To see, or not to see: that is the question

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For much of Hamlet, the prince of Denmark skulks around Elsinore in a cloud of melancholy, questioning everything: whether he would be better off dead or alive, whether the ghost of his dead father really is the ghost of his dead father, and what, if anything, will happen to him when he shuffles of this ‘mortal coil’. These are big questions – some of the biggest we ask as human beings – so it’s unsurprising that despite its four-hour running time, the play fails to provide any definitive answers.

Such is the nature of drama, of course: to pose imponderables about existence, to set tensions and ambiguities in place that live on long after the curtain has fallen and the audience has departed. It’s a medium the genius of Shakespeare clearly understood: that the question is often far more revealing than the answer. His plays constantly question existence and show an appreciation for the absurdity of the human condition long before Camus wrote about the ‘fundamental disharmony between the individual’s search for meaning and the meaninglessness of the universe.’

Whilst there are a number of similarities between the theatre and the classroom – the performance, audience unpredictability and uncomfortable chairs – there is ultimately a world of difference between the questions posed by a playwright through the characters on a stage and the questions asked of students by a teacher in a lesson. The dramatist enquires away from the known order of things in search of new insight, whilst in the main the teacher starts from certainty to help construct that understanding for others – to teach the body of scientific and artistic thought that has been accumulated over time.

I have already written about how I used to waste lots of time asking silly questions. My orientation was too often skewed the wrong way; my questions tended to lean more towards the inductive like those of the artist, rather than deductive like those of the teacher. Too much speculation – why questions instead of what questions, or how questions instead of who or where questions. Too much; too soon. I was putting novice students in the difficult position of trying to grapple with ideas and methods that even Hamlet would have struggled to disentangle.

Andy Tharby has got the right idea when he argues we should focus more agreed interpretations first, as opposed to getting secondary school students to offer insights and judgements they are often ill equipped to make. I’m not advocating against developing thoughtful, enquiring minds; actually, quite the opposite. By focusing questions on building students’ understanding of what is already known (in this case about a text), it is more likely that in time, they will know enough to be able to ask about ‘the undiscovered country from whose bourn no traveller returns’ themselves.

Emphasising the deductive has improved my questioning and, in turn, my practice. I don’t mean in the showy sense where style is valued over substance, where the emphasis is on the moves of the teacher, not the content the question is trying to get at. I mean in terms of precision. Carefully worded questions help isolate variables for students so they can see what gets threaded together to form the complexities of plot, character and theme, and the intricacies of rhythm, rhyme and staging. Well-honed questions reveal gaps in understanding, as well as providing the path towards achieving it.

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All this takes time, which means other things have to go – Powerpoint presentations, arty handouts, copious marking. All this becomes untenable. But that’s ok, because in the main, the questions are the lesson. The process also sharpens the subject knowledge, exposing strengths as well as weaknesses. When I’m struggling to phrase a question about Hamlet, Ophelia or Polonius, I realise I am probably not clear enough in my own mind about what specific aspect of their character I want to tease out. I read the passage again, perhaps around it too, until I know and then I have focus.

Almost all my lessons now consist of the text, a pen and a notebook, with all my scripted questions marked out for me in advance. I don’t always ask all of them, and they are still not as good as I would like them to be, but I think they make my lessons much more purposeful. There’s definitively still space to explore and, because that space has been created by the efficiency and precision of the questions and the speculations are stronger because they rest on a firmer base.

As Hamlet never said, ‘The question’s the thing that develops their understanding.’

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‘The Best Laid Plans’: 101 Reasons Why Lessons Go Wrong

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I have been teaching for nearly 14 years, and only recently have I come to accept that are just some things beyond your control.

Entrances and exits

  1. Late from registration
  2. Late from last lesson
  3. Late from PE (standard)
  4. Late from assembly
  5. Late from speaking to another teacher
  6. Doctor’s appointment
  7. Time out card
  8. Toilet pass
  9. PE fixture
  10. Art trip
  11. Intervention

Unwelcome interruption

  1. Fire alarm
  2. Door alarm (sounds like fire alarm)
  3. Car alarm
  4. Tannoy
  5. Someone needs to talk to a student
  6. Someone needs to talk to you
  7. Someone pops in and pops back out but you can’t see who
  8. Someone’s on a learning walk
  9. Two people on a learning walk
  10. Several people on a learning walk
  11. Several people on a learning walk with the head
  12. Several people on a learning walk from another school
  13. Several people on a learning walk from Denmark
  14. Ofsted
  15. Pseudo Ofsted or Ofsted-lite
  16. Student passes wind
  17. You pass wind
  18. Visitor passes wind

Teacher down

  1. Tripping over a wire
  2. Tripping over unusual name – Ha! Ha!
  3. Smacking into a desk
  4. Dropping a book
  5. Dropping a pen
  6. Dropping the clicker

