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.

What If Every Student Wrote in Every Class Every Day?

Sometimes I like to dream big dreams. I revel in “What if?” scenarios. What if everyone on the planet got along? What if teachers got paid according to how difficult their job actually is? What if I had a dollar for every time a kid asked to borrow a pencil and then didn’t return it?

Lately, I’ve been thinking about what might happen in schools if every student wrote every day in every class. I know. It’s a crazy idea. But, as I said, I like to dream big dreams. If teachers in all subject areas—math, science, social studies, English, fine arts, LOTE, physical education, career and technical education—made it their mission to insert just a little bit of writing into their daily lesson plans, the results would be astonishing.

If every student wrote every day in every class, here’s what might happen:

Students would become more confident writers. Writing— like most things that are worth doing well—takes practice, and the more you do it, the better you get. Students don’t have to write formal papers (which, let’s face it, should be special-occasion experiences) in order to improve as writers. Quickwrites, short answers, explanatory paragraphs, summaries, and letters to the teacher (or other students) are all ways of practicing writing within academic disciplines. The simple act of stringing words together to make sentences and adding additional sentences until something emerges that makes sense builds confidence and self-efficacy.

Teachers would have a better idea of what students know and don’t know. Asking students to explain something in writing gives a glimpse into their understanding in a way that is more complete and nuanced than a multiple choice question or thumbs-up/thumbs-down or fist-to-five physical response. Writing is an easy-to-implement formative assessment tool at any point in the lesson cycle. Having students write what they already know about a topic prior to instruction can give teachers an idea of where to begin teaching the entire class or which students will need differentiation, either enrichment or remediation. Pausing mid-lesson to allow students to explain how they reached a solution or solved a problem can provide insight into their thought processes and help the teacher diagnose gaps in understanding. An exit ticket summarizing the day’s essential question on a notecard provides instantaneous feedback about whether students “got it” so teachers will know whether to move on or revisit the concept tomorrow.

Blank pages and blank stares would become things of the past. Like a car that’s been sitting undriven for a few months, many student writers have trouble getting started when they are asked to write. Once students start writing every day in every class, their batteries remain fully charged, and the ideas emerge much more readily. This is especially true when frequent writing activities are low-stakes, ones in which getting ideas down on paper doesn’t come with the “gotcha” of a grade attached. Writing in a fearful state is paralyzing. Writing (sans pressure) to explore what you think about a topic is freeing. Not every idea that comes out of your pen (or shows up on your screen) is going to be brilliant, but putting ideas into the world every day increases the odds that you’ll produce something worth saying.

Classroom conversations would be better. Writing before talking helps us generate ideas and clarify our thinking. How often, before a difficult conversation, do we write out and rehearse what we have to say to increase the chances of it coming out as intended? Similarly, allowing students to write a response to a question before a classroom discussion has several advantages. First, it provides every student a chance to wrestle with the thinking instead of sitting back and waiting for the loudmouth in the room to answer the question orally, freeing them from any obligation to think for themselves. Second, it gives students a chance to try out their ideas, to have some “think time,” and to organize their response before being asked to share it aloud. Whether or not the student is called on to respond, the student has done some thinking, and that’s what’s most important in an educational setting.

The quality of student writing would improve, which means, among other things, that writing test scores would increase. The more you write, the better you write. If you write every day, throughout the day, you’re bound to get better. Instead of complaining that “these kids can’t write” and focusing on inadequacies, teachers should consider providing numerous opportunities for writing and offering encouragement to reinforce what’s good. Praise-hungry students will latch onto the traits that receive positive feedback, and, eventually, their writing will get better. When the quality and quantity of student writing improves and anxiety about writing withers, the writing they’re asked to produce on-demand for standardized tests will seem less daunting. It’s just another thing we’re asked to write, right? No big deal. What will be a big deal is the amount of time educators can spend focusing on exploring meaningful content rather than tedious test preparation.  

