Teaching and learning are complicated.
People's beliefs about them are steeped in their experiences in both roles, and how these behaviors (and the people who perform them) are portrayed in entertainment and in the media. These are matters for long discussion, personal reflection, philosophical debate, and great fodder for discussions over coffee -- not easily summarized on a webpage.
Short of that coffee date, the following points form some core tenets about my beliefs about teaching and learning.
People's beliefs about them are steeped in their experiences in both roles, and how these behaviors (and the people who perform them) are portrayed in entertainment and in the media. These are matters for long discussion, personal reflection, philosophical debate, and great fodder for discussions over coffee -- not easily summarized on a webpage.
Short of that coffee date, the following points form some core tenets about my beliefs about teaching and learning.
Teaching Should Lead to Understanding.
Too often, cramming and regurgitation of facts can be mistakenly equated as real learning. When I think about teaching, I do not aim for students just to be able to complete tasks that I ask of them, or recite information that is Google-able. My goals are high -- if I'm going to spend time helping students learn, I want it to be transformative and not just "another class." My conceptions about what it means to really learn, or to deeply understand, are influenced by the Teaching for Understanding framework from Project Zero at the Harvard Graduate School of Education.
When I talk about understanding, I mean lasting learning that sticks. To facilitate deep learning, I focus on large and central questions that can be approached from a variety of life experiences and backgrounds. Students don't come to class as empty slates! By including broad questions (What is school? How do we know a journal article is good? How can I use psychological concepts in my day to day life?), I acknowledge that everyone can and should have varied reactions and form unique understandings about subject matter. This doesn't mean that students never learn facts -- but it means that those facts have personal meaning and cultural-relevancy for students. As a teacher, it's my job to thoughtfully create big questions that help students become disciplinary thinkers -- to know what it's like to think like someone skilled in the discipline.
Teachers Show How to Think in a Discipline.
In my research, I focus on what I call habits of mind. Others call these same constructs thinking dispositions, mindsets, character skills, non-cognitive skills, or a number of other terms, each of which has its own flavor. But for me, the fundamental point of these constructs is that they teach thinking within one or many disciplines -- they are not about discrete skills or the memorization of facts. We're talking about something bigger and broader here.
In my teaching, I aim to help students use big and broad thinking in the discipline in which we're working.
How does a psychologist think and work?
How does an educator think and work?
How does a musician think and work?
I can teach the years Mozart lived, or how to read rhythmic notation. These are, arguably, important facts for musicians and music students to know. But do they help someone think like a musician? I believe it's more important to practice something broad like listening (a habit of mind taught in music and useful in a whole host of settings) during active music making to help develop musical thinking. A writer can know the parts of speech and diagram sentences, but these are discrete skills. By having the opportunity to practice writing about something meaningful, they then develop their habit of mind of expressing. This is the premise of Studio Thinking and is written about by others. To see if students are really developing disciplinary thinking, as opposed to just factual knowledge or skills, is more difficult, and requires teachers to provide varied ways for students to show what they know.
Formative and Varied Assessments are the Most Important Assessments.
To show understanding, students must be given the chance to demonstrate what they know, and this may not look the same for every student. This is why I use varied approaches to assignments and assessment. In teacher-centered classes, students often have limited opportunities to demonstrate their understanding, like on a multiple choice test. Through project-based assignments, students are forced to show not only that they can recite knowledge or demonstrate fundamental skills, but that they are willing and able to do so within the context of a realistic problem that can be approached from many perspectives and be solved with different solutions.
Too often, assessment is a scary word - it conjures thoughts of all-nighters studying for a final exam or finishing up a term paper to be marked up with a teacher's red pen. The most important assessment is formative assessment -- feedback given throughout the semester to help a student grow. This requires hard work by the teacher -- asking for free responses questions over forced multiple choice; carefully notating the progress of students, collectively and individually, after every meeting and assignment; and constantly reviewing what seems to be sticking with students and what doesn't. Additional thoughts about how I conceive of assessment, its aims, and how its most useful, can be found in Chapter 5 of Studio Thinking from the Start.
Coverage is the Enemy of Learning.
There are an infinite amount of things to cover in a semester. They will never all be covered. Teaching is a constant balance of including those things fundamental to what is required in the course with providing enough depth to engage students and dig deep into meaty issues. Ultimately, covering material for the sake of covering it means nothing if it doesn't lead to understanding.
Teaching Must Also Be Learning.
One of the reasons why I am drawn to teaching is because it is a constant way in which to learn. If I weren't learning from my students, I would be bored and missing opportunities to be emergent to the interests and unique perspectives of my students. While I engage in growth as a teacher informally all the time in my classroom, I do this more formally through my research (which affords me opportunities to watch K-12 teachers in action) and through programs like the Apprenticeship in College Teaching at Boston College.
I was once talking with a long-time professor about one of his exams. Pointing to a question, he told me, "Every year, everyone gets that wrong. Always. Every year." I wasn't in a place to give feedback, but I can't think of a better example of an opportunity for the teacher to take the opportunity to learn. It should only take one year, one test, of everyone getting the question wrong to teach a professor a lesson. That lesson is, "I'm not teaching this particular thing very well." When teaching is a matter of reciting your lecture slides, that's easy. When teaching is a dedication to making sure your students learn, that's hard, but that's your job.
Learning is Social.
Learning is social because people are social. While I'm a staunch introvert, I recognize the importance of getting outside of my own brain and hearing the ideas and perspectives of others. The best way for that to happen is in conversations with peers. This is possible even in the largest lecture halls through pair-shares of ideas, small group work in and outside of the lecture hall, and employing (and carefully coaching) students to explain concepts. My thoughts about learning are influenced by social constructivism.
Classrooms Must be Spaces for ALL.
