Book Reviews – Education & Teacher Conferences

Andrew Watson

August 27, 2025

Book Review: 10 to 25, by David Yeager

As long as humans have lived into their teens, adults have complained about their behavior. Aristotle famously described this age cohort as “fickle, passionate, irascible, and apt to be carried away by their impulses.” If your experience aligns with mine, you’ve seen your share of grouchy selfishness and demotivation in your classroom — especially before 10 am.

Although complaints about adolescents have been around as long as adolescence, those gripes have grown sharper in recent months. PANDEMIC this and CELL PHONE that and AI CHEATING to boot – all these additional concerns have ramped up adult exhaustion with teenage too-muchness.

Given this bleak outlook – both historic and contemporary – what’s a middle-school or high-school teacher to do?

Happily, noted researcher Dr. David Yeager has wise thoughts – and LOTS of research – to give us hope. His recent book 10 to 25: The Science of Motivating Young People will guide and inspire teachers and school leaders.

START HERE

Before getting to specific suggestions, Yeager wants us to rethink our starting point. Whereas Plato and others start with a “deficit mindset” – seeing only bad behavior and gloomy prognosis – Yeager wants us to see the strengths and potentials in humans between the ages of 10 and 25.

So, for instance: you’ll often hear that “the human pre-frontal cortex isn’t fully wired until people reach their mid to late 20s!” The implication of this claim: without this “self-control center” fully developed, young ‘uns are doomed to erratic and immature behavior.

Yeager, however, has a different perspective. This additional time for important brain regions to develop gives growing youth the chance to adapt to the ever-changing world. As the computer people say: the drawn-out schedule of brain development “isn’t a bug, it’s a feature!”

In Yeager’s analysis, most adults respond to this time period with some blend of expectations and support. But most of us get that blend wrong.

Specifically:

Some of us default to HIGH expectations – but don’t offer much by way of support. It’s my way or the highway – and teens often find themselves out on that road. Yeager calls this blend the “enforcer” mindset.
Others offer HIGH support – and don’t worry too much about expectations. Not wanting to make a difficult time even harder, we soften standards when they seem too onerous. Yeager thinks of these folks as having a “protector” mindset.

Perhaps you can anticipate Yeager’s next move.

Adults with a “mentor” mindset balance HIGH expectations with HIGH support. This combination, in Yeager’s view, offers the best path to help adolescents navigate the 10-to-25 stage with optimal growth and development.

One of Yeager’s many strengths in this book: he doesn’t claim to be the only person to advocate for this “mentor mindset” balance. In fact, he carefully and respectfully charts the terminology that other scholars – Lewin, Baumrind, Scott – have used to describe these perspectives. I myself am likelier to take advice from scholars who conspicuously acknowledge their debts to others in the field; Yeager does just that.

WHAT TO DO

To help us translate this mentor’s mindset into specific action, Yeager outlines five broad approaches to help teens through these years: transparency, questioning, stress, purpose, and belonging. He devotes a chapter to each, offering both uplifting stories and scrupulous research to specify and support his case.

For instance, looks at the problem of stress – familiar to anyone dealing with emerging adults. We might, by way of shorthand, define stress as a situation where the DEMANDS of the moment exceed a student’s RESOURCES.

How might we respond?

Those with an enforcer mindset say: “Deal with it. The demands are the demands, so get the job done – with whatever resources you have.”
Those with a protector mindset say: “Well, that looks stressful. Let’s reduce the demands until the align with the resources you’ve got.”
A mentor’s mindset would encourage a different approach: “Let me help you increase your resources so that they match the demands that you face.” The mentor doesn’t reduce the requirements of the moment, but helps develop the skills or knowledge necessary to face it.

Yeager then explores a body of research (by Jameison and others) showing how to boost resources.

Specifically, students who understand the evolutionary history of stress responses recognize that all those seemingly unpleasant symptoms – the sweaty palms, the stomach butterflies – signal helpful physiological responses.

Once students have this additional resource – the knowledge to reframe their physiological responses to stress – they can face the demands of the current situation.

Voila: a mentor’s mindset, combined with research, helps us coach and support a student through an age-appropriate challenge.

HESITATIONS?

I always think a book review should include a caveat or two, but 10 to 25 makes this belief something of a challenge. Yeager writes conversationally, keeps the jargon to a minimum, and modestly acknowledges the difficulties of applying research-based ideas to real-life situations. He even includes a chapter of guided practice to ensure the book’s suggestions take root.

My only consistent concern: as noted above, the book draws on both research and “uplifting” stories. More than most readers, perhaps, I find myself reacting to uplift with suspicion. An uplifting story is – from another perspective – simply an anecdote. I don’t think we should rely on anecdotes to make teaching decisions. And I especially resist stories about life far outside of school – say, in Microsoft training programs.

(I should say: I’m probably an outlier here. Many people find anecdotes a helpful way to translate research-y principles into real-life situations.)

This modest critique aside, Yeager’s book both explains and organizes lots of research. In this way, it helps teachers think differently about real challenges in our work, and gives us clear guidance about what to do.

If you wish you had a clearer set of principles to help motivate and support an emerging adult, Yeager’s book is for you.