The school will develop a culture of literacy. Where the written word is valued, learning thrives. When students see that all teachers—not just the English teachers—care about writing, they’ll care more, too. Soon, you’ll hear discussions about what writing looks like in various content areas, how writing in science looks different than writing in social studies or English. Disciplinary literacy will shape students to become more thoughtful, purposeful writers and more curious readers. Students will write for real-world audiences and will be eager to let their powerful voices be heard. Building a culture of literacy sets all students up for real-world success in whatever the future holds for them because those who can read perceptively and write with precision have the power to influence others, to get what they want, and to achieve whatever they dream.   

Teachers would spend more time grading. Wait! That’s not true. The kind of writing I’m talking about is mostly ungraded and doesn’t require out-of-class teacher feedback. When students write daily in school, they’re mostly engaging in writing to learn (also known as learning through writing), which is about acquiring the knowledge and skills, not being assessed as right or wrong. It’s more about doing the writing (and the associated thinking) rather than receiving a reward for correctness or compliance. And there’s a likelihood that students will write down some incorrect or misguided ideas on their pathways to mastery, which shouldn’t be penalized because making mistakes is a healthy part of learning. Students should be writing more than we could possibly read anyway. Shifting the audience away from the teacher gives students a more potent motivation for writing well and communicating clearly. When, and if, teachers grade and comment on writing, many other readers should have seen and provided constructive feedback on that piece previously. Content-area teachers who fear being unqualified to assess student writing should free themselves from some of that pressure. It’s not your job to be a copy editor and fix every grammatical error. Focus on what makes sense. Question what doesn’t. When you focus on meaning, any time you spend reading and responding to student writing will be more pleasurable; it will be a conversation between you and your students about what they think about their learning. And that is fascinating.

I realize that asking teachers to add a bit of writing to their lessons is encouraging risk-taking and stepping outside of comfort zones. I acknowledge that my dream isn’t likely to come true on most campuses. I know, however, that students don’t write enough in school, and I’ve seen how learning-through-writing strategies can transform classrooms into active, vibrant, student-centered communities of scholars. You probably don’t have the power to control what goes on in others’ classrooms, but you have control over what goes on in yours. Any bit of writing you add is more than your students would have done without you.  Help me make my big dream come true.

Teacher Tricks

When I was a classroom teacher, I knew a lot of great teacher tricks. 

I would show up to English class as the guest speaker, Evinrude the Poetry Dude. Dressed in a black turtleneck and beret and sporting beatnik sunglasses, I spoke entirely in rhyming couplets while I introduced our study of poetry to my freshmen. 

Another of my tricks involved spending hours transforming my room into Dante’s Inferno, with creepy lighting, diabolical music, and nine circles of hell. I was Virgil, the tour guide, who would explain the layout, share some background info about the author and the time period, and introduce my students to some of the medieval celebrities inhabiting this unpleasant version of the afterlife. 

Another of my teacher-trick disguises was the Irish satirist Jonathan Swift. I’d slip out of my humanities class while students were answering some boring questions and return in a powdered wig, spectacles, and 18th century clothing to read my latest work, “A Modest Proposal,” which—to my students’ horror—seemed to advocate the selling of small children to be used as food as a solution to the problem of overpopulation. 

Speaking of reading, that was definitely one of my better tricks. For years, I performed Great Expectations five times a day, trying to embody every character as I read nearly all of that dickens of a novel to aloud my English students who “couldn’t read it themselves.”  I also received rave reviews for my in-class performances as Iago in Othello, the title role in Tartuffe, and nearly every character in Romeo and Juliet. 

Over the years I stuffed fortune cookies and balloons with writing prompts, staged a full-out Renaissance festival, hosted the Academy Awards of Literature, recreated a medieval monastery, and led sing-along renditions of “Old MacDonald Had a Farm” in Latin. I created videos, PowerPoints, webpages, lectures, mnemonic songs, review sheets, and elaborate bulletin board displays.

My teacher tricks were numerous, and I received ample praise and recognition for performing them. 

I’m proud of some of my teacher tricks, but, in hindsight, I’m not proud of others. You see, I was working hard— entertaining, creating, emoting, performing, decorating, crafting, producing— while many times my students weren’t doing much at all. Many of my teacher tricks were about me, not about my students’ learning. I confused engagement with learning, and I failed to build capacity in my students to do the thinking, reading, performing, and creating themselves. 

