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Prior Knowledge: Building the Right Floor
Andrew Watson
Andrew Watson
October 27, 2019

Prior Knowledge: Building the Right Floor

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Take a gander at this passage from Michael Jones’s recent biography of The Black Prince:

“In the fourteenth century England used a silver standard of currency. The unit of account was the pound sterling (£) which was equal to one and a half marks of silver. The pound was divided into twenty shillings (s), each of twelve pence (d). There was also, from 1344, a gold coinage based on the noble, which was conventionally worth 6s 8d, but was rarely used. It would, however, be significant in the calculation of the ransom of King John II and also in the introduction of gold coinage into Gascony and then the principality of Aquitaine by the Black Prince.”

Many readers, I suspect, felt tempted to give up relatively quickly. (Don’t blame yourself if you did.) Unless you’re really up to speed on 14th century English currency–both silver and gold!–the paragraph quickly becomes overwhelming.

The vocabulary in this passage probably doesn’t strain our cognition. Except for the phrase “marks of silver,” I know what all those words mean. (And, I can guess from context that a “mark” is some unit of measurement.)

However, the passage does place several mental demands on the reader.

First, it invites you to undertake several rapid mathematical calculations. (Quick: how many shillings in a mark?)

Second, it requires you to learn abbreviations as you go. To understand the fourth sentence, you need to remember the (wildly counter-intuitive) abbreviation of “pence” as “d” from the third sentence.

Third, it assumes you recall several events and places unfamiliar–I suspect–to most Americans. Who was King John II? Why was he ransomed…was he kidnapped? Where are Gascony and Aquitaine? They don’t sound very English — why did an English prince introduce coinage to them? Actually: why is a prince empowered to introduce new currency?

Essential Background Knowledge

I thought of this paragraph when I read a recent article by Robert Pondiscio. In it, Pondiscio summarizes a study trying to determine how much background knowledge is necessary for comprehension.

In this study, students who scored higher than a 59% on a background knowledge test understood a reading passage substantially better than those who scored below 59%.

As summarized by Pondiscio, the study’s authors see some clear teaching implications here.

First, we can meaningfully measure our students’ relevant background knowledge.

Second, students who fall short on that measure will benefit A LOT if we provide them with the essentials.

For instance, students who understood that “habitat,” “species,” and “ecosystems” were relevant vocabulary for the study of ecology understood the reading passage more deeply. (The study included 3500 students, so I believe they controlled for various confounds. I haven’t read the study itself–it’s behind a paywall.)

I think those conclusions point to another:

Third: models of teaching that focus on “pure discovery” will create substantial challenges for students who lack background knowledge. Students who don’t know the basics of a topic simply can’t understand the field of inquiry within which they’re meant to discover.

And, they won’t feel motivated by curiosity to find out. They’ll feel discouraged by their confusion. (Few readers, I suspect, were motivated by the paragraph above to learn more about medieval English currency.)

A Final Thought

This study finds that 59% was the essential tipping point. Students who scored lower than 59% on the prior knowledge test found themselves in a different cognitive category than those who scored above.

However, that percentage does not necessarily apply to all circumstances.

In other words: we shouldn’t give our students prior-knowledge tests, and focus only on those who score 58% and below.

Instead, we should plan our lessons and units knowing that some floor-level of knowledge will be crucial for learning most things.

In every case–as you hear me say so often–we’ll have to rely on the teacher’s judgment to discover that level.

Researchers can remind us that the floor exists. But they can’t identify it for every teacher in every classroom. Ultimately, with that research guidance in mind, we’ll find the right place for the floor. And, we’ll build it.

Advice: It Is Better to Give than Receive
Andrew Watson
Andrew Watson
October 16, 2019

Advice: It Is Better to Give than Receive

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When students struggle, we typically offer them advice. It seems obvious to think that receiving advice might help them learn.

What if we tried a different approach? What would happen if we thought that giving advice might help students learn?

Several researchers–including Angela Duckworth–recently tried this approach in a large high-school study. Almost 2000 students participated.

Working at a computer, students offered advice to “an anonymous younger students who was hoping to do better in school.” Specifically, they answered 14 questions on how and where to study.

They also wrote a brief motivational letter.

The Theory Behind The Practice

Duckworth & Co. hypothesized that this brief advice session might help advice-giving students for three reasons:

First: they might actually believe the advice they offer. (Psychologists call this the “saying is believing” effect.)

Second: when they offer this advice, they might come up with specific plans to apply it to their own studying.

