Is Confusion Productive?

From a group activity at CGC-Miami
From a group activity at CGC-Miami

Two weeks ago when I was at CGC Miami, we had a couple of conversations where the idea of confusion came up. One was when we discussed what happens in one’s brain when learning happens–not fMRI scans or anything, just feelings, attitudes, etc. Then we had another discussion about what learning looked like in a classroom. The word “confusion” came up in both contexts. A woman who was sitting at my table was taken aback when several of us mentioned confusion as something that we expect to see in our classrooms when learning is happening.

“It’s like yesterday,” she said (clearly, I’m paraphrasing from my memory for dramatic effect). “All of the words people use to describe learning are so negative. Learning is positive. We should be using positive words.”

Many of us began to defend confusion as an essential and productive part of the learning process. We were not, however, successful in convincing her, and ended up leaving it off of our chart, though two other groups ended up including it. It led me to the question: Is confusion always negative? Can confusion be productive in the classroom? If so, how do we coach students through confusion and through to deeper learning and understanding?

 What does learning mean and how does it relate to confusion?

I think a big part of whether or not we, as teachers or as learners, are comfortable with confusion has a lot to do with how we define learning. If we define learning as remembering a series of facts, then confusion is unacceptable. It means that we as teachers are not being clear and we need to find a better way to present the content. However, if we are defining learning as making connections, developing concepts, exploring dilemmas, and adding the skills necessary to do all of this to our repertoire. When we define learning this way, confusion is inevitable. In this definition we are making sense on concepts and ideas. We’re working in an area that might not be comfortable for us, but once we work our way through the confusion, we know and understand so much more than we did before.

I have a favorite quotation about this kind of learning. I wrote it out neatly and put it on the front of the binder I had in grad school (yes, when I went to grad school people still took notes on paper and put handouts into binders). I hung up a copy in my first classroom/office, and have continued to hang it on the wall of every classroom I’ve had since. I even include it in the first Power Point slide for my grad students on their first day of literacy intervention practicum. (PS–If my crafty sister is reading this blog, I would love a pretty cross-stitched version of this to hang in my intervention room for my birthday…hint, hint)

Generally, we touch on many apparent irrelevancies, and learning implies that at most times we are at least partially confused. Just as one cannot think one’s way into growth, there are times when we are not aware, indeed cannot be aware, that what one is doing is providing the basis for significant growth and discoveries. – John Miller Chernoff (1979)

This quotation is not from an education book. It’s from an ethnomusicology book called African Rhythm and African Sensibility that I bought for a college course called “Political Economy of the Music of the African Diaspora” (yes, I went to a hippie, artsy college. What of it?). Because of this one sentence, I have moved a book that I probably won’t reread, that has margins full of the pretentious notes of a college senior (most of which seem to be about Todorov’s Double Bind), from place to place, apartment to apartment, for over ten years.

I have found this quotation both relevant and inspiring to me on my journey as an educator (how many veteran teachers remember at some point during their first year of teaching how all sorts of seemingly disconnected ideas from student teaching and education coursework suddenly came together in an ah-ha! moment?), and relevant and inspiring to the students I teach. I originally hung this quotation up in my room as a reminder to me that being confused and being uncomfortable (which I often was during my first year of teaching) meant that I was probably laying the groundwork for learning, growth, and discoveries. I didn’t intend it to be inspiring to students–it seemed too long and too complex. But when I had a student ask me about it, and then ask if she could copy it into her notebook, I knew that (1) I had underestimated my 6th graders, and (2) that it is important to let students know that being confused sometimes is OK and that learning is all about working one’s way through confusion and out to the other side.

For confusion to be productive, we need to get comfortable with being uncomfortable

A big part of letting students know that it is OK to be confused is helping them get comfortable with being uncomfortable. Without this, it is almost impossible for confusion to be a productive part of the learning process. But how do we get students comfortable with this?

For starters we need to create a safe learning environment where it’s OK to fail. Learning needs to be seen as a process that we’re all working through at our own pace. I think standards-based grading and letting students have do overs, retakes, etc, also takes us toward this. I have definitely seen anxiety about grades keep students from diving in to something that they’re not necessarily comfortable with or stopping them from grappling with a difficult topic and jumping right into “Can you help me?”  or “What do I do next?” This is a challenge that I see not only with my middle school students, but with my graduate students as well. If students are constantly worried about getting the wrong answer and thus a bad grade, how can they work through confusion and into growth?

