Can Early Language Development Promote Children’s Psychological Wellbeing?

by Guest Blogger
May 28th, 2014

By Esther Quintero

Esther Quintero is a senior research fellow at the Albert Shanker Institute. This post first appeared on the Shanker Blog.

We know oral language is young children’s door into the world of knowledge and ideas, the foundation for reading, and the bedrock of all academic learning. But, can language also protect young kids against behavioral problems?

A number of studies have identified a co-occurrence of language delays and behavioral maladjustment, an association that remains after controlling for socio-demographic characteristics and academic achievement (here and here). However, most research on the issue has been cross-sectional and correlational making it hard to establish whether behavioral issues cause language delays, language delays cause behavioral issues, or another factor is responsible for both.

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Image courtesy of Shutterstock.

recent paper by Marc Bornstein, Chun-Shin Hahn, and Joan Suwalsky (2013) was able to shed some light on these questions concluding that “language competencies in early childhood keep behavioral adjustment problems at bay.” This is important given the fact that minority children raised in poverty tend to have smaller than average vocabularies and are also overrepresented in pre-K expulsions and suspensions.

Bornstein, Hahn, and Suwalsky examined several competing explanations using path analysis, a statistical method used to determine whether or not a data set fits well with a previously specified causal model. Path analysis is not intended to prove a causal relationship (although it can disprove one), but it illuminates chains of influence (or the sequence in which several dependent variables may shape a dependent measure).

The study analyzed two longitudinal cohorts of children looking at developmental pathways between children’s language skills and their behavioral adjustment in terms of internalizing (e.g., withdrawal, anxiety, self-consciousness, shyness) and externalizing (e.g., defiance, impulsivity, disruptiveness, aggression) behavior problems. The authors found strong evidence that weak early childhood language skills can predict later internalizing behavior problems.

The general cascading pattern observed in both cohorts indicated that language proficiency in early childhood affected behavioral adjustment in late childhood, which in turn contributed to behavioral adjustment in early adolescence. Framed in the positive, young children who are more competent verbally have fewer internalizing behavior problems later.

Links between language skills and behavior issues were documented, even after controlling for broad individual and family characteristics (i.e. poverty, nonverbal intelligence, aspects of mothers’ and children’s environments).

Importantly, “internalizing and externalizing behavior problems never predicted language.” The latter is interesting because we often talk about how children’s social-emotional development prepares them to be “ready to learn.” These findings, however, suggest that learning itself – i.e., oral language development – helps to strengthen young children’s socio-emotional development.

“But what is it about language that keeps some behavioral adjustment problems at bay?” – the authors ask.

Language is multidimensional, with receptive and expressive phonological, semantic, syntactic, and pragmatic components. We do not know exactly which language competencies or what about language competencies in early childhood keep behavioral adjustment problems at bay. This is a question for future research.

Finally, some of the study’s limitations: (1) a small sample size; (2) some generalizability concerns due to the characteristics of the sample and; (3) the possibility that relevant child characteristics (such as temperament) were not considered by the models.

The study is important because it suggests that “programs aimed at improving child language may also promote their psychological wellbeing” and that “an early focus on language may therefore yield a high return on investment in strategically timed and targeted interventions designed to ameliorate or obviate behavioral problems.”

In Memoriam

by Lisa Hansel
May 21st, 2014

Memorial Day weekend is my favorite few days of the year. I surround myself with friends and family, and I’ve got the whole summer ahead. But even though I gladly partake in typical beer and burger festivities, there are always quiet moments when I wish more of us—including me—devoted more of our holiday to remembering. Remembering is a form of honoring, and that is the very least that those who have given everything to our nation deserve.

Last week I described Core Knowledge as education for liberation, a P–8 extension of the liberal arts idea. With a Core Knowledge education, one of the many wonderful things a person can choose to do is remember. Because I remember the sacrifices of American service members, I smile nonstop through Memorial Day weekend. I smile knowing that our founders (all of them, not just the Founding Fathers) hung together, not apart. I smile for the Union, which nudged our nation closer to its ideals.  For those who defeated tyranny and dictatorship. For those who died trying to bring the freedoms we take for granted to others. I smile when I think of what could be, but for today’s service members; you’ll see me grinning when I’m stuck in traffic to honor those who enable me, a woman, to drive.

If I’m not smiling, it’s because I’m worried about all the young people who are not getting a knowledge-filled, liberal arts education. What does Memorial Day mean to them? I’m sure most youth have a general understanding, but is that enough? Not for me. To honor soldiers’ sacrifices, we must remember the details of what they were fighting for, why, where, under what conditions, against what odds. Research shows that most of our youth do not know these things. On the most recent National Assessment of Educational Progress in U.S. History, 55% of 12th graders scored below basic. Lest you think that’s a high bar, here’s now the basic level is described:

Twelfth-grade students performing at the Basic level should be able to identify the significance of many people, places, events, dates, ideas, and documents in U.S. history. They should also recognize the importance of unity and diversity in the social and cultural history of the United States and have an awareness of America’s changing relationships with the rest of the world. They should have a sense of continuity and change in history and be able to relate relevant experience from the past to their understanding of contemporary issues. They should recognize that history is subject to interpretation and should understand the role of evidence in making a historical argument.

That most students—even as they are becoming eligible to vote, be jurors, and join our armed forces—are not performing at this level is shameful.