Third: “giving advice, unlike receiving advice, can increase confidence.”

So, what happened?

When Small Effects Aren’t Small

The researchers kept track of grades in two courses: a) math, and b) a course that students themselves identified as one in which they particularly wanted to improve.

The students completed the advice exercise at the beginning of the 3rd quarter. Would that make a difference, compared to the control group, at the end of the 3rd quarter?

The short answer: yes, a little bit.

On the graphs, the 3rd quarter grades in the advice group look about 1 point higher than those in the control groups. In stats terminology, Cohen’s d was 0.12 for the class the students chose, and 0.10 in math class.

Did those effects last? Not really. By the end of the 4th quarter, the differences were no longer statistically significant.

At first, these data seem quite discouraging. The intervention didn’t make much of a difference, and didn’t make a lasting difference.

Duckworth’s team, however, feels much more optimistic.

First, most interventions have no effect at all. A small effect is better than none.

And, second, most interventions cost a lot. This one cost … [does quick calculation on back of envelope] … practically nothing. Even the opportunity cost is small: the whole exercise lasted eight minutes!

What’s Next?

I suspect that other researchers will pick up on this approach, and we’ll see other studies exploring it. (Joshua Aronson tried a similar strategy to combat stereotype threat back in 2002, and had similarly good results.)

In the meantime, what should teachers do?

First, I think we can adapt this approach to our own work. If our schools have a mentoring program, or a buddy system–or, heck, if our students have younger siblings, we’ve got a natural opportunity for this confidence-building approach.

Second, I think we ought to offer students some guidance about the advice they give. If the “saying is believing” effect consolidates beliefs about learning styles, for example, that would be counter-productive. A small menu of suggestions might be good for everyone involved.

Third: if an eight-minute intervention had an effect that lasted a few months, surely we could create more than one opportunity to give advice. Repeated doses of this educational medicine might be lots more helpful than just one.

If you try this approach in your classrooms, I hope you’ll let me know about your results.

Study Advice for Students: Getting the Specifics Just Right
Andrew Watson
Andrew Watson
October 11, 2019

Study Advice for Students: Getting the Specifics Just Right

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If you follow research-based teaching advice, you’ve heard a lot about retrieval practice in recent months.

The headline: if students want to remember information, they shouldn’t review it. That is: they shouldn’t just look it over. (“Ah, yes, the book says here that the Ideal Gas law is PV=nRT.”)

Instead, they should try to remember it first. That is: they should try a mini mental quiz. (“Hmm. What is the Ideal Gas law again? PV = something…let me think for a moment.”)

One great benefit of this research finding: students can do it themselves. All those online testing programs (most famously, Quizlet) can help students self-test rather than simply review.

Timing is Everything

Two days ago, I presented this research to (quite splendid) teachers in Fukuoka, Japan. As they pondered this guidance, one teacher asked a question I’d never heard before. Here’s a paraphrase:

I understand that retrieval practice might promote learning. But, it also might be really discouraging.

If students keep testing themselves, and keep getting the answers wrong, they’ll feel helpless and frustrated.

So: this strategy might increase learning for some students, but paradoxically for other students it might decrease motivation to study.

At the time, my response was: that’s an entirely plausible hypothesis, but I haven’t seen any research into that question. If you the teacher see that retrieval practice is demotivating, you’ll know best when (and how) to switch to something else.

Entirely by coincidence, I found research that addresses that question the very next day.

Kalif Vaughn and Nate Kornell wondered: how does retrieval practice influence motivation? Specifically, does a student’s fear of getting the answer wrong discourage her from relying on retrieval practice?

If yes, can we redirect those motivational processes? And, crucially, can we redirect motivation without sacrificing the benefits of retrieval practice?

The Power of Hints

Vaughn and Kornell started researching the effect of hints. Here’s their thought process:

If I’m nervous about getting a retrieval-practice answer wrong, I might choose simply to review the material instead. (Rather that struggling to remember that PV=something something something, I’ll just look in the book.)

But if I know I’ll get a hint, then I might be willing to try retrieval practice. That is: the hint makes retrieval practice less scary, and so increases my motivation to try it out.

Sure enough, people who had to choose between straight-up retrieval practice and simple review strongly preferred the review. Something like 80% of the time, they reviewed the correct answer. Only 20% of the time did they dare retrieval practice.

However, when they could get a hint, they reviewed only 30% of the time. The other 70%, they tried some form of hint-informed retrieval practice.

