Not Knowing

At the desk where I scan my ID at the YMCA, there is a little sign that always has a question.  It is usually something silly like, "Do you eat or drink soup?" or "What's the most embarrassing thing you ever let someone talk you into doing?"  So while I am heading down the steps to my class, I decide mentally that if you use a spoon, you are eating and drinking if you aren't.  

A few days ago, the question was, "What is something you miss from childhood?"  I'm sure the intent was that I arrive in the locker room with a thought like, "Hungry Hungry Hippos was a great game."  But my mind went somewhere else.  I thought, "I miss not knowing . . ." and then realized that was the complete thought.  There is something joyful in childhood that comes from the things I did not know.  I'll address why it is important that I now know them at the end, but first, here are some things I miss not knowing.

I miss not knowing about discrimination.  When I was a child, I did not know people were unable to do what they wanted because people thought they shouldn't be allowed to (you know, other than their parents).  No one had ever told me girls couldn't be scientists, so I didn't know that other girls were being told that.  While I saw stories about racism on television, and my mom told me about some awful things her family members had said when she was young, I had no personal experience with it myself.

When I was young, I had no concept of losing people to preventable diseases.  I attended many funerals, but most of them were people who had lived long lives.  In fifth grade, my friend's five-month-old nephew died, but that was a bizarre occurrence in my life.  I had no idea that young children around the world died as a result of malaria and the flu because I lived in a world that prevented those things. I miss being unaware of just how much grief there is in the world. 

When guns were discussed in my childhood, it was usually in the context of hunting (or some newsworthy incident in Fayetteville or Durham - which felt far away).  I never considered that a gun might harm me.  I certainly didn't have to do active shooter drills at school.  I remember a time in high school when we had to evacuate the school during an exam because someone had "called in a bomb threat," but my emotion was annoyance, not fear.  We didn't believe it was real, and I was just irritated that my flow of thought had been interrupted and that I might earn a worse grade as a result.  Not one of us in that parking lot believed there was actually a bomb, and neither did the school personnel because after they had looked around the building for twenty minutes, we went back inside and finished our exams with no thought of trauma.  I miss not knowing that anyone can be shot anywhere.

I am so grateful that social media did not exist when I was young. I'm aware of the irony that you probably linked to this post from Facebook or Twitter, but I am so happy that I was not exposed to every thought of hundreds of people twenty-four hours a day.  I am so grateful that the only comparison I had to make was with my small circle of friends.  Social media gives adults the immaturity of 7th graders and exposes 7th graders to issues they shouldn't have to live with until they are adults.  And AI scares me to the point where I wish I was born a few decades earlier.  I miss not knowing the influence these things would have on our culture.

These were the big things I could think of, but there are a thousand small things that could be listed here as well.  I didn't know that the friends I had in kindergarten wouldn't remain my friends for my entire life.  I didn't know that bills had to match income.  I did not know how much laundry and dishes there would be to do.  I knew only the part of the world my brain was ready for, and I am grateful that I didn't have to know more.  However, it would be inappropriate for me to still be unaware of those things at 47.  While I may miss the blissful innocence of unawareness, that is only meant for childhood.  If an adult remains unaware of the things I have mentioned above, they are living out of touch with reality and unable to address the issues of the world.

This weekend was GRACE's graduation, and that always gets me thinking about my own.  I don't remember my graduation speaker, but I do remember the speech at my baccalaureate.  A local pastor who had previously been a magician showed us a card trick and then explained how it was done.  He then spoke to us about disillusionment - that living under an illusion might be easier or more fun, but it is always better to know the truth.  If you live without knowledge of discrimination, you will not treat your fellow image-bearers with sensitivity and love when they experience it or tell you about their experience.  If you are illusioned about the preventable diseases in the world, you won't feel the need to donate to organizations that save lives.  We need to know.

The only way to help is to know.  So while I may miss not knowing, it wouldn't be right for me to return to a state of not knowing.  