Real learning happens when people make mistakes and allow themselves to be vulnerable enough to learn from them. That can't happen when fear or anxiety enter the classroom. Creating a comfortable and inclusive space is cultivated in small ways, like using gender-inclusive language or ensuring size-inclusive seating, and in substantial ways, like creating assignments so students must actively get to know each other and feel connected with others in the class, and carefully scaffolding ways to give safe peer feedback.
Too often, cramming and regurgitation of facts can be mistakenly equated as real learning. When I think about teaching, I do not aim for students just to be able to complete tasks that I ask of them, or recite information that is Google-able. My goals are high -- if I'm going to spend time helping students learn, I want it to be transformative and not just "another class." My conceptions about what it means to really learn, or to deeply understand, are influenced by the Teaching for Understanding framework from Project Zero at the Harvard Graduate School of Education.
When I talk about understanding, I mean lasting learning that sticks. To facilitate deep learning, I focus on large and central questions that can be approached from a variety of life experiences and backgrounds. Students don't come to class as empty slates! By including broad questions (What is school? How do we know a journal article is good? How can I use psychological concepts in my day to day life?), I acknowledge that everyone can and should have varied reactions and form unique understandings about subject matter. This doesn't mean that students never learn facts -- but it means that those facts have personal meaning and cultural-relevancy for students. As a teacher, it's my job to thoughtfully create big questions that help students become disciplinary thinkers -- to know what it's like to think like someone skilled in the discipline.
Teachers Show How to Think in a Discipline.
In my research, I focus on what I call habits of mind. Others call these same constructs thinking dispositions, mindsets, character skills, non-cognitive skills, or a number of other terms, each of which has its own flavor. But for me, the fundamental point of these constructs is that they teach thinking within one or many disciplines -- they are not about discrete skills or the memorization of facts. We're talking about something bigger and broader here.
In my teaching, I aim to help students use big and broad thinking in the discipline in which we're working.
How does a psychologist think and work?
How does an educator think and work?
How does a musician think and work?
I can teach the years Mozart lived, or how to read rhythmic notation. These are, arguably, important facts for musicians and music students to know. But do they help someone think like a musician? I believe it's more important to practice something broad like listening (a habit of mind taught in music and useful in a whole host of settings) during active music making to help develop musical thinking. A writer can know the parts of speech and diagram sentences, but these are discrete skills. By having the opportunity to practice writing about something meaningful, they then develop their habit of mind of expressing. This is the premise of Studio Thinking and is written about by others. To see if students are really developing disciplinary thinking, as opposed to just factual knowledge or skills, is more difficult, and requires teachers to provide varied ways for students to show what they know.
Formative and Varied Assessments are the Most Important Assessments.
To show understanding, students must be given the chance to demonstrate what they know, and this may not look the same for every student. This is why I use varied approaches to assignments and assessment. In teacher-centered classes, students often have limited opportunities to demonstrate their understanding, like on a multiple choice test. Through project-based assignments, students are forced to show not only that they can recite knowledge or demonstrate fundamental skills, but that they are willing and able to do so within the context of a realistic problem that can be approached from many perspectives and be solved with different solutions.
Too often, assessment is a scary word - it conjures thoughts of all-nighters studying for a final exam or finishing up a term paper to be marked up with a teacher's red pen. The most important assessment is formative assessment -- feedback given throughout the semester to help a student grow. This requires hard work by the teacher -- asking for free responses questions over forced multiple choice; carefully notating the progress of students, collectively and individually, after every meeting and assignment; and constantly reviewing what seems to be sticking with students and what doesn't. Additional thoughts about how I conceive of assessment, its aims, and how its most useful, can be found in Chapter 5 of Studio Thinking from the Start.
Coverage is the Enemy of Learning.
There are an infinite amount of things to cover in a semester. They will never all be covered. Teaching is a constant balance of including those things fundamental to what is required in the course with providing enough depth to engage students and dig deep into meaty issues. Ultimately, covering material for the sake of covering it means nothing if it doesn't lead to understanding.
Teaching Must Also Be Learning.
One of the reasons why I am drawn to teaching is because it is a constant way in which to learn. If I weren't learning from my students, I would be bored and missing opportunities to be emergent to the interests and unique perspectives of my students. While I engage in growth as a teacher informally all the time in my classroom, I do this more formally through my research (which affords me opportunities to watch K-12 teachers in action) and through programs like the Apprenticeship in College Teaching at Boston College.
I was once talking with a long-time professor about one of his exams. Pointing to a question, he told me, "Every year, everyone gets that wrong. Always. Every year." I wasn't in a place to give feedback, but I can't think of a better example of an opportunity for the teacher to take the opportunity to learn. It should only take one year, one test, of everyone getting the question wrong to teach a professor a lesson. That lesson is, "I'm not teaching this particular thing very well." When teaching is a matter of reciting your lecture slides, that's easy. When teaching is a dedication to making sure your students learn, that's hard, but that's your job.
Learning is Social.
Learning is social because people are social. While I'm a staunch introvert, I recognize the importance of getting outside of my own brain and hearing the ideas and perspectives of others. The best way for that to happen is in conversations with peers. This is possible even in the largest lecture halls through pair-shares of ideas, small group work in and outside of the lecture hall, and employing (and carefully coaching) students to explain concepts. My thoughts about learning are influenced by social constructivism.
Classrooms Must be Spaces for ALL.
Real learning happens when people make mistakes and allow themselves to be vulnerable enough to learn from them. That can't happen when fear or anxiety enter the classroom. Creating a comfortable and inclusive space is cultivated in small ways, like using gender-inclusive language or ensuring size-inclusive seating, and in substantial ways, like creating assignments so students must actively get to know each other and feel connected with others in the class, and carefully scaffolding ways to give safe peer feedback.