That is: by including the hint option, teachers can more than triple the likelihood that students will try retrieval practice. Hints reduce the likelihood of failure, and thereby increase motivation.

The Danger of Hints?

But wait just a minute here.

Past research shows that pure retrieval practice helps students learn and remember. We should admit that hints just might undermine that effect.

In other words, hints could entice students to try self-quizzing, but could reduce the effectiveness of the technique. Ugh.

Happily, Vaughn and Kornell spotted that potential problem, and investigated it.

Their findings: hints didn’t hurt.

In other words: students who did pure retrieval practice, and those who got small hints, and those who got big hints all remembered new information better that students who simply reviewed information.

Based on these findings, the researchers write:

We recommend giving students the option to get hints when they are testing themselves. It will make them choose [retrieval practice] more often, which should increase their learning, and it will also make learning more fun, which might increase their motivation to study. We envision instructors making more use of hints in worksheets, questions at the end of textbook chapters, flashcards, and a variety of digital study aides that resemble Quizlet. The students themselves might also benefit by finding ways to give themselves hints as they test themselves.

Vaugh and Kornell also suggest that the hint option will be more beneficial early in the review process. After a while, students shouldn’t need them anymore to feel confident enough to try retrieval practice.

A final note: the word “hint” here should be interpreted quite broadly. Vaughn & Kornell let students see a few letters of the correct answer; that was their version of “hint.” As teachers, we’ll adapt that general concept to the specifics of our classroom work.

As I say so often: teachers needn’t do what researchers do. Instead, we should think the way they think. That thought process will bring us to our own version of the right answer in our classrooms.

The Best Teaching Method? Depends on the Student…
Andrew Watson
Andrew Watson
October 05, 2019

The Best Teaching Method? Depends on the Student…

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Should teachers show students how to solve a problem? Should we model the right way to do a task?

Or, should we let students figure solutions out on their own?

This set of questions has gotten LOTS of attention over the years. Sadly, as can happen all too often, the answers have become polarized.

You’ll read (emphatic) teaching advice that we must let students discover answers and processes on their own.

You’ll read (passionate) teaching advice that we have to explain and guide them every step of the way.

How can we escape from this all-or-nothing debate?

Asking a Better Question

Here’s one escape hatch: ask a more helpfully precise question.

In other words: the answer to the question “what’s the best way to teach my students X” is “it depends on your students.”

More specifically, it depends on your students’ level of expertise.

Once we rethink our teaching from this perspective, a common-sensical framework quickly comes into perspective.

“Beginners”–that is, students with little-to-no expertise–need lots of explicit instruction and guidance.

If we’re not there to shepherd them through the early stages, they’re likely to experience working-memory overload. (If you followed our series on working memory this summer, you know working memory overload is baaaaad.)

However, “experts”–that is, students who have gone beyond the foundations of the topic–can explore, invent, and discover on their own. In fact, they’re likely to be distracted by too much explanation.

That last sentence sounds very odd. Why would an “expert” be distracted by explanation?

Here’s why. If you understand a topic, and then listen to me explain it, you have to realign your understanding of it to match my explanation.

That realignment process takes up…you guessed it…working memory.

By the way: this sub-field of cognitive science has its own lingo to describe working memory in action. Right now I’m describing the expertise reversal effect: that is, teaching practices that benefit novices actually impede learning for experts.

An Example. Or Two.

In this study, researchers in Australia had students learn new procedures in geometry and algebra.

Beginners–those who didn’t yet understand much in these areas–benefited from examples showing how to solve the problems. That is: they did better than their beginner peers who didn’t get those example solutions.

However, experts–who understood much more in these areas–did not benefit from those examples. In fact, they might even have learned less.

Other researchers have found similar results for students studying Shakespeare.

One Final Point

If I’ve persuaded you that beginners need explicit instruction, whereas experts benefit from greater freedom to explore and discover, you’re likely to have this question:

How can I distinguish novices from experts?

That question deserves a post of its own. For the time being, I think the simplest answer is the most obvious: the teacher will know.

That is: if your teaching expertise says “these students are ready to struggle at this higher level,” then go for it. If your teaching expertise says “they really need more guided practice, more time with the scaffolds up,” then go that route instead.

We can get some guidance from psychology research in making these decisions. But, ultimately, we have to use our best judgment.