IT failure (high and low tech)

  1. No sound
  2. No visuals
  3. No sound or visuals
  4. An excess of sound
  5. No internet
  6. Internet but no YouTube
  7. YouTube but clip won’t load
  8. YouTube but clip has gone
  9. YouTube, clip there, but blocked
  10. Computer locked from last teacher
  11. Desk locked from last (messy) teacher
  12. Board pen runs out
  13. No board pen
  14. No board rubber
  15. Red or green pens only
  16. No remote

Freudianisms

  1. Accidental double entendre
  2. Accidental rude word
  3. Rude word you never knew was a rude word
  4. Rude word in a text
  5. Rude word in a text you never knew was a rude word
  6. Rude word shouted out
  7. Taboo word in a text you had forgotten
  8. Taboo word in a text you remembered but thought you would discuss

Health and safety

  1. Coffee spillage
  2. Tea spillage
  3. Pen spillage
  4. Someone’s brought something up
  5. Someone’s brought something in
  6. Chair incident
  7. Table incident

Teacher standards

  1. Poor planning
  2. No planning
  3. Over planning
  4. Lost plan
  5. Planning for wrong day
  6. Poor question
  7. Poor example
  8. Poor resource
  9. Poor task
  10. Confusing instruction
  11. Confusing explanation
  12. Generally confusing yourself
  13. You’re tired
  14. You’re hungover
  15. You’re tired and hungover
  16. Students are hungover (sixth form only!)

Pesky kids

  1. No pen
  2. No book
  3. No planner
  4. No homework
  5. Nothing!
  6. Trainers
  7. Earrings
  8. Chewing gum
  9. Fidget spinner (or generational equivalent)

Seasonal

  1. Wet break
  2. Windy break
  3. Too hot
  4. Too cold
  5. Too slippery
  6. Wasps
  7. Bees
  8. Flies
  9. Butterflies
  10. Yes, pigeons!

 

It’s just a bit of fun. None of this has ever happened.

Thanks for reading.

 

 

Everything Now: resisting the urge to implement too much too soon

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There are so many good ideas in education at the moment – knowledge organisers, whole class feedback, multiple-choice questions, low stakes quizzing, dual coding, etc. – it is hard to keep up. I’m on board with almost all of these ideas approaches, and in this enlightened evidence-based age in which we live, it feels good to be finally doing the right thing!

And yet, I wonder that we may be in danger of repeating some of the mistakes from the past. I don’t mean we risk returning to the dark days of learning styles, multiple intelligences unfounded taxonomies and pyramids of this and that. Thankfully, I think those days are long gone. I’m more thinking that as profession we still tend to rush towards implementing each and every new idea that comes along without engaging in any real process of critical evaluation. We’ve eschewed some of the guff from the past, but I am not sure we have learnt how to handle research evidence in a disciplined way, and as a consequence we risk creating future brain gyms.

It seems to me that we are still of the mindset that when we see something new, particularly something that conforms to our biases, our eyes light up and we want to get it up and running in our classrooms as quickly as possible. This is probably why so a lot of good ideas get implemented so badly, because we don’t allow ourselves the time and space to think about how they are going to work, if at all, in our contexts. As Mark Enser points out in this excellent post, what start off as promising interventions or sensible ways of managing workloads, run the risk of getting bastardised into something less effective and even more time-consuming.

Dylan Wiliam and Graham Nuthall understand the two main threats to effective implementation: lack of practical guidance and/or lack of theoretical understanding. For Wiliam, ‘Teachers will not take up attractive sounding ideas, albeit based on extensive research, if these are presented as general principles which leave entirely to them the task of translating them into everyday practice.’ Indeed. And for Nuthall, ‘in most cases, there is a description of what to do and how to do it, but no description of why it might work. There is no explanation of the underlying learning principles.’ Again, this strikes a chord.

I would add to this a third threat: time. In my last post, I provided some advice on how to use mini whiteboards more effectively in classrooms. The post was not well read (to be fair, they never are!) which was not really a surprise. It’s not a sexy topic and most people already know how to use whiteboards well, don’t they? Maybe; maybe not. The reason I wrote the blog was because what I see time and time again is ineffective use of mini whiteboards in lessons. Too often, there appears to be a conceptual misunderstanding of their purpose, or a lack of expertise and confidence in their practical application. More time working on this simple strategy would probably make for its better use as a teaching tool. But we are always searching for something new.

Knowledge organisers are anther case in point. You only need to type the phrase into Google to see a huge disparity in what people think they are for and how they are using them with their students. I may be wrong, but I would imagine that up and down the country a lot of time and effort has gone into generating knowledge organisers, but not so much care and attention into working out exactly how they should be used with the students. Do they even work? I think they are excellent, but do we actually know if they make a difference to outcomes. Alex Quigley poses similarly troubling questions for a range of other current ideas in this thought-provoking piece.

