Monthly Archives: November 2014

11/29/14

Challenge: Physical Activity in 30 minutes

Back in school again!  While I relish the opportunity to collaborate and dissect theories and concepts with my colleagues within the classroom, it lacks the intensity and excitement that comes from entertaining a group of children.  Before we begin, story-time:

* * *

My last lesson offered quite the learning experience.  Moral of that story is… simplify, simplify, simplify.  Just like fractions!  And so, when my SA asked me to lead a PE class, and to focus on picking a game that is fun and engaging yet straightforward, ideas immediately began to swim in my head.  See, I didn’t really like PE as a class, mostly because I was not very athletic; fortunately that is not a concern with my class.  Nonetheless, I went on a search for fun, team-based games that offered opportunities for inclusion.  I suggested two games to my SA:  one volleyball-based, one open space-based (we weren’t sure whether we would have the volleyball nets up or not).

… she again stressed the importance of keeping things straightforward and simple for the students.  Right, right… I had to teach the students how to play the games before actually playing.  So, back to the drawing board… I found a tag-based game called Prisoner of War that I thought would be quite a lot of fun, seeing as it’s team-based and offers students a variety of different strategies (lots of running, or strategic short bursts of speed).  I also suggested Jailball and “Ga Ga”, two hugely popular games from my days working at a childcare centre.  My SA shared that her class has played Jailball before (under a different name), and that I could consider Prisoner of War or Ga Ga… although I should consider how much time is required for each (the students only had half an hour for PE every Thursdays).  In my zeal I overlooked this important detail!  Note to self:  consider all aspects of problem-solving when considering possible solutions…

* * *

I admit that I’ve been taking advantage of the students’ enthusiasm for class management.  I told a few students “I will be teaching PE class today, and will explain the game we’re playing today once we’re in the gym.  And we’ll head to the gym after everybody has their PE strip and shows me they’re ready by standing in line.”  To my amazement, the students began to self-organize, spreading the message (Mr. Tsang’s teaching today!) and giving each other friendly reminders to get ready for PE class.  Confirmation, again and again, that acknowledging each student individually goes a long way!  I’m really glad that I took the time to get to know each student during my first few weeks observing.

The students got changed relatively quickly and the first few students ready (E was the first; he’s the only student who prepares for PE by arriving at school wearing his gym strip), but we had to wait a few minutes for the previous class to clear the gym.  Once the previous class cleared out of the gym, I instructed the waiting students to run 4 laps (which was met by a few groans).  And once the students were winding down, I informed a few of them that there was a reason I made them run 4 laps as warm-up, because… they will be running even more during the activity!!!  They would likely all boycott my gym class if I pitched it like that, so I repackaged it as a fun game.

Thing is, as I was image training by imagining the students running around (all of whom were having fun, of course!), I had imagined the gym to be much bigger than it actually was.  My SA noted that the game would be a lot more fun if we were playing on the field, since 13 students standing in half the gym was… actually rather cramped!  I had foreseen the students not paying attention if I started off by telling them they would be separated into two separate groups, so I separated them prior to telling them about the game.  In a moment of silliness, I sent them to opposite corners of the gym… and to confirm that I didn’t exactly make the right choice, I saw out of the corner of my eye E jumping up against and kicking the big cushioned barrier on his side of the gym.  So as to not call attention to him, I instructed everybody in the class to sit down and await instructions.