 

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Gettysburg national cemetery courtesy of Wikimedia Commons.

 

The Common Core standards for English language arts and literacy are designed to diminish such ignorance. But they call for greater knowledge for the sake of increasing reading comprehension, not for the sake of remembering; a close reading of Lincoln’s Second Inaugural Address won’t suffice. A more reasonable place to turn is social studies standards. Sadly, the hodgepodge of documents I find (including a damning review of state standards, a proprietary set of national standards, and a new inquiry framework) only shows me why students know so little history. Inquiring may or may not result in learning. The quality of the questions and the rigor of the responses both matter.

Core Knowledge students know that a “house divided against itself cannot stand” (Sequence p. 134). They know what it means to make the world “safe for democracy” (Sequence p. 180). They know about a particular “day that will live in infamy” (Sequence p. 184). They know why we celebrate Memorial Day. And that makes me smile too.

 

Plato for Plumbers—and 6th Graders

by Lisa Hansel
May 13th, 2014

Once, when I told a guy on a plane that I taught philosophy at a community college, he responded, “So you teach Plato to plumbers?” Yes, indeed. But I also teach Plato to nurses’ aides, soldiers, ex-cons, preschool music teachers, janitors, Sudanese refugees, prospective wind-turbine technicians, and any number of other students who feel like they need a diploma as an entry ticket to our economic carnival. As a result of my work, I’m in a unique position to reflect on the current discussion about the value of the humanities, one that seems to me to have lost its way….

The problem facing the humanities, in my view, isn’t just about the humanities. It’s about the liberal arts generally, including math, science, and economics. These form half of the so-called STEM (science, technology, engineering, math) subjects, but if the goal of an education is simply economic advancement and technological power, those disciplines, just like the humanities, will be—and to some degree already are—subordinated to future employment and technological progress. Why shouldn’t educational institutions predominately offer classes like Business Calculus and Algebra for Nurses? Why should anyone but hobbyists and the occasional specialist take courses in astronomy, human evolution, or economic history? So, what good, if any, is the study of the liberal arts, particularly subjects like philosophy?  Why, in short, should plumbers study Plato?

My answer is that we should strive to be a society of free people, not simply one of well-compensated managers and employees. Henry David Thoreau is as relevant as ever when he writes, “We seem to have forgotten that the expression ‘a liberal education’ originally meant among the Romans one worthy of free men; while the learning of trades and professions by which to get your livelihood merely, was considered worthy of slaves only.”…

My experience of having taught at relatively elite schools, like Emory University and Oglethorpe University, as well as at schools like Kennesaw State University and Kirkwood Community College, is that there are among future plumbers as many devotees of Plato as among the future wizards of Silicon Valley, and that there are among nurses’ aides and soldiers as many important voices for our democracy as among doctors and business moguls.

Oh good. You’re hooked. Read the rest of this marvelous little article, “Why I Teach Plato to Plumbers,” by Scott Samuelson over at The Atlantic. As you read, remind yourself that at its most basic, Core Knowledge is about Plato for all. To live freely, all students need the broad knowledge that frees the mind to think analytically. Core Knowledge provides a liberal arts education to the P–8 set; just as in higher education, the “goal is liberating a person from ignorance and superstition.”

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Plato courtesy of Shutterstock (and Athens).

That may be a lofty goal for the early grades, but much can be accomplished. The Core Knowledge Sequence introduces Plato in second grade. As a note to teachers explains, “The goal of studying selected topics in World History in second grade is to foster curiosity and the beginnings of understanding about the larger world outside the child’s locality, and about varied civilizations and ways of life. This can be done through a variety of means: story, drama, art, music, discussion, and more.” In studying ancient Greece, second graders develop “the beginnings of understanding” about democracy, worshipping gods and goddesses, the Olympics past and present, Socrates, Plato, and Aristotle—and more. In short, they develop the beginnings of their own freedom.

By sixth grade, Core Knowledge students have learned a good bit about major civilizations from all over the globe, as well as a great deal of American history. They are ready to build broad and deep knowledge of America’s debt to Athens, and to grasp how rare and precious their freedom is. Whether they become plumbers or business moguls (or both), this knowledge will serve them well. They will never be slaves to their jobs, or others’ beliefs, or the unexamined life. They will be free—as will every teacher who had a hand in their liberation.

 

Testing: From the Mouths of Babes

by Lisa Hansel
May 8th, 2014

“No one learns from state tests. It’s testing what you know. You’re not learning anything from it.”

 —12th grader

“I like math or spelling tests better [than state accountability tests] because you can study for them. For the [state accountability tests], I wonder what will be on them this time.”

 —5th grader

“I like pre- and post-tests because you get to see the progress you’ve made.”

—4th grader

Is it just me, or do these kids know a whole lot more about assessment and increasing educational achievement than most state and national policymakers? Far too many policymakers seem to have lost sight of the most important goal of assessment and accountability: increasing learning. They seem stuck on accountability for the sake of accountability, unwilling to ask whether assessment dollars could be used more effectively.

