Do We Underestimate All Learners?

by Lisa Hansel
March 21st, 2014

Last week, Dan Willingham asked if we underestimate our youngest learners. It seems we do, given the research he reviewed showing that seven- and eight-year-olds can understand a concept as complicated as natural selection. Willingham clarifies that, “No one would claim that these children have a complete understanding of natural selection. But they got much farther along in their understanding than I think most would have guessed.” He also noted one way in which it might be easier to teach complex ideas to younger children than to older children: “The authors speculate that … explaining natural selection at a younger age may have worked out so well because they were not old enough to have developed naïve theories of species change; ideas that would become entrenched and potentially make it more difficult to understand natural selection properly.” And he ends with an important question: “whether we do students a disservice if we are too quick to dismiss content as ‘developmentally inappropriate.’”

Almost everything Willingham writes sticks with me, rolling around in the back of my mind. This piece on young children kept coming to mind as I read a couple of articles in the spring American Educator. Could it be that our tendency to underestimate our youngest learners sets us up for a lifetime of underestimation? I think so.

It was a short step from Willingham’s piece to Daisy Christodoulou’s Educator article. Adapted from her book, Seven Myths about Education (now out in paperback), it’s all about how little knowledge is systematically and coherently taught to students:

In 2007, I trained as a teacher and started teaching English in a secondary school in Southeast London that enrolls students between the ages of 11 and 18. One of the first things that struck me when I was teaching was that my pupils seemed to know so little. Even the bright and hard-working pupils seemed to me to have big gaps in their knowledge….

I was born in East London to a working-class family. My father’s parents were immigrants from Italy and Cyprus. My father said that when he was in school as a child in England, he very often felt as though he was on the outside of a conversation. He didn’t know what the conversations were about, and he couldn’t go home and ask his parents because they didn’t know either. He was very determined that I wouldn’t have that experience, and I didn’t want my pupils to have that experience. Middle-class children pick up a lot of knowledge from home, from books, from programs on the radio, and so forth. Working-class children and the children of immigrants don’t always get those advantages. A lot of the pupils I taught were just as bright and hard-working as the pupils at private schools, but they lacked crucial knowledge, and this deficit held them back in their studies….

Too often, people think that teaching knowledge is somehow right wing and elitist. But this isn’t the case. The kind of powerful knowledge that’s in the Core Knowledge curriculum in the United States doesn’t “belong” to any class or culture. The great breakthroughs of civilization were made by a whole range of people from different classes and cultures, and if they belong to anyone, they belong to humanity. Teaching these insights to children isn’t elitist—not teaching them is! …

When we commit facts to long-term memory, they actually become part of our thinking apparatus and have the ability to expand one of the biggest limitations of human cognition…. Long-term memory is capable of storing thousands of facts, and when we have memorized thousands of facts on a specific topic, these facts together form what is known as a “schema.” When we think about that topic, we use that schema. When we meet new facts about that topic, we assimilate them into that schema—and if we already have a lot of facts in that particular schema, it is much easier for us to learn new facts about that topic.

Critics of fact learning will often pull out a completely random fact and say something like, “Who needs to know the date of the Battle of Waterloo? Why does it matter?” Of course, using one fact like this on its own would be rather odd. But the aim of fact learning is not to learn just one fact—it is to learn several hundred, which taken together form a schema that helps you to understand the world. Thus, just learning the date of the Battle of Waterloo will be of limited use. But learning the dates of 150 historical events from 3000 BC to the present day, and learning a couple of key facts about why each event was important, will be of immense use, because it will form the fundamental chronological schema that is the basis of all historical understanding….

Factual knowledge is not in opposition to creativity, problem solving, and analysis. Factual knowledge is closely integrated with these important skills. It allows these skills to happen. In a sense, these important skills are the functions of large bodies of knowledge that have been securely committed to memory.

I don’t know about you, but I’m seeing a devastating double whammy. We start the early years with an unwarranted belief that sophisticated content is developmentally inappropriate. Then, we continue through elementary and secondary grades with the misconception that skills can be developed without extensive knowledge. The result is that we systematically underestimate what our children are capable of learning. Such underestimations seem to become self-fulfilling prophecies, with especially long-lasting, truly harmful consequences for our least-advantaged learners.

With Willingham and Christodoulou on my mind, I dove into the next article in the spring Educator: Jennifer Dubin on the three-week summer institute for K–12 teachers at the Dallas Institute of Humanities and Culture. These institutes—which require teachers to read 2,000 – 3,000 pages of texts like Prometheus Bound, Antigone, Hamlet, Crime and Punishment, and Beloved just to get ready to participate—are described by teachers as “divine” and “some sort of heaven.” In contrast, teachers often complain bitterly about typical professional development. Mind-numbing and time-wasting are descriptions I’ve heard frequently. It seems we’re underestimating our adult learners too.

At the Dallas Institute, teachers aren’t given tools for increasing students’ test scores. Teaching is hardly ever mentioned. Teachers are immersed in many of humanity’s most profound works and are trusted to apply these works to their professional lives in their own ways:

“Teachers work with human material, and the best way traditionally to gain access to human things is through the humanities, which are the foundation of a liberal arts education,” says Claudia Allums, who directs the Summer Institute. But a liberal arts education encompasses more than literature or philosophy or history courses, she says. It’s a particular spirit with which one approaches any discipline. “If a teacher has a broad, strong liberal arts education, then he or she is going to have a broad, strong foundation in human sensibilities. That’s the foundation we believe is important for any teacher’s wisdom.” … “The institute is where you recover what it means to be a teacher.”

