How Did We Get Here?

I am not watching Game of Thrones.

I tried my best to get into the show over Winter Break over a year ago, but I just couldn’t wrap my head around it all. For a person who can’t remember whether he turned the oven off or what he got his mother last Christmas, Game of Thrones is an overwhelming experience. I can’t tell a Snow from a Stark, a Targaryen from a Lannister. There are too many kingdoms, too many relationships, and too many long-ago conversations in heavily-accented English for me to keep track of.   

If you’re lucky like me, you have others in your life who are thoroughly invested in the final season of the show, so you get to overhear the post-show analysis. “Wait—so she is the one who, back in the first season, killed the guy who—we found out in season three—was really the one who. . . .Since the dragon let him ride it, that means that now he will be the one who. . .and because she is third in line to the throne, after so-and-so and whatshisname are killed. . . .” There’s a lot of discussion of the backstory, figuring out all the moves to explain how they got to this point.  

Whether or not you are keeping up with a fantasy series on HBO, you are in real life nearing the end of another school year, a time when it’s useful to spend a few moments considering how you got to this point. Do your own post-show analysis. Take stock of your classes—what your students are doing or not doing—and reflect a little.

I’m sure there are things that are going well. Perhaps your students have become a tight-knit community of learners. Maybe they are reading and analyzing text at a sophisticated level. Or they are using academic language stems and switching appropriately from a casual to an academic register when having classroom conversations. Whatever they may be, take note of these things you want to replicate, the behaviors or skills you want next year’s students to exhibit, too. Then consider the teacher moves you made to get your students to this point. Examine the backstory. Jot down what you did so you’ll remember to do it again next year. Consider what you might do differently (or earlier) to get your students to the desired point more quickly or to move students even further along.

I assume that there are also things in your classroom that aren’t going as well as you hoped. Your students seem unmotivated. Earbud and cell phone use has spiraled out of control. Fewer students are completing work in a quality manner—if they are completing it at all. Now is the time to take note of those things so you can start planning now about how to solve the problems that are driving you crazy in the final weeks of school. How did you get to this point? What did you do (or not do) that created this problem, and what might you do differently to prevent its recurrence?

Instructional coaches on your campus or at the district level are excellent sounding boards to help you troubleshoot in advance for next year. Or find a willing colleague who would like to be an accountability partner. Putting plans in place now, when you aren’t in ready-set-go mode, lessens the chance that you’ll forget to make those plans next year.

Start preparing now so that next season is only a continuation of what you’d like to see in the future. August is coming.

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.

I Put on Clothes for This?

Here I go again, sounding like an old person. . .

Back in the days before the Internet, curious scholars who wanted to learn from a wise expert enrolled in classes to listen to lecturers pontificate about their areas of knowledge. I have fond memories of many of my college professors (and some of my high school teachers) regaling  (mostly) eager students with lectures while we furiously took notes to capture as many brilliant ideas as we could.

In today’s world, we can find lectures in many places. A simple Google search will yield numerous videos, podcasts, and presentations on nearly any topic featuring eminent scholars from around the globe. Students can now receive a better-than-average traditional education for free with only a smartphone and a pair of earbuds.

It would be vain for any of us to believe that our lecturing abilities surpass those of everyone who has ever made a TED Talk or YouTube video, so if we are relying on the one-way transmission of information during our classes as our sole mode of instruction, we are replicating (probably less effectively) an experience students can get elsewhere. Similarly, if we spend class time showing videos or movies, we are asking students to come to school to do something they could do just as effectively at home without having to change out of their jammies.

The advent of learning management systems, such as Google Classroom, and the trend toward 1-to-1 access to technology have made it all too easy for instructors to post an assignment and sit back while the students work quietly on it on their Chromebooks, laptops, or tablets. In many cases, these online assignments are the electronic equivalent of worksheets, with students filling in blanks and boxes as they answer teacher-created questions or complete online charts and tables. Many students come to school and spend most of their day sitting silently in front of screens, providing the information asked for, with little to no interaction with their instructor or peers. It’s really no different than if they had stayed at home taking an online course, except, of course, they had to put on clothes to come to school.   

