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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."

True/False: Grades Motivate Students to Study Better?
Andrew Watson
Andrew Watson

The following story is true. (The names have been left out because I’ve forgotten them.)

grades and motivation

When I attended graduate school in education, I handed in my first essay with some trepidation, and lots of excitement.

Like my classmates, I had worked hard to wrestle with the topic: how best to critique a study’s methodology. Like my classmates, I wanted to know how I could do better.

When we got those essays back, our TAs had written a number at the end. There were, quite literally, no other marks on the paper — much less helpful comments. (I’m an English teacher, so when I say “literally” I mean “literally.”)

We then sat through a slide show in which the head TA explained the most common errors, and what percentage of us had made each one.

Here’s the kicker. The head TA then said:

“Your TAs are very busy, and we couldn’t possibly meet with all of you. So, to be fair, we won’t discuss these essays individually with any of you.”

So, in a SCHOOL OF EDUCATION, I got exactly NO individual feedback on my essay. I have little idea what I did right or wrong. And, I have no idea whatsoever how I could have done better.

How’s that for teaching excellence?

Grades and Motivation: Today’s Research

My point with this story is: for me, the experience of getting a grade without feedback was a) demotivating, b) infuriating, and c) useless.

If you’d like to rethink your school’s grading strategy, my own experience would point you in a particular direction.

However: you’re not reading this blog to get anecdotes. If you’re in Learning and the Brain world, you’re interested in science. What does research tell us about grades and motivation?

A recent study on “The Impact of Grades on Student Motivation” has been getting some Twitter love.

The researchers surveyed students at a college that has grades only, a different college that offers narrative feedback only, and two colleges that use both. They also interviewed students at one of the “hybrid” colleges.

What did they find?

They didn’t pull any punches:

“Grades did not enhance academic motivation.”

“Grades promoted anxiety, a sense of hopelessness, social comparison, as well as a fear of failure.”

“In contrast, narrative evaluations supported basic psychological needs and enhanced motivation.”

Briefly: grades demotivate, while narrative feedback helpfully focuses students on useful strategies for improvement.

Certainly these conclusions align with my own grad-school experience.

Not So Fast

Despite these emphatic conclusions, and despite the Twitter love, teachers who want to do away with grades should not, in my view, rely too heavily on this study.

Here’s why:

First: unless you teach in a college or university, research with these students might not apply to your students. Motivation for 2nd and 3rd graders might work quite differently than motivation for 23-year-olds.

Second: most college and university students, unlike most K-12 students, have some choices about the schools the attend and the classes they take.

In other words: students with higher degrees of academic motivation might be choosing colleges and courses with narrative feedback instead of grades.

It’s not clear if their level of motivation results from or causes their choice of college. Or, perhaps, both.

(To be clear, the researchers acknowledge this concern.)

Third: in my experience, most K-12 teachers combine letter or number grades with specific feedback. Unlike my TAs, who gave me a number without guidance, teachers often provide both a number and specific guidance.

Fourth: the study includes a number of troubling quirks.

The interview portion of the study includes thirteen students. It is, ahem, unusual to draw strong conclusions from interviews with 13 people.

The interviewer was a student who already knew some of the interviewees. Their prior relationship might well influence their answers to the interview questions.

More than any study I’ve read, this one includes an overtly political and economic perspective. Research like this typically eschews a strong political stance, and its presence here is at odds with research norms. (To be clear: researchers have political opinions. It’s just very strange to see them in print.)

Given these concerns — big and small — we should look elsewhere for research on grades and motivation to guide our schools and our own practice.

Earlier Thoughts

We have, of course, often written about grades and motivation here on the blog. For example:

In this article, Doug Lemov argues that — although imperfect — grades are the best way to ensure that scare resources aren’t given entirely to well-connected people.

In this article, we look at the Mastery Transcript movement: a strategy to provide lots of meaningful feedback without the tyranny of grades and transcripts.

Your thoughts on grades and grading are welcome: please share your experience in the comments.

 

 

Physics and Engineering: My New Year’s Resolution
Andrew Watson
Andrew Watson

 

Over on Twitter, @DylanWilliam wrote:

“[P]hysics tells you about the properties of materials but it’s the engineer who designs the bridge. Similarly, psychology tells us about how our brains work, but it’s teachers who craft instruction.”

In other words, teachers should learn a great deal about psychology from psychologists.

(And should learn some things about neuroscience from neuroscientists.)

But the study of psychology doesn’t — and can’t — tell us exactly how to teach. We have to combine the underlying psychological principles (that’s “physics” in William’s analogy) with the day-to-day gritty demands of the environment (“engineering”).