It appears to be working. As the article states, “In a survey of participants from 2008 to 2013, nearly 70 percent said the program transformed the way they think about the teaching profession.”

It’s a sad state of affairs to see our education systems continually underestimating their learners, from preschoolers to experienced teachers. Perhaps the Dallas Institute—and teachers everywhere who know the joy of challenging studies—can end such fruitless practices by showing how high they, and their students, can reach.

 

Jan_Cossiers_-_Prometeo_trayendo_el_fuego,_1637

Prometheus courtesy of Wikimedia Commons.

 

Educators: Don’t Assume A Can Opener

by Guest Blogger
March 11th, 2014

By Paul Bruno

Paul Bruno is a middle school science teacher in California. This post originally appeared on his blog: www.paul-bruno.com.

There is a famous joke about the way economists often undermine the usefulness of their conclusions by making too many simplifying assumptions. Here’s one of the older formulations:

There is a story that has been going around about a physicist, a chemist, and an economist who were stranded on a desert island with no implements and a can of food. The physicist and the chemist each devised an ingenious mechanism for getting the can open; the economist merely said, “Assume we have a can opener”!

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(Imaginary can opener courtesy of Shutterstock.)

It’s probably not fair to pick on economists in this way when the abuse of simplifying assumptions is at least as widespread in education.

For instance, arguably the trendiest thing going in education today is ‘grit‘: “the tendency to sustain interest in and effort toward very long-term goals”.

We all agree, I suspect, that a tendency to persevere is desirable, and that we should prefer that students have more of that tendency than less of it. So it is perhaps not surprising that since the term was popularized by researcher Angela Duckworth many teachers and schools have begun reorganizing their work to better promote and instill ‘grit’ in their students.

And yet, here’s Duckworth being interviewed by Alexander Russo last month:

Can you talk about how to teach grit in the classroom?
AI don’t know that anybody’s totally figured out how to teach it: What do you do exactly, even when we do have insights from research? How do you get your teachers to speak in ways that support growth mind-set? That’s why, through a nonprofit I helped cofound called the Character Lab, we’re organizing some lectures for teachers about self-control, grit, and related topics. It’s not totally prescriptive, because the science is still developing.

Not to put too fine a point on it, the world’s leading expert on grit is saying that educators who are substantially altering their work to better teach grit are doing so without much in the way of scientific backing or guidance.

In other words, in their excitement over grit many teachers and school leaders have simply assumed – without justification – that it is a trait that can be taught and that they know how to teach it.

This is by no means a problem limited to grit. Before grit it was “21st century skills“, “social-emotional learning”, “critical thinking”, or “scientific thinking”. What unites these fads is that they all, to varying degrees, suffer from a lack of rigorous scientific evidence indicating that they can be taught at all, let alone that we have reliable ways of teaching them in schools. (“Fluid intelligence” may be next.)

Meanwhile, we have good evidence indicating that schools today are reasonably – if imperfectly – effective at teaching kids the less-glamorous knowledge and skills – e.g., in math, science, and history – that we associate with “traditional” education.

So while it’s a good idea for researchers and educators to experiment with methods for teaching other, “higher-order” or “non-cognitive” abilities, it’s also important to remember that it is probably premature to ask schools to move away from their core competencies if we can’t also give them a clear alternate path forward.

 

We Teach Beauty

by Lisa Hansel
February 27th, 2014

What is the purpose of our public schools? It’s a question some answer quickly—too quickly, and too easily—with “college and career readiness.” I’m not against those things, but they seem to me to set the bar too low, so low that many of our students don’t buy in. It’s all utility, no passion, a monotone call to hop on a conveyor belt toward becoming a worker bee. (I’m not saying that’s what the adults intend, but the teenager in me remembers it that way.)

There is a loftier goal, one that would appeal to many youth but that, sadly and wrongly, tends to be reserved only for our most privileged: classical intellectual and character education—the type of liberal education that opens the door to the highest forms of freedom. This form of education gets the college and career part done by intentionally embedding necessary knowledge and skills in humanity’s enduring questions.

At Ridgeview Classical Schools (a charter with an elementary, a middle, and a high school), the curriculum is so carefully planned that even simple grammar lessons are infused with a higher purpose. I haven’t (yet) had the pleasure of visiting, but I feel like I have after reading a terrific new policy brief on the school by William Gonch. Gonch, with the American Council of Trustees and Alumni, wrote the brief for AEI’s Program on American Citizenship. Here’s Gonch:

One important element of the Ridgeview approach is the way in which texts and assignments are made to do double duty, so that assignments teach grammar and logic while introducing students to profound ideas and artistic beauty. T. O. Moore, the founder and first principal of Ridgeview, describes the way in which the school integrates skills and core knowledge:

A classical education requires more than functional literacy, however. It teaches students high standards of grammar, precision in word choice, and eloquence. Throughout his education, the student will be exposed to the highest examples of eloquence attained by the greatest writers in the language.

“. . . I come to bury Caesar, not to praise him.” Shakespeare

“These are the times that try men’s souls.” Paine

These sentences are entirely grammatical. They could just as easily be used to teach grammar as “I come to help Jane, not to hurt her.” By preferring Shakespeare to an anonymous “See Jane” sentence we teach three things rather than one. We teach grammar. We teach cultural literacy. We also teach beauty. Our purpose is to introduce students to the masters of the language so they will begin to emulate them.

