Avenue4Learning

On Friday, October 4, our school participated in the Day of Play, inspired by the Caine’s Arcade and the Cardboard Challenge. This was our second year to participate, and the kids absolutely love it.

Earlier in the week, we had decided that our focus could be a Rube Goldberg Machine theme with cardboard as the main building focus. As I talked with my kids about Rube Goldberg, they grew more and more excited to create their own. We watched a LOT of videos about Rube Goldberg Machines (RGM), including these:

• OK Go – This Too Shall Pass
• 75 Rube Goldberg Ideas & Inventions
• Richie’s 5th Grade Project on Simple Rube Goldberg Machine

From one video in particular - Andrew’s Rube Goldberg Simple Machine - my kids heard some simple machines vocabulary. Some of the students had been exposed to this language before, and some had not. They started asking some really good questions about levers and inclined planes. I asked them if they thought it might be helpful to learn about simple machines before we started planning our own RGM. They agreed and starting researching different types. They broke into small groups, each taking a different component, and even built prototypes to share with the class.

After we shared our discoveries, I asked the kids to start designing a plan for our RGM. As is typical for my class right now, there were a lot of leaders, and not enough “listeners.” When it came time to actually have a plan, there were a lot of great ideas, but no plan. I agreed to act as facilitator, since we were limited by time- being ready for Friday’s Day of Play.

On Friday morning, we jumped into a learning lab room and used a whiteboard to sketch out our major plan. We had decided that 5 components in our machine would be a good limit, since we only had a few hours to build and test the machine. Additionally, we knew that we would connect ours to Miss Nancy’s class machine, and that her class had already planned for a ball to roll down an inclined plane to then initiate OUR machine.

The kids chose to stick mostly to inclined planes and levers for our RGM. This is the design we started with:

After spending most of the day building, we were able to get a few good tests in before we had to share with the whole school. A couple of components failed, but the connection to the other class’s machine did function properly, and the end of our machine worked exactly as we had planned! (The last part was a chain reaction of books – levers – falling onto a Hoops & Yoyo button that made a lot of noise.)

Building our Rube Goldberg Machine

SUCCESS!

Some of my students were upset.

“It didn’t work!” “We failed!”

I asked them if they thought they could fix the components that failed if we would have had more time. They all agreed that they could easily fix those pieces.

“So, then did we really fail, or did we just run out of time?”

What a lesson that was in that short conversation! On Monday, they’ll write some reflections about what they learned last Friday, their favorite part of the activity, and how they feel they could improve the next time. We’ll probably write a class song about the machine we built. My kids think differently about their learning when they put it into verse, especially with a kickin’ beat in the background.

My favorite part of this entire activity? I didn’t plan A THING for those kids to learn. They did this all on their own. Everything I contributed was “just in time” learning.

Is learning about simple machines a standard in most science curricula? Absolutely. Did I plan for my kids to learn that? No. THEY were the ones who sought out that information through their own curiosity.

Now… let’s back up and pretend this entire activity never happened.

Let’s say I plan a lesson on simple machines. I deliver the vocabulary and explain to the kids how the machines work. I assign them an activity where they build prototypes, and MAYBE then I introduce the idea of RGMs and try to hook the kids.

It might still be a successful learning activity, but the difference here is that it is all teacher-driven.

When we depend upon standards to tell us what to teach kids, the kids don’t own the learning. 

When we give kids the ownership of what to learn and let them run with it, we find that they naturally hit standards without us having to plan for it.

In this one activity, my students hit multiple standards, across multiple grade levels in science, math, language arts, and maybe a few I haven’t even noticed yet.

They measured. They drew blueprints. They collaborated with each other. They learned about trial and error. They wrote down what was working and what wasn’t working, then shared hypotheses with their group to plan for the next success.

Most of all, they had so much fun building and playing. Our school provided an opportunity for them to see each class’s RGM. They were so excited about this day!

Shouldn’t ALL kids have an opportunity to learn like this? Or are we content to sit back, deliver content, and ensure we’re hitting all the standards?

Sometime next week, I’ll be able to list all the Common Core standards, as well as those outside the Common Core, that we “hit” during this activity. I won’t do this to prove that the Common Core works, but simply to show how limiting the Common Core can be.

When we allow ourselves to be driven by standards someone else imposes upon us, and then TEST the kids on those very standards, we limit what our kids are able to do. I refuse to be bound by those constraints, and most especially refuse to limit my students’ curiosity.