I’m not against accountability—and I think assessment is necessary—but I am for allocating time and money in the most effective ways. So I find these students’ thoughts, and the new study in which they appear, pretty compelling. The study is Make Assessment Matter, by the Northwest Evaluation Association in cooperation with Grunwald Associates LLC. It explores students’ (4th – 12th graders), teachers’, and administrators’ views on all sorts of testing—from classroom quizzes to state accountability tests. Conclusion: “There is an urgency felt on the part of students, teachers and district administrators to emphasize assessment for learning rather than for accountability. The overwhelming preference for all parties is that assessment results be used to inform learning.” Sadly, today’s state tests not only don’t inform learning, they seem to be impeding it: “teachers (70 percent) and district administrators (55 percent) … [say] that the focus on state accountability tests takes too much time away from learning.”

Think about the weeks that are lost to state accountability tests each year as you absorb these key findings:

On the one hand, the vast majority of students, boys and girls, say they try hard on most tests and care about doing well on tests, among other findings that indicate how seriously they take tests and learning. On the other hand, some boys (46 percent) and girls (39 percent) say that tests are a waste of time.

It’s clear that students feel that certain kinds of tests are not very relevant to their learning, and so it’s not surprising to hear some students identify tests as a waste of time. In tandem with other findings, the message is clear: students want high-quality, engaging assessments that are tightly connected to learning….

Like students, teachers and district administrators would prefer to focus on tests that inform student learning. Most teachers (54 percent), and the vast majority of district administrators (89 percent), say that the ideal focus of assessments should be frequently tracking student performance and providing daily or weekly feedback in the classroom. This sentiment tracks with students’ attitudes about tests. Students express overwhelming agreement that tests are important for helping them and their teachers know if they are making progress in their learning and for understanding what they are learning.

Teachers say that teacher-developed classroom tests, performance tasks and formative assessment practice work best for supporting student learning in their classrooms, while state accountability tests are the least effective.

For an assessment to matter, it has to be directly tied to what is being studied in the classroom. For students to care about it, they need to be able to study for it and use the results in meaningful ways.

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Image courtesy of Shutterstock.

That sounds perfectly reasonable to me. So, what are the logical implications for states? I see two options. One is to use Advanced Placement as a model: create detailed, content-specific courses and develop tests that only assess material in the course. I know it’s unheard of in state accountability testing, but I am actually being so crazy as to say that states should test students on the topics, books, people, ideas, events, etc. that they have been taught.

If state policymakers can’t stomach the idea of specifying the content to teach and test—if they can’t honor students’ desire to be tested in ways that inform learning—then they must honor students’ desire to not have their time wasted: make the tests zero stakes with zero test prep (like NAEP). Any test that is not tied to the specific content being studied in the classroom is a test of general knowledge and skills. Such a test can provide an informative snapshot of students’ and schools’ relative performance (and thus which schools and communities are in need of added supports). It can’t, however, indicate how any one student acquired her knowledge and skills (could be the teacher, the tutor that mom hired in October, the soccer coach who demands higher grades, the new librarian in town, finally being given eyeglasses, etc.). And therefore it can’t offer any precise indication of either teacher quality or how the student could improve. If a state wants to give a test that measures general abilities and provides nothing more than a snapshot and a trend line, that’s fine—provided the stakes and the prep time are minimized.

My preference, obviously, is for option one—especially if states would have the good sense to involve hundreds of educators in developing the specific content to be taught and assessed. Not only would the state-controlled, culminating test be useful for learning, in preparing for it teachers could use effective practices like frequent quizzing on essential content.

 

With Knowledge, You’re Never Lost

by Lisa Hansel
April 30th, 2014

Like many in the education world, I spend much of April and May wondering about U.S. testing and accountability policies. When you add up the time spent on benchmark testing, test-prep (especially the part devoted to item format, as opposed to reviewing essential knowledge and skills), testing, and grading, is that really a good use of our school days? Data to inform instruction and decision making are necessary, but do teachers, administrators, or even policymakers get what they need from the tests currently being given (or developed)? Is there a better way to improve educational outcomes?

Pretty much every article on testing this season has sent my mind spinning down these paths. I mean, really, who thought NCLB would still exist in 2014? We knew from the get-go that 100% proficient was a fairy tale. Can we please start thinking about education policy realistically? Can we be brave enough to offer clarity as to what we are trying to accomplish? With that clarity, can we find the fortitude to proceed patiently, rationally, and supportively so that (like more reasonable nations) we can attain our goals?

Probably not. But I’m not ready to give up.

Core Knowledge has a specific answer as to what it is trying to accomplish. So do all schools that have taken the time to create—and that make ongoing investments in enhancing—a detailed curriculum. Such schools should also be able to devise tests that support teaching and learning, as well as produce evidence of their educational accomplishments.

Logically, this is where I should explain the evidence that a Core Knowledge-based curriculum is effective. You can follow the link if you want. I’d rather offer an example. Call it an anecdote. Dismiss it. In a different frame of mind I might to the same. But in testing season, this example resonates with me. It’s a reminder that knowledge is inherently useful and valuable.

So, how do I know Core Knowledge works? Because it worked for an engaging lady from South Carolina who took the time to handwrite a three-page letter to E. D. Hirsch:

I am ninety-four years old and have wondered all my life about the answers to a few questions…. One being, if I am alone and lost in the woods and there is no sun and I have no compass, how do I know where North is?

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Image courtesy of Shutterstock.

When she asked her librarian, she received a clear answer in What Your Second Grader Needs to Know, which is in the preschool through sixth-grade series Hirsch wrote for parents.

I was so impressed that I read the whole book, then asked the librarian for Book One. When finished I asked for Book Three, then Four, then Five and finished with Book Six. I was not so fortunate as the children of today, having been brought up during the Depression when I had to quit the Sophomore year of High School and go to work….