Now, with the added difficulty of communicating the rules across the gym (good job, Tony!), I relied instead on students to repeat back the instructions/rules to ensure they understood.  I would tell them a rule (your side of the gym is along the outside white lines to the middle red line marked by the cones), and then ask a targeted question where the answer would be what I just said (which part of the gym was your side?).  Originally I set the jail area to be rather large, with the edge fairly close to the centre line.  Sure enough, E picked up on this and expressed his concern, “Mr. Tsang, it isn’t going to be very fair because the jails are pretty close to the centre line,” to which I replied… “… this is on purpose, E, to make the game a little bit easier for us all so we can practice playing.”  I’m sorry, E.  Teacher’s rules!  My SA asked me a question (to help me clarify the boundaries, bless her!), which gave me a chance to clarify the exact boundaries to the students.  Confirming that they understood both the rules as well as the boundaries, they were ready to begin!  Students slowly got up onto to their feet and stalked tentatively towards the other side…

3… 2… 1… start!  And at first, few people moved, opting to stay safely on their side of the gym.  There were a few students who tempted members of the other team by sticking their limbs temporarily over the line; the occasional daring soul would jump two steps over the line, only to giggle and run back when the other team started in their direction.  This standoff continued for several moments, until A made a break for it along the boundary on the far side of the gym.  Around this time I noticed that the gym was rather cramped for a game of this magnitude… and this was confirmed when a student approached me and said, “Mr. Tsang, this is pretty hard… A made it into his jail, but I think he might have run out of bounds to avoid people tagging him.”  Pausing to think for a moment, I decided that it would be a better idea to remove the outer boundary to create more freedom for the students.

Sure enough, shortly after this announcement, several students huddled briefly (likely to discuss strategy), and then darted randomly towards the other side to rescue their friends.  To further encourage this, I temporarily paused the game to reduce the size of the jails, following E’s earlier suggestion.  The game really picked up at this point, with students from each side encouraging each other and sprinting.  There were a few disappointed sighs when players got tagged, but everyone was honest and walked back to their jail, ready to run again.  Soon, the game was over — one side had emptied their jail and won the game!  There were some cheers, some content smiles, and a few sour looks; I called the class over to the middle of the gym and had them sit in a circle around centre.

I invited the students to share their opinions of the game.  In general, they had a lot of fun, but a few of theme expressed frustration at the lack of space and the prevalence of “puppy-guarding” (standing really close to jail to prevent captured players to escape).  Seeing a good opportunity, I decided to engage the class in a short discussion on “strategy-planning”.  Noting that puppy-guarding was both an annoying and effective strategy, I invited the class to brainstorm some ways to defeat the strategy.  There were quite a few good ideas — a few students suggested waiting for when the Guards were “distracted” to make a run for it (the importance of awareness and perspective-taking).  Upon further prodding, A shared his winning strategy with the class — when the rest of the group is distracted with other players teasing and tempting across the line, he snuck along the sidelines and sprinted when he saw that the coast was clear.  After a moment of bubbly excitement, E added to this strategy — “what about when you and a teammate run together at the same time?”  E had successfully used this strategy to help his team win the game:  after whispering to his teammate, they waited for a moment when the defenders’ attention was distracted, and bolted in opposite directions.  The defenders, temporarily confused, were paralyzed and before they could start in either direction, both students had crossed the centre line, winning the game.

The entire class chomped at the bit, eager to try that winning strategy for themselves.  I moved towards resetting the game, but (fortunately) my SA stopped me and reminded the class that the recess bell will be ringing in 5 minutes, and the students needed time to change.  The entire class was disappointed by this sudden interruption; I expressed my own disappointment, telling them that I lost track of time myself and promised them that we would try the game again next time I had an opportunity to teach PE.

* * *

All in all, I was very impressed by how the class managed themselves.  They showed me that despite their challenges with slowing down, paying attention, listening to instructions, and following through, they are capable of excelling.  I was also very impressed with A, who unreservedly shared his strategy with the rest of the class instead of holding onto insight; I could see that he was quite pleased that his contribution was acknowledged in front of the class.  I think I will give him his own tag, as I foresee more interesting contributions from him in the near future.