If you just get kids excited about learning, they will be engaged.

We hear statements such as this so very often in education. I agree with the point that we must help kids find what ignites their passion and assist them to pursue learning.

it is vital to light that proverbial fire in a child’s spirit. 

It’s not about the technology or the tool… it’s about the kid. Yes, technology can be engaging occasionally, but eventually the novelty wears off. If kids are doing the “same old, same old” on a digital device, the novelty of the device will not keep any kid engaged.

Digital worksheets are not more engaging than paper worksheets. Interactive white boards are not more engaging. Trying to find a “hook” for bad pedagogy doesn’t mask bad pedagogy.

To engage a kid, you have to look at the kid.

As an educator creeping up on the 20 year mark, I feel like we’re bombarded with new tips and tools to “trick” kids into being engaged. The problem with those tips and tricks is that they’re usually gimmicks, and kids are not fools.

Want to engage a kid? Get to know him. Ask her what interests her. To engage children in learning, show them that you care about their interests and what makes them tick.

BUT…

Realize that kids are not learning machines every day. Some days, they haven’t had enough sleep. Some days, they haven’t had adequate/proper nutrition. Some days, they’re having problems at home. For many kids, sleep, nutrition, and personal safety are daily issues.

Even if you help them pursue their passions, they will not be engaged all the time. 

They need compassion and grace, not gimmicks. Sometimes, that project isn’t the most important thing.

They need love and understanding. Sometimes, math isn’t more important.

If you want a kid to care about his learning, he needs to know you care about him. We KNOW this. I just don’t think we’re always that good at PRACTICING it.

Don’t fall for the gimmicks. Remember that kids are human. Remember you are, too.

I’m sitting in San Antonio, Texas right now ready to attend ISTE 2013. This is my 7th year to attend this conference, and I have to credit ISTE with providing opportunities to learn and think differently about myself as an educator.

This is the place where I meet (quite literally) hundreds of new people. Considering ISTE brings in tens of thousands of attendees, that’s still a mind-boggling concept for me. Some of these people I meet will become part of my learning network. Some of them will become (and have been, as time has proven) some of my closest and dearest friends. I’ll admit… I geek out a little and may even scare a few poor souls when it comes to my excitement for learning from someone new. Where else can an educator go and have this type of environment to meet and learn with 15,000 or more of your “closest”  friends?

Someone once said, and I wish I remembered who, that the ISTE conference has become the premier education conference (not just ed tech) in the world. I don’t know if I agree with that statement, but it did get me thinking. When I first started attending ISTE/NECC, the focus was most definitely on integrating technology into classrooms, helping educators learn best practices in using technology, and creating some technology standards for students, teachers, and administrators. At the time, that was definitely needed, and kudos to ISTE for leading that charge.

I wonder now, though… no, I don’t wonder. I fully believe that the conversations and the focus need to evolve. I don’t think there are too many educators, parents, or communities who would argue against the need for technology to be included in education. It’s simply a part of our world… and yes… I know there are still those holdouts that cling tightly to their pride in being blissfully anti-tech.

So where does that leave ISTE?

My ISTE wish is that the organization and, subsequently, its conference, would move forward into a heavier emphasis on educational progress with the technology and the tools taking a supporting role. As a former coordinator of technology professional development, our first step was to help our educators begin using the tools. After a short time, I understood the need for a significant change. The tools were taking a starring role – we used technology simply for the sake of using technology. We needed to help educators focus on the learning. The tools were simply that… tools.

If you look at the ISTE program this year, you’ll see a very common theme. Session descriptions include names of specific tools, products, or technology emphasis. I get it. The “T” in ISTE is “technology.” Even in my own group’s presentation/workshop, we’re sharing some web tools that can be used in the classroom. The focus is still on the tools, and that’s not how I operate. I would much rather be sharing with interested educators how inquiry can help lead students to deeper learning, and “Oh, by the way… here are some tools that can help you do x, y, or z.” In my own classroom, I rarely ask the kids to use ONE specific tool. They have options and choice to use the tool that best works for them to demonstrate their learning.