Students need tools to work through confusion

I really agree with CGC that we need to teach students how to learn, and for me part of that is teaching students about problem solving, perseverance, and resilience. I don’t want to get into a discussion of “grit” (for some reason, the term really annoys me), but I do want to start a conversation about teaching these skills. It’s something I’ve always found tricky, especially since in the past I’ve worked with kids classified as EBD (having emotional or behavioral disorders) that had a really low tolerance for frustration. Teaching them these skills was a much different, and much slower process (and it sometimes involved calling in the crisis para…)

There are some things that I’m absolutely sure about. In order for a student to learn these skills we need to embed them into our general curriculum. As teachers, we need to model these skills repeatedly, and think aloud about how we use positive self-talk in order to get ourselves unstuck when we’re confused or have a problem. In reading, teaching things like self-monitoring and fix-up strategies, and in math giving them tools for each of the process standards. The good people at The Math Learning Center who did our training this past June had some great ideas about hanging questions up on the wall that students can ask themselves while working through problems. There’s also a great post here with some ideas. And next week, I’ll be following up on these ideas with a post on self-regulation and Self-Regulated Strategy Development (SRSD), which is something I’ve been doing a lot of reading about this summer.

But what about more complex problems? Or times when the information we’re taking in doesn’t make sense because it conflicts with something we know or believe to be true? How can we help our students, as the professor of the aforementioned class put it, “enter the contact zone” so learning and knowledge transformation happen? I think we need to make all of these areas come together: comfort with being uncomfortable, a focus on the learning process, a de-emphasis of grades, and explicitly teaching how to work through problems.

What do you think? Is confusion productive in the classroom? What tools have you given your students to work through confusion on their own?

Why My Pilates Instructor Should Run Our Differentiation PD

Pilates as Differentiation PD?
It’s really hard to find images of Pilates classes that aren’t all uber-fit white ladies. This is the best I could do, doesn’t entirely match the spirit of my post, but you take what you can get sometimes…Source

I enjoy all sorts of exercise: biking (outdoors and spin classes), running, strength training, yoga, hiking, dancing…but Pilates always scared the crap out of me. More than biking in Manhattan. During rush hour. Why, you ask? One word: Teaser.

That’s not entirely true, but that is one exercise that I found quite intimidating. Pilates just seemed like something that my body would not be able to do. I didn’t think I was strong enough. I have a really hard time with spatial relationships and visualization, so when someone describes what I’m supposed to do in words, I have a really hard time figuring out (1) what I’m supposed to do, and (2) how to get my body to do it. Also, whenever you see people doing Pilates they complete things so effortlessly that it’s intimidating. They just float. It’s like some sort of magical power. Pilates seemed nearly impossible to me. Plus, I really don’t like doing things I’m not already good at (yes, I know, I’m working on it). I was never doing it. No way.

Then, about a year and a half ago, I hurt my ankle. I don’t know how I hurt my ankle. The best I can figure it’s one of those injuries that mostly happens to New Yorkers. You’re wearing heals on the subway, heading home from work. The car stops suddenly. Physics happens. The subway and your firmly planted foot stop moving, but the rest of your body keeps going for a bit, somehow straining a ligament or a tendon. And then you are in pain. Forever. Because there’s no way to avoid walking or stairs when you have no car and live in a 5th floor walk-up in Brooklyn.

My doctor told me to rest it, to ice it, to wrap it.

I begged for a boot at least, so people would offer me a seat on the subway.

My doctor told me to rest it, to ice it, to wrap it, and to wear my hiking boots or invest in a pair of Dansco clogs.

I asked when I would be able to exercise again.

My doctor told me  I could do core work on the floor, or seated strength training. And once I had a full week where I could comfortably put weight on my foo use an exercise bike, do yoga, or do Pilates. Aquacise was also an option.

I thought Pilates? Hell. No.

Once I could put weight on my foot, however, I really wanted to get out and exercise, so I tried it. And it was hard.

But the instructor, she was amazing. She was helpful, encouraging, and it occurred to me later, the best differentiator I’ve ever met. She does all of the things that I hope to get teachers I coach to do and that I strive to do better myself. This is why–no offense to Bill and Ochan Powell–I think my Sunday afternoon Pilates instructor, Nathalie, should lead our next differentiation PD. Or maybe she should just come and do a class with the faculty and really model good differentiation.

This is either the best or the worst idea I’ve ever had, but since it will likely just float around as an idea in cyberspace and never come to fruition, we can leave that part ambiguous. I am, however, going to enumerate her qualifications below.

She always does a preassessment and engages in formative assessment throughout the lesson

Every week Nathalie walks into the class and asks a few quick questions to get a sense of who her students are and what they need, something we as classroom teachers should be doing as well. Maybe not in the exact same way

  1. Is anyone new to Pilates? (What’s your experience, skill, or content knowledge with what I’m about to teach you?)
  2. Does anyone have any injuries? Had abdominal surgery? Anyone pregnant? (How will I need to modify things for you based on your particular needs?)
  3. Everyone’s feeling OK? You guys look tired/happy/content. (Anything else going on that’s going to make today difficult for you?)

