The Art of Framing a Lesson

I had to cancel my cable television because of the the Food Network. I admit it. I am addicted to TV cooking shows. I could spend an entire day watching Alton, Giada, Ina, Ree, and Guy cook and talk about cooking. Even if they are preparing something I know I will never make in my own kitchen, those culinary celebrities convince me that their efforts are worth a half an hour of my undivided attention.

The same thing happens in classrooms of effective teachers. Top educators frame lessons in a way that motivates students to want to engage, even if the topic being studied isn’t intrinsically interesting to the learners. TV cooks have something to teach us about what we could (and probably should) be doing in our classrooms.

Obtaining student buy-in is an art. It’s part of personalizing a lesson, figuring out what you as an individual teacher bring to the lesson plan. The worst way to frame a lesson is to just launch into the learning. “Take out a sheet of paper and take notes.” “Open up your book and let’s start reading.” You’d never see a Food Network host cook open up the show and start cooking without a preamble. In my time spent with TV cooks,  I’ve observed three effective strategies for framing a lesson that occur regularly on cooking shows to entice disinterested viewers to become learners.

Strategy One:   Establish a Need

“When you’re as busy as I am, you don’t have the time or energy to spend hours in the kitchen after work making dinner. If you’re watching your waistline or your wallet, you probably want to avoid expensive, high-calorie meals in restaurants, too. Today, I’m going to show you three easy recipes you can make at home to prepare a healthy meal for your family without spending hours in the kitchen or breaking your bank account.”

TV chefs, as well as master teachers, give their learners a reason to pay attention when they frame a lesson by establishing a need. They circumvent the “Why do I need to know this?” question by answering it before it’s asked. “You need to know this because it’s on the test,” is one reason which only motivates a handful of students. If that’s the only purpose for learning a teacher can provide, I can’t blame kids for zoning out. Offering a compelling, real-world purpose for the learning that’s about to happen doesn’t guarantee student buy-in, but providing no reason probably does guarantee that many learners will zone out. An English teacher who says, “Today we are going to write a persuasive essay, which you need to be able to do to pass the STAAR,” will have to work a lot harder to engage learners than the one who opens class by saying, “Today you are going to learn some techniques you can use to convince nearly everyone you disagree with that you are right. With what you learn today, you will increase your chances of winning almost any argument by appealing to your opponent’s logic, ethics, and emotions.” That’s a need that will hook any teenager.

Strategy Two:  Describe a Desired Outcome

“The perfect chocolate cookie is a blend of chewy and crispy. Lightly browned on the bottom and golden on top, the cookie should melt in the mouth without falling apart when you pick it up. Today, we are going to learn how to bake a cookie that meets that hard-to-achieve balance. Showcasing a few simple tricks of the trade, this recipe will soon become your go-to favorite for baking irresistible treats that’ll please the pickiest cookie connoisseur.”

Beginning class with the end in mind helps students know where they are headed. Unless teachers have a particular reason for concealing the goal (and I can’t at the moment think of what that would be), providing students with a desired outcome gives them something to aim for and establishes a clear idea of the direction they’re supposed to be headed. This also lets them know which parts of the lesson are the most important. The desired outcome can also take on an anticipatory feel as students curiously await the discovery the teacher claims will take place during class. “We are going to be reading several essays in the next few days because I want you to observe how powerful language can engage a reader. You’re going to witness techniques of some of the greatest writers of the past century, and then you’re going to try your hand at using some of those techniques to craft an essay on a topic important to you and to convey your enthusiasm to your reader with powerful word choice, purposeful use of sound devices, unexpected but effective figurative language, and anecdotes that elevate your writing from ordinary to extraordinary.” Students in this class now understand the purpose behind the reading of the essays and the techniques the teacher hopes they will attempt to write brilliant essays of their own. Unfortunately, many teachers would just hand out essays and start reading. Later, they would be surprised and disgruntled that the students didn’t use any techniques from the essays in their writing.

Strategy Three:  Tell a Personal Story

“My grandpa loved to cook. He also loved to make food for other people. When I was a little boy, I used to stand in the kitchen and watch as my grandpa made sugared peanuts. I’d watch with anticipation as the sugary mixture melted in the electric skillet and then hardened on cookie sheets in the oven. Grandpa warned me and my brother to stay out of the way so we didn’t burn ourselves, so we followed his every move from a distance as the kitchen filled with the aroma of golden, sugary deliciousness. Now that Grandpa is no longer with us, we keep the tradition alive by making our own batches of sugared peanuts and—just like Grandpa did—filling ziplock baggies with them to take to friends and coworkers at the holidays.”   