I should stress here that I don’t see myself sitting atop any of this. I’m not scoffing at others putting into practice things they read about on Twitter or learn about at conferences. Most of it is excellent and seems eminently sensible. I am just the same as everyone else. If I see someone share something that I think sounds good, and if that thing is grounded in some kind evidence, then I am inclined to agree with it and want to bring it into my classroom and across my school. The risk of not doing something that sounds so right is often enough of an impetus to make me want to act.

It is only in the last couple of years, that I have not only learnt the value of stepping back and thinking things through, but also, importantly, developed the discipline to resist acting immediately. Often the pressures of getting results and wanting to do well by your students – whether as a class teacher or a school leader – can make it very difficult to not try new ideas and approaches. But resist we must. If we don’t allow ourselves the time to properly understand the theory and practice of a new idea, and the time to turn that theory into practice, then even the best ideas will likely fail.

Which leads me to evaluation – quite possibly the biggest thing missing from most school improvement activity, whether at the classroom or school level. I’m a huge advocate of helping to turn research evidence into practical action, but I am increasingly mindful of the need to try and evaluate the impact of any changes we make to our practice, however hard or imperfect that might be. If we don’t properly consider the impact of the changes that we introduce in our classrooms and our schools, we will never know what is worth doing what is best left alone.

Whereas earlier in my career, we tended to implement an idea from the DFE or the senior management team without any real kind of evaluation of its impact, we now tend to implement an idea from research or cognitive science without any real kind of evaluation. I’m inclined to think that these ideas, often helpfully distilled by popular educationists or other bloggers, are far superior to the days of yore, but I still think we need to hold them up to the light through the process of evaluation. Findings from fields such as cognitive science are really only the first stage of the evidence process – the bit that often takes place in the lab, or uses undergraduates and inauthentic learning materials. Whilst this is hugely important and valuable, there is another important stage, and that is the evaluations we set up in our own contexts using some variation of this simple formula: does intervention X work in context Y under Z conditions?

If we cannot answer a question like this, should we really be implementing something into our classroom or our school?

Thanks for reading.

References:

Black, P. J. & Wiliam, D. (1998) Inside the black box: raising standards through classroom assessment

Nuthall, G. (2007) The Hidden Lives of Learners

 

 

 

 

Show Me: Maximising the Use of Mini Whiteboards in Lessons

Mini whiteboards can be an excellent way to gather information about class ‘understanding’ quickly and efficiently. When used badly, however, they cease to be an effective responsive teaching tool, and they can get in the way of learning and become a distraction. This post draws upon some of Doug Lemov’s ideas in Teach Like a Champion 2.0 (Show Me – technique no. 5), along with my own experiences, to offer some tips on on how to maximise your use of mini whiteboards.

Before the Lesson:

Plan questions in advance

As with most things in life, the better something is planned in advance the more likely it is of being executed successfully later on. In this case, the chances are you will have more success if you map out the questions you are going to ask your students to check understanding in advance. Too often we make the mistake of trying to come up with good questions whilst we teach. Often they are not precise enough to capture the data we need to guide our next steps, or we ask for lengthy responses we cannot possibly see from the front of the class. Well-considered questions avoid this problem and increase our chances of getting the valuable information we need in the moment.

Standardise response format

Format matters. Of all the ideas in Teach Like a Champion, I would say Standardise the Format is one of the most powerful and easiest to implement. I insist that all my students ‘Fill the board’ with their answers so that I can see them clearly when I am scanning the room. It also makes a difference what colour students write in. Blue or black pens have the most chance of being seen and not getting distorted by the play of light from the windows or from the flickering overhead artificial strips.

Standardise show me format

It is not just responses that benefit from being standardised; the format of the reveal does too. I use a simple 3-2-1 ‘show me’, but other instructions can work just as well, as long as they are understood by all and insisted upon in practice. All students should cover their answers once they have written them and raise their boards on the agreed command simultaneously. This approach reduces the likelihood of students being influenced by other people’s responses, which undermines the validity of the check. Wobbling boards the in the air is also unhelpful. And very annoying.

Screenshot 2017-10-21 10.57.14During the Lesson:

Insist on agreed formats

There is no point spending time establishing protocols for recording responses and showing them at the same time, if you don’t enforce them in practice. It is far better to sacrifice a bit of time in the short term getting these basics right, so that in the long term the process becomes so slick you can effortlessly question the whole class and gain immediate feedback on their current understanding.

Scan boards from front of the class

This probably seems so trivial and self-evident it is not even worth mentioning, but you would be surprised how many times I have seen teachers standing to the side or positioned in front of the first row of desks, where they cannot possibly see all the answers. The whole point is that you scan all the boards as quickly as you can and make a decision about whether to move on or to respond.