Actually, that’s just one of their purposes. As Gonch explains, Ridgeview uses Socratic, discussion-based classes in which “students spend their time interpreting texts and interrogating arguments and assumptions.” In K–8, its curriculum is guided by the Core Knowledge Sequence, and throughout K–12, the “Hirschean idea that Americans are defined by certain shared ideas and ideals, and that a school is the main vehicle for passing on those ideas, is central to Ridgeview’s understanding of civic education.”

Education for freedom is invigorating, but not easy. As readers of this blog know well, the critical thinking it takes to interrogate a text depends on having extensive relevant knowledge. Ridgeview’s curriculum is intentionally designed to build that knowledge starting in the early grades:

Ridgeview’s faculty have designed their curriculum as a coherent whole; ideas and approaches that are introduced when students are six or eight years old are developed, expanded, and drawn into increasing complexity as students turn 12, 14, or 18. One parent described this as a “cycling back process:” the curriculum introduces young children to a simple form of an idea, an intellectual method, or a story, and then brings it back recurrently in increasingly complex forms. A student might read a picture book of Greek myths in first grade, Edith Hamilton’s Mythology in sixth grade, and Euripides’s Medea in ninth….

The climax of the Ridgeview experience comes when students write their senior theses. The thesis is a 25–32 page research paper that asks students to sum up and reflect on their education. Students often describe the paper’s question as “What is the meaning of life?” or “What is the good life?” Students draw on texts that they have read throughout their schooling, especially the landmarks of their 11th­ and 12th­grade literature classes: The Scarlett Letter, Huckleberry Finn, Moby Dick, The Apology of Socrates, Nietzsche’s Thus Spoke Zarathustra, Crime and Punishment, and Heart of Darkness.

Because the thesis is the climax of students’ work, students begin thinking about it early in high school. Whether or not they talk about it explicitly, they know that the questions they ask about the nature of honor in the Iliad, the law of consciousness in Emerson’s Self-Reliance, or the nature of the American political community in Lincoln’s Gettysburg Address will return in their final papers and that they will have to draw from those texts a theory of the good life that they can defend before their parents and peers….

But the senior thesis, the final product of a self-conscious community of inquiry, might be the most individual thing that any student does. John Herndon, a high school history teacher who frequently advises thesis writers, urges students to address the question by asking, “Given everything I’ve seen in my education up until this point, what can I actually put stock in?” Students … have read Augustine and Plato but also Nietzsche and Joseph Conrad’s Heart of Darkness. Necessarily they must pick and choose, rejecting some texts (at least partly), while making others their own. And they must do it in full view: Herndon says that, standing in front of their peers and fielding questions from their teachers, “They can’t hide anymore.”

As a result, students have a unique freedom to interrogate their own lives and experiences.

If there were one thing I wish all educators would understand about classical education, it is the dedication to questioning. All too often, I see specific traditional content derided as indoctrination. But I never comprehend this point of view. It seems to me that all of the works that have stood the test of time push readers to question themselves, to juxtapose ideas, to see that things are never as simple as they may seem, to see that a good life is one of striving toward ideals, not meeting concrete goals. I understand and agree with those who say traditional content alone is too narrow, that students benefit from more recent and varied perspectives. That’s a yesterday-plus-today approach that can create great challenges for students. It stands in stark contrast to those who wish to toss yesterday out of the curriculum, to leave students anchorless, without the power to use longstanding questions and ideals to keep pushing humanity to better itself.

“We teach grammar. We teach cultural literacy. We also teach beauty.” Now that’s a Core Knowledge school!

Ridgeview

Ridgeview’s homepage. Seems far more gripping than “Where Will You Work Someday?”

Knowledge Is Sticky Stuff

by Lisa Hansel
February 20th, 2014

Earlier this week, I highlighted a terrific new book, Make It Stick: The Science of Successful Learning. Today’s post is a short follow-up to point out just how sticky Core Knowledge’s approach is.

By intentionally introducing topics in early grades and then deepening and extending knowledge of those topics in later grades, Core Knowledge exemplifies several of the highly effective practices explained in Make It Stick. Lucky us, we get to see them at work in Heidi Cole’s second grade classroom using Core Knowledge Language Arts.

In this 5-minute video, we see Cole engaging her students in the last read-aloud in the Early Asian Civilizations domain. It’s about the Chinese New Year, and it gives students an opportunity to recall what they learned about the phases of the moon in their first-grade Astronomy domain.

 

Cole Chinese New Year Fall 2013

Click here to watch 5 minutes of Cole’s read-aloud on the Chinese New Year.

 

As you watch, you’ll see six well-established methods for learning, all of which are explained in Make It Stick:

1) Retrieval practice: Recalling information strengthens memory. Cole pauses her read-aloud to give students time to share what they recall about the phases of the moon.

2) Feedback: Retrieval works even better with feedback; accurate memories are reinforced, while failed or inaccurate recall is corrected. Cole engages students in conversation, asks questions, and provides feedback about the moon.

3) Spaced-out practice: Having time pass between recall and feedback sessions results in longer lasting memories than cramming. This example with the phases of the moon is just one of hundreds of instances in which information is intentionally repeated and expanded within and across domains in CKLA.