And so, my clarifying New Year’s resolution:

Study physics to be a better engineer.

I hope you’ll join me this year, and share your wisdom!

New Research: Personal Best Goals (Might) Boost Learning
Andrew Watson
Andrew Watson

Some research-based suggestions for teaching require a lot of complex changes. (If you want to develop an interleaved syllabus, you’re going to need some time.)

personal best goals

Others couldn’t be simpler to adopt.

Here’s a suggestion from researchers Down Under: encourage your students to adopt “personal best goals.”

The Research

In a straightforward study, Andrew Martin and Australian colleagues asked 10- to 12-year-olds to solve a set of math problems. After each student worked for one minute, she learned how well she had done on that group of problems.

Students then worked that same set of problems again. Martin measured their improvement from the first to the second attempt.

Here’s the key point: after half of the students heard their score, they got these additional instructions:

“That is your Personal Best score. Now we’re going to do these question again, and I would like you to set a goal where you aim to do better on these questions than you did before.”

The other half of the students simply heard their score and were told to try the problems again.

Sure enough, this simple “personal best” prompt led to greater improvement than in the control group.

To be clear: the difference was statistically significant, but relatively small. The Cohen’s d was 0.08 — lower than typically gets my attention.

However, as the researchers point out, perhaps the structure of the study kept that value low. Given the process — students worked the same problem sets twice — the obvious thing for students to do is strive to improve performance on the second iteration.

In other words: some students might have been striving for “personal bests” even when they weren’t explicitly instructed to do so.

In my own view, a small Cohen’s d matters a lot if the research advice is difficult to accomplish. So, if interleaving leads to only a small bump in learning, it might not be worth it. As noted above, interleaving takes a lot of planning time.

In this case, the additional instruction to “strive for your personal best” has essentially no cost at all.

Classroom Implications

Martin’s study is the first I know of that directly studies this technique.

(Earlier work, well summarized by Martin, looks at self-reports by students who set personal best goals. That research is encouraging — but self-reports aren’t as persuasive as Martin’s design.)

For that reason, we should be careful and use our best judgement as we try out this idea.

For example:

I suspect this technique works when used occasionally, not constantly.

In this study, the technique was used for the very short term: the personal best goals applied to the very next minute.

One intriguing suggestion that Martin makes: teachers could encourage personal best goals for the process not the result. That is: the goal could be “ask for help before giving up” rather than “score higher than last time.”

One final point stands out in this research. If you’re up to date on your Mindset research, you know the crucial difference between “performance goals” and “learning goals.”

Students with “performance goals” strive, among other things, to beat their peers. Of course, “personal best goals” focus not on beating peers but on beating oneself. They are, in other words, “learning goals.”

And, we’ve got LOTS of research showing that learning goals result in lots more learning.

Bit by Bit, Putting It Together
Andrew Watson
Andrew Watson

Over at Teacherhead, Tom Sherrington has posted a form that teachers can use for lesson plans.

He has put together different versions: one filled-in with explanations, another left blank for teachers to use, yet another for adapting and editing.

The Bigger Picture

In the world of Learning and the Brain, researchers explore precise, narrow questions about learning. The result: lots of precise, narrow answers.

For instance: Technique X helped this group of bilingual 5th graders in Texas learn more about their state constitution.

How might Technique X help you? With your students? And your curriculum?

And, crucially, how does Technique X fit together with Technique Y, Technique 7, and Technique Gamma — which you also heard about at the conference?

As you’ve heard me say: only the teacher can figure out the best way to put the research pieces together. Once you’ve gathered all the essential information, you’re in the best position to conjure the optimal mix for your specific circumstances.

All Together Now

And, that’s why I like Sherrington’s lesson planning form so much.

You’ve seen research into the importance of “activating prior knowledge.” You’ve also seen research into the importance of “retrieval practice.” You know about “prior misconceptions.” And so forth…

But, how do those distinct pieces all fit together?

This lesson planning form provides one thoughtful answer.

To be clear: this answer doesn’t have to be your answer. For this reason (I assume), Sherrington included a form that you can edit and make your own.

The key message as you start gearing up for January: research does indeed offer exciting examples and helpful new ways to think about teaching and learning.

Teachers should draw on that research. And: we’ll each put the pieces together in our own ways.

New Year, New Habits: More Learning!
Andrew Watson
Andrew Watson

When the school year starts back up in January, teachers would LOVE to use this fresh start for good.

new learning habits

In particular, our students might have developed some counter-productive habits during the first half of the year. Wouldn’t it be great if we could help them develop new learning habits?

