the exercise itself), in which case it could be counter-productive.

I am aware of a study here and there that suggests that mild exercise during study can increase memory, but I don’t think the findings rise to the level of a consistent body of evidence (there may even be findings here and there of the opposite effect).

Like many Twitter objectors, Dr. Most worries that the bike riding might distract from attention to the reading.

At the same time, he added an important caveat. The hypothesis that bicycle exercise during reading harms learning is plausible but also insufficiently tested.

That is, when I speculated to him that the exercise bikes would most likely divide the students’ attention and interfere with their learning, I was speculating as much as the teacher who hoped it would improve their learning. 

My speculation was reasonable, given evidence on the fragility of attention. But so too were the PE teacher’s hopes, given evidence about physical fitness and learning.

And, to be clear, we don’t have lots of research on this precise question, but we do have some. This study and this study both found that moderate-to-vigorous exercise during lessons improved learning.

There are important differences between those research paradigms and the exercise bikes used in the video. (The exercises themselves reinforced the concepts being learned.)  And, some of the research cited by the teacher is conspicuously light-weight. (No, “crossing the three mid-lines” doesn’t do anything special for your brain. It really doesn’t.)

But to me, at least, the tentative evidence we have suggest that the teacher’s hopes were far from “bonkers.”

I am, to be clear, skeptical myself. But I do think the idea worthy of study, for a number of reasons.

To Sum Up

First: we know quite confidently that exercise and fitness generally improve learning.

Second: we don’t have much research on the more specific question of exercise during learning. And, the research we do have doesn’t provide a consistent pattern of results.

That is: reading while riding an exercise bike might improve understanding, or impede it, or have no effect. We just don’t have enough research to say with Twitterable confidence.

Third: that being true, I think we should encourage teachers — especially PE teachers — to try plausible (if unproven) hypotheses in their classrooms. If they have plans in place to gather data, they can offer us real insight into new teaching possibilities.

Fourth: Twitter battles — especially those that devolve to emojis and insults — benefit from context. If you see a hot debate, look beyond it for research to guide your understanding.

 


*At the time that I’m writing this post (January 9), the teacher who posted the video has taken it down from twitter. I’m assuming (but I do not know) that the strong negative reaction prompted him to do so.

For that reason, I am not identifying him in this post, and am not linking to his account. Basically, I’m inferring a request for some degree of peace and privacy in his decision to take the video down.

I have reached out to the teacher to get his perspective on a) the goals of the initiative, and b) his students’ response to it. If I hear from him, I’ll write a follow-up post.

Home News: Rememebring Bruce McEwen
Andrew Watson
Andrew Watson

I first heard Dr. Bruce McEwen talk about the neurobiology of stress in 2010. He had won an award (one of a great many) at MIT, and was lecturing on intricate hormonal interactions within the hippocampus.

Even before he began speaking, the pulsing atmosphere in the crowded lecture hall made a vivid impression. The people around me vibrated with excitement, as if Lady Gaga or the Dalai Lama were about to come on stage. They clearly could not believe they were about to be in the same room with McEwen.

I quickly understood why.

As he began speaking, I thought…

…this is spectacularly complicated, but

…he’s presenting this information so clearly, I (a non-expert) can follow it without much difficulty, and

…gosh, his enthusiasm for the topic reminds me of Christmas morning.

Since that day, I’ve understood his fans’ excitement. So much of what we understand about stress – especially the neurobiology of stress – derives ultimately from McEwen’s work.

As I wrote when I first heard about his death, his contribution to this field can’t be exaggerated.

Little wonder that he presented at four Learning and the Brain conferences – most recently in April of 2018.

And, little wonder that the outpouring of sadness has been so widespread and heart-felt.

We will miss his warmth, his insight, and his enthusiasm.

An Unexpected Strategy to Manage Student Stress
Andrew Watson
Andrew Watson

School includes lots of stress. And, sometimes that stress interferes with academic life.

It might make it harder for students to encode new information. It might make it harder for them to show what they know — on tests, for example.

So, how can we help students manage their stress?

We’ve got some research suggesting that mindfulness helps. Can we do anything else?

Rethinking Our First Instinct

Imagine that a student comes to me and says, “Whoa! I’m really stressed out about this test…

My gut instinct might be to say something reassuring: “No worries — you totally got this. Just stay calm and I’m sure you’ll do fine.

This instinct, however, has a built-in problem. An anxious student experiences well-known physiological symptoms: a racing heart, sweaty palms, dry mouth, etc.

My student might try to persuade himself that he’s calm. But, all that physiological evidence reminds him — second by second — that he really isn’t calm.

Researcher Alison Wood Brooks wondered: could she encourage students to adopt a positive emotional framework with those same physiological signs?

Rather than encouraging a student to “be calm,” Brooks thought she might encourage him to “get excited.” After all, the bodily signs of excitement are a lot like those of stress. And, whereas stress feels mostly negative, excitement is (obviously) positive.