4) Prior learning: As stated in Make It Stick, “all new learning requires a foundation of prior knowledge.” For Cole’s students growing up in rural North Carolina, the Chinese New Year is likely a totally new concept. The read-aloud makes it easier to learn about by comparing the Chinese New Year with New Year’s Eve celebrations that are more common in America. In addition, drawing on their knowledge of the moon helps them make sense of a celebration that is wonderfully different from their personal experiences.

5) Elaboration: Discussing new information in your own words and connecting it to things you already know makes learning more efficient and longer lasting. Cole engages her students in elaboration by frequently pausing during the read-aloud to ask them questions.

6) Larger context: Similar to prior learning and elaboration, being able to tie something new to a larger context with which you’re already familiar facilitates learning. The key here is that the larger your store of information is—i.e., the larger the context you already have in memory—the more you learn. Cole’s read-aloud is not an isolated exercise; it is embedded in the much larger context of the many history and science domains that build on each other. By the time Cole’s students begin the third-grade domain Astronomy: Our Solar System and Beyond, they will have a rich scientific and cultural understanding of the moon. That larger context will be sticky indeed, making the new information much easier to learn.

 

UPDATE: For those who would like to see more of Heidi Cole’s read-aloud, here’s a 33-minute video.

 

Memory Is the Mother of All Wisdom

by Lisa Hansel
February 18th, 2014

Aeschylus’s pearl, “Memory is the mother of all wisdom,” is the epigraph to a profoundly important new book: Make It Stick: The Science of Successful Learning by Peter C. Brown, Henry L. Roediger, III, and Mark A. McDaniel.

It’s extremely rare to find a book that everyone should read, but Make It Stick deserves such praise. You could consider it a book of cognitive psychology or education policy—I think it might be the ultimate self-help guide.

Facts, skills, concepts, knowhow—Make It Stick will make you more efficient and effective in every aspect of learning. It’ll even boost your perseverance. And if you follow its advice, soon your critical thinking, problem solving, and creativity will improve, since these are knowledge-driven skills.

Throughout the book, stories—like a mid-flight engine failure—are used to explain well-established findings—like the necessity of practicing in realistic settings. From a struggling medical student, we learn that rereading and highlighting are not effective studying techniques, though they are often the only techniques students know. And from baseball players and math students, we learn the importance of “interleaved” practice—practicing with a mix of pitches or problems so that you not only have to hit the ball or solve the problem, you have to figure out what type of pitch or problem is coming at you.

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Curveball courtesy of Shutterstock.

One highly effective way to learn is with “retrieval practice,” which boils down to quizzing. Quizzing yourself as you read, using flashcards, taking classroom quizzes—anything that dredges your memory. Retrieval practice is explored through multiple stories, including one middle school that opened its doors and minds to the benefits of storing facts in long-term memory:

In 2005, we and our colleagues approached Roger Chamberlain, the principal of a middle school in nearby Columbia, Illinois, with a proposition. The positive effects of retrieval practice had been demonstrated many times in controlled laboratory settings but rarely in a regular classroom setting. Would the principal, teachers, kids, and parents of Columbia Middle School be willing subjects in a study to see how the testing effect would work “in the wild”?

Chamberlain had concerns. If this was just about memorization, he wasn’t especially interested. His aim is to raise the school’s students to higher forms of learning—analysis, synthesis, and application, as he put it. And he was concerned about his teachers, an energetic faculty he was loath to disrupt. On the other hand, the study’s results could be instructive….

A sixth grade social studies teacher, Patrice Bain, was eager to give it a try…. The study would be minimally intrusive by fitting within existing curricula, lesson plans, test formats, and teaching methods. The same textbooks would be used. The only difference in the class would be the introduction of occasional short quizzes. The study would run for three semesters (a year and a half), through several chapters of the social studies textbook, covering topics such as ancient Egypt, Mesopotamia, India, and China….

For the six social studies classes a research assistant … designed a series of quizzes that would test students on roughly one-third of the material covered by the teacher…. The teacher excused herself from the classroom for each quiz so as to remain unaware of which material was being tested….

There was concern that if students tested better in the final exam on material that had been quizzed than on material not quizzed, it could be argued that the simple act of reexposing them to the material in the quizzes was responsible for the superior learning, not the retrieval practice. To counter this possibility, some of the nonquizzed material was interspersed with the quizzed material, provided as simple review statements, like “The Nile River has two major tributaries: the White Nile and the Blue Nile,” with no retrieval required. The facts were quizzed for some classes but just restudied for others.

The quizzes took just a few minutes of classroom time…. [Afterward, correct answers] were revealed, so as to provide feedback and correct errors….

Unit exams were the normal pencil-and-paper tests given by the teacher. Exams were also given at the end of the semester and at the end of the year….

The results were compelling: The kids scored a full grade level higher on the material that had been quizzed than on the material that had not been quizzed. Moreover, test results for the materials that had been reviewed as statements of fact but not quizzed were no better than those for the nonreviewed material…..

In 2007, the research was extended to eighth grade science classes, covering genetics, evolution, and anatomy. The regimen was the same, and the results equally impressive. At the end of three semesters, the eighth graders averaged 79 percent (C+) on the science material that had not been quizzed, compared to 92 percent (A-) on the material that had been quizzed….

What about Principal Roger Chamberlain’s initial concerns about practice quizzing at Columbia Middle School—that it might be nothing more than a glorified path to rote learning?

