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Did you know robots can help us develop growth mindset? It’s true. Machine learning means that not only can robots learn, they can teach us too. To see how, check out this post on Byrdseed. I have no idea why watching videos of robots making mistakes is so funny, but my students and I were all in helpless hysterics after the first minute of this one…
After a quick discussion to refresh our memories about growth mindset and fixed mindset (which I introduced in the fall using this activity), I followed Ian’s suggestion to have the students write letters to the robot. One from each mindset. I collated them into two letters (shown below), which I will bring back to the students tomorrow. All of this feeds into a major activity about writing good quality feedback, and the regular weekly practise of students writing feedback to themselves on their quizzes.
I didn’t show the second minute of the video until after everyone had turned in their letters. But I like Ian’s suggestion of doing that later in the week and writing two new letters… where the fixed mindset has to take it all back.
|Dear robot, try not flipping pancakes. Just stop, you suck. Why don’t you find a better robot to do it for you? You are getting worse. There is no chance for improvement. Give up, just reprogram yourself, you’ll hurt someone. Perhaps you weren’t mean to flip pancakes. Try something else. Maybe discus throwing.||Dear robot, please keep trying to flip the pancake. At least it left the pan on attempt 20. Go take a nap and try again tomorrow. Practise more. Don’t feel bad, I can’t flip pancakes. Keep working, and think of what can help. I see that you’re trying different new techniques and that’s making you get closer. Maybe try another approach. Would having another example help? Is there someone who could give you some constructive feedback? Or maybe have a way to see the pancake, like a motion capture system. That would help you keep track of the pancake as it moves through the air. Keep going, I believe in you!
I’ve been looking for new ways every year to turn over a bit more control to the students, to help them use that control well, and to strike a balance between my responsibility to their safety (in their schoolwork and their future jobs) with my responsibility to their personal and collective self-determination.
One tiny change I made this year is to use more “portfolio-style” assessments. If you work for the same institution I do, you know that “portfolio” can mean a bewildering variety of things… I’m using it here in the concrete sense used by artists and architects. So far this semester, that looks like doing in-class exercises where students work on 3-5 examples of the same thing. For example, our first lab about circuits required students to hook up 3 circuits, using batteries, light bulbs, and switches, and draw what they had built. On the second lab day, I asked them to build the same circuits again, based on their sketches, and add measurements of voltage, current, and resistance. On the third day, they practised interpreting the results, using sentence prompts.
But the “assignment” wasn’t “hook up a circuit.” The skills I was assessing were “Interpret ohmmeter result”, “Interpret voltmeter results”, “Document a circuit”, etc. So I asked them to choose from among the circuits they had worked on, and let me know which one (or two) best showed their abilities.
I haven’t reviewed the submissions yet, but I’m anticipating that they’ll need feedback not only on the skill of interpreting a circuit but also on the skill of self-assessment.
In support of this, I’ve had students evaluate the data gathered by the entire class. Part of my hope is that seeing each other’s work and noticing what makes it easier or harder to make sense of will help them better assess their own work. What suggestions do you have for helping students get better at choosing which of their work best demonstrates their skills?
By last winter, the second year students were pretty frustrated. They were angry enough about the workload to go to my department head about it. The main bone of contention seemed to be that they had to demonstrate proficiency in things in order to pass (by reassessing until their skills met the criteria), unlike in some other classes where actual proficiency was only required if you cared about getting an A. Another frequently used argument was, “you can get the same diploma for less work at [other campus.]” Finally, they were angry that my courses were making it difficult for them to get the word “honours” printed on their diploma. *sigh*
It was hard for me to accept, especially since I know how much that proficiency benefits them when competing for and keeping their first job. But, it meant I wasn’t doing the Standards-Based Grading sales pitch well enough.
Anyway, no amount of evidence-based teaching methods will work if the students are mutinous. So this year, I was looking for ways to reduce the workload, to reduce the perception that the workload is unreasonable, and to re-establish trust and respect. Here’s what I’ve got so far.
1. When applying for reassessment, students now only have to submit one example of something they did to improve, instead of two. This may mean doing one question from the back of the book. I suspect this will result in more students failing their reassessments, but that in itself may open a conversation
2. I’ve added a spot on the quiz where students can tell me whether they are submitting it for evaluation, or just for practise. If they submit it for practise, they don’t have to submit a practise problem with their reassessment application, since the quiz itself is their practise problem. They could always do this before, but they weren’t using it as an option and just pressuring themselves to get everything right the first time. Writing it on the quiz seems to make it more official, and means they have a visible reminder each and every time they write a quiz. Maybe if it’s more top-of-mind, they’ll use it more often.