It’s weird and a little awkward now when I run into former students who praise me for one of my teacher tricks but don’t mention anything about what they remember doing or learning in my class. I don’t dislike that they have fond memories of the time spent in my classroom; however, I do hope they can look back and say that they are better at learning, thinking, reading, writing, and communicating because of something they did, not something I did for them.           

I don’t want to put a damper on teacher enthusiasm and creativity. Not all teacher tricks are undesirable. A teacher who goes the extra mile to engage students and who puts forth effort to cultivate a memorable classroom experience sets the stage for some high-powered learning. Looking back, I missed some opportunities to shift more of the work to my students. At times I could have redirected my energy to facilitate more student thinking instead of focusing on how I could deliver my thinking to them. 

I wish teachers would receive less recognition for what they do and more for what their students are doing. Teacher tricks are great as long as they teach students to devise some tricks of their own. 

Learning to Notice (or Noticing to Learn)

“Oblivious” is a word I’ve heard many a parent use to describe their teenager. Sometimes it feels like kids stumble through life completely unaware of what’s going on around them. If you’ve ever followed a freshman through the halls of a high school and have been whacked in the face by a backpack as he whips around to talk to a friend or have been stuck behind a clog of congregating teenagers in the middle of a hallway thoroughfare, you know what I mean. Teens will overlook a pile of trash they left on a lunch table as they wander off, distracted by the next shiny object that catches their eye.  

We live in a world where we are bombarded with stimuli. Noises, images, smells, and sensations assault our senses from the moment we awake until we try to turn everything off so we can get some sleep. The barrage of sensory information is so overwhelming that we struggle to discern what’s essential and what’s extraneous. We speed through our days without pausing to examine our surroundings, rush through tasks just to have the satisfaction of checking something off our growing to-do lists, and multitask 24/7.

The result of all of this is that we have forgotten the importance of noticing—of pausing for a while to pay focused attention to something, of looking and listening intently, of sifting through the clutter to turn our gaze to one thing and to give the details time to sink in. The endangered art of noticing is something that can and should be taught and practiced in every classroom. Teaching students how to increase their awareness and their stamina for observing will sharpen skills that will help them in all facets of their lives.

My brother, a musician, listens to music in a different way than I do. Kevin hears how the instruments work together in a composition to create the listener’s experience: the nuances of the bass line, the harmonies, the chord progressions, the choice of key, the meter, and elements I don’t even know enough about to include on this list. These are things I, too, could learn to hear and appreciate in music if (1) someone guided me at first to teach me how to listen like a musician and (2) I shut up, quit humming along, and paid focused attention. With guidance, I could learn to listen like a musician.

The act of noticing takes different forms in every subject area. Visual artists don’t look at a painting of a tree and only see a tree. They notice positive and negative space, shading, tone, line, color, texture, and more. Athletes and dancers possess an awareness of their own bodies that goes far beyond “Ouch, that hurts” and “Boy, am I out of shape,” and this allows them to make adjustments, respond to cues given by their bodies, and repeat motions and postures that increase their success or effectiveness. A sociologist, a historian, a psychologist, an economist, and a political scientist would all notice different things if they watched the same political debate. Mathematicians and scientists both hone keen skills of observation to solve problems and collect data, yet the things they notice differ. Neither one succeeds if they rush into solving or drawing conclusions without spending some time taking in all the details.

Proficient readers in every subject area notice the clues and cues authors leave for them to guide them through the text, assist them in comprehension and reflection, deepen their thinking about the topic, and signal what is to come. Once students know what to look for and practice awareness as they read, looking for these common signposts becomes second nature, but until then it takes practice and guidance. Kylene Beers and Bob Probst share their expertise to help teachers orchestrate noticing-while-reading in Notice and Note, Reading Nonfiction, and Disrupting Thinking, three outstanding texts I recommend to any teacher.    