During the lesson, she watches us perform movements and stops to explain how and why things work, how to do the movement correctly, or how to modify the movement as necessary.

Preassessments and other forms of formative assessment are so important for differentiation. It’s how we know how to differentiate. Sure, we all have things in our toolbox that we can pull out to differentiate reactively during class, but preassessments help us to differentiate proactively. During the lesson, ongoing formative assessment in the form of observations can help us to provide additional differentiation.

She gives instruction in a variety of ways

Each time she asks us to do a movement or a series, Nathalie gives the instructions orally, sometimes explaining in two different ways. She also models the movements in two different ways. Once modeling what it looks like laying on the ground, and then frequently a second time offering an “aerial view” while standing.

As classroom teachers we should always be presenting information in a variety of ways in order to reach all of our students. Making this a habit is one simple way to support everyone in the class.

She offers adaptations and modifications of activities

For nearly every movement, Nathalie offers several ways of completing the movement. The movements are different based on your skill level, your body type, any injuries you may have.

However (and even more important, I would say)…

She never refers to a modification as easier or harder and never privileges one way of doing things over another

This is the thing that finally convinced me that Nathalie was one of the best differentiators I had ever met was this: every time she demonstrates a modification she lets us all know one important thing: the modification makes the exercise work for your body. She tells us several things

  • Modification doesn’t make it easier: It makes it so your body can complete the exercise and benefit from it. Which, yes, does feel easier to you that the original exercise, but makes if feel about the same to you as the “typical” person doing the unmodified move.
  • Modification doesn’t make it less work.
  • Modifications are explained completely and we all know why we should choose them. I don’t do my hundreds with my legs straight in the air because I’m trying to make it easier or I’m lazy, I do it that way because I have a tendency to to have a lot of tension in my neck and shoulders, whereas the guy next to me always does modified hundreds with his knees bent because he’s a runner and has really tight hamstrings. And someone else is doing modified hundreds because she’s had a C-section. No one really needs to know why each of us selects what we did but us. But having the instructor explain the exercises and the work that’s involved in each modification creates a safe space for us to all do what we need.

As teachers sometimes we unintentionally value one form of work over another (I know I’ve been guilty of it–love to analyze, but really struggle with creative assignments, so sometimes I don’t work as hard at creating them. I’m getting better about it now that I’m aware of it) and set a classroom climate where students feel like choosing that isn’t the one that the teacher clearly values or is deemed the “normal” or “right” way to complete the assignment isn’t OK. If we value all ways of completing assignments and make sure that the work is different, not easier or harder, or better or worse, our students will see the work in the same way. Normalizing the fact that all brains are different the same way Nathalie normalizes the fact that all bodies are different creates the type of classroom where students thrive and learn.

She doesn’t let us get away with slacking–she pushes us toward growth and celebrates it

Yes, Nathalie differentiates and offers modifications, scaffolds, if you will, for those of us who may have been at a lower level of readiness when we started the class, but she observes and assesses (see point #1) and then encourages us to try something new. She doesn’t let the scaffold become a crutch, or let us define ourselves by needing a particular scaffold. She’ll tell us to try a different modification or without a modification if she sees that we are doing really well and should challenge ourselves more. Then, whether we succeed or fail, she applauds us for increased strength, for trying something new, or just for smiling through it all.

As classroom teachers we need to know when to push our students to try something new and different, and when it’s OK for them to stick with activities they feel comfortable with. We need to be aware of growing skill levels and help guide students to choices that will make work a bit more challenging for the student, or when to pull back our scaffolds a bit to promote growth. We also need to celebrate growth and trying new things.

In conclusion, Nathalie should run a Pilates class during our differentiation PD

So, if the higher-ups at my school are reading this, I think our August differentiation PD should include a Pilates class from Nathalie where we can all experience differentiation and gain some empathy for our students who might be out of their comfort zone in a traditional classroom setting. If they’re anything like me, school was always a place where I felt pretty comfortable and I was pretty good at it (that’s part of why I elected to go back there full time for my career). For me, Pilates took me outside of my comfort zone, and really highlighted for me what good differentiators like Nathalie do. And even though I always knew differentiation was important and it was something I valued as an educator, this is the first time I was really cognizant of benefitting from it. I’d like other members of our faculty to experience that as well.

And just in case you were wondering, all that differentiation worked. I can totally do Teaser now. I may not float completely effortlessly yet, but I’m going to get there.

Where else in the world outside of K-12 education do you see excellent differentiated instruction? 

 

Summer Sabbatical (Not Just Vacation)

Last Summer at Long Bech, photo by Samantha Mosher
I may get a view like this occasionally, but most days I’ll be hard at work.