Approximate class understanding

As far as I’m aware, there is no hard and fast rule as to what percentage of students need to get the right answer for you to feel secure enough to move on. The obvious answer is 100%, but in reality it doesn’t always work out like that. Depending on the teaching point, you can sometimes correct one or two students’ understanding quickly there and then, but at other times you can spend several minutes trying to clarify something only for one individual to still miss the point. I aim for between 80-90%, and then make a beeline for students who got the wrong answer later on in the lesson.

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Mini whiteboards are just one of many tools that can help us respond better to students’ need, but they are largely useless if you don’ think through how to use them and plan accordingly.

Thanks for reading.

 

Why didn’t you tell me? 5 things I wish I had been told sooner

Like many others, there are things I have learned in recent years that it would have been really helpful to have been told about earlier on in my career. Knowing about the relative ineffectiveness of marking stacks of books, the power of retrieval practice and the importance of background knowledge, for instance, would have all helped me be a much better teacher.
But whilst insights like these are crucial to improving learning and managing workload, they are not my focus here. Implementing the principles of retrieval practice, for instance, requires a great deal of strategic thought and collaboration. Instead, I wanted to share a few simple things before the start of the new term that I wish someone had taken me to one side and explained – things I think teachers can take on board relatively easily to improve their teaching.

1. Don’t talk over students whilst they work

Others have written eloquently and in detail about the theoretical reasoning why this is such a bad idea, but in essence it should be pretty obvious to all of us anyway. We can all think of situations where we are trying to concentrate on something and somebody is talking in the background. I hate, for example, the incessant messages given out on trains when you are trying to read. You either ignore the message (and maybe your station) or you get distracted from your book to listen to some tedious automated announcement.

Unless it is critical to the task, once your students are working, just leave them too it. However helpful you might think you are being – clarifying your instructions, giving time warnings, providing further examples, etc. – you are not. You are getting in the way of their learning and being annoying!

2. The whiteboard is your friend: use it!

My handwriting is dreadful. Think a doctor’s scrawl after a twelve-hour shift. Writing on the board was one of the main anxieties I had coming into the profession; Powerpoint seemed ready made for me. And yet, I have come to realise that the whiteboard is in fact the most underused, underrated and most utterly brilliant tool at our disposal. If it were up to me, I would rip out all the ‘interactive’ boards in my school and replace them with good old-fashioned whiteboards. Relying too heavily on prepared slides restricts our ability to respond to learners’ need and runs the risk of turning us into presenters.

Whiteboards allow you to do all of the following and more:

  • record your instructions
  • model and exemplify work
  • track the lesson
  • write down key vocabulary
  • provide prompts for writing
  • provide cues for oral contributions
  • break down tricky concepts in stages
  • sketch little diagrams to explain abstract concepts
  • mock up how you want students to present their work

3. Resist the urge to constantly help 

It is soooooo tempting when you set your class off on a task, to dash from desk to desk to attend to the poor souls who have put their hands up to signal their confusion. I see it all the time: almost immediately a class has been told what to do the teacher scours the room, looking for students to ‘help’. It’s almost as if we need to justify ourselves by crouching down next to a desk with a pen in our hand and a battery of examples at the ready.

And yet most of the time, we are probably not really helping at all. At least not in the long term, where we are inadvertently creating a culture of dependency. If students really do need our help immediately after we have set them a task, then either our instructions were unclear or the task we set was too hard. Both are ultimately undesirable, and both warrant something other than manic fire fighting, such as repeating instructions to the class or modelling examples for all.

4. Don’t try and squeeze things in to the end of a lesson

I really loved Columbo – the scruffy, laconic detective with the dirty mac and the habit of using an apparent aside to check mate the criminal. The ‘just one more thing’ strategy worked for Colombo but it has never worked for me, and I doubt it works for you either. You know the situation: there are still a couple of minutes left in the lesson, and you really want to finish your point, or share one more quick example. You think it will help, but it never really does. No one is listening; minds are elsewhere. Less is always more, and the surest way to create a chaotic ending to your lesson is to try and shoehorn in one final task.

5. Try to avoid saying daft things to motivate

Whilst you may be sceptical of some of the more extravagant claims made about Growth Mindset – I know I am – you’d have to be pretty cynical to entirely dismiss the idea that what we say to students and how we say it can have a significant impact on their self-conception. Praising left, right and centre for even the most modest of responses – or even for just responding – cannot help anyone. Lavish praise sets such a low bar for achievement, and from my experience students know they are being patronised. In a similar vein, spur-of-the moment comments designed to motivate, such as ‘top set students don’t behave like way or ‘A grade students really should know this’ are unhelpful and damaging. Be alert to any coded messages in your motivational aside and reprimands.

I did have a much longer list of titbits to share, but I figured I would heed my own advice and stop here.

Thanks for reading.