Meaningful and Relevant: Engaging Learners in an Era of Distraction by A.J. Juliani

Erik Jahner, PhD

August 20, 2025

Meaningful and Relevant: Engaging Learners in an Era of Distraction by A.J. Juliani

Oh man! Student responses sometimes punch me in the gut! Polished but lifeless—fingerprints of ChatGPT without personal engagement, no wrestling with ideas, no sign the student ever sat with the material long enough to make it their own. It’s as if the goal of education has become to paste a prompt, collect a passable response, and move on. I can’t blame them entirely—the system has long rewarded efficiency over reflection—but it leaves me wondering: What does it take for students to truly care about their learning? For me, the answer has become clearer. And A.J. Juliani teases out these factors into key principles in Meaningful and Relevant: Engaging Learners in an Era of Distraction: ownership—students need to see their fingerprints on the work; connection—the sense that what they create matters beyond a grade; and choice, because without agency, caring rarely takes root. Learning requires meaning and relevance. When these pieces are present, shortcuts lose their appeal, and genuine engagement becomes seductive. His roadmap is ambitious, hopeful, sometimes idealistic, but for anyone who has felt that sting of disengagement on the other side of the screen, his message feels urgent.

Juliani argues we’re living at a “hinge of history.” Schools were built for an analog world of scarce information and predictable paths, while today’s students grow up immersed in a hyper-connected one where their tools, habits, and identities are shaped differently. Employers want to know what potential employees can offer not at the level or AI but beyond. While many respond with bans or tighter control, Juliani flips the script: design learning so compelling that attention follows naturally. His mantra: attention is earned, not demanded.

He sharpens this by distinguishing between meaningful and relevant learning—and here’s where the ideas move from head to heart. When students feel their pulse quicken because the work connects with who they are, they stop asking, “Will this be on the test?” Meaningful taps identity and purpose—it feels worth doing for its own sake. Relevant connects directly to life outside the classroom, answering: Why should I care about this? Juliani argues this answer often comes through community—in giving students voice and authentic audiences for their work. Together, these create deeper investment and make shortcuts less appealing.

Juliani is strongest when showing what this looks like in practice. Drawing on design thinking, Universal Design for Learning, and project-based learning, he offers strategies that emphasize agency and authenticity. He uses the metaphor of a “buffet-style” lesson, where choice isn’t a decorative add-on but a way of structuring learning so students enter through paths that align with their identities and motivations—choice as a gateway to meaning, relevance, and flow. Layered with the psychology of flow, Schlechty’s engagement levels, and tools like inquiry cycles and authentic audiences, the book becomes part field guide, part pep talk, and part reminder that curiosity is contagious when we design with care.

The chapters on artificial intelligence stand out for their nuance. Juliani doesn’t see AI tools like ChatGPT or Photomath as threats to originality, but as invitations to rethink assessment. If we only value the final product, machines outpace us. If we value reflection and voice, AI has limits.

Juliani sketches bold visions and weaves stories from classrooms he’s worked with. His examples—though often simple anecdotes—become springboards for reflection, urging us to imagine how we can bring greater meaning and relevance into our own teaching spaces. Rather than leaving me skeptical or defeated, these moments left me inspired to see new possibilities for engaging learners.

Juliani reminds us that joy, curiosity, and persistence are not happy accidents; they are designed for, nurtured, and expected.

Meaningful and Relevant is not a recipe book—it’s a call to reimagine the kitchen. Juliani wants us to stop tinkering at the edges of compliance and instead design with meaning and relevance at the core. His vision is bold, sometimes frustratingly idealistic as it pinches the fat we would rather ignore, but deeply necessary. As he puts it: “Our job is not to prepare students for something. Our job is to help students prepare themselves for anything.”

To me, this challenge isn’t only about changing the student experience—it’s also about us—how we design and engage with assignments ourselves. When efficiency weighs too heavily on the balance, we risk slipping into the same shallow patterns we warn our students against. So I have to ask: are my assignments built to spark authentic engagement with students, or do they quietly default to efficiency in grading?

The Creativity Choice: The Science of Making Decisions to Turn Ideas into Action by Zorana Ivcevic Pringle

Erik Jahner, PhD

July 17, 2025

The Creativity Choice: The Science of Making Decisions to Turn Ideas into Action by Zorana Ivcevic Pringle

It happened just this morning! I was watching my favorite sci‑fi series when I felt the thrill of a creative idea for my class—then immediately thought, “Ugh, that’s embarrassing. I have no idea how I’d make that work. Better play it safe.” The opportunity for creativity withered, the chills faded, and I was back to my trusty distraction. I want to be creative, but maybe it’s just not me—so I shelve my “brilliant” ideas as silly daydreams. Still, the drive lingers. Maybe I just need another book on creative thinking

Let’s be honest: there’s no shortage of books promising to unleash your inner creative genius—from painting like Picasso to solving life’s practical puzzles like a Sherlock Holmes. But Zorana Ivcevic Pringle’s The Creativity Choice addresses something they often miss: how creatives move from having creative ideas to choosing to take meaningful creative action.

If ideas are everywhere, why do so few become reality? What’s holding us back from moving more of these fanciful daydreams into the playground of reality?

You will see this isn’t about uncovering hidden talents or dissecting your artistic personality. Instead, it’s about making critical, often uncomfortable decisions to turn ideas into tangible outcomes. As she succinctly puts it, “making an idea happen starts with a choice. You have to choose to act—despite physical, material, or emotional obstacles.”

Plenty of books rally us with motivational stories or vague encouragements to chase our dreams, but Pringle offers something more substantial. Through rigorous psychological research and rich interviews, she pinpoints the key moments when ideas turn into reality, highlighting messy but necessary decisions along the way.