Try New Things

I didn't plan for it to be, but this week inadvertently became the week of trying new things.  Monday's was actually planned.  I've been taking spin classes since March, but until this week, I had not tried peddling while standing up.  Tuesday, my spin instructor was out and had a sub who isn't my cup of tea, so I took a class called Group Power, which is a weightlifting class.  Wednesday, I had dinner with friends at a restaurant I had been curious about for years.  That's when I realized what this week had become, so I had to try and think of things that were new (a few things related to the senior prank and buying things from Dick's Sporting Goods - If I had been planning it, I could have done better.).

People are often resistant to trying new things.  It can be scary because you don't know what to expect or because you risk failure.  Students resist it because they worry they will embarrass themselves.  And sometimes, you do fail.  Sometimes, you do embarrass yourself.  But sometimes, you find a source of joy you didn't previously know. I will be taking Group Power every week now because it turned out I was better at it than I thought I would be (to be fair, I thought I would be atrocious, so it wasn't hard to be better than that).  I can't wait to take people to the restaurant I went to because it was delicious.  I will try to stand up more while peddling because it works different muscles than seated peddling does.

Students think they already know what they like and often don't think they need to try anything else.  When I encourage them to take art, they will sometimes say they aren't good at it.  It seems odd to them to think you could enjoy something even if you aren't good at it.  They have trouble believing they could get better at it.  They can't imagine that there are things they do not know and don't believe me when I say I regret that I didn't take art and that I would take Latin if I could go back to school and do it over.  By their middle school years, they have bought into the idea that they should only have to learn things that will get them a job, and since I teach physics, they don't understand how I might want those other things in my life.  By the way, I didn't know I liked physics until I took it in my senior year either, so even that thing that became my job was a new thing to me at one point.

I recently wrote a scholarship recommendation letter for one of my juniors.  I made a lot of observations about her in that letter, but the one I spent the most time on was how much I admire her willingness to take on new challenges.  She started acting in middle school and joined the swim team as a sophomore just to try something new.  I wish this quality weren't so rare.

If you are an adult in the life of a child (whether that is a parent, a teacher, a coach, or a camp counselor), please encourage them to try new things - new foods, new sports, new musical instruments, new classes, new friendships.  You may help them find a career, but you may just increase the amount of joy they have in their lives.

We Did What?

At our senior dinner last week, our college counselor described what our current seniors had experienced since the start of their freshman year.  This, of course, included both the lockdown spring and the hybrid year.  As she described it, I had a sort of out-of-body experience.  While I know we did those things, I can't quite connect to them.  I turned to the person next to me and said, "How did we do that?"  

While lockdown and hybrid were certainly the biggest an most unexpected things we have ever done, the truth is that my teaching career has been full of things I would not have imagined before they happened.  

I've had to deal with a student having a grand mal seizure.  I've taught during a shooting threat.  I witnessed a fight in the cafeteria. I had a student take me shopping for jeans (a different time -  I wouldn't do that now).  I sponsored multiple clubs, organizing trips and judges and events.  All of that was before I turned 25, and none of them are things I would have imagined before the age of 20.

The year I taught in Wake County is a bit of blur, but the defining moment was when the principal came in to tell me about 9/11.  Who could have imagined the country could be attacked at 9:30 in the morning, and teachers would continue to teach until 3 in the afternoon?  All day, I had to make decisions about how to deal with this unfolding story as bells rang and new groups of kids came into my room.  Should we watch the coverage because it is historic, or is it bad for their brains to soak in it all day?  These aren't decisions a teacher thinks they will have to make when they choose this profession at the age of 18.

I've been at my current school for 20 years, and occasionally I say to the teacher next door to me (we came the same year), "Man, we have seen a lot."  And, as is becoming the pattern, most of the things we have seen were things we weren't prepared for.  We've been part of new building projects, hiring new people, taught subjects we've ever taught before (algebra, health, and video editing were not in my mind ever), and growing our programs.  We've guided students through grief while dealing with our own.  We've put out fires (both metaphorical and literal).  We've learned to teach in new ways year after year, written textbooks, made videos, adapted to schedule changes, collaborated with other teachers, and dealt with three accreditation cycles.  When I imagined my teaching career as a college student, I pictured planning and teaching lessons and grading tests.  The rest of that wasn't something I had even considered.

