Tag: skepticism

My Twitter feed is suddenly awash with one of those “how does your brain?” work tests. (I should say, “tests.”)

If you look at the picture and see an angel, you’re right-brained.

If you see a helicopter, you’re left-brained.

This “test” has several important flaws.

Flaw #1: it’s not a helicopter or an angel — it’s obviously a dog.

Flaw #2: left-brain/right-brain is one of those zombie myths that just keeps coming back, no matter how many times we kill it.

Of all the myths in this field, this one puzzles me the most. Let me try to unpack my confusion.

Not True: The Brain

At the most basic level, this brain myth suffers from the flaw that it lacks any meaningful basis in neurobiological truth. In the world of theories about the brain, that’s a big flaw.

We can’t in any meaningful way find people who “use more of the right brain,” or “rely on left-brain thinking.”

If you’d like a detailed explanation of the wrongness here, I recommend Urban Myths about Learning and Education by de Bruyckere, Kirschner, and Hulshof.

If you’d rather click a link, check out this study. In the mild language of research, it concludes:

Our data are not consistent with a whole-brain phenotype of greater “left-brained” or greater “right-brained” network strength across individuals.

Translation: “people and brains just don’t operate that way. No seriously. They just don’t.”

Yes, yes: a few mental functions typically take place more on one side than another.

Back in grad school, we learned that 95% of right-handed people rely more on the left side of the brain for some reading functions. But 95% =/= 100%. And [checks notes] left-handed people do exist.

In any case, this finding doesn’t support the LB/RB claim — which is that some people rely more on these synapses, and others rely on those synapses.

Honestly: at the basic level of “how we use our brains,” we’re all “whole brained.” *

Not True: The Mind

Okay, so maybe the LB/RB claim isn’t exactly about “the brain” and more about “the mind.”

That is: some folks are more analytical (“left-brained”) and others are more creative (“right-brained”).

This version of the myth doesn’t use the word “brain” literally. (“Who knows precisely where those mental functions happen in the brain? We were just joshing, kind of poetically.”)

It simply argues that people think differently — and we can tidily divide them into two groups.

In other words, this version simply repeats the “learning styles” argument. These theories say we can divide students into distinct groups (visual/auditory/kinesthetic; or,  creative/analytical; or, happy/grumpy/sleepy) and then teach them differently.

Of course, the LB/RB version of “learning styles” is no truer than the other versions; they all lack solid evidence to support them.

The Myers-Briggs Type Indicator sort of claims to measure this distinction (“thinking vs. feeling”). But here again, we just don’t have good evidence supporting this test. **

So, whether we’re talking about neuroscience or psychology, LB/RB ain’t true.

Beyond “True”

One of my favorite quotations is attributed to George Box:

All models are false; some models are useful.

In other words: psychologists can offer a good model for how — say — working memory works. That model is “useful” because it helps us teach better.

However, that model is a model. The staggering complexities of working memory itself defy reduction into a model.

So, maybe LB/RB isn’t true, but is useful?

Honestly, I just don’t see how it could be useful.

If the model were true (it’s not) and I could divide my students into left and right brained groups (I can’t), what would I then do differently?

Just maybe I could devise a “creative” lesson plan for one group and an “analytical” lesson plan for the other. (I’m not sure how, but I’m trying to make this work.)

Yet: doing so would be an enormous waste of time.

Neither group would learn any more than they would with the same lesson plan. And all that time I dumped into my dual planning can’t be used to create an effective lesson plan.

That sound you hear is George Box weeping.

TL;DR

Left-brain/right-brain claims are NEITHER true NOR useful.

Do not take teaching advice from people who make them.

* Yes, it’s true, some people have only one hemisphere. But that’s really rare, and not at all what the LB/RB myth rests upon.

** Some time ago, I tried quite earnestly to find evidence supporting the MBTI. To do so, I emailed the company that produces it asking for published research. They did not send me any research; they did, however, sign me up for their emails.

Nielsen, J. A., Zielinski, B. A., Ferguson, M. A., Lainhart, J. E., & Anderson, J. S. (2013). An evaluation of the left-brain vs. right-brain hypothesis with resting state functional connectivity magnetic resonance imaging. PloS one, 8(8), e71275.

Pashler, H., McDaniel, M., Rohrer, D., & Bjork, R. (2008). Learning styles: Concepts and evidence. Psychological science in the public interest, 9(3), 105-119.

Back in 2010, three scholars published a widely-discussed paper on “Power Poses.” The headlines: when people adopt a strong stance (say, fists on hips, like Superman), they…

…take more risks in gambling tasks,

…change various hormone levels, and

…answer questions more confidently in interviews.

In other words, simply changing the way we stand can affect meaningful variables in our biology, and our performance on life tasks.

A TED Talk on the subject has gotten more than 61 million views. (Yes: 61,000,000!)

Of course, any claim this provocative may generate controversy. Sure enough, skeptics weighed in with counter-claims.

Then, in 2016, something quite shocking happened: one of the original researchers publicly withdrew her support for the claim.

Researcher Dana Carney wrote, with bracing forthrightness, “I do not believe that power pose effects are real.” (As you can see in this link, Carney herself put those words in bold type.)

She went on to list her concerns about the initial study (small sample size, “flimsy” data, and so forth), to include her skepticism on her CV, and to discourage others from studying the topic. *

Wow!

What Next?

In theory, science is gradually “self-correcting.” That is: if one group of researchers arrives at an incorrect conclusion, other researchers will – over time – sleuth out their mistakes. (Max Plank wryly observed that the process might take a long time indeed. In his grim formula, opponents don’t change their minds; they die out.)

Looking at Carney’s example, researcher Julia Rohrer wondered if we could speed that process up. What would happen, she wondered, if we gave researchers a chance to change their minds? What if we invited them to do what Carney did?