Ever wonder why your best ideas gather dust, get forgotten, and are washed away with the rain of daily struggles? Pringle’s practical, research-based approach provides the nudge you might need. It’s not about how many ideas you have; it’s about repeatedly choosing to act on them.

Creativity: A Choice—Again and Again and …

Regular readers know I’m a college instructor—and teaching, at its core, is about constant creative evolution. We’re always revising, experimenting, and adjusting methods to keep pace with change. How often have you dreamt up a lesson only to let it shrivel under self-doubt or the judgment of your inner critics? Pringle’s insights encourage us to get to know these obstacles and approach creativity with courage and resilience, even when doubts shout loudest.

Her core argument is simple yet liberating: Creativity isn’t exclusive to artistic geniuses; it’s a series of deliberate choices available to everyone. But making the creative choice takes practice. A new habit of mind.

What really stops our ideas from coming to life isn’t a lack of genius—it’s the nagging resistance within, the fear of looking foolish, and the pull to fit in. Pringle’s funny stories from her Croatian childhood remind us how early we learn to hide our quirks instead of celebrating them. I still cringe remembering painstakingly tracing pictures from an old art book to pass off as my own—nothing says ‘creative genius’ like stealing someone else’s doodles. I’m sure my third-grade classmates were blown away.

The (Actual) Science of Getting Things Done

Rather than perpetuating the myth of the lone creative genius in the throes of passion with a can of paint, Pringle dives into the real practical science. Creativity combines originality with practicality and goes beyond painting—think cooking, coding, or even rearranging your messy desk.

Through examples like YouTubers reviving ancient recipes or engineers building clever apps, she shows how creativity thrives because of constraints. Limitations push us to innovate.

One of her key tools? Emotional granularity—naming and using feelings constructively. Waiting to feel confident, she warns, is the fastest way to stall out.

And no, creativity isn’t a smooth ride. It’s messy, uncomfortable, and full of detours. But successful creators learn to work with discomfort, not avoid it

Finally, it’s not a solo act. Pringle highlights the importance of “bonding” connections (supportive folks) and “bridging” ones (fresh perspectives). Without them, ideas often fade before they begin.

This book helped me look a little more mindfully at myself and the choices I’m making. Teaching and learning are inherently creative, yet we often hesitate to trust our ideas fully. Pringle reminds me (and maybe you too) that internal critics, though stubborn, are beatable. Creativity in education isn’t always smooth—just ask anyone who’s tried exciting teenagers about algebra. But choosing to act on those moments when we feel that creative tickle makes teaching even more meaningful.

The real magic, Pringle argues, lies in the small, courageous choices we make all the time. The Creativity Choice might not guarantee constant triumph, but it prepares us to choose creativity more often—and perhaps that’s the ultimate secret. Time for you to choose…

Book Review: The End of Trauma, by George Bonanno

Andrew Watson

June 15, 2025

Book Review: The End of Trauma, by George Bonanno

When I first started teaching — it’s been a few decades now — nobody ever talked about trauma. Quite literally, I do not remember a single faculty meeting or PD day or all-school read or … really … ANYTHING that raised the subject.

If you had asked me back then (the ’80s and ’90s), I would have said: “as far as I can tell, trauma happens to some people somewhere — and that’s terrible. But I don’t know of trauma happening here to our students. It’s just not on the radar.”

In the last twenty years, the world of education has done a 180 degree pivot. We talk about trauma, and trauma-informed education, a lot. We’ve got books and conferences and speakers and data.

Trauma — it seems — is everywhere. Whereas in the ’80s, trauma was a “someone else, somewhere else” problem, today it seems to be a “lots and lots of people, right here” problem.

The transition threatens whiplash. How can we manage it?

A Surprising Perspective

Back in the fall of 2024, Prof. George Bonanno presented his research at our Boston conference. His hour-long keynote included a number of surprising findings, and prompted me to buy his book. At last (!) I’ve had a chance to read it and to understand those surprising findings more deeply.

As I wrote back in December, Bonanno finds that

Roughly 10% of people who experience trauma have enduring symptoms;
Less than 10% start without symptoms, but symptoms develop over time and persist;
Roughly 20% initially experience symptoms, but recover over two years;
The rest never respond with serious symptoms.

In other words, most people do NOT respond to threatening events with PTSD. And, many who DO initially experience PTSD recover within months.

For these reasons, Bonanno doesn’t speak of “traumatic events” but of “potentially traumatic events.” After all, such events might lead to a trauma response…but most of the time they don’t.

By the way: Bonanno doesn’t arrive at these conclusions by looking at marginally threatening experiences. Two of his data sets come from people who experienced the 9/11 attacks directly — as in, they fled the buildings after the planes hit — and from members of the military who served in combat.

Even in these populations, he finds that people are mostly resilient — both in the short term and over the longer term.

In brief: we can start to manage our whiplash by realizing that PTSD is obviously very bad, but not remotely inevitable. Our students and colleagues and community members are likelier to respond to potentially traumatic events by being stable and resilient.

The Non-Recipe Recipe

This initial insight leads to an important question: exactly WHY are some people more resilient than others? If you and I go through roughly similar “potentially traumatic experiences,” why do I develop PTSD symptoms while you don’t?

To ask the same question another way: is there a formula to follow? A set of steps that leads away from PTSD? A recipe?

Bonanno answers this set of questions with nuance, sympathy, data, wisdom, and humility.