As I distribute my 18th and final yearbook on Friday, I look back and can't quite imagine that there have been 18 of them.  Part of me still feels like I am new to the job and don't know what I'm doing.  When I took a job teaching science at GRACE 20 years ago, I could not have envisioned that one day, I'd be carting around 1280 pounds of books.  I'm getting ahead of myself because that is next week's post, so I'll stop now.

My point is this.  It's a good thing we don't know what is coming.  We would believe it wasn't possible to do things we've never done before and have trouble even imagining.  But afterward, we can look back on it and say, "We did what?" and "Yes, we did that."

One Student - Many Influences

This weekend, GRACE held our annual senior dinner.  I'm pretty sure I write about it every year, and I may share the same insight each time.  That is because each year, I am grateful that students have more than one teacher in their lives.

At our senior dinner, each student is spoken about by a teacher who signed up specifically for them.  Because we are limited to 200 words, each speech must cut to the heart of the matter, reflecting the character of each student.  While I love giving my own speeches, what always impresses me are the speeches of other teachers about students that I teach as well.  I get to hear stories about them that make me smile and some that reinforce what I already know.  But, the ones that always strike me are the ones that tell me something I didn't know about that child.  A student who is driving me crazy has a teacher who sees perseverance in them.  A student that I may view as a clique leader is seen by another teacher as a loyal friend.  The same may also be true in the reverse.  I may find a student delightful that another teacher would have described as foolish.

This night always reminds me why it is so good that students have more than one teacher in their lives.  Back in the days of the one-room schoolhouse, when students had the same teacher from kindergarten through high school, they only learned one philosophy of the world, one view of education, and only had one voice recognizing who they were.  While there is much that is flawed in our current system, I maintain that it is good for students to have as many as 45 teachers in their K-12 school experience.  That's 45 voices speaking into their lives about who they are and what their potential is.  While some of those teachers will not see the promise of that student's life, others will.  While that child may not respond well to the teaching style of one teacher, another teacher will spark a love of math or reading or art or history that will last a lifetime.  

A student doesn't have to experience education in one way.  Some teachers allow students unlimited retakes, instilling a sense of grace in a student that may inspire them to do more with that second chance.  Other teachers are strict about deadlines, teaching students the importance of following through on commitments.  A student needs both of those lessons, and they cannot get them both from the same teacher.  Some teachers are focused on making learning fun; others teach students that something doesn't have to be fun to be valuable.  These are both great things for students to experience.  We sometimes sacrifice common sense on the altar of consistency, but students need to see that adults can have a variety of philosophies and still respect and love each other (because they are, for sure, not seeing that on social media).  As we approach teacher appreciation week, appreciate that teacher that challenges your student in a way others have not or makes them see things differently than other teachers have.  Honor the teacher that makes your student uncomfortable because they have to change the way they think.  

A few years ago at a Learning and the Brain conference, Dr. David Daniel delivered a keynote in which he talked about the art of applying the science of learning to our classrooms.  He said, "Don't run from complexity.  Honor it."  

Teaching students how to adapt to people with different views honors the complexity of education, the complexity of students, and the complexity of the world.

Warming Up - A Short Suggestion

Here's another post based on things I've observed at the gym.  

All exercise classes start with a warm-up.  This is true whether it is a "thrive" pilates class, meant for senior citizens (which I learned after being 25 years younger than the average), or a butt-kicking spin class with Stacey A.  When it comes to our bodies, it is understood that we cannot go from the street to the red zone without some transition time. Doing something easy for five minutes allows the following forty to be more efficient.  Without the "sacrifice" of those first few minutes, we wouldn't be able to push our bodies to do more in the rest of the workout.