3. In the past, I’ve jokingly offered “timbit points” for every time someone sees the logic in a line of thinking they don’t share. At the end of the semester, I always bring a box of timbits in to share on the last day. In general, I’m against bribery, superficial gamification (what’s more gamified than schooling and grades??), and extrinsic motivation, but I was bending my own rules as a way to bring some levity to the class. But I realized I was doing it wrong. My students don’t care about timbits; they care about points. My usual reaction to this is tight-lipped exasperation. But my perspective was transformed when Michael Doyle suggested a better response: deflate the currency.
So now, when someone gives a well-thought-out “wrong” answer, or sees something good in an answer they disagree with, they get “critical thinking points“. At the end of the semester, I promised to divide them by the number of students and add them straight onto everyone’s grade, assuming they completed the requirements to pass. I’m giving these things out by the handful. I hope everybody gets 100. Maybe the students will start to realize how ridiculous the whole thing is; maybe they won’t. They and I still have a record of which skills they’ve mastered; and it’s still impossible to pass if they’re not safe or not employable. Since their grades are utterly immaterial to absolutely anything, it just doesn’t matter. And it makes all of us feel better.
In the meantime, the effect in class has been borderline magical. They are falling over themselves exposing their mistakes and the logic behind them, and then thanking and congratulating each other for doing it — since it’s a collective fund, every contribution benefits everybody. I’m loving it.
4. I’ve also been sticking much more rigidly to the scheduling of when we are in the classroom and when we are in the shop. In the past, I’ve scheduled them flexibly so that we can take advantage of whatever emerges from student work. If we needed classroom time, we’d take it, and vice versa. But in a context where people are already feeling overwhelmed and anxious, one more source of uncertainty is not a gift. The new system means we are sometimes in the shop at times when they’re not ready. I’m dealing with this by cautiously re-introducing screencasts — but with a much stronger grip on
reading comprehension comprehension techniques. I’m also making the screencast information available as a PDF document and a print document. On top of that, I’m adopting Andy Rundquist’s “back flip” technique — screencasts are created after class in order to answer lingering questions submitted by students. I hope that those combined ideas will address the shortcomings that I think are inherent in the “flipped classroom.” That one warrants a separate post — coming soon.
The feedback from the students is extremely positive. It’s early yet to know how these interventions affect learning, but so far the students just seem pleased that I’m willing to hear and respond to their concerns, and to try something different. I’m seeing a lot of hope and goodwill, which in themselves are likely to make learning (not to mention teaching) a bit easier. To be continued.
My last post was about encouraging my students to re-evaluate what they think is certain. I’m trying to help them break the habit of arguing from authority, and encourage them to notice their own thinking… and even to go so far as exposing that thinking to the class! That’s going to be scary, and it depends on creating a supportive climate.
I responded to a comment on that post, in part: “I do realize that I’m pulling the rug out from under their trust in their own perception of reality, and that’s an unpleasant experience no matter what. Sometimes I think this is actually a spiritual crisis rather than a scientific one.” To be fair, I’m careful not to suggest that their perception is invalid; only that it is important to notice the evidence that underlies it. But that means considering the possibility that there isn’t any, or isn’t enough. In the conversations that follow, the students talk about wondering whether certainty exists at all, and whether anything exists at all, and what knowing means in the first place. That leads to what it means to “be right”… and then what it means to “do right.”
My best guess is that they have tangled up “right and wrong test answers” with “right and wrong moral behaviour” — being a “good person” means being a good student… usually a compliant one.
So, I’m provoking a moral, or maybe a spiritual, crisis — or maybe exposing an underlying crisis that was there all along. What do I do about it? How do I help students enter into that fear without being immobilized or injured by it? They don’t know what to do when the rigid rules are removed, and I don’t know what to do when they get scared. What do we do when we don’t know what to do?
Our classroom conversations range over ontology, epistemology, ethics, and, yes, faith. I realize I’m treading on thin ice here; if you think opening a conversation about faith and spirituality in my classroom (or on this blog) is a mistake, I hope you’ll tell me. But I don’t know how to talk about science without also talking about why it’s not faith, to talk about truth and integrity without talking about what it means to do what’s “right”, why all of these might contribute to your life but one can’t be treated as the other. And it’s a line of conversation that the students dig into avidly, almost desperately. Putting this stuff on the table seems to offer the best possibilities for building trust, resilience, and critical thinking.