I have learned so much more from your books that my grade school didn’t teach me. I wish that all elementary schools were required to use Core Knowledge Series. Every subject was so enlightening, interesting, and helpful for me. Thank you.

How would this ninety-four-year-old student do on a standardized test, even one for fifth or sixth graders? I don’t know (she’d probably need several days of drilling on educationally irrelevant test-taking strategies). But I know she’ll never be lost in the woods. And—more importantly—I know that because she read the first through sixth grade books, she has the broad knowledge she needs to learn more each day. To grasp the scientific, political, economic, and arts topics covered in her chosen news source. To have lively debates with her neighbors. To be a well-informed voter. To show her great-grandchildren that knowledge is enlightening, interesting, and helpful.

Will The SAT Overhaul Help Achieve Equity?

by Guest Blogger
April 24th, 2014

By Burnie Bond

Burnie Bond is the director of programs at the Albert Shanker Institute. This post originally appeared on the Shanker Blog on April 22, 2014.

The College Board, the organization behind the SAT, acknowledges that historically its tests have been biased in favor of the children of wealthy, well-educated elites—those who live in the best zip codes, are surrounded by books, go to the best-regarded schools (both public and private), enjoy summer enrichment programs, and can avail themselves of as much tutoring and SAT test-prep coaching as they need. That’s why, early last month, College Board president David Coleman announced that the SAT would undergo significant changes, with the aim of making it more fair and equitable for disadvantaged students.

Among the key changes, which are expected to take effect in 2016, are: the democratization of access to test-prep courses (by trying to make them less necessary and entering into an agreement with the Khan Academy to offer free, online practice problems*); ensuring that every exam includes a reading passage from one of the nation’s “founding documents,” such as the Declaration of Independence or the Bill of Rights, or from one of the important discussions of such texts, such as the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.’s “Letter From Birmingham Jail”; and replacing “arcane ‘SAT words’ (‘depreciatory,’ ‘membranous’),” with words that are more “commonly used in college courses, such as ‘synthesis’ and ‘empirical.’” (See here.)

Will this help? Well, maybe, but the SAT’s long heldbut always elusive—mission to help identify and reward merit, rather than just privilege, will only be met insofar as its creators can be sure that all students have had an equal opportunity to learn these particular vocabulary words and have read these particular “founding documents” and texts. That is, it comes down to a question of curriculum.

Curriculum and Equity

The connection between curriculum and equity first occurred to me when I was eight years old (though obviously not in those exact terms). For some reason, my school decided that all third graders needed to have an IQ test. I was sick that day, so one school holiday I found myself filling in bubbles alone in a classroom with Mrs. Beagles, the school’s assistant principal.

All was well until I got to one particular question. Since the test designers couldn’t be sure we could read well, many of the questions were in picture form. This one included a series of line drawings. As I recall, the first was a drawing of a boy in a ski jacket standing on a beach; the second showed a boy in swim trunks and a beach ball standing in the snow near a snowman; the third had the same swim-trunked, beach ball kid standing in sand near a big cactus; and the fourth had the ski jacket boy standing near the snowman. The question was: Which one didn’t belong?

Although I knew the “right” answer, I found myself wondering how they could just assume that I should. Having never left the tropical island of St. Croix, I had not yet been in winter or seen snow or a snowman. And, although some cactus varieties could be found out on the island’s East End, we had no real desert either. Our textbooks had not yet covered the relevant units on physical geography, and my book-loving father had only allowed a television into our house about six months beforehand. I then started wondering how many of my classmates might have thought that the ski jacket was some elaborate water flotation outfit, and how many would have been confused because we all regularly swam at East End beaches with cacti in plain sight. For that matter, what about kids on the mainland who grew up in cities or in the Midwest and who had never been to a beach or seen a desert?

Irate over the unfairness of it all, I complained to Mrs. Beagles, who replied, “Just do the best that you can,” and returned to grading papers.

I found myself thinking about this episode as I read a very interesting 2012 paper by Santelices and Wilson, whose research gave credence to an earlier paper by Freedle (also here)—the upshot of which is that the SAT Verbal continues to be biased against poor and minority students in a very particular way. That is, test takers who are African American, Hispanic-American, Asian American, or White from low-income households tend to do disproportionately well on the “hard” questions and disproportionately poorly on the “easy” ones.

In his 2003 Harvard Educational Review article, Freedle explains:

A culturally based interpretation helps explain why African American examinees (and other minorities) often do better on many hard verbal items but do worse than matched-ability Whites on many easy items. To begin with, easy analogy items tend to contain high-frequency vocabulary words while hard analogy items tend to contain low-frequency vocabulary words (Freedle & Kostin, 1997). For example, words such as “horse,” “snake,” “canoe,” and “golf” have appeared in several easy analogy items. These are words used frequently in everyday conversations. By contrast, words such as “vehemence,” “anathema,” “sycophant,” and “intractable” are words that have appeared in hard analogy items, and do not appear in everyday conversation (Berger, 1977). However, they are likely to occur in school-related contexts or in textbooks.

In other words, kids who are somewhat outside of the cultural mainstream do less well on items built around assumptions about common knowledge—the words and ideas that are “used frequently in everyday conversations.”  But what if your language or culture or social standing diminishes the chances that you actually engage in everyday conversations about golfing or canoes? In that case, it makes perfect sense to expect that you would do better on the “harder”—even the “arcane”—school-related items that are built around the words, ideas, and texts that you have actually been taught.