In Defense of Other-Than-Passionate Teaching
Andrew Watson
Andrew Watson
October 02, 2019

In Defense of Other-Than-Passionate Teaching

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I’m reading Tom Sherrington’s The Learning Rainforest: Great Teaching in Real Classrooms as I travel. Like many of his readers, I’m spending most of my time thinking a) that’s splendidly put, and b) why did it take me so long to start reading this book? It’s been on my “must read” shelf forever…

In brief, I heartily recommend it.

Sherrington opens the second section of Learning Rainforest with a plea for passionate teaching:

“Teach the things that get you excited about your subject. Read that special poem that gets you fired up, show that fascinating maths puzzle with the neat solution, enthuse about the extraordinary story, or talk about that cool exploding watermelon video.” (Yes: Sherrington is British, so he writes “maths” not “math.”)

Much of me wants to agree with this advice. Certainly I try to follow this guidance in my own teaching.

In the classroom, I regularly taught “difficult” texts—from Woolf to Morrison to Hopkins—because they move me so much. (Hopkins’s line “the just man justices” still makes shiver. Who knew “justice” could be a verb?)

And now that I do PD work with teachers, I’m always grateful to get feedback about my enthusiasm and verve.

In brief, I try to practice what Sherrington is preaching.

And Yet…

As I think about this advice, though, I can practice it but not endorse it.

Here’s why:

I think most teachers do our best work when we enter the classroom as our authentic selves.

That is: some teachers are indeed funny. They enliven their classes and their subject matter with puckish wit.

However, many people just aren’t funny. If I try to make my teaching funny because funny works for you, the falsity of that performance may well have dreadful results.

Other teachers have, say, a den-mothery warmth. They can soothe and comfort, and bathe their classrooms with gentle balm.

But: those of us who aren’t naturally soothing might not be able to pull off that act. The pretense would be more disconcerting than calming.

Still other teachers, as Sherrington suggests, are passionate, enthusiastic, and entertaining. Like Robin Williams in The Dead Poets’ Society, they leap about on desks and declaim in Laurence Olivier voices.

Like Sherrington (I imagine), they love showing videos of exploding watermelons. They “get fired up.” They “enthuse.”

And yet, again: some teachers just aren’t like that. Arm waving and zealous emotion simply doesn’t come naturally. As before, faking a teaching style that isn’t my own could backfire disastrously. The only thing worse that fake-funny is fake-enthusiastic.

An Example

In graduate school, one of my best professors taught with an almost studied blandness.

He sat at his desk, looking up occasionally from his notes. While he didn’t read directly from them, he was clearly tracking his outline closely. (We could tell, because his text-only PowerPoint slides often matched what he said, word-for-word.)

He rarely modulated his voice, and never (that I recall) cracked a joke.

And yet, he was fascinating.

Here’s why. First, he had a knack for explaining complex ideas with clarity and rigor. Even the most opaque topics seemed conspicuously clear once he’d explained them.

Second, he had a technique for answering questions that I’ve never seen before.

A student might ask: “What do we know about the impact of music lessons on very young children?”

He’d think for a minute, and then say:

“So, you’re asking if anyone has done a study where one group of three-year-old children had music lessons, and another group spent the same amount of time on an equally active task—maybe dance lessons.

And then, when we tested them on—let’s say—verbal fluency six months later, did those music lessons make any difference?

That’s an interesting question, and as far as I know, no one has done that study…”

In other words: he didn’t so much answer the question as describe how it might be answered by psychology research. (Of course, if such a study had been done, he’d tell us about it.)

After about a month, the questions in class started changing.

My classmates would raise their hands and ask, “Has anyone ever done a study where one group of six-year-olds told stories they made up, while another group read someone else’s story aloud…”

That is: we learned from this professor not only about various psychology topics, but also how to investigate psychology in the first place.

And, to repeat: there was nothing remotely enthusiastic about this class. And yet, this method was remarkably effective, and surprisingly compelling. I always looked forward to his lectures.

In truth, I can think of many excellent teachers whom you’d never describe as “passionate.”

Two Theories

So, if I can’t quite champion excitement as an essential teaching strategy, what would I offer in its stead?

As noted above, I think the first key is authenticity.

If you’re a funny teacher, be funny. If you’re awe-struck and enthusiastic, own that. But if you’re not, don’t try to fake it. Be yourself in the classroom, not a pretend version of another teacher.

The second key: aligning that authenticity with the deep purposes of education.

Here’s what I mean.

I think I’d be a terrible lawyer because, at my core, I hate conflict. My ethical obligation to advocate zealously on my client’s behalf would run smack into my deep desire for everyone to get along.

