Relentless Reflection: Why? Why Else? and So What?

Reflection is difficult because it forces us to hold a mirror up to ourselves and see what we really look like without filters and tricky lighting. Last week, I fell down an internet rabbit hole after reading an article about hansei, the Japanese art of reflection. I’m hardly an expert on the topic, but I was intrigued at this premise that is ingrained into the culture of some Japanese schools and put into practice as a part of the ongoing improvement process at companies such as Toyota.

According to my casual examination of the topic, hansei involves routine reflection (preferably daily) to question what you intended to happen (your objective), what actually occurred (the reality), and what might account for the difference (the reasons). Further examination of the reasons and exploration of possible solutions and alternatives deepen the reflection process. The result: solution-based problem solving that leads to continual improvement.       

When we are teaching, we are often in such a hurry to move to the next item on the never-ending to-do list that we don’t make time to stop and reflect on our own work. Asking ourselves how a class (lesson, assignment, etc.) went and how it could improve—even if it went well—is how we get better at our craft. The most effective teachers I know live in a constant cycle of self-reflection even if that reflection is done on the fly. Socrates reportedly said, “The unexamined life is not worth living.” I think the unexamined lesson is not worth re-teaching.       

Students, too, benefit from self-reflection. According to Hattie, the ability of students to self-report their grades has a significant positive impact on their achievement. In other words, when students reflect upon their own work and where it stands in relation to the objectives and expectations of the learning, they are more likely to do well.

So much reflection that occurs in schools or on the job is often done in a cursory way. We go through the motions (if we are compliant) but don’t see much value in reflecting if the results don’t seem worth the effort. Shallow reflection rarely produces answers that matter. In contrast, relentless reflection requires peeling back the layers until the core issues are exposed so that substantial, rewarding growth can take place.

Relentless reflection involves asking questions that provoke continually deep reflection. The two core questions are “Why?” and “Why else?”  I might begin with a concern unearthed by my initial reflection on how things are going.

For instance, I might identify an initial concern: My English students won’t read during their daily in-class reading time.

Why?  

They keep getting distracted by their cell phones.

Why?

They are more interested in what’s going on with their friends than what’s happening in their books.

Why?

Maybe they didn’t choose very interesting books.

Why?

Maybe they don’t know how to find a book they’d enjoy.  This seems pretty good, a lot better than merely stating my initial complaint or throwing up my hands in defeat because I’m, defenseless against the power of the Mighty Smartphone. Now, asking “So what?” might produce an idea or two I can act on to change things.

So what?

I could spend some time in class working with my students on how to find good books, including reading book reviews online, asking for recommendations from classmates, and doing more than just looking at the covers when visiting the library. I could also start giving brief book talks of some of my favorites because book talks get kids excited about reading. Nice! Those are some actionable ideas I uncovered from peeling back a few layers of my initial problem. But I am not done. I’m going to back up to a previous statement and examine another possibility.

They keep getting distracted by their cell phones.

Why else?

Their phones are sitting on their desks in full view when the notifications pop up and pull their attention from their reading.

Why?

Because I let them have their phones out in class.

Why?

I figure they’re old enough to manage their own phone use; it’s their choice whether they choose to pay attention in my class.

Why?

I don’t have a good answer to that. I’m the adult in the room, and they are clearly adolescent technology addicts.

So what?

I need to establish a cellular device policy/procedure and stick to it. Not having a policy means that every interaction with a student over a phone turns into a battle, and it also leaves them susceptible to a temptation they can’t resist. Texting, Snapchatting, and Instagramming are destroying my learning environment, and it’s up to me to stop that from happening.  

There! From this little exercise, I now have three solutions to implement to begin chipping away at my problem.

Let’s try another scenario. Here’s my concern: My students don’t turn in homework.

Why?

They forget to do it.

Why else?

They are really busy and don’t make time for it.

Why else?

They don’t seem to care.

(I used the “Why else?” question to generate several options here, but I think I want to explore the last one the most.)

Why don’t they care?

They aren’t interested in what we are studying.

Why?

It’s something many of them already know a lot about. Why else?

They don’t seem excited about the topic. Why else?

They are too busy to get their homework done with all their activities and commitments. Why else?

They are more interested in socializing. Ah. That’s interesting. Let’s stay on that one.

Why are they more interested in socializing?

Teens like to interact with their peers, and many don’t like working quietly. Or perhaps it’s because I’m assigning boring homework.

So what?