As educators, we have to teach our students what noticing looks like in our subject areas and coach them so they can learn and practice. To do that, we must have a clear vision of what noticing means to us; we have to practice that noticing ourselves. Then, we have to develop open-ended prompts or questions that elicit responses from our students. Allow them time to look, listen, feel, smell, and/or taste (depending on what they’re noticing, of course). Let them jot down their observations; thinking on paper helps students collect their thoughts. Then, let them share, preferably in pairs or small groups so that everyone gets the chance to practice before they share with the entire room. Resist the temptation to conclude with the “correct” answer of what they should have noticed. If we must share something, we should consider limiting our response to one or two observations and frame our comments with a sentence stem such as, “Something I noticed this time was. . . ,” which reinforces the idea that with more time and repeated observations, people notice new things.

We could even make this into something resembling a game. Challenge students to notice things they think others won’t, and play “Did You Notice?” Students can take turns in pairs, triads, or table groups asking each other “Did you notice. . .?” in an attempt to point out something others didn’t catch. Students can add others’ ideas to their own notes to compile a more comprehensive list of details and observations.

Describing something in detail—adding adjectives—is a strategy Dr. Ed Burger suggests in his new book Making Up Your Own Mind: Thinking Effectively Through Creative Puzzle-Solving. Burger advocates approaching any problem (real-world or academic) by observing carefully and listing as many descriptors as possible. As students brainstorm words to describe the problem or situation, they may accidentally stumble on a clue that could unlock a solution or open an unexpected avenue of thinking about the topic.

Noticing can be a key element in learning to do things in a more professional way. Anyone can become a writing teacher by getting students to notice how real-world writers write. Teach students how to use texts as writing mentors: Notice what the writer did and try it yourself. Want to write better poetry? Find some poets you admire, notice what they do, and attempt it. Need to write a resume? Gather a few from the internet, notice their features, draft a list of desired traits or elements, and write your own. Unsure of how to write a science report? Read several published exemplars. Notice how the writer structures the report, what is included and not included, the type of language used, and how the report is formatted. Let the good examples show you how it’s done.

This same strategy would work in so many other fields from decorating a cake to sketching a portrait to throwing a javelin to making a website. Notice how the pros do it. Break down their technique into steps or strategies, and start practicing them.

Metacognition, or awareness of what is going on in your head when you do or think about something, is another way of noticing that has immense value to students. Prompting students to notice what they did to successfully (or unsuccessfully) navigate the learning, solve a problem, create a product, or complete a task reinforces and clarifies best practices and sheds light on what to avoid next time. Better self-reflection leads to ongoing growth and improvement. It’s a habit that benefits us in every aspect of our lives, from job performance to interpersonal relationships.

There is so much power in noticing. It’s up to us, as people who care about the future lives of the students we teach, to help them recognize the value of taking the time and making the effort to pay attention. If we can help them hone their skills at observing and convince them to carve out space for noticing, there’s no telling what they might be able to do.

Stepping Up Your Note-Teaching Game

Taking notes is hard. It’s a skill that takes a lifetime to master. Unfortunately for students all over the world, note-taking is frequently expected but seldom taught.

Educators can play a key role in helping students become proficient, independent note-takers and studiers with some careful planning and instruction in the art of note-taking. We can’t just ask our students to take notes; we have to teach them how.

Here are a few simple strategies tips any teacher can employ to improve at teaching and using note-taking in the classroom.

Have (and communicate) a purpose for note-taking. Taking notes is a worthwhile pursuit if the notes are going to be useful somewhere down the road. If you’re planning to give a review worksheet later that prepares kids for exactly what’s on the test, why should the students take notes at all? The same is true if you plan to give them a copy of the “real” notes later or (worse) if you are only making them take notes to keep them occupied so they don’t throw things and run amok. Before asking students to take notes, consider how those notes will be used and communicate that purpose. Better yet, provide students with an essential question that focuses their note-taking. By encapsulating in one question what you want them to take away from the lecture, reading, video, or whatever, you’re giving students some direction and encouraging them to become discerning learners who can sift through masses of details to figure out what’s important.