Take-home learned lessons:

  • Carry a whistle with me into the gym (SA mentioned this, and I agree — should try to preserve my voice)
  • Separating the class into two groups and sending them to opposite ends of the gym makes it very difficult for me to monitor their attending… in the future, I can simply have them sit on either side of a line, but still congregated together
  • Begin setting an alarm to signify the end of the lesson, perhaps with an included 5 minute warning — I wore my watch, telling myself that I would be constantly checking it… unfortunately, I had not really done so, being so invested in students’ experience and encouraging participation
  • Class collaboration gives some students prone to making “negative choices” a positive outlet; however, I still need to work to promote participation from more quieter students.  I noticed that the students who normally wouldn’t contribute to class discussion speaking amongst themselves during the game, which was still a small victory; I would imagine that the more boisterous students (A, E, and a few others) may intimidate those who are less sure of themselves; I would go so far as to say that those students are comfortable with making mistakes and sharing the wrong answer, and as thus feel more empowered to contribute their opinion.  With time…
11/21/14

Here we go again!

Hello again!  At the beginning of the year I wouldn’t have imagined I’d say this, but WOW, I SURE AM HAPPY TO BE BACK IN THE CLASSROOM WITH LITTLE PEOPLE!  On a more serious note, it was great seeing my SA in the morning again.  Morning strategy-planning/debriefing/preparation provides a slightly different warm fuzzy feeling than learning and absorbing new information and skills within the classroom… maybe a bit more orange.  On a lighter, second note, the more casual tone is representative of today’s realizations…

* * *

The students missed me!  They asked about me!  Outside, I was all, “Oh, heh, that’s awesome, kids.”  Inside, I was like, “OH REALLY, YOU GUYS ARE THE BESTEST BEST KIDS I WANNA HUG ALL OF YOU!!!”  Definitely one of those awesome hug-a-bear feelings that you can only get from being a parent or a teacher.  Oh yes, I liken teaching to parenting, albeit higher stakes (though each could make a strong argument for their case).  Today, I feel confident.  Today, I feel prepared… because today, I will be teaching math!  I had horrible experiences with math while I was younger, but slowly (and surely) I overcame my challenge and have since remained inseparable with math — I’ve tutored math for over 10 years.  I admit, today my breath definitely smelled of hubris… was what I thought.  More likely conceit, but who’s keeping score anyway?

Last post, I mentioned that I realized that one of my biggest pitfalls is that I idealize the students to the point of overlooking telltale red flags that would otherwise indicate a change of strategy.  To compensate, I began by sounding like a stiff board and rushed out the gate with heavy content-laden questions, guaranteed to scare even the hardiest of my supporters from even trying to learn!  My SA is constantly gushing about how far her class has gone since last year, and to this day I cannot imagine the same students who occasionally rib me from time to time as little whirling tornadoes of destruction, creating messes and disruptive behaviour throughout the classroom.  I mean, when I say things like, “everybody, can I have your attention please?” they actually turn their heads and look in my general direction.  Unfortunately, the class did not really offer me any chances to practice those interesting classroom management techniques during the math lesson.  Bummer.

One undeniably positive thing that happened today was E stepping up to bat for Ol’ Mr. Tsang when he was floundering about.  Let me tell you a little bit about E.  This child comes from a very difficult home environment, yet for some reason remains extremely resilient.  If there ever were a child who should not be cheerful it’s E.  He is full of energy, chatty, and very bright; sometimes I can see a sparkle in his eye whenever we talk about something that really catches his attention.  Which is why it is so frustrating to see him constantly making careless errors, forgetting his homework, completing his homework incorrectly, forgetting and otherwise demonstrating complete disinterest and/or understanding of instructions… it’s very hard to look at E and not be disappointed.  That’s not to say he isn’t trying hard, which adds to the frustration.  I’m pulling VERY HARD for this kid to succeed because he NEEDS for his efforts to be validated.  He NEEDS to see that he can contribute in a positive way.  It broke my heart 2 weeks ago when I made the mistake of asking, “Who feels that they are a bad person?” and without hesitation, E shot his hand up high into the air and looked me right in the eyes.  I saw no guilt in his eyes.  What I saw was trust — he was not proud to admit that to the class, and it took a lot of courage for him to put his hand up like that; he was joined shortly by two other hands.  But what I saw in his eyes was “because I trust you, I am going to take a risk and share”.  I froze up and for a few seconds, I was completely overwhelmed at his simple gesture… I nodded in his direction, and quickly changed the topic.