So when the students open up about their fear and anger around what “right and wrong” can mean, I go there (with care and some trepidation). I’m careful not to talk about particular sects or creeds — but to invite them to think about what they think of as morally right and wrong, and why models of atomic structure don’t fit into that structure.
There is occasionally some overlap though.
And then he went on … “Christ saith this, and the apostles say this;’ but what canst thou say?” … This opened me so, that it cut me to the heart; and then I saw clearly we were all wrong. So I sat down … and cried bitterly… “We are all thieves; we are all thieves; we have taken the [ideas] in words, and know nothing of them in ourselves.“
Since this belongs to a particular faith community, I don’t bring it into the classroom. I think about it a lot though; and it’s the spirit I hope students will bring to their re-evaluation of the high school physics they defend so dearly.
If I expect them to respect the “wrong” (bad? EVIL??) thinking of their classmates, it’s crucially important that they feel respected. If I want them to stop arguing from authority, I have to be meticulous about how I use mine. One technique I’m going to try tomorrow is sharing with the class some of the “cool moves” I noticed on the most recent quiz.
Despite my angst about this issue, I’m actually thrilled by the curious, authentic, and humble thinking that’s happening all over the place. So tomorrow I’ll show some of these (anonymous) examples of non-canonical ideas and explain what I think is good about them. I’ll especially make sure to seek out a few from the students who are the main arguers from authority.
My definition of “inquiry” as an educational method: it’s the students’ job to inquire into the material, and while they do that, it’s my job to inquire into their thinking.
So yes, the goal is really “inquiry-based learning”. I’ve written lots before about what the students do. But this post is about what I do. I have to inquire at least as much as the students do.
I’ve written that before, more than once… but do you think I can find it on my own blog? Nope. Also, I stole it originally, probably from Brian Frank. Do you think I can find it on his blog? *sigh* If anyone finds it, in either place, let me know, would ya?
What’s new about my ability to inquire into my students’ thinking is that I’m treating it more like a qualitative research project. Someday I’ll go take a qualitative methods course and actually know what I’m talking about (I’m taking suggestions for methods texts, courses you liked, or profs you respect)… but until then, I’m muddling through better than usual.
Activities That Help Me Inquire Into Student Thinking
We spend the first week doing things that are designed for them to play with their current ideas and me to learn to find out about them. In the past I set out piles of AA batteries, light bulbs, sockets, and switches. I’d ask students to build a circuit that worked, one that looked like it should but didn’t, and a third one of any description. Students drew their circuit on paper and wrote down what they noticed, as well as what they wondered (props to Brian again for the wording of the prompt, which helps break down the fear induced by writing the “wrong” thing in a lab report “observation” section). The noticing and wondering helps me learn a lot about their ideas.
This year I added a day before light bulbs where they made circuits out of playdough. It was silly, messy, and fun. It also yielded lots of new info about their thinking about electrons, voltage, current, charge, etc., which I asked them to record on this handout.
Whatever they write down ends up in a spreadsheet that looks like this:
|2015 Intake ideas so far||Name||Date||Context||V||R||I||P||C||Energy||Potential|
|voltage is potential difference amount of potential energy between points||XXXXXX||09-Sep-15||Squishy Circuits||x||x||x|
|Insulators stop energy from passing through||XXXXXX||09-Sep-15||Squishy Circuits||x|
|Conductors allow the transfer of energy||XXXXXX||09-Sep-15||Squishy Circuits||x|
I just keep adding tags on the right to keep track of whatever topic I need to keep track of. That way I can sort by topic, by date, or by student. It also helps me see which activities yielded what kind of curiosity.
My Favourite Ideas So Far
What holds matter together?
Are electrons what power actually is?
Batteries in a row must connect to each other like how magnets connect together to attract each other (2 negatives connected doesn’t work)
Closing the switch should double the power supply, but there was no noticeable difference. Why?
When negative side of battery reaches positive side of other battery, shouldn’t it be a complete circuit?
Put the switch on the other side of the bulb. Does it matter?
Why did the 2 dim lights light at all, when the path of least resistance was through the 1 light bulb path? In my “double the wires” circuit, they didn’t light at all.
Why don’t any of the bulbs turn on? I would have thought that at least the first bulb would faintly glow.
Resistance is how much current is lost in the current
What separates Watts from Volts?
