18 February 2013

Inquiry

Every public school teacher I've seen seems to agree that the school year needs to be split up into manageable, themed chunks: units.  What they don't seem to agree on is how these units should be organized and what kind of themes they should have.  English classrooms often have a poetry unit, a Shakespeare unit, an argument writing unit.  A language class might follow a textbook with themed chapters: food, travel, politics, history.  More recently, though, I've heard a lot of talk about organizing a unit around inquiry: an "essential question."

I had never been a student in a class organized around inquiry until I got to college, and I do like the experience. It's been much more intellectually stimulating for me, and it helps students realize why they're learning something, which is a question student are always asking themselves.  Thinking about this reminds me of the way one of my other classes is structured this semester.  I'm taking Physics 105: Stars and Cosmology.  This class is incredibly interesting to me, but I'm such a conceptual person that the nitty-gritty part of physics (equations, calculations, etc.) is really hard.  Something cool is happening, though: my professor is organizing the class around conceptual things, and then teaching us the messy details when we realize we need to know them to fully understand the bigger concepts.  Here's an example:  It's organized around a question: if the only data we can get from astronomical objects is the light they put out, how can we figure out things like what temperature a star is, or what it's made out of?  At the moment we're learning about spectroscopy, which is a way that scientists can figure out what elements stars, nebulas, and other astronomical objects contain. To do this it's necessary to get into things as detailed as atomic structure and how electrons behave.  If my professor had started out the class with atomic structure, I would have had no idea why we were learning it, because at first glance it has nothing to do with astronomy.  But, because she presented a problem to figure out and atomic structure as the solution, we students have bought into knowing those complicated details. Details are hard for students to process if they don't know why they have to learn them, but if we can present them as the products of inquiry, the students will feel much better about them and learn more.  The other thing I like about this way of teaching is that it mimics the thought processes of professionals in the field.  Astrophysicists don't sit down and say, "I wonder, if I start studying atoms, what they can tell me about quasars?"  Instead, they ask, "How can I figure out the things I want to know about quasars with the information I can get?" They find out through some creativity and a process of inquiry that knowing about atoms will help them achieve their goal.  This way of thinking is genuine, and students will feel that.

That was a long explanation about an astronomy class, but that process of inquiry can work for any subject.  I think it also works really well with the Common Core State Standards, especially the way we've been talking about them in class, with designing instruction around multiple areas within language arts.  It would be easy to look at the common core and say, "oh good, I can have a Writing unit, and a Speaking/Listening Unit, and a Informational Text unit...", but if we organize a unit instead around an essential question, we can pull in standards from all these different areas, students will use different thought processes and media to explore their ideas and answer that question, and the learning experience will be much more holistic and useful.

12 February 2013

Significant Learning Experiences

In reflecting on the idea of creating significant learning experiences, I feel like it's an idea so big I can barely begin to grasp it.  So, we shall start with the basics. What do we mean by "significant"?

Merriam Webster says,

1: having meaning ( "a significant glance" )
2: having or likely to have influence or effect
3: probably caused by something other than chance (in statistics)

I like those first two, especially the second one.  I like the idea of the education the students in our classroom get having a lasting effect on them, that it means something to them, that it's useful to them.  More than that, it's important that while they're in my class they know that what they're learning is important and useful, that its relevance is made clear to them.

My mentor teacher has been working on integrating informational texts into her class.  She's doing a unit about Alaska right now, and they just started a novel called "Days of Gold" that's about the Alaska gold rush.  But before that, they read some nonfiction (informational) stuff about the Alaska gold rush.  This was crafty of her for a couple reasons that relates to our idea of significant learning experiences.  First, their understanding of the ins and outs of the Alaska gold rush means that they'll be understanding things about the people and places mentioned in "Days of Gold" and the students will understand how they can learn from nonfiction texts and that will help them find relevance. Secondly, teaching informational text is new to my mentor teacher (because of Common Core), and she told me "I never realized how much help my students needed with reading nonfiction texts!" She felt like it was one of the most important (read: significant) elements of her class.  The ability to read informational texts is arguably just as or more valuable than being able to read creative writing. Textbooks, for one.  Technical writing if the student ends up going into any STEM-related field. Research. Informational texts are everywhere, and students need to know how to read them.

That's a significant learning experience. That's applicable to the students' experiences outside of the classroom.

04 February 2013

Creating a Learning Community/Musings on helping students enjoy reading

The learning autobiographies we did in class this week were awesome for a couple of reasons.  One, I learned a lot about how other people think about their educations: whether learning is a means to an end (adding tools to our toolbox, as it were) or a exploration that is exciting in its own right (like a snowball!), or somewhere in between.  I find that I'm more drawn to the snowball way of thinking, but I definitely identify with sometimes being forced to learn "tools" that I never felt like I had a use for (please tell me, Geology 100, when I will ever need to identify shale on sight).   This reminder of different ways of viewing the purpose of education was a good reminder to me that my students may be seeing things much differently than I am.  This was illustrated today in my internship, which is a 7th grade reading class.  I was trying to talk a student into reading his book and found myself at odds with his point of view.

Me: "Since you're finished with your assignment early, can you read silently until the bell rings?"
Him: "I don't like reading."
Me: "Is it your book you don't like, or just reading in general?"
Him: "Just reading in general."
Me: "Why don't you try out a different book and see if it's more interesting?  Go check out the bookshelf."

A few minutes later, I saw him diving into a special edition Guinness Book of World Records, and we had a wow moment together about a guy that had collected over 100,000 matchboxes.

The learning autobiographies were also great in letting us get to know each other a little better and helped us start our own learning community.  For an excellent example of this, I shall ask you all for advice.  How would a reading teacher go about getting this kid from reading (and enjoying) the mostly picture-based Book of World Records to reading (and at least not absolutely hating) a novel?  I'm not reaching for the stars here and wanting him to read Hemingway, but a nice YA fiction book wouldn't go amiss.