Do we understand that when it comes to our minds?  Because of our limited class time, we sometimes expect students to dive into the deep end as soon as the bell rings, thinking we can't afford to "sacrifice" any of our valuable time.  Perhaps, our students would benefit from the same kind of warm-up time for their brains that we would give their bodies.  Starting class with a couple of basic recall questions related to the deeper thinking we want them to do would be helpful in making their thinking more efficient.  By bringing the basic facts to the surface of their working memory, we might actually be able to push their analysis, synthesis, or evaluation abilities to do more in the remaining minutes of the class.

It's worth a try.

Risk, Reward, and Student Ambition

GRACE Christian School has put on many amazing plays over the years.  Some were funny; some were dramatic.  Some told historically accurate stories; some were pure fantasy.  During the hybrid year, we had a radio play requiring almost no set; we have also recreated Narnia and the Secret Garden.  This weekend, I saw what may be our most ambitious effort yet.  A cast and crew of nearly 50 staged Disney's High School Musical.  

This play was a risk for everyone.  Our music program is growing, but it is still relatively small.  Some of the kids on that stage had never acted before but had sung with a choir.  Some had acted, but only in straight plays with no music.  For the crew, a musical production requires more light changes and sound cues than other types of plays, so they have to be truly on top of things.  Because High School Musical is such a popular movie, the audience (every show was to a fully-packed house) knows every lyric to every song.  The potential for error is high. 

When the risk of failure is high, the reward for success is high as well.  That's why we do it.  As I sat in the audience yesterday, I saw students who could tell they were pulling off something amazing, and they were enjoying every second of it.  Acting allows students to do and say things they wouldn't in their real lives.  One of the kindest students in the world gets to enjoy playing the conniving Sharpay.  A serious student can experience what it is like to be goofy.  During the final moments of "We're All in This Together," grinning students came into the aisles and invited people to stand up and dance and sing with them.  It was fabulous.

We should encourage students to take risks.  Plays provide that opportunity, but our classes can too.  We should provide opportunities for them to stretch beyond their current abilities.  We should give them chances to try something big, knowing we will be there to support them if they fail.  In our chemistry and physics classes, for example, we have a project called the "free choice" project.  It's pretty much what it sounds like.  Students choose their own chemistry or physics related topic, work either alone or in groups, and explore it in whatever way they would like.  Most students play it fairly safe, which is fine; but when a student says they would like to do something especially challenging,  I encourage them to try.  Sometimes, it is successful, and sometimes, it is not.  A few years ago, a student asked if he could build a rail gun.  We talked through the obstacles involved and discussed where he might seek out the expert assistance he needed (because it was definitely not me).  We planned for success, knowing it was unlikely.  While he never launched a projectile, he put in more hours and learned more physics than anyone who has ever done this project.  I told him at the end that I would rather he aim high and miss than aim low and succeed.  This year, a student said he wanted to send something into space.  He showed me what he had in mind.  My only question was, "Are your parents going to be okay with you spending this kind of money?" because the balloon and helium setup were expensive.  The weather was uncooperative, and his first attempt on a weekend didn't work.  He wanted to try again, so his dad checked him out of school that Monday, and I gave him an extension on the presentation.  

The results were epic.  This screen grab from his video shows just how high he got his Lego man to go.  I mean, you can see the curvature of the Earth!  He was excited to do his presentation to the class, and you could tell in the video how excited he was to launch it and find the payload after having tracked it to the place where it landed.  

When students collaborate to construct a medieval manor, grow plants they can eat, make their own fireworks, solve a problem they didn't think they could solve, or even just have a week with too much packed into it,  there is a chance for failure.  Some parents and teachers avoid that because they don't want students to feel bad during our current epidemic of anxiety and depression.  But the best antidote to those things is achievement.  Feeling good about an accomplishment results in confidence, and it strengthens the neurological pathways between reward and ambition, which makes future ambition more likely.  Even when failure does happen, if we properly support them, their brain benefits from the recognition that failure wasn't death, which has a neurological benefit of its own.