Maybe homework would be a good place to start. Better homework habits should indeed lead to more learning.

The Problem: Old Habits

When I sit down to do my homework, the same problems always crop up.

My cell phone buzzes with texts.

I’m really tired. SO tired.

The abominable noise from my brother’s room (heavy metal horror) drives me crazy.

I try to solve all these problems when they appear, but they get me so distracted and addled that I just can’t recover quickly. Result: I’m just not very efficient.

Wouldn’t it be great if I could develop new habits to solve these problems? What would these new learning habits be?

New Learning Habits: “Implementation Intentions”

We actually have a highly effective habit strategy to deal with this problem. Sadly, the solution has a lumpish name: “implementation intentions.”

Here’s what that means.

Step 1: I make a list of the problems that most often vex me. (In fact, I’ve already made that list — see above.)

Important note about step 1: everyone’s list will be different. The problems that interfere with my homework might not bother other people. (Apparently, some folks like my brother’s dreadful music.)

Step 2: decide, IN ADVANCE, how I will solve each problem.

For example, when my cell phone buzzes, I won’t look at the message. Instead, I will turn the phone to airplane mode.

When I feel tired, I’ll do 20 jumping jacks. If that doesn’t work, I’ll take a quick shower. That always wakes me right up.

When my brother cranks his stereo, I’ll move to my backup study location in the basement.

Just as everyone faces different problems, everyone will come up with different solutions.

Step 3: let the environment do the work.

Here’s the genius of “implementation intentions”: the environment does the work for us.

Now, when my phone buzzes, I already know what to do. I’ve already made the decision. I don’t have to make a new decision. I simply execute the plan.

Phone buzzes, I switch it to airplane mode. Done.

New Learning Habits: the Research

Now, I have to be honest with you. When I first read about this strategy, I was REALLY SKEPTICAL.

I mean, it’s so simple. How can this possibly work?

The theory — “the environment does the work, activating a decision chain that’s already been planned” — sort of makes sense, but: really?

In fact, we do have lots of good research showing that this strategy works.

For instance, Angela Duckworth (yes, that Angela Duckworth) found that students who went through this process completed 60% more practice problems for the PSAT than those who simply wrote about their goals for the test.

You read that right: 60% more practice problems.

How’s that for new learning habits?

Classroom Applications

What does this technique look like in your classroom?

Of course: everyone reading this blog teaches different content to different students at different schools. And, we are all different people.

So, your precise way of helping your students will differ from my way.

I’m including a link to Ollie Lovell’s post on this topic. To be clear, I’m not suggesting that you follow his example precisely. After all, you and Ollie are two different people.

However, I am suggesting that his example helpfully illustrates the concept. And, it will give you ideas on how best to apply it in your world.

Escaping the “Inquiry vs. Direct Instruction” Debate
Andrew Watson
Andrew Watson

If you’d like to stir up a feisty argument at your next faculty meeting, lob out a casual observation about direct instruction.

Almost certainly, you’ll hear impassioned champions (“only direct instruction leads to comprehension”) and detractors (“students must construct their own understandings”) launch into battle.

For Example…

Back in September, I reviewed two studies contrasting these approaches.

One study, looking at science instruction with 4th graders, found that direct instruction led to more learning. The second study argued for a constructivist approach — yet lacked a remotely plausible control group.

So, in that post at least, it made sense to tell students what experts had already concluded.

One Study, Two Perspectives

I’ve found another study that helpfully reopens this debate.

Daniel Schwartz and colleagues helped 8th grade science students understand concepts like density, speed, and surface pressure.

Crucially, all these concepts share an underlying “deep structure”: ratio.

That is: “speed” is distance divided by time. “Density” is mass divided by volume.

Schwartz wanted to see if students learned each concept (density, spring constant) AND the underlying deep structure (ratio).

Half of the 8th graders in this study heard a brief lecture about each concept — and about the underlying structure they shared. They had a chance to practice the formulas they learn.

That is: this “tell and practice” paradigm is one kind of direct instruction.

The rest of the 8th graders were given several related problems to solve, and asked to figure out how best to do so.

This “invent with contrasting cases” paradigm enacts constructivist principles.

Findings, and Conclusions

Schwartz and Co. found that both groups learned to solve word problems equally well.

However — crucially — the contrasting cases method led to deeper conceptual understanding.

When this group of students were given a new kind of ratio to figure out, they recognized the pattern more quickly and solved problems more accurately.

So, the obvious conclusion: constructivist teaching is better. Right?

Not so fast. Schwartz’s study includes this remarkable pair of sentences:

“There are different types of learning that range from skill acquisition to identity formation, and it seems unlikely that a single pedagogy or psychological mechanism will prove optimal for all types of learning.