If I Inqire Into My Own Thinking…
What’s the pattern here about which ideas are exciting to me? Well, quite a few of them are challenges to common misconceptions. Despite my resistance, it seems I’ve still got a bit of a case of misconception listening.
The other pattern is that they all point either to questioning cause, or improving precision. Those are discipline-specific skills, part of the “implicit curriculum” that people in my field often think of as unlearnable “aptitudes” instead of skills. So there’s a practise of inclusion underlying my choices — making these skills explicit benefits everyone but especially the people with little previous exposure to technical fields. Cause and precision are also things that I personally find satisfying and beautiful. No coincidence about the overlap — I chose my field for a reason. I’ll have to be careful to encourage curiosity wherever I find it, not just in the students who ask the kinds of questions I like best.
What I Did On My Blogging Hiatus
It’s been a busy and fruitful year and a half since I last wrote. Teaching highlights:
- I finally got my teaching to play nice with the rest of my life — down from an abominable 80-100 hours of work per week to a manageable 60 (hint: standards-based grading was part of the solution, not the problem).
- I noticed that standards-based grading and inquiry-based learning (I aspire to something along these lines) were not just challenging my students understanding of “right and wrong answers” on tests, but also their understanding of “right and wrong” moral behaviour in the world. No, really. I saw a sharp uptick in classroom conflict (about course ideas), out-of-class conflict (about everything else), and tearful moral crises.
- I found a balance between inquiry-based learning and you-have-to-know-this-because-employers-say-so that lets me sleep at night.
- I urgently started learning and practicing ways to help students enter peacefully into disagreement. My classroom management got 100 times better, partly because I improved our beginning-of-year conversation about community agreements, partly because of these unusually useful online courses, partly because I got better at noticing and encouraging these “intellectual traits“.
- I took a semester off using my contract’s deferred salary plan, from January – June 2014
- I learned to camp solo in the backcountry, including some winter trips
- I successfully applied for a reduced instructional assignment for the current academic year — this means 50% work for 50% pay (so my workload is now a charming 30 hours per week)
- I studied community-based conflict mediation techniques at the Tatamagouche Centre, Pendle Hill, and a few other places
- I spent a lot of time hiking, snowshoeing, skiing, kayaking, and snorkelling
- I joined a band that plays Turkish and Balkan music for folk dance parties. No really…
Topics I May Write About Soon
- If you can’t get disagreement, does that mean it’s the wrong question?
- How can we “spread the no” — so one person isn’t left alone raising a point?
- Single-system thinking vs. multi-system thinking (and how to convert between them)
- Making the process of abstraction visible and student-directed
- Do students have trouble distinguishing between “there is none” (zero) and “we don’t know how much” (null)?
- Peak-to-peak amplitude “isn’t a subtraction… it’s just a difference.” What does this mean and where can we go with it?
- What are all the possible things that “DC” can mean?
I did my first round of interim feedback last week. I asked students to comment on their DC Circuits course:
- What do you like?
- What do you dislike?
- How are we doing with respecting our class norms?
Overall, students seem to appreciate the critical thinking approach. They are warming to the idea that the purpose of a question is not necessarily to catch someone out, and they are noticing the difference in how it feels to think quickly vs. slowly, even if they don’t always love it.
Here’s a sample of the responses. I’m especially excited about the ones in bold, because they represent things I’ve struggled with in the past.
“Shop work — If I’m confused about something in class, it really helps to understand better if I do it myself.”
“Being treated as thinkers. I ask a question and we discuss it.”
“Being challenged to think instead of just repeating what is taught like a robot.”
“When you work in a factory you get in a cycle of just doing and not thinking.”
“I like how it’s about science”
“Making things work and learning how it works”
“Positive learning atmostphere”
“Makes me realize how much I like electronics”
“Friday assessments are not stressful.”
“Methodical, worksheets are precise.”
“Gets more interesting every day”
“I like that I am now better at asking questions about things that I don’t understand.”
“A lot of questions go unanswered. I understand we will learn for ourselves a lot but others are nice to have answered when brought up.”
“Pace is a bit fast. Need more time to understand theories.”
“Pace is a bit slow. But I do realize we all have to be on the same level and learn the basics first.”
“I dislike feedback sheets, but I really don’t care how I learn,”
“Methodical, work sheets can sometimes slow down what should be a simple task. Am willing to take good with the bad in this case.”
“In the beginning I was frustrated about the research we had to do on electrons, atoms, and charge. I understand why you had us do that though. I just found it hard and tedious.”
