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.
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