In the first place, he argues that — no — we don’t have a one-size-fits-all series of steps. In fact, he explains in thoughtful detail why no one pathway will work for all people in all circumstances.

In fact, he specifically rejects this approach. Yes: individual research studies show that character trait X or mental habit Y is “associated with a reduction in ultimate PTSD symptoms.” But the list of X, Y, and Z goes on at remarkable length — a few dozen letters at least. (Our poor alphabet taps out at 26.)

Instead, Bonanno’s research says that resilient people have a flexible collection of traits and perspectives that they use in different ways at different times.

The Return of the “Mindset”

Bonanno summarizes this this collection of traits with the phrase “flexibility mindset.” He defines the word “flexibility” quite carefully:

I’ve used the word “resilience” throughout this book to describe a pattern of continued good mental health after potential trauma, or, more precisely, a stable trajectory of healthy functioning across time.

Flexibility is not resilience. Flexibility is the process we use to adapt ourselves to traumatic stress so that we can find our way to resilience. (121)

Bonanno’s flexibility mindset rests on three connected beliefs:

“Optimism about the future,
confidence in our ability to cope, and
a willingness to think about a threat as a challenge.”

No one of these beliefs by itself is enough. And, no one of them is a straightforward first-A-then-B-then-C process. But — combined with nuance and maturity — they result, over time, in better mental health outcomes.

Bonanno, in fact, devotes several chapters to specific stories of people who successfully (or not) use a flexibility mindset to manage the potentially traumatic events in their lives.

A Big Caveat

Whenever I write a book review, I always try to include at least one point where I disagree with the author, or think the book could be better. In this case, that’s a surprisingly easy goal to meet.

Here’s why: I think the book’s TITLE is doubly misleading.

In the first place, Bonanno doesn’t for a minute suggest that we can “end” trauma. He in no way claims that you can follow his simple steps to bring trauma to an early end — either for an individual or a society. Quite the contrary, he argues that the process requires endurance, frequently includes grave setbacks, and might not work for everyone.

In other words, The End of Trauma isn’t about the end of trauma. It’s about rethinking the inevitability of trauma, and reframing strategies to cope with trauma.

In the second place, the book’s subtitle includes an equally misleading phrase: “the new science of resilience.”

Bonanno says over and over that he’s NOT proposing anything radically new. His “flexibility mindset,” after all, suggests that we be optimistic, confident, and inclined to think of threats as challenges. None of those insights — or the word “mindset” — is new.

The novelty in Bonanno’s work lies first in his data, which find the PTSD is a relatively unusual response to potentially traumatic events — not, as we’ve heard so often, an inevitable one.

Bonanno also makes a novel argument when he focuses on broad flexible categories (“optimism, confidence”) rather than specific steps (“first do this, then do that, then try t’other”).

I don’t doubt that The End of Trauma is a more saleable title than Rethinking the Inevitability of Trauma and Proposing a Flexble Path to Work Past It within 2 Years or So. But that title would be more accurate.

TL;DR

Bonanno’s book The End of Trauma isn’t about the end of trauma. It does, however, make a compelling — and ultimately optimistic — argument: we’re mostly resilient; we can bounce back from potentially traumatic events; and we’ve got a challenging-but-flexible framework to guide us as we do so.

As We Begin: Dispositions of Mind, Learning, and the Brain in Early Childhood by Tia Henteleff

Erik Jahner, PhD

May 21, 2025

As We Begin: Dispositions of Mind, Learning, and the Brain in Early Childhood by Tia Henteleff

There’s a line quoted in Tia Henteleff’s As We Begin that lodged itself in my brain and hasn’t left since: “The beginning does not just matter during the beginning. The beginning matters to everything that comes next.” It’s such a simple truth, but one that, once seen clearly, transforms how you think about education—and honestly, how you think about life. At its core, As We Begin: Dispositions of Mind, Learning, and the Brain in Early Childhood is a thoughtful, research-driven, and deeply heartfelt inquiry into early childhood education. But this book isn’t just for preschool teachers or parents of toddlers. It’s for anyone invested in how we learn, grow, and become who we are. Henteleff draws from neuroscience, anthropology, pedagogy, and classroom experience. The result is a book that feels both intellectually expansive and personally grounding.

The throughline of the book is the concept of “dispositions of mind”—a term that might sound academic at first blush but is, in fact, beautifully human. These are the emotional and cognitive tendencies we bring to learning—like curiosity, persistence, and openness. Henteleff emphasizes that dispositions aren’t innate but developed through emotionally rich experiences, trusting relationships, thoughtful pedagogy, and environments that prioritize care and inquiry — through adaptive epigenesis.

What struck me most is how Henteleff keeps returning to the emotional foundations of learning—not as fluff or an afterthought, but as the scaffolding upon which all cognition is built. As quoted from Mary Helen Immordino-Yang, “Emotions are not just messy toddlers in a china shop… they are the shelves supporting cognition.” That image alone reframes so much. It reminds us that cognition is built on a foundation of emotional security and relational trust.

The book is divided into three parts: big ideas, foundational knowledge, and practical applications. This structure makes the complex research digestible without dumbing it down. There’s a section on the brain that could easily veer into textbook territory but instead feels like an invitation to understand how both kids and adults learn.

Henteleff is at her most persuasive when she invites teachers to become “teacher/researchers”—not in the publish-or-perish sense, but in the deeply human sense of observing, questioning, iterating. It’s a disposition, not a job title. And it makes the classroom feel like a site of shared inquiry rather than top-down transmission. There’s a humility in this stance that I find both rare and necessary. Teaching is an interactive dance, not a plug-and-play experience.

