Learning Takes Time, Brownies Need Edges

I'd consider myself patient. I don't mind traffic jams. I prefer to preheat the oven than use the microwave. I'm not really big into short cuts, either. So when I hear about learning methods which streamline learning, which make everything easier, naturally I'm a little skeptical. It seems a little too good to be true, doesn't it?

What I'm talking about is the idea of a flipped classroom. A teacher uploads a video that the students view at home, then the “homework” part is done the next day in the classroom. What an idea. In theory, it seems wonderful. And according to the research, it's been a success. It was successfully implemented in a pharmacology classroom, for example. It seems like a great idea. So why is everyone so critical about it?

When I was little, 8 or 9, my neighbour taught my sister and I how to knit. We didn't go right into sweaters, though. We started with scarves. And my sister and I diligently went to Margaret's house after school every day for two whole weeks. Wake up, school, scarves. A year ago, inspiration struck, and I picked up some knitting needles. Grabbed the yarn. And stared at them for a while, willing my hands to somehow get everything started, and hoping for muscle memory to just do its thing. It didn't happen. What did happen was a quick YouTube instructional video search.

We'll compare this with my first foray into organized group sports: Ringette. The first year I tried out, I spent the better part of a month on my knees kind of skiing myself around the rink. Slowly but surely, I was able to stand. (I was benched a lot that first month...) After much patience on the part of my coach and my sister, who was also on the team, I was able to push myself along the ice. Soon enough I was gliding! Lo and behold: I had my first game where I didn't fall down, much to the relief of my lower body. I was not a very good skater. Not even a little bit. But just as luck would have it, an early growth spurt landed me in the top percentile of height for the team, so I was great at defence. Having not done much skating since I stopped at the age of 11, I was very much surprised when, a few years ago, I was able to borrow a pair of skates and pick up right where I left off. I really do believe the difference between the two experiences – a week of knitting versus a season of skating – is the reason I was able to pick up one but not the other.

I feel the same way about the flipped classroom. Learning takes time. I understand that streamlining is a very good thing. Efficiency is key. But only when that efficiency leads to functional results. I think it's great if you can teach your students trigonometry within one, two nights. And teaching them to do it well? Even better!

But my hesitation stems from the idea that we're going to sacrifice longevity for efficiency. What's the point of learning everything quickly if it means forgetting it shortly thereafter? And to be clear, I'm not saying the flipped classroom is a bad idea. Not even a little bit. I think it would be great if it a) works, and b) lasts.

I once encountered a person, a real human being, that didn't like edges on their brownies. But some people (myself included) think the edges are the best part. Some people build houses quickly. Others take time to lay a foundation. Some speak in analogies. Others get straight to the point: Learning takes time, and brownies need edges. Longevity is more important than efficiency. And I hope that this is something that can be addressed in the upcoming pedagogical discussion.

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The Crandall Scandal: A Study in Fairness

In the interest of being transparent, I will be honest when I say that I'm nervous to take my first step into the classroom as a teacher. In order to combat this (still fairly distant) reality, I've made the decision to soak in every resource that's available to me. Education courses? Check. Readings? Check. Advice from fellow teachers, students, and professors alike? ... Maybe check only two of those. I tend to talk with a professor only if I don't understand something on the syllabus. The point is, in the rush to get prepared, I worry that I may fall victim to forgetting the basics, as covered in pages 19-20 of Interweaving Curriculum and Classroom Assessment.

The section Guiding Principles of Assessment talk about how “three key elements of effective assessment practices” are validity, reliability, and fairness. I think that these elements are fairly straightforward in their usefulness for evaluative purposes. Validity, as the author explains, is the “trustworthiness of the judgements” that the teacher makes; reliability is “the degree of consistency” the teacher has; and fairness is making sure that students have an equal chance of success. And the spectrum of marking and evaluation, I can absolutely see how these are useful. But I think that these three values can be applied to almost any other teaching, or even just leadership situation.

A friend of mine, we'll call her Lauren (because that's her name), was listening to a story from her grade 3 teacher. During an aside, this teacher mentioned her nephew, Crandall. And as soon as that name, “Crandall,” left her lips and met Lauren's ears, a smile grew on Lauren's face and a giggle escaped her lungs. Right as the teacher caught on to Lauren laughing at poor Crandall, she responded harshly: “Lauren! Crandall is a normal name!” and, from that point on, Lauren swears that this teacher treated her less favourably. This is also a story we know well. Not only does Lauren bring it up every time the name “Crandall” is mentioned (which, let's be honest, happens all the time, because it's a normal name!). But also because the framework for this story is an unfortunately common one: an unfavourable incident, followed by the assumption that the student was now a target, or at least less favourable.

What's interesting to me was the Snapshot from the Classroom: Improving Reliability (20). The teachers who were trying to mark the assignments from the students, some with years of experience, still found themselves victim to teaching bias while they were marking the assignments. And while the Snapshot did not include unfavourable events (they mentioned that they were considering things like effort and background knowledge), I wonder if there was some truth to Lauren's infamous Crandall claim: that one minor incident left a lasting impression on her marks and her relationship with the teacher overall.

Incidents like this are problematic. I have heard, countless times, where a teacher has apparently 

targeted a student, or doesn't mark their work fairly, or has some sort of personal problem. And for me, the Case Study (Improving Reliability) really struck a chord. Despite these teachers' best efforts and years of expertise, they still fell victim to that old bias trap. And, as the case study explains, some of them even got defensive about it: perhaps an effect of having to justify your grading scheme to some of the students who feel they've been judged poorly. I'm certain that I'll also need to pay attention to my marking scheme, making sure that I'm marking solely on content and not on effort, or a student-by-student basis. I suppose that these teachers could be struggling with marking subjectively based on individual performance, or objectively based on curriculum expectations. So, as an English/Geography teacher, how do I best design assignments that can be graded evenly? Do I create “Yes/No” criteria? Will that limit the students' creativity? How do I even begin to grade creativity? Is originality a curriculum requirement? How do I balance creativity, originality, and government regulations?

Fairness is, and will always be, a priority in my classroom. So will validity and reliability. But my fear is that in an attempt to maintain unquestionable, clear-cut fairness, my ability to cultivate creativity will be diminished by all the red tape teachers and prospective teachers need to adhere to. Do I pull a Dead Poet's Society and have my students rip their copies of Where the Red Fern Grows and The Paper Bag Princess straight down the middle? Or shall I create a black and white, yes/no classroom with no inequality, but no inspiration either? If the answer to both of these is no, how do I create a balance between the two?

In any case, the first Chapter to Interweaving Curriculum and Classroom Assessment certainly got me thinking about the politics and dynamics of even the most fundamental and basic classroom practices. Marking, and the struggle to keep that fair, is just one of the many balancing acts I'm sure teachers will need to deal with.