Anyway, E…  I care for all my students equally.  Thing is, with E, I also really, really, REALLY hopes that one day he succeeds.  If I could help him succeed in any way, I would be extremely grateful.  Today… I felt he succeeded.  Here is what E did.

I was teaching a lesson on BEDMAS.  I was nearly through everything I had to say, and upon scanning the room, my eyes were met with quite a few confused looks.  They looked maybe… 50-60%?  While I was scratching my brain and moving my mouth-parts, E put up his hand and asked a question I did not expect to come from him.  As I was looking for a good way to gather my words and explain things, E put up his hand and asked a guiding question — he had noticed that I had not yet gone over the fact that multiplication/division are equally important, and that the only rule governing them was “left to right”.  And he asked me specifically in a way to get me to give that explanation and dig that idea out of the myriad ideas swimming about in my head.  Oh, he didn’t stop there.  He kept asking guiding questions until most of the students in the classroom began slightly nodding their heads.  Not only did E understand Order of Operations, he helped me teach the class!  While I would prefer that he demonstrate his leadership abilities in some other manner (preferably not at my expense), he did a fantastic job.  I look forward to telling this story to everyone I meet.

So, that is E’s story.  It’s a story of how a struggling student saved a drowning teacher candidate.  Okay, perhaps I am exaggerating a bit… I wasn’t quite drowning, but my head was definitely beneath the water.  Today, I learned the value of simple instruction.  I am a wordy person; words follow me, and I like to throw punctuation everywhere.  But from now on, fewer words.  Simpler words.  Effectiver instructions.  Okay, that’s enough out of me.  But I get the point — right now, the goal is maximizing everyone’s success.  And E has shown me that I’m not simply being optimistic.  I look forward to sharing similar stories about everyone else in the class.

PS — another student, D, approached me after class and said, “Thank you for today’s math lesson, Mr. Tsang.”  I was slightly confused, so I asked D for clarification — you’re welcome, and I really appreciate your thanks, D.  But what exactly do you mean?”  He responded (that was one of his spelling words!), “before today’s lesson, I didn’t get Order of Operations at all.  But after you taught that lesson, I really get it now.”  Next week, I’ll tell D that it was actually E who deserves most of the credit for that lesson.

PPS — E approached me while the class was working independently and asked me, “Mr. Tsang, I think I’m done… do you think I can tutor anybody?”  Let’s see if we can’t turn him into a classroom resource!  He gets his own tag now.

11/9/14

From the Ashes: the End of an Era — end of practicum reflection

The past two weeks have been a rollercoaster ride.  Prior to the practicum, sitting inside those classrooms in Scarfe, I always thought to myself, “yeah, I’ve got what it takes.  Just put me in front of those kids and I’ll show them some learnin’!”  This week taught me that I, like the students who will be under my care, have lots of learnin’ to do myself.

My class gave me the wonderful opportunity to learn why it is important for lessons to be designed specifically for a given class and should not be generalized.  There is a gap between theory (lesson plan) and practice (teaching to the class) that, without careful preparation, can go sideways at any moment.  The responsibility is on the teacher, as classroom facilitator, to make these contingency plans.  Because things will go sideways, and according to Murphy’s law, they will always do so at the most inconvenient moment.

One of the first steps to contingency planning, I’ve realized, is having the proper mindset.  By that, I don’t exactly mean being in a “problem-solving mindset”.  I believe that contingency-planning must begin from a firm desire to place the goals and needs of the class before our own individual intentions.  A facilitator who feels compelled to push the pace forward to catch up with his intended schedule will inevitably lose touch with his class and may very well notice his students starting to disengage, zone out, or perhaps even some rebellious behaviours, all resulting in decreases in academic performance.  A facilitator who insists on teaching a concept through a certain activity, despite knowing his class lacks the skills with which to succeed, may end up introducing feelings of inadequacies in his students

This is, of course, barely scratching the surface of the ideas swimming about in my head — it will take some time to tie them down and anchor them to words.  Hopefully that can occur within the following days.