And let’s talk about play; an entire chapter devoted to the idea that play is not a break from learning—it is learning. She describes play as both research and rehearsal, a phrase that encapsulates her belief in its cognitive and emotional richness. In a world obsessed with achievement metrics, it’s radical to say: let them play—freely, messily, joyfully. That’s where the real work of becoming happens.

When I’m teaching Cognition or Sensation and Perception, I sometimes find myself in a state of flow—just playing with the ideas alongside my students. It’s like we’re all in this giant intellectual sandbox, testing how concepts stick together, finding joy in the rearrangement. That shared play is where deep learning emerges.

I found the tone refreshingly earnest. Henteleff isn’t offering a panacea; she’s offering a lens—a perspective that might feel ambitious or even aspirational in certain contexts. And yet, that’s part of the book’s power. It invites us to imagine what’s possible, not because it’s easy, but because it’s worth striving for. Even when the ideals feel just out of reach, they give us something valuable to aim toward.

If you’re an educator or a parent, this book might help you see your child’s world with fresh empathy. And as a curious human (my favorite kind), As We Begin is a compelling meditation on how we become who we are—together.

In the end, this book isn’t just about children. It’s about the conditions that allow any of us to learn, connect, and grow. And it’s a quiet, passionate argument for building those conditions with intention, compassion, and curiosity. Here’s to staying a little more playful, a little more reflective, and a lot more open to the developing dispositions that new “beginnings” might bring to “what comes next?”

Co-Intelligence: Living and Working with AI by Ethan Mollick

Erik Jahner, PhD

April 17, 2025

Co-Intelligence: Living and Working with AI by Ethan Mollick

The first time I caught a student using ChatGPT to write their paper, I felt… cheated. Like a conversation had been skipped. I took it personally. Like an opportunity was there to be knocked on with curiosity but had been bypassed with convenience. But instead of staying irritated (actually … still dealing with moments of this emotion), I did what I always ask my students to do: I got curious.

And that curiosity has since reshaped my teaching, my expectations, and, honestly, my sense of what’s possible. That journey mirrors the one Ethan Mollick lays out in Co-Intelligence: Living and Working with AI, a book that doesn’t just explain what’s happening in the world of AI—it invites you to walk straight into the mystery with both eyes open.

Mollick, a Wharton professor and a longtime explorer of innovation, brings the gravitas of research and the warmth of lived experience. He writes not like someone predicting the future, but like someone already living in it—and handing you the map.

This isn’t a book about fearing AI or worshipping it. It’s about partnering with it. That’s what Mollick means by “co-intelligence”: not artificial intelligence, but collaborative intelligence. The kind that emerges when we stop asking “What can AI do?” and start asking “What can we do together?”

From Sleepless Nights to Syllabus Changes

Mollick begins with his own version of a tech-wrought dark night of the soul—three sleepless nights after encountering ChatGPT. That eerie sense that something has shifted, that the future is no longer ahead of us but suddenly beside us, whispering new possibilities.

Like many of us, I also had sleepless nights, then I began to rewrite my syllabus. I started teaching my students how to prompt. How to think with AI. How to use it not as a shortcut, but as a springboard. Like jazz musicians learning to improvise with a new instrument, we were learning to play off the rhythms of something alien—and astonishingly generative. If they are using it, I need to teach them to use it well!

And still, some days, it weirds me out. Like when a student turns in something more articulate than they can say aloud. Part of me marvels. Part of me wonders what this does to their voice, their confidence, their sense of authorship. Maybe that’s the point—not to land on a stance, but to live inside the question.

The Four Rules That Could Change Everything

Mollick offers an emerging way to think for teachers and students in the AI era. New skills:

Always ask for evidence. (Because AI is confident, not always correct.)
Be the human in the loop. (AI might be fast, but wisdom requires pause.)
Treat AI like a coworker. (It’s competent, but it’s not conscious.)
Learn to use it well. (Prompting isn’t a trick—it’s a literacy.)

What struck me most is how these rules don’t just apply to using ChatGPT. They apply to life in a world where knowledge is abundant, but discernment is everything.

AI as Creative, Coach, Tutor, and Companion

Mollick shows us AI not as a monolith, but as a multiplicity: a tutor, an artist, a coach, a co-writer, a companion in the fog of creative uncertainty. And I’ve seen that too. I’ve watched students ask better questions because they could test their assumptions privately. I’ve seen them write more boldly because they had a sounding board that didn’t judge.

Is it perfect? No. But it’s productive. And weirdly, it’s kind. Because AI, at its best, is a mirror—sometimes foggy, sometimes sharp—but always reflecting something back. What we see in that reflection says as much about us as it does about the machine.

The Real Magic: Partnership, Not Power

This is where Co-Intelligence really shines: not in showing off what AI can do, but in challenging us to consider what we should do with it. Mollick doesn’t hand us easy answers. He asks better questions.

If you’re a teacher, a writer, a thinker—anyone whose job involves shaping ideas—this book feels like a signal flare. Not a warning, but a guide. It says: The future of work isn’t AI or human. It’s both. And the quality of that relationship will depend on how we show up to it.

And if you’re feeling unsure? You’re not alone. Honestly, I’m still figuring it out too. Some days AI feels like a trampoline. Other days, a trapdoor. That ambiguity—that friction—is part of what makes this moment real.