What’s Going Well With our Rights and Responsibilities?
“Respectful / Positive / Relaxed / Professional / No one makes fun of anyone else”
“Everyone gets along”
“Giving everyone a say in discussions”
“Every one is here to learn”
“Asking questions and being open about concerns”
“You are definitely challenging us and making us think.”
“I think we’re learning to say ‘I don’t know’ and allow for knowledge gaps.”
What Could We Improve About our Rights and Responsibilities?
“Talking while others are talking. ”
“Give more help time for those who are a little slower”
“More deeper explanation”
Michael Pershan kicked my butt recently with a post about why teachers tend to plateau in skill after their third year, connecting it to Cal Newport’s ideas such as “hard practice” (and, I would argue, “deep work“).
Michael distinguishes between practice and hard practice, and wonders whether blogging belongs on his priority list:
“Hard practice makes you better quickly. Practice lets you, essentially, plateau. …Put it like this: do you feel like you’re a 1st year teacher when you blog? Does your brain hurt? Do you feel as if you’re lost, unsure how to proceed, confused?If not, you’re not engaged in hard practice.”
Ooof. On one hand, it made me face my desire to avoid hard practice; I feel like I’ve spent the last 8 months trying to decrease how much I feel like that. I’ve tried to create classroom procedures that are more reuseable and systematic, especially for labs, whiteboarding sessions, class discussions, and model presentations.
It’s a good idea to periodically take a hard look at that avoidance, and decide whether I’m happy with where I stand. In this case, I am. I don’t think the goal is to “feel like a first year teacher” 100% of the time; it’s not sustainable and not generative. But it reminds me that I want to know which activities make me feel like that, and consciously choose some to seek out.
Michael makes this promise to himself:
It’s time to redouble my efforts. I’m half way through my third year, and this would be a great time for me to ease into a comfortable routine of expanding my repertoire without improving my skills.
I’m going to commit to finding things that are intellectually taxing that are central to my teaching.
It made me think about what my promises are to myself.
Be a Beginner
Do something every summer that I don’t know anything about and document the process. Pay special attention to how I treat others when I am insecure, what I say to myself about my skills and abilities, and what exactly I do to fight back against the fixed-mindset that threatens to overwhelm me. Use this to develop some insight into what exactly I am asking from my students, and to expand the techniques I can share with them for dealing with it.
Last summer I floored my downstairs. The summer before that I learned to swim — you know, with an actual recognizable stroke. In both cases, I am proud of what I accomplished. In the process, I was amazed to notice how much concentration it took not to be a jerk to myself and others.
Learn More About Causal Thinking
I find myself being really sad about the ways my students think about causality. On one hand, I think my recent dissections of the topic are a prime example of “misconceptions listening” — looking for the deficit. I’m pretty sure my students have knowledge and intuition about cause that I can’t see, because I’m so focused on noticing what’s going wrong. In other words, my way of noticing students’ misconceptions is itself a misconception. I’d rather be listening to their ideas fully, doing a better job of figuring out what’s generative in their thinking.
What to do about this? If I believe that my students need to engage with their misconceptions and work through them, then that’s probably what I need too. There’s no point in my students squashing their misconceptions in favour of “right answers”; similarly, there’s no point in me squashing my sadness and replacing it with some half-hearted “correct pedagogy.”
Maybe I’m supposed to be whole-heartedly happy to “meet my students where they are,” but if I said I was, I’d be lying. (That phrase has been used so often to dismiss my anger at the educational malpractice my students have endured that I can’t even hear it without bristling). I need to midwife myself through this narrow way of thinking by engaging with it. Like my students, I expect to hold myself accountable to my observations, to good-quality reasoning, to the ontology of learning and thinking, and to whatever data and peer feedback I can get my hands on.
My students’ struggle with causality is the puzzle from which my desire for explanation emerged; it is the source of the perplexity that makes me unwilling to give up. I hope that pursuing it honestly will help me think better about what it’s like when I ask my students to do the same.
Interact with New Teachers
Talking with beginning teachers is better than almost anything else I’ve tried for forcing me to get honest about what I think and what I do. There’s a new teacher in our program, and talking things through with him has been a big help in crystallizing my thoughts (mutually useful, I think). I will continue doing this and documenting it. I also put on a seminar on peer assessment for first-year teachers last summer; it was one of the more challenging lesson plans I’ve ever written. If I have another chance to do this, I will.