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Photo courtesy of Shutterstock.

Or, put another way: Assessments of student learning are neither fair nor valid unless they measure only the content and skills that students have actually been given the opportunity to learn. And the only way to do that, of course, is to know what they have been taught—that is, in the presence of a defined curriculum.

The Problem with Curriculum

There are some very good reasons why the United States, unlike most of the world’s highest-performing nations, has avoided adopting a national curriculum for all of these years. As David K. Cohen has noted:

For school systems around the world, the infrastructure commonly includes student curricula or curriculum frameworks, exams to assess students’ learning of the curricula, instruction that centers on teaching that curriculum, and teacher education that aims to help prospective teachers learn how to teach the curricula. The U.S. has had no such common and unifying infrastructure for schools, owing in part to fragmented government (including local control) and traditions of weak state guidance about curriculum and teacher education.

Another huge issue is that “curriculum” has become a catch-all that describes everything from general performance standards all the way to student texts with scripted daily lesson plans. Thus, in any given discussion about the role of curriculum in a well functioning school system, it is very likely that the discussants are actually talking past each other. This has led to many unintentionally amusing statementsresponses and counter-responses, as each “side” tries to clarify what it and others are actually trying to promote and/or oppose.

In terms of equity concerns, I think that E. D. Hirsch has it exactly right. That is, we need to make sure that every American student—regardless of economic, geographic, racial or ethnic background—is provided with a “coherent, cumulative, and content-specific core curriculum” (see here, but also hereherehere and here).

As Hirsch uses the term, the “curriculum” should provide enough guidance to teachers to ensure that what is taught will prepare students for the learning that comes next, while remaining flexible enough for teachers (or schools or districts) to decide for themselves which specific materials and instructional approaches best meet the needs of any particular set of students. He uses the term “core” to mean both that which is most important, which should be taught in common to all students, as well as that which is foundational to the more personalized courses of study that students may choose for themselves during their high-school years. Thus, Hirsch’s Core Knowledge Sequence, which covers pre-K to 8th grade, could also be described as a curriculum framework or syllabus—a coherent “outline of the subjects in a course of study.”

It is no accident that Hirsch’s theory of action also squares with a great deal of national and international research suggesting that schools with greater curricular and instructional coherence achieve greater improvement in student performance (herehere and here).

So what might this look like in practice? In a 2003 Educational Researcher article, Lisa Delpit has given a rationale for why schools need to provide all students with access to “the culture of power”:

In my work in dozens of successful classrooms, effective teachers of low-income students of color take every opportunity to introduce children to complex material. While children are learning to “decode,” teachers read complex information to children above their reading level and engage in discussions about the information and the advanced vocabulary they encounter. Students are involved in activities that use the information and vocabulary in both creative and analytical ways, and teachers help them create metaphors for the new knowledge that connects it to their real lives. Students memorize and dramatize material that involves advanced vocabulary and linguistic forms. Students are engaged in thematic units that are ongoing and repeat important domain knowledge and develop vocabulary through repeated oral use. Students are asked to explain what they have learned to others, thus solidifying new knowledge. Not only do the teachers and schools who are successful with low-income children practice these strategies, but some other researchers (Beck et al., 2002Hirsch, 2003Stahl, 1991Sternberg, 1987, to name but a few) have documented the efficacies of the strategies as well. Successful instruction is constant, rigorous, integrated across disciplines, connected to students’ lived cultures, connected to their intellectual legacies, engaging, and designed for critical thinking and problem solving that is useful beyond the classroom.

Will the new SAT—or, for that matter, the new Common Core State Standards, which David Coleman also had a large hand in crafting—lead us toward this vision of educational opportunity? That is yet to be seen, but I would have much more confidence in the outcome if each state department of education had begun with a focus on teaching to the new standards, rather than just testing them. Where are the rich curriculum resources and professional development opportunities that would allow this vision to take hold? And, failing this, what exactly is it that we propose to measure?

__________

* Paradoxically, although the data confirm the expected class-based differences in the use of test prep courses, it should be noted that “blacks and Hispanics are more likely than whites from comparable backgrounds to utilize test preparation. The black-white gap is especially pronounced in the use of high school courses, private courses and private tutors.” See here for more on this.

 

Making the Most of Kids’ “Why?” Phase

by Lisa Hansel
April 16th, 2014

“If you finish your peas, I’ll tell you why the sky is blue.”

“If you put your toys in the bin, I’ll explain why kangaroos have pouches.”

“If you brush your teeth, I’ll tell you why some Native Americans used to move frequently instead of building permanent homes.”

Win-win. Sounds too great to be true—but it might not be. A recent study finds that young children will voluntarily do a boring task if they are rewarded with “causally rich knowledge.”

Perhaps this should not come as a surprise. Young children are delightfully infamous for asking why over and over. Long ago, a walk along a river bank with one of my nieces became downright existential within 20 minutes. The sun, the moon, the water, the frogs, the people—why do they shine, sparkle, jump, talk … why are we all here…. I answered as best I could, took mental notes on books to buy, picked one topic to research together when we got home, and suggested we make dandelion bracelets.

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Image courtesy of Shutterstock.