Reading Co-Intelligence isn’t just about learning how AI works. It’s about learning how we work—under pressure, in collaboration, in awe. It doesn’t just give you a flashlight. It hands you the makings of a torch and says, “Build your light.”

So here’s the question Mollick leaves us with, whether he says it outright or not: If AI can think with us, can we learn to think better with it? Not faster. Not louder. Just better.

That’s co-intelligence. And I’m all in.

Book Review: Primary Reading Simplified, by Christopher Such

Guest Post

April 14, 2025

Book Review: Primary Reading Simplified, by Christopher Such

Today’s guest book review is by Kim Lockhart.

Finding a new favourite book, one that checks all the boxes, is like finding a new favourite drink. You want to devour it without putting it down, while at the same time, you want to savour it so it isn’t finished too quickly. A good book leaves you feeling thirsty for more. And most of all, like all things we love, we want to share it with everyone we know so that they, too, can enjoy it and savour it as much as we do.

Christopher Such’s first book, The Art and Science of Teaching Primary Reading, was that book for me: the book that checked all the boxes, the book I didn’t want to put down, and was disappointed when it was over.

I wanted to share Such’s book with every teacher I knew because I wanted them to feel what I felt while reading it: a sense of relief that there was finally a book that contained the answers I’d been searching for throughout my career.

It was the first comprehensive, no-nonsense book on the science of reading I had come across.

Previously, most of what I knew about the reading research I had acquired from complex articles I read while working on my Masters of Education. But these research papers were not easy to read, not written in teacher-friendly language, and didn’t always make a direct connection between the research and what it looked like in classroom practice.

But Christopher Such’s book did.

Fast forward three years, and Such has done it again. He has written another can’t-put-it-down-until-it’s-finished book titled Primary Reading Simplified: A Practical Guide to Classroom Teaching and Whole School Implementation.

While Such’s first book focused on what teachers need to teach (phonemic awareness, phonics, reading fluency, spelling, etc.), his new book focuses more on the aspect of how to teach it.

In other words: teaching all the components of the reading process is not always enough. As teachers, we have to ensure that students are learning what we’re teaching. Even the most well-intentioned of teachers does not always meet this goal!

This book tells us exactly how we can work smarter, not harder, to ensure better learning outcomes for our students – making sure they ARE learning what we’re teaching.

Such’s new book includes an important aspect of teaching that is often the missing piece in other professional books for teachers. In teacher-friendly language, he shares the research and explains the reading routines, classroom habits, and evidence-based instructional strategies that are essential for learning to happen.

Take the chapter on reading fluency, for example.

Not only does Such explain why reading fluency is important for reading comprehension. He explicitly and systematically lays out the structure of an effective fluency lesson, including:

how to pair students
how to choose the “just right text”
how to model reading fluency,
when to explain new vocabulary, and even
how long the fluency practice should be each day (Such suggests less than 30 minutes to allow for repeated reading of the text; too much time could result in disengagement and not be productive).

He leaves no guess-work for teachers.

But Such doesn’t stop at developing stronger, more effective classroom routines and systems for teachers. Part IV of the book is designed for anyone interested in school-wide and district-wide implementation of science-based reading instruction.

Until now, science-based instruction has been happening in specific classrooms, with a few individual teachers, in some school districts. In other words, it isn’t consistent. Such understands that for change to be sustainable, it needs to be implemented at the district level. These changes require fidelity, teacher support, and ongoing monitoring and commitment to change.

Chapters 13, 14, and 15 carefully outline structures for systems to be sustainable across districts. He shares the 4-Phases of implementation model (Sharples et al., 2024 as cited in Such, 2025): Explore, Prepare, Deliver, and Sustain. He also makes it clear that implementation can’t happen all at once. Instead, “implementing change across a school should be seen as an ongoing process rather than a one-off event”.

In this section of the book, Such also addresses the barriers that literacy leaders may face when trying to implement system-wide change: specifically, limited human resources, and time. He also offers practical suggestions for overcoming those barriers, including:

very clear expectations and vision,
flexible adaptations,
and the need to put other, lower-priority changes aside to focus on one priority and sustain it.

Such eloquently concludes this section of the book by explaining, “implementation is most likely to succeed if all involved feel it is something being done with them rather than something done to them.” (Such, 2025, p. 136).

Echoing the format of Such’s first book, each chapter of his new book is short and dense with evidence-based information in manageable chunks. I love this format because it is practical for busy teachers like me. If I have only 10 minutes to read a snippet before I have to run outside for recess duty, I can easily read a few paragraphs in a chapter, learn something, and know exactly where to return when I have time again.

Likewise, each chapter of Primary Reading Simplified concludes with an “In a Nutshell” section that reviews and highlights key information from the chapter. Such also includes the section “Further Reading” for science-of-reading-nerds like me who want to learn more. He even includes a retrieval-practice quiz for each chapter. (To be honest, I am often too scared to quiz myself because I fear that I won’t be able to remember as much as I hope to, despite my greatest efforts.) Best of all, each chapter concludes with a section called “Questions for Professional Discussion.”

Because reading proficiency is not the sole responsibility of the classroom teacher, I highly recommend Primary Reading Simplified for all teachers, reading specialists, literacy coaches, and administrators. Reading instruction is our shared responsibility. As Christopher Such says himself, “Our pupils deserve no less.”