Inventing with contrasting cases is one among many possible ways to support students in learning deep structure.”

That is: in this very particular set of circumstances, a constructivist approach helped these students learn this concept — at least, in the way it was tested.

What Next?

If the purists have it wrong — if both direct instruction and constructivist pedagogies might have appropriate uses — what’s a teacher to do?

Schwartz himself suggests that different approaches make sense for different kinds of learning.

For instance, he wonders if direct instruction helps learn complex procedures, whereas constructivist methods help with deep structures (like ratio).

Perhaps, instead, the essential question is the level of difficulty. We have lots of research that says the appropriate level of cognitive challenge enhances learning.

So: perhaps the “tell and practice” method of this study was just too easy; only a more open-ended investigation required enough mental effort.

However, perhaps the study with the 4th graders (mentioned above) included a higher base level of conceptual difficulty. In that case, hypothetically, direct instruction allowed for enough mental work, whereas the inquiry method demanded too much.

Two Conclusions

First: the right pedagogical approach depends on many variables — including the content to be learned. We teachers should learn about the strengths and weaknesses of various approaches, but only we can decide what will work best for these students and this material on this day.

Second: purists who insist that we must always follow one (and ONLY one) pedagogy are almost certainly wrong.

Unambiguously Good News about Teens and Sleep
Andrew Watson
Andrew Watson

You read that right. I mean: it’s really good news about teens and sleep.

We all want adolescents to sleep more. Better said, we know that they need to sleep more.

teens and sleep

More sleep should benefit, say, their mental health, their physical health, and their academic performance.

Heck, they should just feel better.

One Obvious Solution

If teens’ biology prompts them to stay awake later and wake up later (it does), then we could help adolescents sleep more by starting high school later.

Although obvious, that solution has two important flaws:

First: we haven’t tested its efficacy.

Second: teens might just stay up later, and thereby rob themselves of the extra sleep we’re trying to provide. We just don’t know. (See previous paragraph.)

Here’s the first part of unambiguously good news: researchers have now tested the solution.

The city of Seattle, Washington delayed high school start times from 7:50 am to 8:45 am. Researchers measured lots of student behaviors both before and after that change. What did they find?

Teens and Sleep: Obvious Solutions Work!

First: students slept more. They got, on average, 34 minutes of extra sleep: from 6 hours 50 minutes to 7 hours and 24 minutes.

Second: they got higher grades. The average among measured students rose from 77.5% to 82%.

(The researchers hesitate to make strong causal claims; something else might account for the better grades. But, it’s a highly plausible hypothesis that extra sleep helped them learn more.)

Third: at one of the two high schools, first-period absences fell. (At the second, the absence rate remained constant.)

The researchers don’t make a strong argument about the reason for this difference. They do note, however, that the improving school has a higher percentage of economically disadvantaged students. Perhaps the combination of early start times and low SES made on-time arrival especially challenging.

Methodology

Part of the unambiguously good news: this study boasts particularly strong methodology.

In particular, it doesn’t rely on student self-reports — as so many sleep studies do. Instead, it asked students to wear a wrist monitor that tracked their activity levels.

Also, it took both pre- and post-change measurements. That is: they didn’t wait until after the change and then start measuring. Instead, they got a solid baseline, and then compared the after-effects to that baseline.

A final note: this article says that other school districts — and even states — are contemplating similar changes. Here’s hoping they follow through. And, here’s hoping that parents support these changes.

When Multitasking Helps (And Why Teachers Should Discourage It Anyway)
Andrew Watson
Andrew Watson

We all know that multitasking is baaaaad.

In fact, we all know that multitasking doesn’t happen. Instead, when we think we’re multitasking, we’re actually switching rapidly back and forth between two tasks. (Or, heaven help us, more than two tasks.)

multitasking

If either of those two tasks is cognitively complex, this rapid task switching imperils performance.

So, to repeat: multitasking is baaaaad.

Surprising New Research…

But what if, under unusual circumstances, it were beneficial?

More precisely, what if the perception that I’m multitasking improves my performance.

Here’s how you might test such a question (especially if your name were Shalena Srna):

Ask two groups of students to transcribe a Shark Week video.

Tell half of them that they’re doing two things: learning by watching, and also transcribing.

Tell the other half that they’re doing one thing: learning by watching and transcribing.

In other words, both groups of students do the same thing. But: one group thinks they’re multitasking, and the other doesn’t.

Sure enough, in this study, students who thought they were multitasking did better. They wrote more words, and they remembered more of the video.

Wow.