She and her colleagues spread the word that they hoped researchers might publicly self-correct. As she puts it:

“The idea behind the initiative was to help normalize and destigmatize individual self-correction while, hopefully, also rewarding authors for exposing themselves in this way with a publication.”

The result? Several did.

And, the stories these thirteen researchers have to tell is fascinating.

In the first place, these self-corrections came from a remarkably broad range of fields in psychology. Some researchers studied extraversion; others, chess perception. One looked at the effect that German names have on professional career; another considered the credibility of Swedish plaintiffs.

One – I’m not inventing this topic – considered the relationship between testosterone and wearing make-up.

Stories to Tell

These researchers, in fact, went into great detail — often painful detail — during their self-corrections.

They worried about small sample sizes, overlooked confounds, and mistakes in methodology. They noted that some replications hadn’t succeeded. Several acknowledged different versions of “p-hacking”: a strategy for finding p values that hold up under scrutiny.

A few, in fact, were remarkably self-critical.

Tal Yarkoni wrote these amazing words:

I now think most of the conclusions drawn in this article were absurd on their face. … Beyond these methodological problems, I also now think the kinds of theoretical explanations I proposed in the article were ludicrous in their simplicity and naivete—so the results would have told us essentially nothing even if they were statistically sound.

OUCH.

With equally scathing self-criticism, Simine Vazire wrote:

I cherry-picked which results to report. This is basically p-hacking, but because most of my results were not statistically significant, I did not quite successfully p-hack by the strict definition. Still, I cherry-picked the results that made the contrast between self-accuracy and peer accuracy the most striking and that fit with the story about evaluativeness and observability. That story was created post hoc and chosen after I had seen the pattern of results.

Others, however, critiqued their own methodology, but held up hope that their conclusions might be correct; “These claims may be true, but not because of our experiment.”

What Should Teachers Do?

These self-corrections might tempt us, or our colleagues, to cynicism. “See? Science isn’t objective! Researchers are just makin’ stuff up…”

I would understand that reaction, but I think it misses the point.

In truth, all ways of knowing include weaknesses and flaws.

Science, unlike many ways of knowing, acknowledges that awkward truth. In fact, science tries to build into its methodology strategies to address that problem.

For this reason, research studies include so many (gruesomely tedious) details.

For this reason, psychology journals require peer review.

Indeed, for this reason, researchers try to replicate important findings.

Obviously, these strategies at self-correction don’t always work. Obviously, researchers do fool themselves…and us.

However, every time we read stories like these, they remind us that — as a profession — scientists take correction (and self-correction) unusually seriously.

In fact, I think the teaching profession might have something to learn from these brave examples.

How often do schools — how often do teachers — admit that a success we once claimed might not hold up under scrutiny?

As far as I know, we have few Yarkonis and Vizires in our ranks. (I certainly have never made this kind of public statement.)

In brief: this kind of self-correction makes me trust both the profession of psychology and these individual researchers even more. If you’re conspicuously willing to fess up when you’re wrong, you deserve a much stronger presumption of trustworthiness when you ultimately say you’re right.

* By the way: one of Carney’s co-authors continues to defend power poses emphatically. You can read Amy Cuddy’s response at the end of this article.

Twitter has a terrible reputation, and EduTwitter isn’t an exception.

The misinformation.

The name-calling.

The “team” rivalries: all heat and little light.

Did I mention the misinformation?

You might wonder: why bother? Honestly, I wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t. I myself was hesitant to sign up.

Despite all these flaws — none of which is exaggerated, by the way — I do find lots of benefits. This experience recently got my attention.

The Setup

On my personal Twitter account, I posted a link to research that had me puzzled. According to a small study, the motor cortex does not “remap” to represent prosthetic limbs.

Given all the research we have into neuroplasticity, I was genuinely shocked by that finding.

In fact, I’m currently reading Barbara Tversky’s book Mind in Motion, which talks about brains remapping in response to TOOL USE.

If brains remap because of tools, but not because of prosthetics — which are, from one perspective, tools that have been attached to the body — well: that’s a very strange.

But, people on Twitter know things I don’t. I thought: maybe someone knows more about this research pool than I…

Rising Action

Soon after I posted that link, my Twitter friend Rob McEntarffer (@rmcenta) retweeted it, sharing my curiosity. (By the way: “Twitter friends” are really a thing. I know LOTS of people — too many to name here — whom I have come to respect and like entirely by “meeting” them on Twitter. I would NOT have predicted that.)

One of his Twitter followers — someone I have never met and don’t know — retweeted Rob’s retweet, with a question to her professor.

So, we’re now at 3 or 4 degrees of separation. What happens next?

The Payoff

Turns out: this professor — whom I also don’t know — has lots of expertise in this research field. He briskly explained why the study couldn’t draw strong conclusions. (If I understand him correctly, its measurement methodology doesn’t allow it to make those claims.)

In other words: within a few hours, I went from…

being ASTONISHED because a research finding dramatically contradicted my (fairly basic) understanding of neural remapping,

to…

having a SUCCINCT AND CLEAR EXPLANATION why that research shouldn’t concern me,

and…

feeling RELIEVED that my understanding of neuroplasticity wasn’t so wrongheaded.

And, what made those changes possible — or, at least, a whole lot easier? Twitter.

Caveats

To be clear, Twitter really does include (and produce) foul, cruel nonsense. If you look for that, you’ll find it. (Tom Lehrer says: “Life is like a sewer. What you get out of it depends [at least in part] on what you put into it.”)

At the same time, I routinely come across generous teachers & researchers. They freely share perspectives and resources and contacts and information.

If you can stand the background noise, you might give it a look.

One place to start: @LearningAndTheB. Perhaps I’ll see you there.