When we asked him this question after the study was completed, he paused for a moment to gather his thoughts. “What I’ve really gained a comfort level with is this: for the kids to be able to evaluate, synthesize, and apply a concept in different settings, they’re going to be much more efficient at getting there when they have the base of knowledge and the retention, so they’re not wasting time trying to go back and figure out what the word might mean or what that concept was about. It allows them to go to a higher level.”

Knowledge does indeed enable thinking at a higher level. As Make It Stick points out, switching from ineffective to highly effective instructional and studying techniques can be done right away, at very little cost, and with great benefits.

 

History: Taught Poorly or too Little?

by Lisa Hansel
January 13th, 2014

It’s one of those days when Jaywalking, Leno’s bit on the street that often pokes fun at ignorance, is worrying me. I have to remind myself that he probably has to stop a lot of people to get those silly answers to basic questions like “What is the name of the ship the Pilgrims came over on?”, that people must be nervous, and that the bit would not be funny if the audience (i.e., millions of people) did not know the answers.

Still, why does the bit resonate? Because there are far too many people who really don’t know basic facts. It’s easy to chuckle, but hard to stop worrying about them and their children.

Apparently readers of Education Week are worried too. As I was catching up on my end-of-year reading, I was surprised to see that a piece on students’ lack of history knowledge was #2 in a list of the 10 most-viewed Ed Week commentaries of 2013. The author, Vicky Schippers, claims that we’re teaching history wrong—as “a litany of disconnected names, dates, and events to be memorized before an exam” instead of as “a study of struggles, setbacks, and victories.” If that’s true, it’s a shame. I see history as a fascinating web of stories, and I’ve purposefully memorized key names, dates, and events to help anchor those stories in time and place—and to reveal connections.

Schippers, who tutors students, focuses on a dedicated young man struggling to pass the history regents’ exam in New York so he can get his diploma:

What astonishes me about Tony, as it does about any of my students, is how little he knows about the world. The five or six blocks he travels between his home, school, and work circumscribe his entire life….

When we first started to study together, Tony, like all my students, had no sense of U.S. presidents, the sequence of wars in which the United States has been involved, the U.S. Constitution and the structure of government, and the central issues over which our democracy has struggled since we separated from England more than two centuries ago.

He knew the name Abraham Lincoln, but drew a blank when I asked him which war Lincoln was associated with. He was unfamiliar with Adolf Hitler and the Holocaust. Segregation and civil rights were not concepts he could articulate.

Is that Lincoln crossing the Delaware? If your exposure were limited to the six blocks around your home, how would you know?

It could be that all of Tony’s history classes consisted of terribly boring facts that Tony decided not to memorize. But I’d guess that at least some of Tony’s teachers delivered the facts along with the struggles and stories—and I’d guess that Tony’s listening and reading comprehension were too limited to follow along. Rather than making a spectacle of himself with strings of clarifying questions, Tony probably sat in the back of the class, with confusion understandably leading to disengagement.

With Schippers tutoring him, in contrast, Tony asks questions. Schippers doesn’t have a full class to handle; she answers each question directly, making connections between Tony’s life and the content he needs to learn. She’s clearly helping him—but we should ask: What could have been done to prevent Tony from needing a tutor?

Schippers could be right that Tony got very unlucky with his history teachers. But I have reason to believe that there’s more than one cause of his devastating lack of knowledge. I’d bet that Tony received little to no history instruction in elementary school, leaving him with little to no historical knowledge and vocabulary, and little to no chance of comprehending history classes in later grades.

Consider this table from the Report of 2012 National Survey of Science and Mathematics Education:

Average Number of Minutes per Day Spent Teaching Each Subject in Self-Contained Classes, by Grades

Number of Minutes

Grades K-3

Grades 4-6

Reading/Language Arts

89

83

Mathematics

54

61

Science

19

24

Social Studies

16

21

(Source: Report of 2012 National Survey of Science and Mathematics Education, Chapter 4, Table 4.2, page 54.)

One to two hours per week on social studies between kindergarten and sixth grade?! That’s shockingly low—but Tony could have had even less since these are averages.

In the 2010 NAEP Civics assessment, teachers of fourth graders were asked how much time they spent on social studies each week. Three percent reported spending 30 minutes or less per week; another eighteen percent reported 30 – 60 minutes per week.

So maybe Tony doesn’t know any history not because it wasn’t taught well in secondary school, but because it wasn’t taught at all in elementary school.

 

Part 2: The High Cost of Ignorance

Dear Chancellor Fariña

by Lisa Hansel
January 7th, 2014

Congratulations on your new post! Education is a calling—one you’ve heard loud and clear. New York City’s educators will benefit from having a leader who understands the uniquely caring and collaborative nature of their work.

Of all the things I’ve read about your return to NYC’s schools, I find your commitment to joy most striking and welcome. In particular, I appreciate the choice of the word joy. Unlike mere fun, joy is fun plus a sense of accomplishment and independent mastery. Joy is often experienced while working toward a goal—especially when the challenge is real and progress is evident. Could there be a better path to lifelong learning than a rigorous and joyful preschool – 12th grade education?

As you have no doubt seen, the absence of joyful, rigorous learning is one of the saddest features of so many schools that serve our most disadvantaged youth. Children start kindergarten lacking the necessary knowledge and skills. Teachers start the year lacking the necessary supports. Frustration reigns.