* * *

In retelling the story of my last lesson, I liked to place extra emphasis on The Wasp for triggering the cascade of events that led to me losing control of the class.  Mostly because it would be easy for my audience to sympathize with random occurrence leading to catastrophic failure; in fact, I intentionally used this to redirect the conversation away from what I was focusing most on during the past two weeks.  The decisions I made, whether in reaction to escalating energy to where I wanted the lesson to end up, all had something in common.

  • When A expressed fear after noticing the wasp, I allowed him to get up off his chair, and did not object to his moving about the room in an attempt to escape The Wasp’s insecty wrath.  Assumption:  helping A take action to remedy his feelings of anxiety would allow him to de-escalate and refocus
  • After witnessing A’s extreme reaction, several other students began to feel anxious as well, starting to get out of their seats.  At first, I tried to model calmness by completely ignoring The Wasp as it buzzed irritatingly close to my body, performing fly-bys of my ear on a few occasions.  What that didn’t work, I suggested/instructed the anxious students to stand by our EA.  Assumptions:  modeling “calm behaviour” will help students realize The Wasp wasn’t really that scary; that congregating as a group may be successful in dispelling anxiety and fear (this I find, in retrospect, extremely humourous)

In case it isn’t already apparent, the big similarity between all those assumptions I made was that I idealized my students.  One of the secrets to my passion to teaching and my bottomless care-pot is the fact that I believe in the best of all my students, and I try my best to remain optimistic and generous, always giving the benefit of the doubt.  My SA has shared, on several occasions, that certain students (while very pleasant to chat with) were taking advantage of my “niceness” — namely, I neither reacted to nor reprimanded disrespectful behaviour, and by my actions communicated that I condoned that kind of behaviour.  I thought I was cutting back that aspect, but every once in a while I would notice that I am (again) letting things slide, albeit not quite as smoothly as before (I would still believe the students to be angels, but reprimanded their behaviour by just calling attention to it and saying, “I know what you’re doing”).  And when The Wasp invaded the modular, I learned of another dangerous aspect of such an assumption — idealizing my students causes me to lose touch with them, which in turn leads me to react in a completely random way.  And I say completely random, because since I can no longer claim that I’m acting in the children’s best interest, and I definitely wasn’t asking in my own best interest.  Safe to say, it was benefiting somebody… at least then someone could benefit from that whole experience.

The decision to continue with my original plan of learning through collaborating as groups and sharing role-plays with the rest of the class was equally delusional in the sense that I convinced myself that not only would the students be able to overcome their earlier heightened emotions and focus, that they would be productive and on-task through the entire activity.  To add a cherry on top of the chaos pie, I had neglected to really lay out the ground rules (I don’t think I laid too many of those out) and consequences for off-task behaviour; so I ended up interpreting horsing around with “having fun with the activity”, and students falling over each other and laughing as “part of putting together their role-play”.

… yeah.  I don’t really think it was The Wasp, although he was quite the worthy adversary.

Lessons learned:

  • Be pleasant to each student, and love each for who they are… beyond that, focus primarily on what they are saying/doing at the moment
    • My care and affection for each student can and should manifest itself in my conscious choice to address the behaviour, not the student him or herself, no matter how much the behaviour bothers me
  • Being firm is an important way of caring for my students.  Being firm allows them to form consistent expectations, which in turn prepares them for future success; by being inconsistent or too permissive, I run the risk of communicating to them that there are no boundaries, or that they’re so far apart they may as well be no boundaries.  What then are they to build on?
  • Assume the best, plan for the worst
    • Remain grounded, in the moment, flexible, observant, and reactive to allow for smoother transitions.  After all, teachers play the most pleasant role of behaviour monitor to 30-odd students
  • Start low, go high — everybody benefits from clear, concise, easy-to-understand instructions with clear, logical, natural consequences.  If it truly is review for everyone, then everyone will let me know… hopefully that’s what’s actually shown!
11/1/14