Teach your students a variety of note-taking forms and styles. Everyone learns a little differently, and good notes don’t necessarily look the same. The days of rigidly forcing every student to take Cornell Notes have come and gone. And copying teacher-written notes off a PowerPoint is so 1990s it might as well be flannel and grunge. Our students are learners, not medieval monks in the scriptorium. While students are developing note-taking proficiency, it’s not a bad idea to ask them to try out suggested formats or styles. Perhaps a particular type of two- or three-column notes is particularly suited one-day’s note-taking task while tomorrow’s note-taking purpose might lend itself to a mind map or sketchnotes. Filling the students’ toolboxes with a variety of ways to take notes gives them options to meet the purpose and their personal preferences.

Build into your lessons ways for students to interact with their notes. Brain research shows that in order for learning to stick, we have to engage with the content in a variety of ways over time. Assuming students will interact with their notes on their own is like believing that a full box of donuts left in the teacher’s lounge will still be there an hour later. Knowing that, wise teachers incorporate interaction opportunities into their lesson plans. They stop after 10 minutes of lecturing and ask their students to compare their notes side-by-side with a classmate, adding to and clarifying the information. They ask students to write questions about their notes for homework and begin class with an activity in which the questions are shared and discussed. They have students underline main ideas, circle key terms, and chunk their notes prior to a discussion or class activity where the notes are the key to success. On the day before the test, they ask students to mine their notes for key ideas and predict the test questions they will see on the test. As students become accustomed to interacting with their notes in class, they eventually realize the value of processing their thinking and returning to the content multiple times. Ideally, they will soon start practicing note-interaction on their own.

Model your own note-taking. Remember that old tv show where the guy paints a picture in 30 minutes right in front of your very eyes while you attempt to replicate it at home? Aspiring artists can learn techniques and develop skills by observing other artists working and explaining what they are doing. In the same way, teachers can model note-taking for their students while thinking aloud about what they are writing down and how they are doing it. Making the deliberate decisions underlying your note-taking visible to the students builds their capacity to make those decisions themselves. Students may not realize how much is going on inside the head of a proficient note-taker. If students are taking notes on a video or text, take your own notes. When you stop to process, display your notes and allow students to compare theirs with yours. Or project your notes onto a screen as you take them, explaining the thinking behind the note-taking.

Reflect on the notes. We don’t get better at doing something unless we think about what we did and how to improve. If we want our students to improve as note-takers, we have to give them time to reflect on their note-taking: What’s working? What’s not working? How do I plan to improve? My high school humanities freshmen had a notoriously difficult time taking notes on their reading in the college-level AP World History textbook used in the course. Part of my job as the teacher became helping these students—many of whom had never experienced difficulty doing school-related tasks—learn to take effective notes that aided their comprehension and helped them study the content for the class. I developed a note-taking self-quiz with 20 questions students could use to compare their own note-taking and study techniques with those of skilled note-takers. The quiz became a jumping-off point for discussions with the students about refining their practices and setting personal goals for improvement.

Consider what good notes look like in your discipline. The notes I take while reading a novel in English don’t look the same as the ones I take in the same class when I gather information during research. Useful math notes aren’t exactly like useful history notes. We often talk about the idea of standardizing practices across a campus, and that can be a good idea at times. What I think is more useful, however, is for educators to be overt in discussions of disciplinary literacy—to acknowledge that different disciplines have different expectations for reading, writing, and learning. As you are teaching students to read and write like mathematicians, historians, and scientists, also instruct them on how to become effective note-takers in each of those disciplines. Rather than trying to homogenize and streamline everything to make it easier for the students, coach them to become aware of the different learning demands across your campus. Becoming better at discerning what matters in each discipline will make your students more thoughtful readers, more confident and adaptable writers, and more successful independent learners.    

Use your available resources. For those of you who have an AVID account, the new book AVID Writing for Disciplinary Literacy has an entire chapter devoted to implementing Focused Note-Taking with your students, whether you teach at the elementary, secondary, or higher-ed level. It’s a free download on the curriculum page for a limited time. Get your free copy today if you haven’t already.

The time we spend teaching note-taking isn’t a waste. Note-taking is an essential skill for success in college and in the world beyond, and proficiency won’t happen overnight. The investment we make now in equipping our students with lifelong learning skills will pay off down the road as students are able to reach new destinations and steer themselves successfully around the curves and bumps life and learning will put in their way.

While You Were Paying Attention to the Strugglers. . .