Testing (and Retesting) the Hypothesis

Brooks tested out this hypothesis in an impressive variety of stressful situations.

She started by having participants sing in a karaoke contest. One group prepped by saying “I am anxious.” A second group said “I am excited.” A third didn’t say either of those things.

Sure enough, the “excited” group sang their karaoke song considerably more accurately (81%) than their “anxious” peers (53%).

She then tried the ultimate in stress-inducing situations: public speaking.

Half of the speakers prepped by declaring themselves “calm” (which was my go-to suggestion above). The other half declared themselves “excited.”

As Brooks expected, independent judges rated the “excited” speakers superior to the “calm” speakers in persuasiveness, competence, and confidence.

One more approach may be most interesting to classroom teachers: a math test.

When getting reading for a “very difficult” test including eight math questions, students were told either “try to remain calm” or “try to get excited.”

You know how this story ends.

The students instructed to “get excited” scored, on average, about 1/2 point higher than their “calm” peers.

Every way that Brooks could think to measure the question, the advice to “get excited” proved more beneficial than the traditional advice to “remain calm.”

Not Persuaded Yet?

Perhaps this video, which neatly recaps Brooks’s study, will persuade you. Check out the handy graphic at 1:30.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1rRgElTeIqE

 

Starting the Year Just Right: Healthy Skepticism
Andrew Watson
Andrew Watson

I regularly tell teachers: if you want to be sure you’re right, work hard to prove yourself wrong.

If, for example, you think that dual coding might be a good idea in your classroom, look for all the best evidence you can find against this theory.

Because you’ll find (a lot) more evidence in favor of dual coding than against, you can be confident as you go forward with your new approach.

Well: I got a dose of my own medicine today…

People Prefer Natural Settings. Right?

If you’re a regular reader, you know that I’m a summer camp guy. I’ve spent many of the happiest hours of my life hiking trails and canoeing lakes and building fires.

Many of the best people I know devote their summers to helping children discover their strengths and values surrounded by pines and paddles.

And: I’m not the only one. We’ve got LOTS of research showing that people prefer natural settings to urban ones. Some of that research shows this preference cross-culturally. It’s not just Rousseau-influenced Westerners who feel this way, but humans generally.

In fact, it’s easy to speculate about an evolutionary cause for this preference. Our species has been around for about 250,000 years; only a tiny fraction of that time has included substantial urban development.

If our preference for natural environments has an evolutionary base, then we would expect children to share it. They don’t need adult coaxing to enjoy the natural beauties to which their genes incline them.

Right?

Trying to Prove Ourselves Wrong

If we’re going to follow the advice above — that is, if we’re going to seek out evidence at odds with our own beliefs — we might wonder: can we find research contradicting this line of thought?

Can we find evidence that children prefer urban settings to rural ones? That they adopt adult preferences only slowly, as they age?

Yes, we can.

Researchers in Chicago worked with children and their parents, asking them to say how much they liked (and disliked) images of natural and urban settings.

In every category, children liked the urban images more than adults (and their parents) did, and disliked natural images more than adults (and their parents). (Check out figure 3 in the study.)

And: that preference changed — almost linearly — as the children aged.

That is: the four-year-olds strongly preferred the urban images, whereas that preferential difference decreased as the children got older. (Figure 4 shows this pattern.)

You might reasonably wonder: doesn’t this depend on the environment in which the children grew up and attended school?

The researchers wondered the same thing. The answer is, nope.

They used zip codes to measure the relative urbanization of the places where these children lived. And, that variable didn’t influence their preferences.

So, contrary to my confident predictions, children (in this study, with this research paradigm) don’t share adults’ preferences. They prefer urban to natural settings.

Lessons to Learn

To be clear: this study does NOT suggest that we should give up on outdoor education.

The researchers aren’t even asking that question.

Instead, they’re examining a plausible hypothesis: “our adult love of nature might be an evolutionary inheritance, and therefore we’ll find it in children too.”

These data do not support that plausible hypothesis.

But, they also don’t contradict the many (many benefits) that humans — adults and children — get from interacting with the natural world.

So, for me, the two key lessons here are:

First: when introducing young children to natural environments, don’t be surprised if they don’t love them at first. We might need to plan for their discomfort, anxiety, and uncertainty.

Second: even if we really want to believe something to be true; even if that “something” is super plausible — we really should look for contradictory evidence before we plan our teaching world around it.

By the way: here’s a handy resource to aid you in your quest for more effective skepticism.

Default Image
Andrew Watson
Andrew Watson

Congratulations to one-time Learning and the Brain blogger, Dr. Kate Mills.

The Association for Psychological Science has named her a “Rising Star” for her “innovative work [that] has already advanced the field, and signals great potential for [her] continued contributions.”

Dr. Mills now specializes in “the social, biological, and cognitive processes underlying the development of skills needed to navigate the social environment.”

You can explore her current work here.