Ten years ago, I attended the now defunct Midwest Internet Institute in Lincoln, Nebraska, and David Warlick was the keynote speaker. He shared a lesson idea with us about how technology could transform a traditional lesson from a textbook. Mashups were still fairly new at the time, and definitely new to me. David shared a map and then created an overlay with video (I don’t remember all the specifics), but we were somewhat in awe of what we had just seen. The key point I remember from that day was that David didn’t have us gushing over the technology. It was the way he talked about what KIDS could do to learn differently – gain a deeper understanding, share their ideas differently, etc.  - that made the biggest impact on me. I jokingly call David Warlick my “Educational Philosophy Godfather,” because it was that day when I started to realize that education had to change. My philosophy about teaching and learning shifted, and that impacts me greatly yet today. As my Anastasis students always say, “That’s an epiphany moment, Mrs. B!”

This is what I want to see at ISTE. I know that the vendors are great supporters of ISTE and a necessary piece of the puzzle, but I think they drive what happens at the conference with too great an influence. I’m not a fan of financial supporters who say, “Sure, I’ll give you a lot of money, but I want to direct some /all of what you do.” Let’s be done with that. (I know, I know… but let me dream here.)

I want the opportunity for educators who have not had their own education epiphanies to come away from ISTE completely inspired by an educational idea… not how much free stuff and t-shirts they accumulated. Don’t even get me started on the Surface tablet giveaways.

For me, I want the opportunity to have rich conversations with the brilliant people around me- to learn with them and to be able to take back some great new ideas to our school. If tools are mentioned in those conversations, great. I know, however, those tools won’t be the focus. When I think about education, I bring every new idea back to one simple thing: how will this impact a student’s learning? Plain and simple.

If you’re here in San Antonio, I hope you have a fantastic conference. If you feel like sharing something you learned this week in the comments, I would be most grateful.

cc photo by cdsessums

Some people like very well-defined lines.

Black and white.

Nice, neat boxed-in rooms with corners.

cc photo by Matt1125

And then there are others who prefer blurry lines.

Grey.

Overlapping circles.

I think that learning is a blurry line. Definitely grey (hey! Brains are grey matter, right?). Things we learn often cross and overlap.

It’s difficult to measure things that are blurry, grey, and overlapping.

Most schools tend to live in that “well-defined lines” area.

Math is done in math class. Science is done in science class. Writing is done in writing class. You get the picture: nice, neat boxed-in rooms with corners.

Learning is measured with black and white numbers.

Personally, I like those grey areas. I like living in the middle. There’s nothing -EST about the middle.

The middle is neither the oldest, nor the youngest.

The middle is neither the highest, nor the lowest.

The middle can be extremely uncomfortable sometimes, because it refuses to be clearly defined.

The middle of the journey isn’t the starting point, and it’s not the ending point.

From the starting point, you can only see forward. From the ending point, you can only see backward. From the middle, you can see all around you.

It’s the beauty of the middle that stimulates learning. So many paths to take. So many beautiful things to experience along the way.

It’s the misfortune of the middle that it doesn’t always lend itself to measurement. To black and white numbers. To nice, neat boxes and well-defined lines.

How do you share the joys of the middle with those who attempt to measure it… and who are subsequently disappointed with the metrics?

A close friend of mine once shared some good advice – share the positive stories. Keep your tweets positive. We need to know the good things that are happening in education.

I agree. There’s so much negative in education these days, that we need to ensure people read and hear all the amazing things that are happening.

I have so much for which to be grateful, and every day, my students do incredible things. It’s easy to share what they’re learning, what they’ve discovered, the funny little things they say. So much good happening!

To be honest, though, I want to be sure to provide a balanced version of what happens in my classroom. If I’m too “Pollyanna,” am I misleading anyone about what happens on a daily basis? If I don’t share the struggles along with the successes, am I giving people the wrong idea about our learning journey?

And if I’m keeping with that honesty… there are some days that are just HARD.

There are days where steps forward that my students have taken all come crashing backward, and it feels like we’re starting all over again. I really believe in the inquiry-based classroom, but there are challenges.

This is the TRUE picture of our classroom:

• Some days, we misuse the freedom we’re given.
• Some days, we are not able to manage the independent learning structure, and we get needy. Even the simplest tasks are outside our realm of abilities for those days.
• Some days, we just want the answers given to us instead of searching and making our own decisions.
• Some days, I expect more from them than they’re able to do in one setting.
• Some days, I get frustrated with things that aren’t really related to my kids.

However, if we look at the learning involved in the difficulties, we find some really major life lessons in those struggles. And as the teacher sharing what we do, I need to be certain to share what ISN’T working just as much as what IS.