Both Feet In: After the Completion of the First Week of Practicum

I entered the practicum with big goals.  The lessons that I previously delivered to the class (on discerning good/bad questions, and how to generate good questions based on an area of interest) were well-received, albeit somewhat “wild” initially — the students, at this point not used to a large degree of freedom, embraced it by participating in the activities as children are wont to do.  Nonetheless, I was very surprised and proud when I noticed certain students (who, I was initially warned, were difficult to motivate and thus often not focusing) contributed quite often during class discussion.  I was under the impression that things were going smoothly, and that the logical extension of the Questions lessons — Genius Hour — would be a smashing success.

Students were assigned homework in preparation of Genius Hour — after choosing 3 of the “passions” from their self-generated passion list and for each passion, the students were instructed to create good “I wonder…” questions.  “Good” questions, we decided, could generate other questions and be conductive to formulating a research project or experiment(s) around.  The day the assignment was due… only a handful of students submitted questions; the majority of students who submitted their questions did not fully complete the assignment, as they only generated 1 question per passion (for a total of 3) as opposed to the expected 3.

Those who submitted questions followed the “I wonder…” question prompt offered as a sentence stem.  And while the students displayed interest in certain areas, they were somewhat discouraged when informed that their questions “were not good enough” — many of them asked simple “what” questions, or “can I” questions… there were quite a few “I wonder if I can learn _____”; assertions that the student could easily answer that question “yes” or “no” was met with blank stares and puzzled looks because as far as they were concerned, these were valid questions that they had asked regarding their passion.  Another common modification was “I wonder if I can learn ____ in _____ [unit of time]”, suggesting that introducing a time limit constituted “challenge” or “investigation” for most students.  I realized that the very act of creating good “I wonder…” questions invokes a certain kind of creativity; like most forms of creativity, some individuals are born with natural talent, and others must nurture their growing talents with practice and determination as supports.

Perhaps the students’ responses were indicative of the a lack of critical thinking and creativity, which, in my opinion, is not surprising given the primary form of assessment (recall and recall-based analysis/evaluation) for most academic subjects.  Even science, whose very epistemological foundation is formed on skepticism, curiosity, and applied theory, is no stranger to heavily regimented processes by which information are integrated into a working body of knowledge.  Students conduct experiments based on research questions originating from teachers, or from other experts outside the classroom; their responses are heavily structured into labelled sections that call for information to be reproduced in a certain form.  Within this model, there is little room for the students’ creativity and curiosity to truly manifest itself — there is no such field such information may be recorded, and if those curious questions were to be recorded in any of the answer sections, it would be marked wrong, thus dissuading further creative “outbursts”.  This was confirmed by myself when students were instructed by my SA to “play around and experiment” with their battery and lightbulb kits.  She intentionally provided no instruction, instead telling her students, “try different things, and write down your observations.”  Several times she had to rein me in when she noticed me trying to “help” certain students — I was so ingrained with the notion of delivering information in a clear, concise, and easily digested way (so as to maximize students’ understandings) that I had not realized that in doing so I was actively destroying those students’ opportunity to experiment!