To bring joy into such an environment, we have to meet the children where they are and very quickly give them everything they need to tackle grade-level work without fear.

I ask you to think of Core Knowledge Language Arts (CKLA) from this perspective.  It does not assume children arrive with reading skills or large vocabularies. It does not privilege those who have been read to at home. It teaches reading and writing skills in a logical, step-by-step manner that prevents frustration. From the very beginning, it also engages children in the wonders of the world—fictional, historical, and scientific—as their teachers read aloud texts carefully developed to give everyone a strong, broad foundation for later learning.

Visit a CKLA classroom, and you will see joyful, rigorous learning. Here’s how Christina Tracy, of Goldie Maple Academy (PS 333) describes it:

Core Knowledge curriculum provides great enrichment for all levels. I have been a teacher in the NYC Board of Education for seven years. I feel blessed that I entered a school where the Core Knowledge curriculum was being implemented. As an early childhood professional for twenty years, my hesitation was there. But once I started teaching the Core Knowledge curriculum I was overwhelmed with amazement at the ability of first graders who were able and eager to grasp the topics of the program. Going back in time to Ancient Egypt happens to be one of the first graders’ favorites. Learning about the Tutankhamen and Hatshepsut intrigued them to be curious and think about life during that time. Exposing students early in their education career only builds their knowledge which in return builds their confidence. Some of the best compliments are when a parent reveals their first grader is educating them. There are so many great topics in the Core Knowledge curriculum that entices a teacher’s creativity. As educators we know students thrive on knowledge and when exposed to profound topics early in life this helps them build their critical thinking skills and their curiosity to learn. In addition, I feel our school is one step ahead with the Common Core Learning Standards because of the enriched curriculum of Core Knowledge.

Jena Peluso, one of Tracy’s colleagues, capitalized on her students’ enthusiasm and NYC’s resources to deepen her students’ knowledge and joy: “Last year I visited the Museum of Natural History with my first grade students, and as we were walking through the ancient Egyptian exhibit in the museum, the students were amazed that they were getting to see things in person that they were learning about all month. Not only were the students amazed, but other museum goers and tourists were amazed at the rich vocabulary that was coming out of these little six year olds’ mouths. The students were able to recognize everything from the Sphinx to the sarcophagus, it was truly rewarding as a teacher to see this happening as a result of teaching this rigorous curriculum.”

Your expertise is in middle school, which is often the most difficult part of the educational journey, and you’ve said that you intend to spend this first year focused on the middle years. As you spend time in the city’s middle schools, I have a two favors to ask.

First, please consider what students need to know and be able to do as they enter middle school. What do sixth graders need to be able to write poems, participate in history research projects, and conduct science experiments? Reading, writing, critical thinking, and problem solving skills for sure—but how are those cultivated? By building knowledge and skills together. Every topic sixth graders need to think about is a topic they must know about. Sixth graders need to be able to read and write fluently so they can devote their working memory to comprehension and composition. They need to have large academic vocabularies so they don’t struggle to understand primary and secondary sources. They need broad knowledge and skills. They need effective (joyfully rigorous) and efficient (intentionally gap closing) elementary schools.

Second, sometime this spring, please visit some Core Knowledge schools. I’ll be happy to arrange tours for you.

(The joy of reading courtesy of Shutterstock.)

 

Miracle on High Street

by Lisa Hansel
December 19th, 2013

2013 has been a miraculous year for the folks at 801 E. High Street, the beautiful old house that the Core Knowledge Foundation calls home.

Core Knowledge Language Arts went from a pilot program to a major model for Common Core implementation. E. D. Hirsch’s ideas—and, more importantly, the research supporting them—earned a new audience. Plus, the need to close the vocabulary gap gained a prominent champion (as well as several close allies).

Just when we thought it couldn’t get any better, last week was phenomenal. I can’t rank order the events, so I’ll go in chronological order.

First, the Albert Shanker Institute hosted a forum on “The Word Gap & the Common Core” in which Susan Neuman hammered home the need to systematically build knowledge and vocabulary in early childhood. As I wrote over at the Shanker Blog, Neuman kicked off with the perfect metaphor: Words are just the tip of the iceberg. The concepts and knowledge—and the opportunities to acquire them—are underneath the words. In just 15 minutes (which you can watch online), Neuman explained that the vocabulary gap is actually a knowledge gap and set forth a clear path for closing it. Spoiler alert: the research only provides one way to do it—grouping challenging texts by topic and immersing young children in those texts though read-alouds and meaningful conversations. Sounds familiar.

Second, Michael Petrilli went for the hard sell on Core Knowledge in the New York Daily News. Writing to NYC’s mayor-elect Bill de Blasio, Petrilli was blissfully blunt:

As scholar and Core Knowledge creator E.D. Hirsch, Jr. has argued for 30 years — and as more recent cognitive science has confirmed — knowledge is the building block of literacy. Once students learn to “decode” the English language, their ability to comprehend what they read is all about what they know….

The job of elementary schools, then, should be to systematically build students’ content knowledge in important areas like history, geography, civics, science, art, music and literature. Yet most elementary schools (nationwide — not just in New York) are content-free wastelands….

Bloomberg’s Department of Education has listed Core Knowledge as one of the model curricula for New York City teachers to consider as they transition to the new standards.

De Blasio should go even further. If he wants to be bold, he might urge all city elementary schools to adopt Core Knowledge.