 

Even if you’re not surprised by the main finding, this study is still worth a quick read. Why? (Sorry, couldn’t resist that.) Because the researchers tease out exactly what is motivating the three- and four-year-olds to persist with the boring task (putting 25 pegs in a peg board). The four conditions tested—no reward, stickers, causally rich information, and causally weak information—offer some interesting nuances. Stickers worked, of course, but not as well as you might guess. Being rewarded with causally rich knowledge was the only condition that significantly increased children’s persistence. (I’m dreaming of this headline: Sticker Sales Plummet: Teachers Say Rewarding Curiosity Is More Powerful than Gold Stars.)

Strikingly, causally weak information had no effect—the results were the same as in the no reward condition. Motivation came specifically from being told why—not merely being told that. To ensure that causal richness was the only distinguishing factor in the two knowledge conditions, the researchers created images of several animals and artifacts to show to the children and then carefully crafted descriptions. Here are two of the items invented for the study:

Knoweldge Reward

We shouldn’t ever make too much of one study, but this one does give teachers and caregivers some ideas to play with harmlessly. If you can get in the habit of focusing on causation while presenting information, you just might have a powerful tool. Among potential benefits, the researchers note that causally rich information might be useful as a reward for necessary-but-not-so-interesting tasks like “practicing penmanship or math facts” (of course, this study would have to be repeated to see if older children perceive such information as a reward). And, using information as a reward may help avoid the detriments to internal motivation that can arise with tangible rewards.

Lincoln and Liberal Education

by Guest Blogger
April 8th, 2014

By Christopher B. Nelson

Christopher B. Nelson is president of St. John’s College in Annapolis and a founding member of the Annapolis Group, a consortium of more than 120 of the nation’s leading liberal arts colleges. Nelson adapted this piece for Core Knowledge from a blog post he published last year on the Huffington Post.

Abraham Lincoln remains alive to us these days in part because of the extraordinary performance by Daniel Day Lewis in the film Lincoln. In one thoughtful scene, Lincoln sits in a teletype office and wrestles with the question of human and racial equality and the awful institution of slavery. He harkens back to one of the great foundational texts of western civilization, Euclid’s Elements, a beautiful book of elementary geometry written over 2,000 years ago.

In the film, Lincoln cites Euclid’s first common notion: “Things which are equal to the same thing are equal to each other.” He calls it true “because it works, always has done and always will do.” And then he reminds us that Euclid called it “a self-evident truth”, putting us in mind of another great work of civilization, America’s own Declaration of Independence: “We hold these truths to be self-evident: that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their creator with certain unalienable rights, and that among these are life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.”

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Lincoln courtesy of Wikimedia Commons.

Lincoln, self-educated, a versatile and critical thinker, questioned prevailing assumptions of his day, and, in his search for truth, drew upon mathematical axioms as a storehouse of principles he might apply to his political philosophy. This is what liberally educated people do, people who are broadly and deeply educated in the great movements of history, in the foundational texts and fundamental insights of physics and philosophy, literature and biology, music and theology, sociology and yes, mathematics—people who have acquired a kind of worldly wisdom that allows them to rise above and see behind the barriers to understanding and action, and take the imaginative leap that is often necessary to solve a problem or find a solution. These are also the people who have developed the skills of listening attentively, speaking persuasively, arguing logically and working collaboratively to bring an idea to fruition.

Lincoln was a practical man, a worldly politician, not just a theoretical thinker. Was it true, he must have asked himself, that the truths proclaimed in the Declaration of Independence were self-evident? And if self-evident, then why were they not universally recognized, and slavery abolished? So the practical man in Lincoln must have come to the conclusion that if they were not self-evident or their self-evidence not sufficient, they would have to be proved—some four score and seven years after the writing of the Declaration. Thus, his Gettysburg Address changed the terms of the question from “holding a self-evident truth” to “dedicating oneself to a proposition” that all men are created equal. No longer an axiom of mathematical logic accessible to reason, this would become a proposition requiring proof in action, following an act of will, in a great civil war, dedicating thousands and thousands of lives to the interest of securing freedom for those who had been denied equality under the law. And Lincoln required still more from his listeners, asking “that from these honored dead we take increased devotion to that cause for which they gave the last full measure of devotion.”

This rhetorical change in our founding document represented a momentous re-founding of our nation, from one resting on an axiom of reason to one requiring our dedication to realizing the dream of equality through an act of liberation.

This commitment to liberation, to the principles of liberty, to freedom of speech and action, is what undergirds our nation. And it is our national duty to assure that each generation of citizens is well educated in the arts of freedom to protect them from attack and from atrophy. It ought to be the first concern of our schools, from pre-kindergarten through college, that our young acquire the freedom to make intelligent choices concerning the ends and means of both their public and private lives. This requires the cultivation and practice of the art of reason and understanding and discipline in analysis, argument and interpretation so that they may be free from the tyrannies of unexamined opinions, current fashions and inherited prejudices.

This cultivation must begin as early as children are capable of seeking. Their innate sense of wonder and unlimited curiosity are the beginnings of wisdom, and educators should do nothing that limits, restricts, or dampens their enthusiasm. Their little minds are natural intellectual sponges; we should be providing them with plenty of material to absorb—and it should be the best.