That is: my authentic self doesn’t really align with the deep purpose of lawyering.

However: teacherly enthusiasm certainly can align with our teacherly goals. We want students to love what they learn, and enthusiasm can go a long way to help them do so.

So too a sense of humor.

A den-mother’s warmth, likewise, might help students face academic rigors that would otherwise stress them out.

And, my professor’s deepest interest—his fascination with the design of psychology studies—lined up beautifully with his teaching goals. He wasn’t enthusiastic. But his authentic self absolutely helped us learn.

In Sum

Should you be worried if your teaching isn’t passionate? Not necessarily.

Should you worry if you’re not classroom-funny? Nope.

Do you need to answer all questions with hypothetical research designs? Heck no.

Should you worry if your authentic self doesn’t foster student growth and learning?

Absolutely.

Exploring the Nuances of Peer Feedback
Andrew Watson
Andrew Watson
September 29, 2019

Exploring the Nuances of Peer Feedback

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Over at the Learning Scientists, Katie Marquardt digs into peer feedback.

On the one hand, we can see many reasons that peer feedback would be beneficial.

It means that students are doing more of the work than we are–and, as we know, “the one who does the work does the learning.”

And, the opportunity to give peer feedback provides students with the responsibility and autonomy we want to be teaching.

On the other hand, those benefits don’t always materialize.

As Marquandt writes:

my colleagues express skepticism about peer review, because of the poor quality of feedback students sometimes give each other, and the challenges of managing peer review activities in the lessons.

This is valid criticism, and I have seen these shortcomings in my own lessons, particularly when working with English language learners who may lack the writing skills to give their classmates good feedback.

If we can imagine good and bad sides to peer feedback, what does the research say?

What The Research Says…

If you read this blog often, you can predict what I’m about to say: we need a narrower question.

Surely the effects of peer feedback depend substantially on the peers, and the feedback.

Marquandt’s post does a great job exploring lots of specific research examples. For that reason, I encourage you to read it. You should be asking: which of the studies she describes best matches your students, and your methodology for fostering peer feedback.

To take a compelling example: one study found that students who gave feedback improved their own second drafts of an assignment more than those who received feedback.

Crucially, this finding held true for the students who “commented more on the strength of macro-meaning and the weakness of micro-meaning” of the drafts they reviewed.

To decide whether or not this study applies to you, you’ll need to know what “micro-meaning” and “macro-meaning” actually mean.

And, you’ll have to decide if research done with college physics students writing up lab reports might reasonably apply to your students.

In other words: this topic is a great example of a broader principle. When we look for research to guide our teaching, we should be sure that the people and the specific methods in the research helpfully match our teaching work and our teaching world.

Even More Good News about Mindfulness
Andrew Watson
Andrew Watson
September 27, 2019

Even More Good News about Mindfulness

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Last week, I described a small but persuasive study about the benefits of mindfulness.

This study combined techniques from both psychology and neuroscience to show that mindfulness really can help students manage stress.

And, it even had an active control group. Just what a research wonk would desire.

As I noted at the time, however, this study focused on stress and not on grades. 

Of course, stress is important. (Let me say that again. Stress is important.) But, as teachers, we probably care about grades too.

We’d love to see another study: one that includes information on topics other than stress. Like, say, learning.

We’d also be delighted it were larger. 40 people is nice…but several hundred would be even more persuasive.

Today’s News

Sure enough, a just-published study focused on mindfulness and several academic measures:

Grades

Attendance

Standardized math and literacy tests

Number of suspensions

Yup: mindfulness correlated with more of the good stuff (higher grades and test scores) and less of the bad stuff (suspensions).

And, this study included 2000 students in grades 5-8.

This study is, in fact, the first to show strong connections between mindfulness and these academic measures.

A Reminder

We might be tempted to jump to a strong conclusion. If

Study #1: mindfulness interventions reduce stress, and

Study #2: higher mindfulness correlates with better academic outcomes,

We’re tempted to conclude that

Mindfulness interventions lead to better academic outcomes.

But, as we remind ourselves daily

Correlation is not causation.

Until we run a large study (with active controls and random assignment) which shows that students who practiced mindfulness ended up with more learning, we can’t be sure of that conclusion.

However, that’s an increasingly plausible possibility, given these two studies.

A Final Note

Both these studies were supervised by John Gabrieli, at MIT. He’ll be speaking at this fall’s Learning and the Brain conference. If you’d like to learn more about the connection between mindfulness and school, come join us (and Dr. Gabrieli) in Boston.