I’m really proud of my students. They have come such a long way this year! Have I been as open with what’s troubled them as I have with their successes? Probably not. Maybe that’s my learning curve.

How do you balance those things that you share about your classroom? Two bloggers that I follow regularly, Shelley Wright and Deirdre Bailey, are really good about that balance. You should read them, if you don’t already.

And finally, are you sharing more about what YOU are doing than what your STUDENTS are doing? I admit it’s easy to do sometimes, but I really feel it’s more important to put the focus on the kids. If we’re in this for that “rock star” status, we’re doing it wrong.

Thanks for reading. I value your feedback.

This morning, during our staff professional development time, we all talked about inquiry-based learning. Inquiry is already embedded into our school’s philosophy and practice. Just as we do with students, we spent time this morning reflecting upon our own practice:

• What does Inquiry look like?
• What are we doing already in our learning with our students?
• What is the process?

We also discussed the challenges of an inquiry classroom. Sometimes, the learning is messy and chaotic. Sometimes, the amount of freedom that the kids have overwhelms them, and they don’t always make good decisions. And sometimes, loose deadlines are too much in the “grey area” for those kids who really crave structure and boundaries.

Ultimately, though, those challenges help kids to understand that the process in learning is often more important than the outcome. Mistakes happen. We all make mistakes, and we learn from them. Through inquiry, we reflect on our learning, and we make choices about what we learn, how we learn, and how we demonstrate what we learn.

Our students are thinking critically about decision-making, problem-solving, and sometimes, even behavior choices. They are always asking questions. A LOT of questions! When we have guest speakers or when we go on learning trips, I’m always so pleased to hear our speakers/tour guides remark about the types of questions our kids ask. “Wow, your kids have such great questions!” “Hmm… that’s a really deep question. I’m glad you asked that.” “Boy, you guys sure are curious!” (I’ve heard these three statements in the last two weeks.)

My kids are currently struggling with completing projects. They often have these wonderful ideas, but those ideas don’t always manifest into completed projects. We sometimes have a difficult time, at 8-10 years old, with using our work time to the fullest. Sometimes, we get distracted by each other, by the learning tools we have at our disposal, or by absolutely nothing at all. The latter is what one of my students calls his “spacing out time.” Parents occasionally wonder how we keep our kids accountable if they don’t always finish things during school. Parents like to see neat, high quality, completed projects. I get that, because I do, too. However, as the teacher in the classroom, I have the fortune of also seeing the process – the questions the kids have about different topics, how they decide what they’re going to investigate, and the choices they make in what they do with their learning. Mistakes are made, but again… I get to see how they problem-solve those mistakes. The kids blog about their learning, including what they learned during the process, but they’re not always able to articulate exactly what that process was. My biggest challenge is capturing the process to share with parents and other people. I need to get better at that.

So, my plan today was to come to my classroom, share what we (their teachers) talked about this morning, and then listen to their thoughts about inquiry. Before the kids came to our room, I checked Twitter and noticed my friend, Deirdre Bailey, tweeted about a post she had just written. I clicked on the link and almost fell over. She had just written about the exact same experience in her inquiry-based classroom at Calgary Science School in Calgary, AB. Here’s her post: Savouring the ISH: Outside the Lines: Student Perspectives on Inquiry Learning.

She had just done the exact same exercise with her class that I was planning on doing with my class this morning! I think “serendipitous” might be a new word to share with my class.

I decided not to share Deirdre’s blog post with my kids until after we had done our own reflection.

Questions I asked my students and their responses:

• What exactly IS Inquiry? learning, questions, research, more questions, individual interests.
• What do we use for our research? internet, movies, books, podcasts, speakers, friends, “experts.”
• How do we share our learning? papers, posters, videos, books, drawing, poems, oral presentations, skit/plays, songs, persuasive writing.

After that discussion, I asked them how we learn differently than they did in other schools. They told me that “old school” is very different than “new school.” <– that’s how they decided to categorize them.