Lincoln, motivated by his own insatiable curiosity, laid the groundwork for his greatness by reading Aesop and Euclid and the Bible and Shakespeare—on his own. There is no reason to withhold the greatest intellectual achievements of humankind from children. Of course they may need to be adapted somewhat, but I believe that if children are exposed to great books in some way as early as possible, they will on the whole come to interact with them at a much higher level than is commonly supposed, much faster than is commonly supposed. And this will put them on the path to intellectual freedom faster than is commonly supposed.

Our nation was founded on the idea that good government is grounded in its citizens’ intellectual freedom; our strength depends upon this idea. Our economy is grounded in the notion of free enterprise; the freedom we have to test our ideas against the needs and demands of the community has helped build the prosperity we have enjoyed as a society. This too depends upon the intellectual freedom of our citizens. And so it is with our social order and moral character.

For the sake of our country, then, we need our citizens to have two kinds of education that are in a very healthy tension with one another: (1) an education in the political and intellectual foundations, including the economic, scientific and social traditions and principles that have shaped our nation, and (2) an education in the arts needed to question and examine those very foundations and traditions in the light of reason, so that we may keep them vibrant and alive, and so that we may redefine and improve on them when we discover we have good cause. These are called the arts of freedom because they are grounded in the kind of free inquiry that helps us understand our world better and inspires in us a sense of wonder and longing to learn more.

While we can lay the foundations for the arts of freedom in elementary and secondary school, it is the role of our colleges help young people learn to use them to build a life worth living. Our nation’s liberal arts colleges were established to cultivate this freedom of intellect through examining the seminal texts that underlie and inform our understanding of the world, and through developing the arts of inquiry. These colleges are dedicated to cultivating the arts of freedom in order to develop the self-sufficiency that is fit for our republic—fit for a republic that champions the right of all of its citizens to pursue the happiness that belongs to them, for making a life worth living, one that brings opportunities for success in making a living too.

We who are responsible for our nation’s liberal arts colleges take this to be our public trust, one to which we give a full measure of devotion. We serve the common good, and this in turn serves our nation well, keeping it strong and vibrant, able to undertake the challenges of tomorrow because it has a citizenry that has some understanding of the intellectual and moral virtues required and the strength of will to use them well—a fitting legacy of Abraham Lincoln.

Stop Spinning Wheels, Start Spinning Webs

by Lisa Hansel
April 3rd, 2014

Last week I quoted a great piece by Annie Murphy Paul on the importance of analogies (and, by extension, broad knowledge for making analogies) for innovation. That piece left me thinking about one of my favorite analogies for what knowledge does for our ability to learn. Knowledge is like a spider’s web—the bigger your web (i.e., the more knowledge you have), the more new knowledge sticks to it. Credit here goes to Jessica Lahey, so I’ll gladly let her explain:

Remember when you were in high school or college, in that class where nothing seemed to stick? No matter how much you studied? For me, those classes were Indo-Iranian Mythology and Greek and Roman Mythology. I was overworked (long, not particularly interesting story), exhausted, and frustrated by my inability to keep it all in my head. I did not have enough of a knowledge base to be able to link the stories of Hera’s jealousy to Hercules’ labors to what it might mean if Atlas shrugged. These stories are all linked, and knowing one story helps me remember another because the details of those stories form a sticky net, like a spider web. Once I have accumulated enough threads of knowledge, my net is fine enough to catch the new fragments of knowledge that came drifting by.

And that’s when the magic begins. That’s when connections across subjects begin to happen, when a reading of Great Expectations can evolve into a discussion of the Victorian Era, Frankenstein, Icarus, the tower of Babel, and Prometheus unbound.

Of course, as Lahey knows well, we all start building our webs long before college. The more opportunities we have to learn, the bigger, stickier, and finer our webs will be. Lahey is making sure her children—and students—build webs that even a Darwin’s bark spider would be proud of:

My youngest son, Finnegan, is in third grade, at my Core Knowledge school. Three times a week, he leaves the comfort of his classroom and attends a bona fide history class. Not “social studies,” but capitol-H History class. Content. History. Facts.

This month, he’s learning about the Vikings and Rome, Leif Erickson and Julius Caesar. When he gets to fifth grade and Dr. Freeberg’s reading of The Odyssey, he will have a context for the journey of the hero, lust for power, and land, and exploration. This might evolve in to discussions of Napoleon, colonialism, and slavery. In sixth grade, when I finally get my pedagogical talons in him, his web will be sticky enough to hold on to Julius Caesar, the geography of the Roman Empire, the literal and figurative meaning of “alea iacta est” and the controversy surrounding the quote “Et tu, Brute?”

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Spider web at sunrise courtesy of Shutterstock.

Now, a new study, published in the April issue of Cognition, shows the early stages of web building. By 19 months, babies are already starting to use what they have learned to acquire new vocabulary. While the Cognition article is well worth purchasing, the summary by Northwest University’s news team offers a good overview:

Even before infants begin to talk in sentences, they are paying careful attention to the way a new word is used in conversations, and they learn new words from this information in sentences.

For example, if you take an infant to the zoo and say, “Look at the gorilla” while pointing at the cage, the infant may not know what exactly is being referred to. However, if you say, “Look! The gorilla is eating,” the infant can use the word that they do know—“eating”—to conclude that “gorilla” must refer to the animal and not, for example, the swing she is sitting on.

The zoo scenario mirrors the method the researchers used for their experiment. First, infants at ages 15 and 19 months were shown several pairs of pictures on a large screen. Each pair included one new kind of animal and a non-living object. Next, the objects disappeared from view and infants overheard a conversation that included a new word, “blick.” Finally, the two objects re-appeared, and infants heard, for example, “Look at the blick.”