Creativity, in its current form, seems to occur primarily through interpretation of existing information.  In physical education classes, students are taught certain skills, after which they are taught pointers aimed at improving technique.  Language Arts class involves the learning and recitation of spelling words, each carefully analyzed thoroughly and dissected with the assistance of spelling rules.  Math class is the worst offender — the basic concept –> alternate applications –> word problems progression is so common that breaking that pattern in any way (such as introducing a self-paced, fundamentals-driven curriculum) creates confusion and decreases effectiveness.  It is, therefore, no surprise that students’ idea of learning and investigation consists solely of finding a WHAT — for every question there is a definitive answer, and each answer has been shown to be intimately linked to “knowledge”, the demonstration of which suggests proficiency and is rewarded with good grades.  Unfortunately, this has the consequence of communicating that the goal is far more important than the means — the ability to produce the proper, expected answer is rewarded far more readily (not to mention much easier to assess) than each student’s individual path towards that goal.

The answer is definitely important, but I believe that more attention must be given to acknowledging the learning process itself.  What is more important, in my opinion, is the student‘s answer — the path the student chose to take, in this case, is far more interesting and worth focusing on than where they actually end up.  Attempts to introduce inquiry-based learning exposed a glaring flaw with traditional pedagogy — students are trained to associate TRUTH (or the correct answer) with RIGHT (the fastest way to get a student’s defenses up, or deflate their ego, is to tell them they are wrong) and to devalue any methods that do not produce RIGHT answers.

That being said, inquiry-based learning offers a means by which facilitators can steer their charges in the right direction.  Given an understanding of the student’s own perspective, natural abilities, and preferred method by which to engage subject material, facilitators can encourage or suggest certain “modifications” or alternative applications of existing skills to achieve the intended goal.  And in doing so, the facilitator will be able to properly acknowledge what the student brings to the problem space and help them feel empowered to explore subject matter in an effort to create their own knowledge.  If this discrepancy must be corrected at the post-baccalaureate level in training teachers, need we say more about students in elementary school?

I started planting seeds of dissent among a small handful of students at a time.  I tell them, “a good question gives you a chance for you to find your OWN answer to something you are curious about”; that a good question “has nothing to do with what other people say is right or wrong”; that the whole point of the question was to guide students towards engaging in enactive practice (no, I didn’t use those words specifically…), which may or may not involve students designing their own experiments.  A few confused looks, a few questions; it might need some more refining.

But I made the mistake of starting off with “it’s perfectly fine for your question to lead you nowhere and to discover a big pile of nothing”, and “the whole point is for you to EXPLORE something interesting in a way that YOU find interesting; what you actually discover is beside the point”.  I told developing pre-teens that their perspectives and opinions were valuable, and that they possessed the means of producing or discovering meaningful information through interacting with their surroundings; I told them that what they could come up could be better than anything adults could come up with.  Perhaps that is why they were unable to come up with good questions… I was assuming that students believe that.  And in doing so, I made one of the biggest and most grave mistakes I feel an educator can make — how can I claim that I teach to students’ individual strengths and abilities when I make assumptions about what they can or cannot do?

It is important to note that despite the aforementioned challenges and drawbacks, my SA and I remain optimistic in our students’ ability to take ownership of their learning.  All the structure and procedural niceties necessary to ensure a well-maintained and secure learning environment, I have come to realize, can be harnessed to provide students with the requisite skills with which to maximize their learning potential.

At first, many students were not able to figure out how to set up their circuit and immediately raised their hands for assistance.  Quite a few of them were frustrated with their classmates and themselves, and I am sure that a few of them may have thought to themselves, “I’ll never be able to do this.”  A few “yes, I got it!” shouts were met with mild anxiety from students in the vicinity, fearful of the eventual shame and blow to self-confidence that inevitably accompanies the acceptance of failure.  Yet they worked on, and before long, students were referring to their notes, collaborating, and most importantly, trying whatever they could come up with.  Soon every single group was able to complete their circuit, bringing a smile to our faces.

But what really made our smiles widen was hearing some children exclaim, “this lightbulb is so dull, how can we make this brighter?  Is it broken?”  Sure enough, by the end of science block, most of the groups had figured out ways to brighten the lightbulb, and were visibly and verbally disappointed when told to pack up their materials in preparation for the end of the day.  So that’s what learning is supposed to look like… I have a lot of work to do.