Old school is:

• teacher lecturing
• copying work from the teacher (taking notes from the information the teacher gives them)
• worksheets
• lists to memorize for tests
• teacher=the expert
• teacher corrects their work, but the students don’t always understand what they “got wrong.”
• homework that seems like busy work
• less freedom, less choice

They described “new school” as:

• more discussion in large and/or small groups
• sometimes, the teacher models or gives us stories that provide examples (replaces lecture).
• we ask a lot of questions.
• teacher answers questions with questions, and this used to frustrate us. Now we know it helps us think for ourselves.
• teacher asks us, “What do you think about…” which makes us feel like we have an opinion that matters.
• we problem solve more.
• more freedom, more choice
• more responsibility on us to do our work

I then asked them which “school” they prefer, and they all said “new school.” Then we skimmed through Deirdre’s post together, and they were really excited to see that someone else does what we do. When I asked them if they understood the point that Mrs. Bailey was trying to make, a few of my kids realized that it was showing how much responsibility is on them as the learners.

I asked, “if you have freedom, and you don’t use your time to your best ability, what happens?”

One student replied, “We waste time, and then our projects get rushed. We don’t always do our best work.”

Then I wondered aloud, “Hmmm… does it matter if we do our best work?” They all responded that it did, so a short discussion launched about quality of work, learning, accountability, and responsibility. As a teacher, my heart was overflowing… and my mommy heart skipped a few beats, too. THIS is what I wish my own children had been able to do in school.

Today was an inquiry activity about learning through inquiry. They asked questions. They sought out answers for their questions. They talked to each other, and we read about another class’s experience in inquiry. They shared aloud what they learned about their learning.

It’s been a pretty good day in my book.

Every day, you’ll see several (tens? hundreds?) of Tweets and posts recommending “n reasons why x tool is the best/worst idea for education.”

I very much dislike lists.

You can find pros and cons for everything under the sun, but I think we need to stop promoting or discounting tools and focus more on changing pedagogy.

I’d like to write a bit about iPads now. Our school is a 1:1 iPad school, but students are also welcome to bring and use other devices (laptops, iPods, cell phones) to do what best helps them learn.

I’ve read a lot of posts about how iPads are NOT good learning tools, because you can’t learn to type properly on them,  they’re bad for note-taking, you can’t teach programming on them, etc. But in all those posts, we’re looking at an adult’s perspective: adults who learned to type on a keyboard, either in school or on their own. These same adults learned to take notes in school. If they were taught programming at all, it was done on some type of computer with a keyboard.

So, iPads are bad because adults can’t type as quickly on them, and they don’t know how to program on them. Hmm. So, are we saying that students must learn to use specific tools because those are the tools that work best for adults?

What I find interesting about this advice is that no one considered asking a child how they might use an iPad.

What if we asked kids how they would use a device? What if we got out of the way and let them explore? That’s what I have the privilege of doing every day.

One of my students, a 9 year old girl, types more quickly on an iPad than most adults type on a standard laptop. Another one of my students, a 10 year old boy, has his iPad “keyboard” split, and he types like he texts… with his thumbs. Neither of them prefer using a standard keyboard. A couple of my students learned early to type on a keyboard, so they have an iPad case with keyboard. And then there are those students who struggle with typing and writing. Although they practice those skills daily, they also have access to dictation apps that help them as well.

The beauty here is that the students have the option to choose what works best for them, and there is no need for my intervention.

My kids also document their learning in different ways. They have a camera on their iPads that they use to photograph evidence of their learning. They often switch to video mode and record what they’re experiencing while narrating simultaneously. They’ve become documentarians without an adult telling them what they should do.

They create videos to share what they are  learning. During one experiment, while they were making race tracks, the students noticed that the toy race car kept flipping off the track. It was happening so quickly, however, that they couldn’t SEE where their track was failing. One student decided they should record the car racing in slow motion to troubleshoot the problem with their track. Within five minutes, they had the problem solved, because they used their iPads to record using an app called Slow Pro. All of this happened while I watched and said nothing. They had access to a tool that allowed them to quickly grab an app and begin recording immediately.

When we go on learning excursions, they don’t grab their laptops. They grab their iPads so they can take photos and videos easily.  When they take notes, they use an app that not only allows them to type their notes, but also provides options for adding photos and voice recordings.

Some of the kids in our school are learning programming. Did you know there are apps for that too? For my own learning, I’m checking out ScriptKit right now.

iPads work in our school for a number of reasons:

1. Our leadership had a plan in place when making the decision to include iPads as learning devices.
2. In our inquiry-based classrooms, students have a lot of choices in determining what the will learn and how they will demonstrate what they have learned. Every kid is different, and what works for one may not work for another. Their iPads and other devices provide them options.
3. Our teachers were provided iPads to use as well. Everyday, we work together to share what we’re doing and learn from each other.