 

 

Trying to Prove Yourself Wrong
Andrew Watson
Andrew Watson
September 14, 2019

Trying to Prove Yourself Wrong

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You want the best research to inform your teaching. That’s why you’re reading this blog.

What’s the best way to be sure–or, as sure as you can reasonably be–that you’ve reached the most researchy conclusion?

For example: what should you do if you discover contradictory research?

That’s the problem that Blake Harvard faced over at Effortful Educator.

Here’s the story…

The Setup

Harvard teaches psychology to high school students. He knows A LOT about the mind and the brain. He’s careful to base his teaching practices on deep knowledge of research.

In fact, he even tries occasional experiments to study different teaching practices in a (relatively) controlled manner. In this post, for instance, he writes about his exploration of flexible classroom seating.

In brief, he knows his stuff.

Harvard’s conclusions, at time, challenge current trends. For instance: he describes himself as a relatively traditional teacher: more persuaded by research on direct instruction than by constructivist approaches.

You might not agree with those conclusions. But, if you read his blog, you’ll be impressed by his command of the research.

So, what did Harvard do when he came across research seeming to contradict his beliefs?

What if, for instance, a study headline says that students learn more from (“constructivist”) active learning than from a (direct-instruction-y) lecture?

Heck: the study was even highlighted in the Harvard Gazette. (To be clear: the Blake Harvard I’m writing about doesn’t work at Harvard, the university in Cambridge, MA.)

Key Lesson #1: Try to Prove Yourself Wrong

After a moment of understandable trepidation, Harvard forced himself to do what he tells his psychology students to do: confront their biases.

That is: Harvard (the teacher) thinks that the right kind of lecture will result in more learning than most active learning paradigms: exploratory discussions, for example, or projects.

When he finds research that purports to show the opposite, he had a great opportunity: he could disconfirm his prior convictions.

This may be the very best strategy to achieve the goal at the top of this post: to base our teaching on excellent research.

If you think that strategy X will result in the most learning for your students, you should:

First: assume that someone has found contradictory evidence (someone always has), and

Second: actively seek out that contradictory evidence. (Try Google Scholar.)

When you find it, give that evidence a thoughtful read. You’ll end up facing one of a few options.

Option 1: the contradictory evidence is more persuasive than the evidence you’ve been following. As a result, you’ll be able to improve your teaching practice. That’s great news!

Option 2: the contradictory evidence isn’t very persuasive. As a result, you know you’ve been doing it right up to now. That’s great news!

Option 3: both evidence pools are equally convincing. Now you know that your former certainty isn’t supported by the best evidence. You can try out both approaches with your students. You’ll find the answer that works best in your context. That’s great news!

In any case, your scrupulous attempt to prove yourself wrong will lead to a better teaching result.

Key Lesson #2: Precise Definitions Really Matter

As it turns out, when Harvard tried to prove himself wrong by reviewing the research, he ended up focusing carefully on the study’s definition of “lecture” and “active learning.”

His ultimate conclusion–whether or not he changed his mind–came down to a very precise understanding of the specific teaching techniques used in those two classes..

For instance: if you read a study saying that “metacognition improves learning,” you should find out exactly what the researchers DID. What, precisely, was the metacognitive strategy that students employed?

And: does that technique make sense for you and your classroom?

Until we know the answers to those questions, we can’t know if this research makes sense in our specific classrooms.

A Final Point

You’ve noticed, I suspect, that I haven’t told you what (Blake) Harvard decided about Harvard (University’s) research.

Why?

Partly because I think you should read his post.

But also because the answer to that question–in my view–isn’t as important as these two broader conclusions.

Try to disprove your own beliefs.

Be sure you know exactly what happened in the research.

If you follow those two strategies, you can be increasingly certain that you’re following the best research-based advice around.

The result: your students will learn more.

 

 

Flipping the Classroom: Asking the Right Question
Andrew Watson
Andrew Watson
September 09, 2019

Flipping the Classroom: Asking the Right Question

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When teachers hear about an intriguing new approach, like–say–“flipping the classroom,”we’re inclined to ask: “but does it work?”

Let me propose a different question: “under what circumstances does it work?”

After all, we should assume that many teaching techniques work for this teacher instructing these students in this topic. Alas, those same techniques might not work for that teacher teaching those students this other topic.

So, ask not “does flipping the classroom work?” Instead, ask “does flipping the classroom help seventh graders in Germany learn three basic algebraic principles?”