Perhaps I can add in a way to allow students to either do something collaborative or social with the homework in class the next day. Or maybe I could reduce the amount of homework and increase the in-class processing so that my lesson doesn’t depend on so much isolated work at home. I could also consider ways to make homework more social and collaborative using something like Flipgrid or a Google Classroom chat. Another option is to think of how I can assign homework that will be more interesting and relevant to my students.

Now that I have peeled back some layers, I have more than just a complaint. I have a starting point for problem solving and solution finding.

I wonder if this same trick could get students to be more contemplative about their own work in class. . . .

How’d you do on the last test?

I made a 78.

Why?

I studied but didn’t do very well.  

Why?

I guess I didn’t study enough. Or in the right way.

Why?

I don’t really know how to study.

So what?

Maybe I could come to tutorials and ask the teacher for some study tips. Or I could talk with some friends who made higher grades and see if they would help me study. I can’t keep doing what I’m doing if I want to make an A or a B in this class.

The student could have “Why elsed” this question and discovered more solutions. As I was reflecting, however, about how long this essay is, I decided that the point was probably sufficiently clear and that you probably didn’t need or want to read more.

Relentless reflection means not being satisfied with the first answer and digging deeper to get to the root of the concern. Three simple questions—Why? Why else? So what?—can make that happen. When we make reflection a habit, and when we help our students make it a habit, we start seeing improvement.   

Thanks for all you do to keep getting better and better.

Fix-It Strategies

Stuff breaks.

It’s an unfortunate part of life, but we have to deal with cars that won’t start, computers stuck on the Blue Screen of Death, ice makers that don’t make ice, and cell phones that won’t hold a charge.

Sometimes, when we read, comprehension breaks down, too. We encounter a paragraph with dozens of words we don’t know. A piece of text is too technical for our know-how. We find ourselves at the end of a page and have no idea what we just read.

For many of our students, this happens all the time. We give them texts, ask them to read them, and watch them run into roadblocks. Comprehension breaks down, and they don’t know how to fix it. What do we do in response? How do we help them? Sometimes, we ask them to underline, circle, or highlight unfamiliar vocabulary and other things they don’t understand. That’s a start, but it’s not enough.

Imagine you are having a really bad hair day. You look in the mirror and recoil in horror at what’s atop your head. Your hairstyle is a disaster, and you can’t leave the house looking like this. What do you do? Just point to the problem area? Circle what’s wrong? Merely identifying the problem isn’t going to fix your heinous hairdo.

You promptly take measures to alleviate the problem. Perhaps you apply a different product, take out the blow dryer or the curling iron, splash a little water on it, trim a bit with your shears, or—if none of that works—hop back in the shower and start all over.

You have go-to fix-it strategies when you find yourself having a hair crisis.

You also have fix-it strategies you use when you encounter difficult text.

When a word baffles you, you may look for context clues to determine the meaning, decide how crucial that word is to your overall understanding, look up a definition of the word if you need to, and reread the sentence, substituting that newfound definition for the word you didn’t know.

If you get to the end of sentence and go, “Huh?”, you may return to the start of the sentence and reread more carefully, put it into your own words, identify the most important elements, look at how the sentence relates to what comes before and after it, and read the words aloud in order to hear what it’s saying.    

         

At various times, you might jot notes in the margin, underline to emphasize the most important ideas, scribble a question beside a paragraph, sketch a visual or simple graphic organizer to help you make sense of some ideas, or talk with a friend about the text.

Your toolbox of fix-it strategies is a valuable resource for your students. Merely telling them to circle unfamiliar words or read a confusing passage again leads to frustration. “Look how many words I don’t know. Now what?” “I read it once and didn’t get it. How is reading it again going to help?”

We must talk with students about when to know whether a word is worth looking up and what to do after they look up a definition of an unfamiliar word. We must show them how to reread with a new intention to clear up confusion. We have to provide them with as many strategies as possible and help them to determine when each one is useful. Having strategic talks with students about reading builds stronger readers. Filling in the meaning for them doesn’t help them build skills of their own; they’ll be helpless when their comprehension breaks down without a teacher in sight.

Fix-it strategies aren’t confined to the literacy realm. We have math strategies, problem-solving strategies, critical thinking strategies, decision-making strategies, and study strategies—just to name a few—our students can benefit from.

Don’t leave your students stranded without a plan to fix their broken-down learning. Stuff breaks. Make sure your students understand that difficulty is a normal part of learning, but provide them with some tools to help them steer their way back onto the road to success. 

The Value of Looking Back

Recently, my Facebook feed has been littered with posts from people about things that occurred one, two, or more years prior. “On this day one year ago” photos pop up, accompanied by comments like, “Hard to believe this was just one year ago,” “I forgot about this, “ “Wow, we’ve all changed so much,” “I was such an idiot then,” or, “Can you believe we were so concerned about that?” 