My purpose in writing this post really isn’t so much about how I love iPads. If your school or district rushes out to purchase large volumes of these devices without any plan, time for learning about the devices, and how those devices will support teaching and learning, then ANY tool will fail.

Additionally, if the tool isn’t used to transform learning, then you’re just wasting money. If you purchase a netbook for every child in your district, but then continue only lecturing while the students take notes, is learning transformed? Or did you just buy a really expensive substitute for paper and pencil?

The tool isn’t the problem. WE are the problem. If we don’t know how to provide options for students and then get out of the way, we aren’t transforming their learning. In my opinion, children need to have access to MULTIPLE devices so that they can make decisions about what best suits them for a specific learning activity.

iPads in the classroom are neither the problem, nor the solution. iPads are tools. However, if you choose to write a list about why iPads are not good for learning, maybe you need to rethink that list. I know a school full of children who can refute your arguments by what they do every single day.

When someone asks you to recommend a great educational leader, whose names come to your mind?

[CC image credit: Leo Reynolds]

Next question… how many of them are currently in the classroom?

Please don’t get me wrong. This is not a post* that is about bashing administrators, educational consultants, or others whose names often come up in leadership conversations. Some of the people I respect the most and who are my very good friends are people with these titles.

I’m concerned, though, that the lack of respect for classroom teachers isn’t just a problem among non-educators. I think WE are all guilty of it, too.

Oh sure… there are the times when a classroom teacher wins an award with a lot of publicity. You’ll hear that teacher’s name often. He/she might be asked to special events, meet with dignitaries, etc. After a year (or maybe less), nada.

It’s ironic when those of us in education discuss educational reform and blame our society’s lack of respect for the teaching profession… yet, is it all that different in our own ranks? Seriously. When was the last time you had a keynote speaker that was someone in the classroom RIGHT NOW?

Don’t even get me started on the percentage of women or minorities invited to share their expertise. Yes, you could name some right now in the comments section, and they would probably be the same people I would list. Compare that number, however, against the norm.

Is it because we, as classroom teachers, are not great at self-marketing by nature? Is that what it takes? Personally, I get tired of people marketing themselves all over Twitter and blogs. Maybe that’s just me.

Or, and this is my sincere question to you, is it because we really don’t respect the people in the classroom as much as we think we do? 

I welcome your thoughts. Thanks for reading.

*Please know that I am more than aware of how important administrators are in a school. They can make such a huge difference in empowering their teachers and children to move forward, take risks, and create an incredible learning environment. I’ve also known, however, many teachers doing amazing things IN SPITE of lousy administrators. This is NOT an anti-admin post.

“Too often we give our children answers to remember rather than problems to solve.” Roger Lewin

It’s been about 12 years now that I’ve had that quote on my email signature. I’m sure I’ve tweeted it out more than a few times as well. Oddly, I can’t make myself change that quote to something else, because I still see that as a major issue in education today.

In my grades 3/4 classroom, I have multiple levels of competency in math. We often start our time in math with similar activities, but then move on to Level 1, Level 2, Level 3, etc. to ensure that the students understand the concepts, are able to find success in what they know and are able to do, but also are challenged to move up to something more difficult.

What I’ve been finding all year is that, regardless of their mastery or lack of mastery in specific concepts, word problems stump them all.

As their teacher, I need to help them find strategies for solving word problems, so we put on our “Math Detectives” hats and started looking at clues. They found that certain words are red flags for certain operations and then created some fun posters, sorted clue words by operations, etc.

That helped, but only a little.

I realized my kids were fixated… perhaps even obsessed with finding the answers. When they are unsure of an answer, they just start guessing and throwing out more answers.

I tell them, “Whoa! Back the truck up here. You don’t even know what the problem is. How can you be answering it already?”

So in our math sessions this week, we’re practicing finding the problem. We have discussed how some problems seem fairly simple and you can see the answer right away in your head, but if you miss one little detail, you’re not even solving the correct problem. How can you find the proper solution if you don’t even understand what the problem is?

We have this same approach to our inquiry block, our reading and writing activities — probably most of the learning activities we do every day. Many times, we learn that there aren’t really answers to some problems. Other times, we discover that some answers that “everyone knows” as specific facts aren’t actually correct. I love that my kids get into the detective role and really think through their discoveries.