Every day can't be high-risk / high-reward days.  Some days aren't fun (and that's an important lesson too).  Some days have to be about gathering facts and amassing knowledge so you have something to be ambitious with.  But where you can work it in, giving students an opportunity to stretch themselves is a good idea.  It doesn't have to be on the level of sending something to space; it could be tackling a challenging piece of writing or trying a math problem in an unconventional way or taking on an interesting artistic challenge.  Providing them with opportunities to fail or succeed on whatever level we can will build their confidence and result in growth. 

  

Working Out and Working Memory

I joined the YMCA about a month ago.  While I know how obnoxious it is to talk about your workouts at the gym all of the time, I keep seeing things that align with education and cognitive science and can't help but make these connections.  So, I'll try to do it sparingly, but you should expect that there will be more posts making the connections between fitness classes and academic classes.

The first thing to jump out at me at indoor cycling classes was the power of social norms, but I'll write about that some other time.  The one that has struck me over and over again is the connection to working memory.  For those that don't know, working memory is what you can hold in your conscious mind simultaneously, and for most of us, it is about four items.    

I've taken spin classes from five or six different instructors, and while they all have a slightly different approach, one thing they all talk about is form.  You get a better workout if you have your body positioned correctly and use your muscles in the correct way.  But problems can arise when these instructions are delivered in a rapid-fire way.  "Hands light on the handlebars, elbows bent, shoulders relaxed, abs tight, not hunched over, feet horizontal, legs moving in a smooth circle" is a lot to process at once.  By the time I get to the direction of my feet, I've forgotten that my elbows are supposed to be bent.  One day, this will all be one chunk in my mind, labeled "riding posture," but it isn't yet.  A better approach might be for those teachers to focus on the legs and feet at the beginning and then wait until after the warm-up or after the first song to address your upper body.  This might sound weird, but a poster on the wall with a picture of a rider in proper form or some basic reminders like "elbows bent, feet flat" could be useful as well.

Academic teachers, we can learn from this.  When you deliver instructions, do you say a lot of them quickly?  If so, it is unlikely that students remember the first or second step by the time you get to the last step.  Better to give only a couple at a time, letting them get those down before you deliver the next ones.  Or perhaps you could project the instructions, so they have something to refer back to when they have forgotten what comes next.  For those who teach young kids who have not yet learned to read or English language novices, a picture of what you want (seated student with a pencil, a sheet of paper, and a calculator) would be helpful to their working memories.  The picture is also easier to remember and doesn't require your presence or repetition the way verbal instructions do.

I have one instructor who described a working memory scenario without realizing it.  She said, "Can you stay at 90 RPMs?  Not go above it or below it but stay at it?  Can you stay at the point where it is just hard but not your maximum?  When you are at maximum work, you are less likely to quit, but when you get down to where you are working hard but don't have the mental distraction of all-out effort, you are more likely to quit."  What she described as "the mental distraction of all-out effort" really means full working memory.  When you are working right at the limit of cognitive load, you don't have the mental space to think about what it would take to quit or pay attention to the clock.  When you have backed down to 85% of your maximum, you have freed up the space to wonder about how much longer you have.  

This is instructive to academic teachers as well.  Some people use cognitive load theory to assert that we should make things easier for students or reduce the rigor of our classes.  That is not, however, what the theory implies.  Understanding cognitive load and working memory should help us to identify the perfect level of load.  There is a sweet spot where we keep our students working RIGHT AT or just below their maximum capacity.  If we are too far below it, they have the space for their minds to wander and consider quitting because it is uncomfortable.  If we are above it, they are incapable of sustained work, and they give up.  Learning, at its best, is difficult but not impossible.  

I'll talk more about working memory and cognitive load in the future, but for now, let's remember the lessons from working out and find the best ways to deliver instruction at the right level for our students to learn.