Curiouser and Curiouser

Srna and company didn’t stop there. They kept testing their hypothesis.

In another study, they asked students take a virtual art-museum tour. They told half of them that this required distinct tasks (listening and looking); the other half didn’t get that instruction.

Same results.

In another version, they had participants solve two kinds of puzzles simultaneously: word searches and anagrams. Rather than tell half that the puzzles required dual-tasking (or not), they asked participants what they thought.

Here again, those who spontaneously thought they were multitasking did better on the puzzles than those who didn’t – even though they were all doing the same task.

In Search of an Explanation

This result, to put it mildly, seems bizarre. If multitasking makes me worse at something, why would believing that I’m multitasking make me better?

Srna & Co. suggest one plausible explanation. If I think I’m multitasking, then I might concentrate harder on the task.

To test their hypothesis, they measured participants’ pupil dilation when they did (or didn’t) think they were multitasking. (We’ve got good research showing that people who are more engaged in material have greater dilation.)

Sure enough, people who believed they were multitasking had bigger pupils than those who did not.

In fact, they rated themselves as less bored by the work they were doing.

Teaching Implications

This research strikes me as a) fascinating, b) thorough and thoughtful, and c) a smidge dangerous.

Here’s what I mean.

Given these (highly persuasive) studies, we might be tempted to tell our students that they’re multitasking when they’re not – because their extra level of concentration will improve their learning.

Alas, such a response would mistake research benefits for school benefits.

In this case, if we tell our students that they’re multitasking, good things might happen in the short term. However, in the long-term, they get the message that we think it’s okay.

But, it isn’t. Rapid task switching reduces learning. It really does.

In fact, students get counter-productive, pro-switching messages all the time. We need to work against this cultural programming.

(One key strategy: they should see us conspicuously refusing to multitask. Hard-core monotasking adults are great role models.)

Reality Check

Srna and Co. begin their article with some amazing statistics. According to their survey, 84% of people think they’re better-than-average multitaskers. In fact, almost 50% say they’re tops in the field.

Rather than use students’ false beliefs to help them today, we should correct their beliefs to help them for a lifetime.

Brain Research in Translation
Andrew Watson
Andrew Watson

Science relies on skepticism, so let’s ask a skeptical question:

“Does it really benefit teachers to understand brain research? Isn’t good teaching good teaching?”

If you’re reading this blog, you doubtless already see the value that brain research offers teachers.

The more we know about — say — motivation, or “the spacing effect,” or the benefits of interleaving, or the perils of “catastrophic failure,” the better our work can be.

But, I think there’s more.

The more time I spend in this field, the more I see benefits for school communities and even international collaboration.

Uniting Schools with Common Language

I once spent the day working at a K-12 school in Texas. At the lunch break, a teacher approached me and said:

“I’m so impressed you know all our names! I’ve worked here for years, and I don’t know the names of the high-school teachers. After all, I teach in the lower school.”

This confession speaks a larger truth: we can all-too-easily fall in the habit of talking only with our nearest peers.

3rd grade teachers confer with other 3rd grade teachers. High-school English teachers huddle up with high-school English teachers. (I should know; I’m a high-school English teacher.)

This habit makes some sense. I don’t really know how my lesson-plan for Their Eyes Were Watching God would translate to, say, a first grade classroom. What teaching topics might cross so wide a curricular gulf?

The answer: brain research.

A strategy I use to manage working memory overload for 10th graders might transfer quite easily to a 3rd grade classroom. At a minimum, the benefits of that strategy will be immediately clear to anyone who understands the importance of working memory.

When all teachers in a school know the languages of neuroscience and psychology, we can talk about our work more deeply, meaningfully, and effectively with colleagues in other grades and other disciplines.

Uniting Countries with Common Language

I spent the last two weeks in Japan, working with Fukuoka International School and the American School in Japan. In Fukuoka, I worked with teachers from about a dozen countries: the US, Canada, and Japan — and also China, Korea, Vietnam, Thailand, the Philippines, Australia … even Myanmar.

As you can imagine, these countries have dramatically different educational systems, philosophies, cultural expectations, and curricula. What shared language might these teachers find?

Here again, these teachers were amazed to see how quickly they could share teaching strategies — once they could describe them in this new way.

A game for retrieval practice, for instance, might be used with different topics in different countries. Heck, it might take place in various languages with incompatible alphabets.

But the core psychological practice remains the same, no matter the curricular or linguistic translations.

In two sentences…

I joined the Mind, Brain, & Education movement because I thought it would help make me a better teacher. Every day I see more clearly: it can make all of us — schools, districts, even international communities — a better education system.