That question might sound obscure. (Okay, I’m sure it sounds obscure.)

But: research can answer that second question. It can answer the first only by answering the second dozens (or hundreds) of different ways.

So, Does It?

Here’s a very particular example. Doctors in Finland have to write very particular kinds of insurance certificates. Therefore, Finnish medical schools have to teach future doctors to write them.

So our question is: “Does flipping the classroom help Finnish medical students learn to write insurance certificates?”

To answer that question, researchers did everything you’d want them to do. They had one professor teach the lecture-only version of that skill. The med students then practiced at home.

For a different group of med students, the professor created a short video for students to watch at home. And, they practiced the skill in class with the professor’s guidance.

Which group learned better?

The Envelope, Please

The flipped classroom group learned better. A LOT BETTER. The cohen’s d value was 2.85. (I’m typically delighted by a d value of 0.50 or higher. I can’t remember another 2.85.)

So, clearly all teachers should start flipping the classroom–right?

NO WE SHOULD NOT.

This study showed that Finnish med students learned certificate writing better this way.

But, this is a niche-ey topic indeed.

These are fourth year med students. They’re nearing the end of a highly technical education. They’re as good at school as any students on the planet.

Also, they’re learning a discrete skill. I don’t know much about Finnish medical insurance, but I’m guessing it’s quite a distinct genre. The video covering this skill lasted four-and-one-half minutes.

In other words: if you’re teaching very advanced students a very narrow topic, then this study might encourage you to flip the classroom.

But, if you’re teaching beginners, or you’re teaching complex and abstract material, you might want to find other research before trying out this technique.

For instance: this study of students learning epidemiology showed that flipping the classroom made essentially no difference.

Final Thoughts

I have a research adjacent (although, not research supported) opinion about flipping the classroom.

As always, I think the key variable is working memory. The headline is: teachers should have students to do the heavy WM work in the classroom.

So: I guess that the basic principles of insurance certificate writing are easy to understand. But, applying them to specific circumstances can be more challenging.

That is: the application takes more WM. For that reason, watching a video at home and practicing in class with the prof makes sense.

In the case of–say–analysis of literature, those demands are reversed. Students can read stories quite effectively on their own. So, that should be the homework. But, the analysis of that literature requires lots of complex working memory initiative. This sort of discussion should be in-class, with the teacher, and not online.

I’ve never seen research consider flipped classrooms from a WM perspective. But, that framework seems to offer reasonable guidelines–especially if you can’t find research that matches your situation.

 

After I drafted the post above, I found this recent meta-analysis. The headline is that it found modest benefits to flipping the classroom, but that they were subject specific. Alas, the abstract doesn’t say which disciplines do and don’t benefit. I hope it becomes public soon, so we can find out!

Obsessed with Working Memory: SOLUTIONS!
Andrew Watson
Andrew Watson
August 08, 2019

Obsessed with Working Memory: SOLUTIONS!

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At the beginning of July, we started an in-depth series of posts about working memory.

For starters, we learned how to define it: “a short-term memory capacity that selects, holds, reorganizes, and combines relevant information.” (Handy acronym: SHREK.)

We then focused on its key features. It’s essential for classroom learning. It’s alarmingly small. And we can’t make it bigger (artificially).

For all those reasons, teachers need to be experts at anticipating WM overload. For example: look out for these Dark Sides of the Force.

And, we need recognize WM overload when it happens. (That student who forgot his question while his hand was in the air? That was probably a working memory problem.)

Today’s task: start SOLVING all those problems that we anticipated and recognized.

Solutions, Part I: Rely on Long-Term Memory

First: connect new information to information that students already have in their long-term memory.

Why does this strategy work? Because ideas and facts in LTM require much less working-memory processing than information coming in from the outside world.

And so: if a new idea resembles something in LTM, then that pre-existing knowledge acts as a kind of cognitive crutch.

For example, whenever I teach my students about gerunds, I teach them the Beyoncé rule:

If you like it then you should have put an -ing on it.

My students already have that catchy tune in their heads. By attaching a new grammatical rule (“all gerunds end with ‘-ing’ “) to that catchy tune, I reduce its WM demands.

As a bonus, I also make them laugh.

Second: explicitly teach core facts and processes.

“Rote memorization” of “random facts” has gotten a bad reputation. It seems so not-21st-century.

Alas, we can’t think without knowledge.* If our students have already learned the foundational ideas, definitions, dates, and processes before they start grappling with complex cognitive work, they’re much more likely to succeed.