By appealing to an audience’s love of family, food, and tradition, a TV chef would have viewers glued to the screen during after telling this heartwarming story about his grandfather. A personal story helps people connect to the storyteller and the topic whether on television or at school. A well-placed, purposeful story or anecdote can provide the beginning of a memorable lesson. Framing a lesson by telling a story appeals to the affective needs of students, establishes classroom community, and has the power to make a dry lesson less dull. My students of yesteryear have since told me that they remember my introduction to using online databases for research: a personal tale about the joys of using the paperback Reader’s Guide to Periodical Literature to find actual print articles in magazines at the Richardson Public Library (they had a better selection of periodicals than the Plano library) back when I was their age. I once introduced a lesson about a poem with a tongue-in-cheek descriptive story: “Back when I was a kid, there used to be this thing called ‘playing outside.’” My story not only gave my students a chuckle and informed them about a piece of lost Americana, but it also gave them a framework for connecting to one of the characters in the poem in later discussion.

Without a frame, a picture on a wall looks incomplete  So is a lesson without a frame. Making the effort to frame a lesson with a hook to engage learners can transform a mundane class period into something memorable. Turn on the Food Network and see how they do it. And invite me over since I can no longer watch the TV chefs at my home.

Growth for All

I half-jokingly mention to people that I am the sole caretaker of a number of at-risk houseplants. It’s pretty much true, though. Despite my attempts to foster the growth of the specimens under my care, most of the vegetation in my home exhibits at least one undesirable trait. My aloe has stopped growing. The peace lily hasn’t bloomed in years. The two remaining leaves of the once-vibrant snake plant seem healthy but lonely. The philodendron drops yellowed foliage periodically. The zeezee plant (yes, the one that Better Homes and Gardens says is “so easy it’s almost a challenge to kill”) is proving that I’m exceptionally bad at plant life support. And the unidentified plant I grew from a cutting my neighbor gave me is now so tall and gangly that it constantly requires cutting back and propping up.

I’ve read all about plant care, and I have come to a conclusion. I’m overfertilizing some, underfertilizing others. Some are too wet; others, too dry. A few could benefit from repotting. Two need to be moved to a sunnier window. One needs to be left alone. And one will be just fine if I find something for it to climb on.

It occurred to me (in my never-ending quest for educational metaphors) that my plant E.R. is a lot like a classroom. Like my houseplants, every student has needs that must be met in order for each one to grow. Some could use a little boost of fertilizer or root stimulant (I might call that motivation). Others require supports and scaffolds. A few would benefit from some pruning or redirection. Many should receive more care from me, but some are stifled by excessive attention and need to be left to their own devices.

In every case, plants and students grow more successfully when you get to know each one individually and meet each one’s needs. Plants allegedly like to be talked to; so do students, especially when the talk shows that you see them as people, not just as part of a collective whole.

Plants and students all deserve to experience at least a year’s worth of growth in a year. Tending to one segment of the population and extending that same treatment to all will ensure that only one segment grows.

A grave danger exists in schools when educators create a single deficit narrative and apply it to all their students. “My students can’t or won’t  ______.”  Fill in the blank with whatever you want: read, write, solve problems, do homework, think critically, pass the state test, study, pay attention, etc. What sometimes happens is that we craft a deficit narrative, apply it to all our students (even though in reality it only relates to a portion), and then prescribe a treatment for all according to that narrative. In effect, we put leg braces on every student even though only a few need to wear them.

When a houseplant appears healthy but has stopped growing, chances are it is root bound. The roots have reached the capacity of the pot and have nowhere to expand. The only way to get the plant to grow is to transplant it into a larger pot.

At times, the one-size-fits-all approach to classroom instruction leaves the most able learners root bound. By teaching to the lowest common denominator, we limit the growth of students who could thrive if given the room to expand the scope of their learning.

I’m going to work on getting better acquainted with my plants. I need to stop trying to diagnose them as one big, problematic group and instead get to know each one and give it what it needs. I’m also going to encourage teachers, administrators, and others who work with students to do the same. It would be nice if one solution fixed every problem, but the world is more complex than that, whether we are talking of plants or pupils. Let’s give all a chance to grow.