Third—proof that good things come in threes—Joel Klein said that “The best parts of the Common Core are tethered to Core Knowledge.” (See for yourself!) Speaking with David Steiner in a forum at the CUNY Institute for Education Policy, Klein was candid about his tenure as NYC schools chancellor. He regrets that at the beginning, he did not know how important it is to build knowledge and vocabulary in the early grades. But after doing some reading, especially Sol Stern’s powerful critiques, Klein said he reached out to E. D. Hirsch. Klein’s pilot study of Core Knowledge Language Arts (CKLA) was soon underway, with the CKLA schools consistently outperforming the comparison schools. CKLA is now being recognized as a model for the type of curriculum called for by the Common Core standards: one that “is intentionally and coherently structured to develop rich content knowledge within and across grades.”

Klein expects that to have a “national impact.” We’ll keep working to make sure his words ring true in 2014.

 

When Old Is New: Lessons from China

by Lisa Hansel
November 13th, 2013

Working with E. D. Hirsch has many perks. The best is that he’s a very generous teacher. His remarks are peppered with cultural references, and he seems happiest when I ask about one (or many) that I don’t quite get.

The second-best perk is that he is asked to speak at far too many events, leaving me as the occasional surrogate. It’s an impossible—and incredibly fun—task, especially the one-week adventure I just had in China.

Thanks to Professor Wenfan Yan of University of Massachusetts Boston, China’s New Education Association (a group of reform-oriented teachers, administrators, and professors) is interested in developing a Core Knowledge Sequence for China. I had the great pleasure of giving a couple of presentations at its International Summit on New Education in Chengdu.

Like the sign in the Beijing airport that reads “Generic Shop,” I’m sure much was lost in translation. But the ideas and initiatives that came through are remarkable.

Like the Core Knowledge Foundation, the New Education Association is dedicated to reducing inequities in children’s educational opportunities, both at school and at home. Everyone interested in school improvement is aware of Shanghai’s spectacular results, and the fact that those results are far from typical. There are enormous disparities between the high-income urban centers and the low-income rural areas. The New Education Association is trying to develop approaches that will help all students.

Their plan: get everyone reading. Get teachers reading to improve their content and pedagogical knowledge. Get parents reading for their own sake and to act as role models for their children. Get children reading at least 30 minutes each day.

Seems pretty simple, until you understand just how severe the resource deprivation is in many rural areas. Small farming villages tend not to have libraries; in some areas, books are downright scarce. But the New Education Association is not merely lamenting the problem. It has opened more than 40 libraries so far, and has a goal of opening 81 in the near future. Meanwhile, it has started a mobile book program, led book drives to give thousands of books to farmers’ children, and encouraged schools to put far more of their resources into their libraries.

In a visit to Chengdu Jinli Primary School, I saw the fruits of this effort. The principal, Li Tong, pointed out that the library is the biggest room in the school. It’s also the warmest and most welcoming. After school, students waiting to be picked up could play outside or head to the library; there were almost as many reading as running around.

Reading is great. Having access to a wide assortment of books is critical. Still, I was hoping for more.

Throughout the summit, I fidgeted about trying to find a polite way to ask what, exactly, children are being encouraged to read. At the very end of the summit, I got an answer—in Mandarin. Two booklets were placed in my hands: One recommends 100 books that all primary school students (grades 1 – 6, ages 7 – 12) should read; the other is a guide for parents to encourage and support their children as they read.

Fortunately, many of the book covers are shown. Even though I can only read a fraction of the titles, I’m delighted with what I see:

  • Grimm’s Fairy Tales
  • The Adventures of Pinocchio
  • The Magic School Bus
  • Chinese Fairy Tales
  • The Secret of the Magic Gourd
  • Hans Christian Andersen’s Fairy Tales
  • The Adventures of Alice in Wonderland
  • Peter Pan
  • Greek Fairy Tales
  • Charlotte’s Web
  • The Adventures of Tom Sawyer
  • A Journey to the Center of the Earth

From the cover art, I can say with confidence that there are also books on science experiments, earthquakes, insects, and pandas.

Many of the covers have beautiful, traditional Chinese brush paintings. I’m told that these books contain older Chinese works—many of which were passed down orally for generations—and that a big part of this effort is to ensure widespread, shared knowledge of China’s cultural heritage. More than a few of the group’s leaders mentioned their appreciation for Hirsch’s The Making of Americans. I think we can expect The Making of the Chinese soon.

At Chengdu Jinli Primary School, there are 42 students squeezed into each class; teachers make do with old furniture and technology (middle). The library, in contrast, is bright and cheerful, with an inviting tree at the entrance (top). At Chengdu Zongbei Middle School, the library spills into open walkways (bottom). Round bookshelves and seats have been built around several massive columns; they not only invite reading, the posters covering the seat backs have short biographies of great writers, including Miguel de Cervantes, Ernest Hemingway, and Hans Christian Andersen.

Grant Wiggins Doesn’t Quite Understand E. D. Hirsch

by Guest Blogger
October 16th, 2013

By Harry Webb

This post originally appeared on Webs of Substance, a blog on educational research.

In his latest blog post, Grant Wiggins expresses his frustration at the recent writings of E. D. Hirsch, Jr. It is unsurprising that Wiggins would be irritated by Hirsch: Since the publication of Cultural Literacy in 1987, Hirsch has been an annoyance to the education establishment, particularly in the US. And now, with the adoption of the Hirsch’s Core Knowledge curriculum by many new charter schools, American education can no longer marginalize Hirsch’s message. His star is in the ascendant.