“After overhearing this new word in conversation, infants who hear a helpful sentence such as ‘the blick is eating’ should look more towards the animal than the other, non-living object,” said Brock Ferguson, a doctoral candidate in psychology at Northwestern and lead author of the study. “We show that by 19 months, they do just that. In contrast, if infants heard the new word in an unhelpful sentence such as ‘the blick is over here’ during the conversation, they don’t focus specifically on the animal because, after all, in this kind of sentence, ‘blick’ could mean anything.”…

“What’s remarkable is that infants learned so much from hearing the conversation alone,” said Sandra Waxman, senior author of the study, the Louis W. Menk Professor of Psychology in the Weinberg College of Arts and Sciences and faculty fellow at the Institute for Policy Research at Northwestern. “This shows how attuned even very young infants are to the conversation around them. It also shows how well infants build upon what they do know to build their vocabulary.”

Between research like this, initiatives like Too Small to Fail, and advances like the Common Core standards calling for “content-rich curriculum,” perhaps eventually we’ll have a society in which all children have excellent opportunities to build their webs.

 

Stifling Innovation

by Lisa Hansel
March 28th, 2014

Here and there throughout March I’ve been reading the Partnership for 21st Century Skills’ “P21 BLOGAZINE,” a blog with a magazine-style approach in which the editor, Jim Bellanca, picks themes and invites authors to contribute relevant posts. In March, the theme has been creativity and innovation. While there were some points I agree with—particularly a concern that an over-emphasis on testing and the resulting narrowing of the curriculum will hinder creativity—there was much to question—particularly whether the child-directed, inquiry-driven approach that the authors favored would increase creativity.

For example, after the obligatory homages to Vygotsky and Dewey, there was the usual:

If our goal as educators is to develop a creatively skilled child, then inquiry-guided instruction that fosters imagination, emotional intensity, and curiosity should be infused into the curriculum. Our world is becoming increasingly complex, and therefore the need to teach students how to think and how to use their creative juices to address change must be a priority for our society. Teaching creative imagination should be a key component of 21st century learning.

There was also a more (let’s be polite and call it) creative formulation:

To prepare global, creative, and entrepreneurial talents, that is, everyone in the future, education should at first not harm any child who aspires to do so or suppress their curiosity, imagination, and desire to be different by imposing upon him or her contents and skills judged to be good for him or her by an external agency and thus depriving of the opportunities to explore and express on their own. In other words, we should at least allow Lady Gaga and the likes to exist without punishing them or locking them up in a classroom in the name of helping them to become successful. The most desirable education, of course, is one that enhances human curiosity and creativity, encourages risk-taking, and cultivates the entrepreneurial spirit in the context of globalization.

There were also statements, like this one, that left me perplexed:

Neuroscience research has found creative thinking to be a whole-brain activity leading us to understand that neural responses to creative endeavors can originate anywhere in the brain. The strength of the neural impulses actively transforms thinking and focus; otherwise, a person is just dreaming. These stronger impulses can lead students to persevere and to take educated risks.

Overall, there was very little sense that creativity has anything to do with knowledge or studying works of lasting beauty or building expertise through perspiration (that might be rewarded with inspiration). Although I had been planning to write a bit about how knowledge contributes to creativity and innovation, I’m happy to say that Annie Murphy Paul has done it for me—and done it better than I would have.

Paul was recently a keynote speaker at the Sandbox Summit, where the theme was “Innovation By Design.” The title of her blog post based on her talk, “The Key To Innovation: Making Smart Analogies,” pretty much says it all. There are no analogies without knowledge—and the broader and deeper one’s knowledge, the smarter one’s analogies will be.

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More knowledge, better analogies, brighter ideas (image courtesy of Shutterstock).

First, Paul takes care of widespread misconceptions:

There’s a popular notion that innovation arrives like a bolt out of the blue, as a radical departure from previous knowledge—when really, most new ideas are extensions, twists, variations on what’s come before. The skill of generating innovations is largely the skill of putting old things together in a new way, or looking at a familiar idea from a novel perspective, or using what we know already to understand something new.

Then she turns to the power of analogies:

In their book Mental Leaps: Analogy in Creative Thought, cognitive scientists Keith Holyoak and Paul Thagard point out how many intellectual advances through the ages have been built upon analogies:

The first-century Roman architect Vitruvius compared the sound of actors’ voices in an amphitheater to the movement of water in a pool, the first of many thinkers to compare sound waves to water waves.

The seventeenth-century scientist William Gilbert compared the earth to a magnet, advancing knowledge of the earth’s gravitational force.

The eighteenth-century chemist Antoine Lavoisier compared respiration to combustion, clarifying how breathing turns oxygen into carbon dioxide.

Even the great nineteenth-century biologist, Charles Darwin, built his theory of evolution on an analogy between artificial selection—the deliberate mating of animals by breeders—to the natural selection that goes on in the wild.

Finally, Paul explores the keys to using analogies well, including knowing when to set them aside. Are exploration and inquiry part of the process? Absolutely. But are classrooms and knowledge-building curricula stifling innovation? Absolutely not. Quite the contrary: knowledge prevents wasting resources on reinventing the wheel and enables productive, innovative connections to be drawn.