If physical schools and colleges are going to remain viable in the present and future, they must provide an education that is different and better from what students can receive at home online. Real school has to be different from e-school.* There has to be substantial value in making the effort to get dressed and come to class beyond just hanging out with friends in the halls and cafeteria.

Additionally, if teachers want to remain in actual classrooms with students and to push back on politicians who try to increase class sizes, we have to show that our physical presence in proximity to our learners makes a difference. We can’t follow the example of “Ditto,” the character from the 1984 movie Teachers, whose students are so accustomed to filling in worksheets without any interaction that no one notices the teacher has dropped dead at his desk until  they run out of mimeographed worksheets to complete. We must put into practice the things that distinguish live instruction from e-learning.

One benefit to being a student in a classroom with an actual, living teacher is the opportunity to receive live, in-person, in-the-moment verbal feedback from the instructor. We know that the most effective feedback is the kind that occurs when learners actually need it, at the point when they can improve what they are working on. Telling students what they should have done after the fact doesn’t have the same impact as coaching students along the way. As students are reading, writing, or creating, teachers could hold quick check-in conferences with individuals or small groups to clear up confusion, redirect those who are heading off track, offer suggestions for growth, ask questions to promote self-reflection, or nudge students to the next level.

The teacher isn’t the only source of valuable feedback in a face-to-face classroom. Some of the most transformative feedback comes from peers. When we teach students to give and receive feedback from one another, everyone becomes more skilled and accomplished. Establishing structures and procedures for providing feedback in class on one another’s work is a worthwhile step toward making the most of the learning options available in traditional classroom settings.

Differentiation is another opportunity that is seized more easily in an in-person teaching situation. A savvy teacher figures out where each student is and offers next steps that are responsive to each student’s needs. If we are marching all our students in unison through a one-size-fits-all series of experiences, we are missing out on the opportunity to grow all our students to their fullest capacity. Teachers who make the biggest differences with students have a sequence of clear goals in mind and are able to put each student at the right point on the continuum to move them closer to the target. They also have an idea of how to challenge at a deeper level any student who has reached mastery.

Perhaps the most significant bonus of coming to school and learning in classrooms is the chance to have conversations in real time about what we are learning. The art of verbal discourse is limping along in our emoji-driven society. When the only communication students have with other humans is through Snapchat pics and abbreviated text messages, they don’t get better at speaking. Yet those who can effectively express themselves verbally get what they want in life. What better place is there to practice speaking than in a classroom where there are others with whom to converse and a teacher to offer feedback for improvement? Classroom conversations—whether in informal pair-share situations, structured discussions (such as Socratic Seminars or Philosophical Chairs debates), collaborative study groups, or small work groups—bring the learning to life. Students aren’t just sitting there slack-jawed in front of screens; they are engaged with one another, defending positions, trying out new ideas, clarifying their thinking, and questioning themselves and each other. This is where the learning happens. This is when the effort of coming to class becomes worth it.

As we plan for instruction, it’s not a bad idea to look critically at how we are teaching. If every day of class involves something students could do just as effectively at home in isolation, it’s time to change it up. We need to rethink the role of the teacher and the role of the student in schools. When we see the teacher as a valuable source of feedback, individualized coaching, and inspiration and the students as active participants in a community of learners, school will once again become something worth putting on clothes for.

* I mean no disparagement to those who are doing important work developing online courses and electronic learning experiences for students. There’s a growing demand for e-school classes, and I’m impressed by the efforts to make online learning increasingly interactive, open-ended, and responsive to student needs. I wonder whether the demand for e-school classes is partly due to the fact that so many traditional schools are still teaching like it’s 1985.