When we dive deeply into our student data, we learn so much about the kids we teach. It’s fascinating to put together the clues of a student’s assessment history. We notice trends in performance, uncover weaknesses, and make plans to rescue those who are struggling the most. We develop remediation plans. We target specific standards to emphasize and reteach. We identify the objectives most missed by our students and redesign entire lessons to make sure our kids learn what they don’t know. We become that guy from the sappy little parable, walking along the shoreline and frantically flinging starfish from the beach back into the water, determined to save as many as we can.

Meanwhile, the gifted kids in our classrooms often go unacknowledged, ignored, and unchallenged.

Helping struggling students grow is one of the most important things teachers do, but every student deserves to make at least one year’s progress during one year of school. While we are scrambling help our neediest, what are we doing to meet the needs of the kids who already get it?

Education has no finish line where kids get to stop and rest, satisfied that they know all there is to know and have learned everything. When we cap off instruction, putting a ceiling over our students, growth is stifled. Bright students become disengaged, bored, and apathetic. Some of them turn their attention to mischief-making and become your worst classroom management problems because gifted kids who want to cause trouble are often very skilled at doing so.

Gifted education guru Carol Ann Tomlinson says that differentiation, ultimately, is an act of empathy. Educators put themselves in the position of each student in the classroom and figure out what everyone needs. Then, they try their hardest to take care of each one, not because they are told to do so but because they know it's the right thing to do. 

It’s not easy to meet the needs of every student in a mixed-ability classroom, and secondary educators tend to be much less accommodating to diverse learners than our friends in elementary. Traditionally, secondary classrooms are a one-size-fits-all model, where every student receives the same instruction and does identical assignments. One popular solution to this—though not one I think very highly of—is to always have some extension work for students who finish early. This solves the problem of keeping every kids occupied, but the extra work seems more like a punishment than a blessing to the high school gifted student who soon figures out the way to keep from having to do more is to work more slowly. When the extension work is a meaningless diversion unconnected to the curriculum (puzzle pages, logic problems, crosswords, etc.), the purpose is clearly babysitting rather than growing learners. Elementary teachers understand that good teaching sometimes looks like a three-ring circus, with the teacher checking in on everyone and providing appropriate attention at just the right time to keep everyone progressing.

One of the ways I prefer to think about providing appropriate experiences for gifted learners is to consider depth and complexity:  How can this content, skill, or subject be viewed more deeply and in more complex ways?

Depth and complexity can appear in many guises, some of which can be uncovered by asking yourself questions like these:

• What does this look like when the experts do it?
• What’s the next step or the next level in producing a more advanced product or thinking about the topic?
• What do people who study this professionally argue or discuss?
• What moral or ethical issues are associated with this topic?
• What is ambiguous about this subject?
• What words do experts use to talk about this topic? 
• Are there exceptions to the rule, plausible non-examples, or variations you didn’t teach to the entire class but that are worth exploring?
• Who are some of the important thinkers, doers, or innovators in this field?
• What are some articles, books, or primary sources that would provide interesting additional understanding of the topic?
• What do your students wonder about this topic that could be explored more deeply?
• What does this topic look like in another locale, in a later time period, in a different situation, of from a different perspective?
• What influenced this? What did this influence?
• What’s the counter-argument, point of disagreement, or opposite viewpoint?
• How does this topic connect to other topics you’ve studied, to other subjects, or to the wider world?

Sometimes, differentiation for gifted learners is as simple as offering some choices that intrigue the students and pointing them in the direction of the right resources. The option to explore at a level that provides a worthwhile challenge—not more work but different work—might hook some of your gifted learners. Who knows? Some of your struggling learners might take up the challenge, too.

By all means, take care of your special ed kids, your English language learners, your at-risk students, and your underserved populations. Just don’t forget to also take care of your gifted and talented students. As much as anyone in your classroom, they need you to push them and motivate them to keep growing as learners.