Why? Because all that prior knowledge in long-term memory reduces WM load.

Solutions, Part II: Spread Cognitive Work Over Time

This solution is so helpfully straightforward.

If a lesson plan overwhelms WM because it includes too much information RIGHT NOW, then don’t include all of it right now. Spread it out.

In some cases, that simply means reorganizing the lesson plan. Let students practice the first topic they learned before they move on to the next one.

Once they’re comfortable with a particular mental process, they’re ready to take more ideas on board. (Barak Rosenshine, I’m looking at you.)

In other cases, you might reconsider if this information needs to be included immediately.

Are you students struggling with several instructions? Spread them out.

Here’s a handy strategy: give one instruction, and wait for all students to complete it before giving the next. (I got this advice at the very first Learning and the Brain conference I attended. Pure magic.)

Note, too, how exceptions can be postponed.

In French, “all nouns that end in -ette are feminine.” Knowing that rule reduces students’ WM load: they have fewer variables to juggle as they tinker with adjectives and pronouns.

That rule, however, has an exception: “squelette” is masculine. But — this is crucial — my students don’t need to know that right now. Why would they need the word “skeleton”?They’re not watching CSI Paris.

So, I can reduce WM load by leading with the rule and postponing exceptions until they’re necessary. (You can alert your students that exceptions might show up later, so they don’t lose faith in your expertise.)

If you anticipate or recognize WM overload, ask yourself if you can put off some of this cognitive work until later in the lesson plan…or, later in the syllabus.

Solutions, Part III: Make Cognitive Work Auditory AND Visual

Schools rely a great deal on auditory processing. That is: students listen to us — and to each other — talking.

However, working memory has both auditory and visual processing capacity. If we use only half of it, we’re leaving substantial cognitive resources untapped. It’s like asking students to carry a heavy box using only one arm. Two arms would be So Much Easier.

This approach leads to some very straightforward strategies. Verbal instructions take up lots of working memory capacity. Written instructions take up less — because students don’t have to “select” or “hold” them.

Oliver Caviglioli has just written a genre-defining book on combining visual and verbal information: Dual Coding with Teachers. If you want to focus on this teaching strategy to reduce WM load, you should get your copy ASAP.

Solutions, Part IV: CUT

Let’s take this hypothetical:

You look at your lesson plan, and anticipate a great deal of working-memory overload. So, you start using these strategies.

You find ways to connect new information to ideas students already know (solutions, part I).

You find ways to spread information out over time (part  II).

You move lots of WM labor into the visual realm (part III).

And yet, you still worry the working-memory load might be too high. What can you do?

You’ve really got only one choice: take stuff out of the lesson plan — and maybe the syllabus. You’ve got to cut.

That’s a troubling answer. We don’t want to cut, because we want our students to learn it all. (And, we might be required to cover lots of things.)

But, here’s the reality: if my lesson plan/syllabus overwhelms my students’ working memory, then their cognitive processes will shut down. That is: their brains will cut stuff out automatically.

If I know that’s going to happen, the only responsible course of action is to make those cutting decisions for them. After all, because I’m the teacher, I know better which parts can be cut without long-term harm.

The Good News about Part IV

By the way: there is some hidden good news in this strategy. If we cut material from an overstuffed syllabus today, then our students are much likelier to learn the remaining ideas than they were before.

As a result, they’ll be better positioned to learn the ideas that come later in the curriculum.

As is so often the case: less might be more. That is, less information early in the curriculum might lead to more learning by the end of the year. Why? Because “less” allowed students to use their working memory more effectively, and hence create more long-term memories.

Concluding Thoughts

I’ve named several strategies here, and given quick examples.

However, to get the most from these ideas, you will adapt them to your own circumstances. As you’ve heard me say before: “don’t just do this thing; instead, think this way.”

That is: once you’ve started THINKING about working memory in your classroom with your students and your curriculum, you’ll see your own way to apply each strategy most effectively.

No one else can tell us exactly how to do it. Using our teacherly insight, wisdom, and experience, we will shape those ideas to fit the world in which we teach.

In sum: once we anticipate and recognize working memory overload, we’ve got many (MANY!) strategies to reduce that load. And, those strategies are flexible enough to work in every classroom. The result: our students learn more.

* If you’re skeptical about the importance of prior factual knowledge, you’re not alone. But, the research here is compelling. Check out

Why Don’t Students Like School? by Daniel Willingham

Seven Myths of Education by Daisy Christodoulou

Making Kids Cleverer by David Didau

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