Kim Lockhart is a French Immersion classroom teacher and Special Education teacher in Kingston, Ontario. She holds a Master of Education (M.Ed) degree with a research focus on evidence-based practices to support second language learners with reading difficulties. Kim has her Orton-Gillingham Classroom Educator certificate, CERI Structured Literacy Classroom Teacher certification, and was a Structured Literacy coach for the International Dyslexia Association of Ontario for 2 years. In 2022, Kim worked for the Ontario Ministry of Education as a Content Contributor for the new science-based Language Curriculum and has also presented for the Ontario Minister of Education, Stephen Lecce and his team after the release of the OHRC’s Right to Read report. She is currently teaching part-time at Vancouver Island University’s (VIU) Faculty of Education in the Literacy, Language and Learning Graduate program. Kim is passionate about the Science of Reading and strives to empower educators, parents and caregivers to be more knowledgeable, stronger advocates for all children’s right to read across Canada.

Just Tell Them: The Power of Explanations and Explicit Teaching by Zach Groshell

Erik Jahner, PhD

March 25, 2025

Just Tell Them: The Power of Explanations and Explicit Teaching by Zach Groshell

The sage-on-the-stage is not the enemy. For years, educators have been told that the best teaching happens when students discover knowledge for themselves. Zach Groshell, PhD, turns that assumption on its head. In Just Tell Them: The Power of Explanations and Explicit Teaching, he makes a bold case for something refreshingly straightforward—teachers should teach. Clear, explicit explanations aren’t just helpful; they’re essential. Backed by cognitive science and decades of research, Groshell dismantles the myth that “less teacher talk” means “more learning” and offers a compelling argument for direct instruction done right. His message? Good teaching isn’t about withholding information; it’s about equipping students with the knowledge they need to think critically, problem-solve, and truly understand what they’re learning.

I’ve seen many teachers, myself included, wrestle with the tension between explicit teaching and discovery learning. The belief that students learn best when they “figure it out” on their own is pervasive, but sometimes we may be asking them to construct knowledge without giving them the raw materials? Groshell’s book is a refreshing reality check, and I found myself nodding along as he unraveled the myth.

The book is structured around key principles of effective explanation, each grounded in research and practical application. Groshell starts with an overview of human cognitive architecture—how working memory and long-term memory shape learning—to explain why clear explanations matter. Students aren’t blank slates; they need structured guidance to process new material without overload.

One of the book’s greatest strengths is its focus on the worked-example effect, a well-documented phenomenon demonstrating that students learn more effectively when they see step-by-step demonstrations before being asked to apply their knowledge. Groshell explores ways to maximize clarity—eliminating vagueness, using visuals effectively, and reinforcing understanding through interaction. His candid reflections on his early teaching missteps make even the more technical discussions feel relatable and engaging.

Beyond simply telling, Groshell lays out a structured approach to explanation, covering interactive techniques like choral response and student self-explanations, alongside the power of visuals, strategic questioning, analogies, and storytelling to make concepts more memorable. His discussion of erroneous examples, where students learn by identifying and correcting mistakes, is particularly compelling.

A particularly valuable section details the Explain and Release model, which follows the ‘I do, We do, You do’ approach—gradually shifting responsibility from the teacher to the student as they gain expertise. This aligns with cognitive load theory, emphasizing that novices require structured support, while experts benefit from increasing independence. Groshell references the expertise reversal effect, illustrating how instructional methods should evolve as students grow more proficient—moving from explicit guidance to independent problem-solving.

Groshell’s writing is refreshingly candid, filled with humor and engaging insights. He reflects on his early preference for student-led discovery and how he came to embrace explicit teaching as a necessity. As I read, I couldn’t help but think of the countless times I’ve watched students breathe a sigh of relief when a difficult concept was finally explained clearly.

Another key focus of the book is creating the right conditions for explanation. Groshell discusses managing student attention by minimizing distractions, reducing classroom clutter, and banning cell phones to improve focus. He argues that classroom seating arrangements and behavior management directly impact how well students absorb explanations.

For educators who have been told to minimize their role as the sage on the stage, this book offers a persuasive counterpoint. It reaffirms the value of direct instruction while advocating for its thoughtful application—explanations should be clear, concise, interactive, and strategically designed to maximize learning. Groshell’s insights are invaluable for teachers, instructional coaches, and education professionals looking to refine their approach.

Ultimately, Just Tell Them is a must-read for educators seeking to optimize their instructional practices through cognitive science. If students could absorb complex concepts without explicit guidance, would we even need teachers? Groshell doesn’t just advocate for explanations—he makes them impossible to ignore. This is a practical, research-driven, and accessible guide that dismantles myths about teacher talk while empowering educators. After reading this book, you’ll never see explanation the same way again.

Guest Blogger

March 23, 2025

Attention Must Be Paid

This guest review of Blake Harvard’s Do I Have Your Attention is written by Justin Cerenzia.

Having followed Blake Harvard’s “The Effortful Educator” blog from its very beginning, it feels especially fitting that his new book – Do I Have Your Attention? Understanding Memory Constraints and Maximizing Learning – poses a question many of us have enthusiastically answered “yes” to for nearly a decade.

Yet this book represents more than an extension of Harvard’s blog—it marks the culmination of his long-standing influence as a leading educator: one who connects cognitive science with classroom practice. Thoughtfully structured into two complementary sections, the book skillfully integrates theoretical perspectives on how memory functions with actionable classroom strategies, offering educators practical tools to foster meaningful and lasting learning.