Of all the logical fallacies, the Straw Man seems to be Wiggins’ favorite. He mentions it three times in the blog post and again in response to comments. The Straw Man that Wiggins thinks he has detected is the idea that there are people who will deny the role of factual knowledge in reading comprehension. Indeed, Wiggins asks, “Would Hirsch please quote someone who does deny it, instead of setting up his straw man?”

A Straw Man

A Straw Man

I have said before that I don’t know of anyone who would outright condemn the acquisition of all forms of knowledge. The game is played much more subtly than that. Instead, the role of knowledge acquisition is diminished. It is made to seem inferior to other goals of education such as training in skills of various forms. It is this that I understand Hirsch to be unhappy about.

Wiggins targets Hirsch’s use of assertions. However, Hirsch does draw upon some evidence to support his claims. The amount of time, for instance, that has been given over to English Language Arts instruction increased with the introduction the NCLB act and without a transformative effect on reading proficiency. And this increase has come at the cost of subjects such as social studies, science, art and music. Hirsch’s view is that instruction in specific reading skills and strategies has limited effect on improving reading. He views the acquisition of broad background knowledge is far more important and this view certainly has some support from the realm of cognitive science.

This means that, according to Hirsch, the NCLB-led distortion of the curriculum is doubly dangerous. Not only is it likely to lead to redundant skill-based reading instruction in those additional English Language Arts lessons, it will also cut the exposure to content knowledge in social studies, science, art and music. So, you see, I think that Hirsch has a point.

I have read The Knowledge Deficit by Hirsch and I am attracted to his thesis on how we have arrived at this point. To paraphrase, Hirsch thinks that the educational establishment decided that the mere transmission of knowledge was not a suitable goal of education. However, once this goal is removed then another has to be found. Hirsch views this as the reason for a focus on transferable skills such as reading comprehension skills or higher-order thinking skills. If these skills can be identified and taught then we have a new role for education.

I am attracted to Hirsch’s thesis because it chimes with my own experience. In the very first lecture at my school of education, I was introduced to a misreading of Plutarch, the gist of which was to warn us all that we were not to see our role as to fill-up students with knowledge. Ever since, this has been reinforced in many and varied ways; I have even attended an education research conference where speaker after speaker derided  ”transmission” teaching as if we would all accept this perspective without question. No, you will not find anyone who will completely deny the role of factual knowledge in reading or any other endeavor; to do so would be absurd. However, you will find plenty who will downplay it.

In fact, this is exactly what Wiggins and his co-author Jay McTighe do in their book, Understanding by Design.

“To know which fact to use when requires more than another fact. It requires understanding – insight into essentials, purposes, audience, strategy, and tactics. Drill and direct instruction can develop discrete skills and facts into automaticity (knowing “by heart”), but they cannot make us truly able.”

There is much to unpack here. Knowledge is reduced to facts and facts, by definition, have to be disconnected and known “by heart” or without understanding. Understanding comes not from acquiring more knowledge – the facts that link the facts – but by some spookier kind of thing; insight. Finally, drill and direct instruction cannot make us truly able.

The first thing to note is that this is a string of assertions. I have not removed the footnotes when quoting this passage; there simply aren’t any. At a minimum, the point about direct instruction requires support. I am aware of no evidence that direct instruction leads to an inferior form of learning than any other approach, despite the many researchers who would like to demonstrate it. I suspect that the evidence is not quoted because there is no evidence.

In the same chapter, Wiggins and McTighe go on to draw-up a table to distinguish “knowledge” from “understanding,” just in case we were not clear. Knowledge is “the facts” whereas understanding is “the meaning of the facts.” This is a little odd; can we not know the meaning of the facts? Further, knowledge is, “a body of coherent facts” whereas understanding is, “the ‘theory’ that provides coherence and meaning to those facts.” The coup de grace is in the final pair of statements; knowledge is, “I respond on cue with what I know” whereas understanding is, “I judge when to and when not to use what I know.”

Clearly, understanding is a superior kind of thing to knowledge. Knowledge just consists of a discrete series of facts that children bark on cue, probably in the context of some dismal drill- or direct-instruction-based lesson. It is easy to see why teachers would not want to focus on the acquisition of knowledge if we are going to define it in these terms.

Of course, Wiggins is not alone in these views. Even back in 1916, Cubberley made a similar contrast in “Public School Administration.” According to Diane Ravitch:

“When it came to the curriculum, he authoritatively contrasted two approaches: One was ‘the knowledge curriculum’ which he described in highly pejorative terms: ‘Facts, often of no particular importance themselves, are taught, memorized and tested for, to be forgotten as soon as the school-grade need for them has passed.’ The opposite of this dreary approach was ‘the development type of course,’ in which ‘knowledge is conceived of as a life experience and inner conviction and not as the memorization of the accumulated knowledge of the past,’ Using the latter approach, school would change from a place in which children prepare for life by learning traditional subjects to one in which children live life.”

So, you see, the tradition of devaluing knowledge, of denying that understanding is a form of knowledge, of linking knowledge to pure rote learning; this is an old tradition.

In this context, I am glad that there is someone like Hirsch out there, arguing for the value of content knowledge. His is a perfectly valid argument that needs to be more widely heard.