Dress Rehearsals

My friend Megan is getting married this Saturday. On Friday evening the members of the wedding party will convene for a rehearsal. They’ll run though the wedding service so everyone knows where to stand, where and how to walk, what to say, and how to hand off things like rings and bouquets to other people at appropriate moments in the wedding. Running through  the logistics of a wedding beforehand is standard practice; no one would think twice about having a run-through before the big day. A dress rehearsal helps ensure that the wedding runs smoothly, minimizes anxiety for the bride and groom so they won’t make fretful faces in the wedding photos, and keeps the Man of Honor from embarrassing himself during the ceremony. Practice, as they say, makes the wedding perfect.

Teachers sometimes forget the importance of rehearsing as part of their planning for instruction. We look over a lesson plan and then wing it when the kids show up. Sometimes we can pull that off; other times, our lack of prior practice results in misconstrued instructions, awkward transitions, logistical confusion, and unclear explanations.

All too often, our planning looks like this:  “Okay, so. . . the students will do the opener quickwrite and then move into the Socratic Seminar. After that, they’ll fill out the exit ticket if there’s time.”  

Sketchy “planning” of this nature leaves so many unanswered questions. What are you going to do to hook the students at the beginning of the period? How long should the quickwrite take? Are students going to share or process the quickwrite in any way? How will you transition to the Socratic Seminar, including moving furniture and humans? What kind of instructions will the students need before starting the seminar? What will your role be during the discussion? What happens if the Socratic Seminar runs off track?  How much time will you allow for the discussion so that you have time for the exit ticket? Will you do any kind of debrief on the Socratic Seminar itself to encourage future improvement in student academic conversations? How will you reset the room at the end of the discussion? Will that happen before or after the instructions for the exit ticket? What do you need to say about the exit ticket?  How will students turn in their exit cards? What will you do with the exit cards after you collect them? What kind of preview of tomorrow’s lesson will pique your students’ curiosity?

Leaving these questions to chance means there may be some less-than-stellar moments in what could be an outstanding, highly effective lesson. Talking and walking through the lesson can improve the likelihood that you’ll say and do the right things to achieve the results you desire.

Asking two big dress rehearsal questions when you are planning can set you up for success:  

1.  What will this lesson look like? Asking this question prompts you to consider the many visual and logistical factors that are a part of any well-planned lesson. Before kids come into the room, it’s wise to rehearse—or at least talk through—these things:

• Materials you’ll need and how they’ll be distributed
• Written information your students will see:  learning objectives, learning targets, or focusing questions; daily agenda; handouts; other print materials; audio-visual components
• Room setup
• Student movement and interactions
• Transitions from one activity to the next
• Use of technology and multimedia (The middle of class shouldn’t be the first time you click on a link to see if it works.)
• Approximate times for each component of the lesson
• How students will be grouped
• What successful participation by students will look like

2.  What will this lesson sound like?  Have you ever thought you understood something and only realized the gaps in your understanding when you attempted to explain it to someone else? Rehearsing what you’re going to say decreases the odds that you’re going to flub your explanation. Teachers who consider what their lesson will sound like practice many things:

• Giving instructions
• Explaining concepts or terms
• Building anticipation or buy-in for a lesson
• Telling a story with an instructional purpose
• Asking effective questions
• Promoting student talk
• Providing verbal feedback
• Conferencing with students
• Opening and closing class effectively
• Correcting students
• Responding calmly and consistently to student misbehaviors

When teachers consider what a lesson will sound like, they think through other aspects:

• The desired noise level at various points in the lesson
• The quantity of student talk vs teacher talk
• What student talk should sound like
• Ways to get the desired outcomes for student talk

Effective team planning can involve rehearsing and discussing all these things. We grow better by learning from one another. You will often find that someone else’s idea is better than your own. Hearing colleagues explain a concept, introduce a lesson, or model an effective teacher-student conference can help you prepare for your own instruction, perhaps incorporating elements of their delivery into yours. Teams can troubleshoot  by thinking together about what a lesson that exists on a curriculum document will look like and sound like in an actual classroom. Rather than assuming that every member of the team has the same vision of what the written lesson should look and sound like, making sure everyone is on the same page by rehearsing together increases every teacher’s success, which increases every student’s success.

And speaking of success, Megan, I hope your wedding is all you’ve dreamed it will be. Enjoy your special day (and your rehearsal before that).