This has me thinking about education in general. Everyone and their brother thinks they know how to “fix” education right now. I see all sorts of solutions thrown out there: more testing, more school days/hours, younger teachers, older teachers, Common Core Standards,  flipped classrooms, Khan Academy, passion-based learning…

There are so many answers, I can’t even post them all.

I’m wondering, though, if anyone really has spent time on the problem. What exactly is THE  problem?  Or problems? There are as many theories as there are solutions already suggested, I’m sure. And don’t get me wrong, I think there are troubling issues in the way many children are being educated right now. However, I think most of the proposed solutions aren’t really solving the right problems.

I guess I’m just worried that we’re approaching “fixing” education like my students do with their math problems. Throwing out a bunch of answers before really looking deeply at the problem rarely solves anything properly.

We all have our own agenda. We all have our pet peeves about what kids don’t know, but should. If, however, we were able to come together, free of our agenda and pet peeves, and talk about what is really important for the education of children…

… how would we define that problem?

My dad loves to say, “Don’t fix it if it ain’t broke.”

I’m going to revise that to, “Don’t fix it until you really know what’s broken.”  So let’s start there.

Thanks for thinking along with me.

Learning lessons with my students is probably one of my favorite things about teaching.

We have been working on puzzle problems in math, specifically those that help us practice operational facts (something my grades 3/4 need) and challenge us to think differently about numbers.

Grant Wiggins wrote a post about The Problem of Non-Problems in Math Programs a couple of years ago that I recently re-discovered. As I plan learning opportunities for my students, I am constantly reminded of his words in this post. So many math programs have “problem-solving” listed as a high level goal for students; yet so few math programs ask students to solve anything other than equations. Equations are not problems. In fact, I find that my students are pretty good at solving equations I put in front of them, but they can’t come up with an equation when I put a problem in front of them.

My solution to helping them learn to become better problem-solvers is to give them a lot of math “puzzles” to solve. The math geek in me LOVES these puzzles. My students… not so much.

Today, I heard a lot of whining from my kids– kids who are attending a school like Anastasis because they want to learn, not just do worksheets. The whining sounded like:

Another puzzle? Auuuggghh!

Can’t you just give us a hint?

This is so hard!

So, after a bit of frustration on their part (the math puzzle) and mine (the whining), I gathered them together for a pep talk.

“Of course this is hard. It’s supposed to be challenging. If it were easy, it would show what you already know, rather than what you are about to learn.
You’ve already shown me what you know. I want you to show me what you’re LEARNING. Once you learn how to solve the puzzle, you’re going to feel pretty great about what you accomplished, right?”

They all agreed and then set off to finish their challenge.

I have to admit that I kind of borrowed that pep talk from Tom Hanks in A League Of Their Own (my favorite baseball movie):

Dottie: It just got too hard.

Jimmy: It’s supposed to be hard! If it wasn’t hard, everyone would do it. The hard… is what makes it great!

Maybe that’s how I was taught to learn… that “the hard” is what makes learning great. I’ve always loved puzzles, brain teasers, problems to solve. My favorite teachers were the ones who said “figure it out” and challenged me.

I’m guessing, though, that we (educators) don’t always provide opportunities for kids that make learning great. Giving students work that is difficult only for the sake of being difficult isn’t going to help kids learn anything. [That's my problem with policy wonks who overuse the word "rigor."] On the other hand, giving kids work that is mindless and “easy” does nothing to help them stretch themselves.

This is our second year in our school, where inquiry and problem-solving are foundational concepts… yet, I still find myself occasionally stepping in front of the kids and giving them questions to answer, instead of problems to solve (this is part of a Roger Lewin quote that has been a part of my email signature for many years).

I am a huge advocate of our school philosophy, but it’s so easy to fall back into those habits of how I was taught to teach.

My learning challenge as their teacher is to remember to make the learning great, to challenge them to think and wonder. It’s not always easy to find opportunities for them to learn in this style, so I have to keep working harder to make it happen.

I guess this is my plug for problem-based learning… challenges that take children to the brink of frustration, where they have to struggle just a bit, but aren’t so overwhelming that they can’t ever find solutions. In the midst of learning to solve the problems, kids are also learning perseverance, using their creativity, and analyzing what works and what doesn’t work. And as their teacher, I have to persevere, use my creativity, and analyze what works and doesn’t work FOR THEM.

That’s pretty great, isn’t it?