Work for Systemic Change
I’m not interested in strictly personal solutions to systemic problems. I won’t have fun, or meet my potential as a teacher, if I limit myself to improving me. I want to help my institution and my community improve, and that means creating conditions and communities that foster change in collective ways. For two years, I tried to do a bit of this via my campus PD committee; for various reasons, that avenue turned out not to lead in the directions I’m interested in going. I’ve had more success pressing for awareness and implementation of the Workplace Violence Prevention regulations that are part of my local jurisdiction’s Occupational Health and Safety Act.
I’m not sure what the next project will be, but I attended an interesting seminar a few months ago about our organization’s plans for change. I was intrigued by the conversations happening about improving our internal communication. I’ve also had some interesting conversations recently with others who want to push past the “corporate diversity” model toward a less ahistorical model of social justice or cultural competence. I’ll continue to explore those to find out which ones have some potential for constructive change.
Design for Breaks
I can’t do this all the time or I won’t stay in the classroom. I know that now. As of the beginning of January, I’ve reclaimed my Saturdays. No work on Saturdays. It makes the rest of my week slightly more stressful, but it’s worth it. For the first few weeks, I spent the entire day alternately reading and napping. Knowing that I have that to look forward to reminds me that the stakes aren’t as high as they sometimes seem.
I’m also planning to go on deferred leave for four months starting next January. After that, I’ve made it a priority to find a way to work half-time. The kind of “intellectually taxing” enrichment that I need, in order for teaching to be satisfying, takes more time than is reasonable on top of a full-time job. I’m not willing to permanently sacrifice my ability to do community volunteer work, spend time with my loved ones, and get regular exercise. That’s more of a medium-term goal, but I’m working a few leads already.
Anyone have any suggestions about what I should do with 4 months of unscheduled time starting January 2014?
Here’s what the first-year students have to say about the two circuits courses they take with me, now that we’re nearing the end.
They’re more confident in their time management, their organization, and their control over their learning. I’m doing a better job of anticipating their thinking, and when I fail, a better job of not being visibly dismayed! They’ve made major improvements in their ability to articulate their ideas, especially their disagreements, clearly and respectfully.
Letting myself make mistakes is how I learn the most. Being able to reassess is allowing me to do this.
It seems there is more material to cover compared to semester 1 — not sure if something could be moved to level out the material.
Fast-paced but able to keep up
Material is interesting — never boring or stale.
Students are contributing more in conversation — I see a noticeable improvement
Real-life situations — big improvement!
Hard to soak all the information in
Quit job or at least ask for time off
We are helping each other out more now than before. It helps when others are stuck and have classmates to give a hand.
You do a great job being supportive
Teaching is great. Having [conversations] at the end of labs really helps dig up the “funny,” also makes it easier to grasp important details that might get missed otherwise.
Things sometimes seem overwhelming but always manageable.
More people are showing up on time, prepared.
I think you have improved a lot with the understanding and being patient.
Horseplay in the lab is distracting — students should manage their time better instead of complaining about workload
Being able to book a meeting makes skills easy to get signed off, get to have 1:1 time with teach and ask questions, figure out problems.
When we start investigating a new topic or component, I often ask students to make inferences or ask questions by applying our existing model to the new idea. For example, after introducing an inductor as a length of coiled wire and taking some measurements, I expect students to infer that the inductor has very little voltage across it because wires typically have low resistance. However, for every new topic, some students will assume that their current knowledge doesn’t relate to the new idea at all. Although the model is full of ideas about voltage and current and resistance and wires, “the model doesn’t have anything in it about inductors.”
There are a few catchphrases that damage my calm, and this is one of them. I was discussing it with my partner’s daughter, who’s a senior in high school, and often able to provide insight into my students’ thinking. I was complaining that students seem to treat the model (of circuit behaviour knowledge we’ve acquired so far) like their baby, fiercely defending it against all “threats,” and that I was trying to convince them to have some distance, to allow for the possibility that we might have to change the model based on new information, and not to take it so personally. She had a better idea: that they should indeed continue to treat the model like a baby — a baby who will grow and change and isn’t achieving its maximum potential with helicopter parents hovering around preventing it from trying anything new.
The next time I heard the offending phrase, I was ready with “How do you expect a baby model to grow up into a big strong model, unless you feed it lots of nutritious new experiences?”
It worked. The students laughed and relaxed a bit. They also started extending their existing knowledge. And I relaxed too — secure in the knowledge that I was ready for the next opportunity to talk about “growth mindset for the model.”