People are drawn to moments from their past that contrast to their present selves. “Throwback Thursday” photos often have the added purpose of highlighting the fashion and style atrocities of yesteryear with the implicit idea that we all look so much better now that we have the sense not to wear those parachute pants or style our hair in that once-fashionable mullet. 

The end of an academic year is an ideal time to have a Throwback Thursday of our own, to ask our students to project themselves back nine months into the past to see how they’ve grown and changed as a result of being in our classes. What do you know now that you didn’t know in September? What can you do now that you couldn’t do at the beginning of the school year? If you had it to do over again, what might you do differently?

This type of reflection belongs in the review weeks at the end of the school year. Ask students to create a graffiti wall displaying what they’ve learned. Have them compare a sample of recent work to a similar assignment from the beginning of school. Brainstorm a list of everything they wouldn’t know if they hadn’t taken your class. Let them reflect in writing about how far they’ve come, the obstacles they encountered along the way, and how they dealt with them. Encourage them to make some notes for themselves for next year so they don’t drive into any of the same potholes later.

Goal setting is a key aspect of instruction in our AVID classes as it should be in all our classes. Equally important is the time to look back at where we’ve been, celebrate our progress, and redirect our focus to the future.    

Like the Roman god Janus with two faces—one looking forward and one looking back—we  use our past experiences to steer ourselves successfully toward what is to come.

Thanks for all you do to help your AVID kids (and all your kids) make impressive strides on the road to success. 

Craig

Rubrics! Who Needs Them? You and Your Students

When I first started teaching English back in the day of dot matrix printers, I had never heard of that thing we call a rubric. Sure, we had criteria for assessing student work. but it was mostly in our heads. We viewed the product and, in our all-knowing English teacher wisdom, bestowed the grade the work deserved. I'd scrawl comments in the margins (mostly ones I would have to later interpret for a handful of conscientious students who couldn't read my red-penmanship) and hand the papers back. The great and powerful McKinney had spoken!

Fortunately, I've come a long way in 20 or so years. I now believe in the power of the rubric. I've written before about the importance of sharing rubrics with students before the assignment is completed and helping them to use rubrics to inform their work, but I've recently come to value to an equal degree the use of rubrics after assessment to guide their future efforts. 

In my humanities class, I have a recurring assignment called a Humanities Arts Experience, colloquially referred to by the pronounceable acronym HAE. In a nutshell, students venture into the real world for an arts experience at a theatre, museum, gallery, or concert hall and compose a newspaper-style review of their experiences. The rubric I've used for years is holistic, combining a number of skills and criteria for each grading designation. A "B paper," for instance, is more general than specific, relies more on summary than analysis, and contains errors in conventions that cause some minor difficulty for the reader. 

On the most recent essay,however, I developed a more detailed rubric. This one had eight criteria, and each criterion was detailed in a spreadsheet with descriptors for exemplary, proficient, acceptable, needs improvement, and unacceptable work.  

Here's a bit of technical stuff. Skip this paragraph if you're a technophobe. Students submitted their essays online on a Doc via Google Classroom, and I used the apps and extensions Doctopus and Goobric to attach my rubric electronically to each essay. All I had to do was "digest" the spreadsheet rubric using Doctopus, open the rubric on Goobric, select the tab for each criterion, click the appropriate descriptor in each category, type comments in the box, and press submit. Goobric pasted the entire rubric into the student's document, which I then returned to the student electronically. (Really, this is the easiest thing in the world. If technology appeals to you and you're tired of killing trees, grading mounds of physical papers, and listening to "my printer didn't work" excuses, you need to give this a try.)

Tomorrow in class, I will ask my students to open their documents and reflect on the rubric. If I deemed their introduction "acceptable" or told them their analysis "needs improvement," they can view my rubric's written explanation of what an exemplary product looks like in each of those categories, and they have something concrete to work on to improve next time. With eight categories to look at, the students will receive ample guidance to help their next HAE rival this one.   

Life was certainly easier for me when the great and powerful McKinney could bestow a grade on sight. What didn't occur to me then, though, was that the grade was not the most important thing. Student learning was. If it's my job to take these students in whatever condition they arrive in my classroom and lead them to where they need to be when they leave, I owe it to them to provide feedback and concrete steps for improvement. Students aren't naturally reflective, and many of them see the grade as the endpoint, but forcing them to spend some time thinking critically about their previous work and establishing a plan for improvement will help them develop the growth mindset and the tools they need to become exemplary.