Harvard deftly navigates the complexities often inherent in cognitive science research. His writing style is both approachable and authoritative, resonating equally with newcomers and seasoned readers alike.

Much of Part I leverages Professor Stephen Chew’s An Advance Organizer for Student Learning: Choke Points and Pitfalls in Studying. Harvard uses this foundational framework to clarify key concepts and common misunderstandings about memory and learning. Crucially, Harvard’s position as a classroom teacher lends him credibility and authenticity, grounding his insights firmly in practical experience rather than mere theory.

It’s as though we’re invited into Blake’s classroom, watching him expertly guide us through Chew’s graphic.

And this is precisely how he frames the opening of Part II, writing:

“It can be quite overwhelming to know just what is the best bet for optimizing working memory without overloading it while also making the most of moving the content to long-term memory. Compound that with the fact we are tasked with educating, not one brain, but a classroom full of them. That’s a job that only a teacher can understand and appreciate” (65).

Harvard then succinctly-yet-thoroughly guides readers through seven carefully considered strategies to maximize learning. In each case, he showcases a diverse array of tactics that enrich any skilled teacher’s toolkit—all with the ultimate goal of positively influencing student outcomes.

Throughout, he pulls back the curtain even further, transparently revealing how specific shifts in his own teaching practice improved student learning. Clearly, each change has been guided by careful investigation and thoughtful application of research.

That Harvard’s insights—long influential in the educational blogosphere—are now available in book form represents a win for educators everywhere. Rich in research yet highly accessible, this text serves as both an inviting entry point and a resource for deeper exploration.

So too does it underscore the essential role teachers can and should play alongside the research community, brokering knowledge and further bridging the unnecessary divide that sometimes impedes meaningful change. In an era rife with educational theory, Harvard’s concrete examples of classroom success help ensure that even hesitant educators find meaningful, practical guidance.

If Blake Harvard didn’t already have your attention, you’d do well to give it to him now.

If you’d like to learn more, Blake’s webinar on attention and memory will be May 4.

Justin Cerenzia is the Buckley Executive Director of Episcopal Academy’s Center for Teaching and Learning. A Philadelphia area native, Justin is a veteran of three independent schools over the last two decades, dedicating his career to advancing educational excellence and innovation. A history teacher by trade, Justin nonetheless considers the future of education to be a central focus of his work. At Episcopal Academy, he leads initiatives that blend cognitive science, human connection, and an experimenter’s mindset to enhance teaching and learning. With a passion for fostering curious enthusiasm and pragmatic optimism, Justin strives to make the Center a beacon of learning for educators both within and beyond the school.

Teaching & Learning Illuminated by Bradley Busch, Edward Watson, & Ludmila Bogatchek

Erik Jahner, PhD

February 24, 2025

Teaching & Learning Illuminated by Bradley Busch, Edward Watson, & Ludmila Bogatchek

From The Science of Learning, Bradley Busch, Edward Watson, and Ludmila Bogatchek have kicked it up a notch in this fresh innovative presentation of Teaching & Learning Illuminated: the Big Ideas Illustrated.

While revamping my college course, I was given this book, and suddenly, prepping felt less like a chore and more like rediscovering the excitement of teaching—like stepping into a bookstore where every title holds the promise of a new perspective. But this isn’t a collection of gimmicks; it’s a book designed to challenge and refine your thinking, helping you sharpen your teaching practice with the most well-supported research. If The Science of Learning is the blueprint, this follow-up book is the user-friendly manual, packed with visuals that make big ideas click. Teaching is a constant process of adapting, and Teaching & Learning Illuminated acts as both a guide and a catalyst, helping you build on your knowledge while freeing your mind to think in new and innovative ways.

What makes this book unique is how it presents information. The graphics aren’t just illustrations; they are well-designed thinking tools that clarify teaching principles backed by decades of research. Each topic is covered in a two-page spread, pairing a full-page visual with a clear, concise explanation. This format simplifies complex ideas while easing the cognitive load, allowing us to imagine how these concepts playout in the classroom. The graphics encourage deeper thinking, serving as both inspiration and a framework for instructional design.

Every illustration invites reflection—from the key takeaways of retrieval, interleaving, and cognitive load theory to Rosenshine’s principles, thinking biases, and fostering motivation and resilience. These visuals do more than convey information; they prompt us to reconsider our approaches and apply insights in new ways.

One of the most practical aspects of this book is how versatile the visuals are. I’ve used them not just for lesson planning but also as quick reference points throughout the day. Even better, the book includes access to high-resolution downloadable posters, which I’ve printed and placed in my workspace. These serve as constant reminders of strategies I want to implement, keeping important ideas at the forefront of my practice.

One of the challenges of learning effective teaching practices is the sheer volume of ways to improve, which can easily lead to analysis paralysis. This book strikes the perfect balance, providing just enough challenge to keep you engaged while offering the right support to help you apply new strategies and explore with confidence.

This book doesn’t just present research-backed insights—it makes them actionable and memorable. The visuals don’t just explain concepts; they stick with you in a way that words alone often can’t. They leave a lasting impression, nudging your thinking in new directions and helping your mind wander constructively.

What stands out most about Teaching & Learning Illuminated is how it refreshes the way we think about teaching. It’s not just another book—it’s a resource that makes cognitive science visible, tangible, and usable. Whether you’re a seasoned educator or just starting to integrate research-based strategies, this book makes it easier to turn theory into practice. It’s insightful, engaging, and a must-have for any educator eager to turn research into real classroom impact and illuminate their practice.

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