As a teacher you always hear from friends, family, and even complete strangers you just happen to be chatting with at a gym or at a barbecue: “Wow. A teacher’s summer vacation. That must be really nice. It must be your favorite part of the job.” I think it’s this misconception about teachers’ summer vacation that lead Justin Tarte to post this, which I adored. It got me thinking, do we as educators need to reframe how we talk to others about summer vacation? We know all the time we spend prepping and learning for, or just plain sitting and thinking or daydreaming about, our next school year. All the time we spend learning both teaching skills and content that we’ll pass on to our students, or having experiences out in the world that we can turn into amazing classroom experiences for our kids. Teachers’ summer vacations aren’t vacations. They’re sabbaticals, where we learn and grow as professionals and prepare for the next school year. I think the point Justin Tarte was making in his post is that sometimes we focus on the other benefits of summer vacation, rather than the other aspects and it could give others the wrong impression.

This teacher's summer vacation means fresh baked scones for breakfast
ah, the luxury of baking scones for breakfast

And, you know what, I’m not ashamed to admit that  teachers’ summer vacations are nice. I can wake up when my body tells me it’s time, instead of when my alarm starts blaring around 5:30 AM. I can exercise more frequently, and have the occasional leisurely breakfast (like the one to the right) or go wait in line for Shakespeare in the Park tickets, and maybe, like Justin Tarte suggested, I guilty of talking about those things and giving others the wrong impression of what teachers do in the summer. I definitely spend a good portion of my summer, like most teachers, working. It may not be the same summer camp and summer school jobs I took early in my career to make ends meet, but I am working nonetheless. It is different work than during the school year, but it’s good work and necessary work.

Most teachers love to learn, and during the summer I get to indulge my inner learner full-time. Don’t get me wrong, during the school year I am constantly learning from my colleagues, from my students, from research I’m doing to improve my own practice, but summer moves at a different pace and my learning can be more self-directed and I have the time to follow all of those ideas down various rabbit holes where I don’t have the time to go during the school year.

I generally set goals to keep myself on track. This summer I’m hoping to take my professional learning–my summer sabbatical–to new places by becoming a more connected educator, both through this blog and through other platforms like Twitter. But in addition to the blogging and tweet-chatting I really hope to:

Read all of the books I bought at ASCD 2014 (and then some)
Summer reading
All of the books…

I have quite an ambitious list. I don’t know if I’ll get through them all, but I’m excited to try. The first set on my list are:

  • The ASCD Aria Self-Regulated Learning for Academic Success by Catherine Germeroth and Crystal Day-Heiss. I’m a big fan of the SRSD writing approach and want to start including more self-regulation work in my classes across subject areas (and especially in math).
  • Memory at Work in the Classroom by Francis Bailey and Ken Pransky: Memory is often an area where students who I teach struggle, and I always feel like I don’t have enough strategies for them. I’m hoping this will help me.
  • Close Reading of Informational Texts  by Sunday Cummins: I’ve been reading a lot about the potential close reading has for improving reading comprehension with struggling students and I’m hoping to add more of it to my practice next year.
Learn a lot about curriculum design at the CGC conference

I was really excited when my principal selected me to be one of the school’s representatives at the Common Ground Collaborative‘s conference in Miami in July. This group includes teachers and administrators from international schools who are working to create a more inclusive, understanding-based curriculum. I’m even more excited now that I’ve started doing some of my homework.

Rethink my classroom design

This past school year was my first year at my school. I didn’t love the way I ended up setting up my small intervention classroom/office. I’m not sure if it’s conducive to the type of work I want to do with students (and I certainly am not set up to store all of this).

Make the two day summer workshop happen!

My friend and colleague Pooja Patel and I proposed this idea last year (well, Pooja came up with the idea and asked if I was interested and then let me propose it with her): to run a summer institute for teachers who are graduates of our program to summarize the latest research and methods in literacy instruction, assessment, and intervention. And over a year later, it has been brought to life: Cutting Edge Reading & Writing Instruction for Teachers. If you’re in NYC in late July, you should come.

Rethink the sequence and delivery of the curriculum for my graduate class

This is going to be a process. Class doesn’t start up again until January, but I really want to get my students thinking more diagnostically and using more observational data to decide where to go next in their interventions. I’d like to spend some time chatting with other teacher educators and reflecting a bit more on what worked and what didn’t this past year. May was not a time when this could happen, but June and July are.

Of course, I may get to a beach and I’m definitely headed out of town for a wedding or two and to visit family. Maybe I’ll take a few hikes and knit up some sweaters for the fall, but I can’t wait to start my summer sabbatical and engage in some professional learning.

How do you use your summers? Any interesting professional learning lined up?