Chapter 11:
Hundreds of the lessons I taught in the early part of my career were built on a paradigm from which I have since broken away. As a young teacher, I defined learning opportunities as a combination of what the teacher already knew and what the students did not yet know. After all, it wouldn’t make sense to teach the students what they already knew. Likewise, it wouldn’t make sense to teach a lesson that I did not fully understand.
Thanks to my students, those paradigms have completely shifted. Now, I understand that it absolutely makes sense to teach the students about what they already know. Likewise, it now makes complete sense to me to teach a lesson on a topic I do not fully understand.
The reason for my change in thinking? Today, I see far more value in dilemmas than conclusions, which means I no longer feel the need to orchestrate harmony between questions and answers. Instead, I encourage my students (and myself) to struggle with dissonance. I have much less need for the “teacher GPS” that constantly tells students, “You are at Point A, and I will completely guide you to point B. If you falter for a micro-moment, I will reroute you.”
The falters in those micro-moments provide rich learning opportunities. And when students build upon the success that comes from persisting through those struggles, they experience new learning — learning that will add value to future learning.
Additionally, encouraging students to reach for their paradigms, their current understanding, their perspectives, and their own personal experiences — instead of mine — is a habit that promotes enormous growth.
Now it makes complete sense to ask students to reach toward what they do know, rather than simply toward what they do not know.
During the journey in the direction of this understanding, I posted the next Big Idea on the wall.
“Many people think learning is about new ideas, new information, and new discoveries. It’s true. Much of learning has to do with the new. But we also know learning is about making connections. So I have a question. When we have those new ideas or new discoveries and when we experience that new learning, what do we attach them to? We attach learning to ideas or experiences that we already own.
“When we learn about fuchsia, we may attach it to purple. When we learn about remainders, we may attach them to fractions. When I teach you about dissonance, you may contrast it with what we already know about harmony.
“The learning you already own is extremely important. Remember that Big Idea 8 says, ‘Learning Is Construction.’ You have a lifetime of learning experiences. You have been learning, and learning, and learning. We will continue to experience many new ideas together in class, but I want you to understand very clearly that what you already know is very, very important. In fact, I think that what you already know may be one of the most important factors in your learning.”
Giving students opportunities to reach for what they already know is one of the best ways to help them reach for what they do not know.
Even though I had seen this reality in action many times, it took a long time for this particular slow bolt of lightning to strike. I should have recognized it in the way children watch the same movie over and over and over, each time discovering new meaning in it. I should have seen it as I observed students repeatedly listening to the same song, playing the same game, rereading the same picture book, telling the same story or the same joke, or drawing the same picture again and again.
I should have noticed it years before when my son, Ben, who was very young at the time, wanted me to read the same picture book again and again and again. By the time Road Roller Saves the Day by Jill Barnes was due back at the library, I had it entirely memorized. I should have noticed it on our next library trip when, after scouring hundreds of book spines in the children’s section, he finally walked over to me wearing a great smile and holding Road Roller Saves the Day.
Caveat: What the Teacher Knows Isn’t as Important as What the Students Already Know
I used to believe that the teacher’s knowledge was one of the most important learning factors in the classroom. Certainly, the teacher’s expertise is valuable, helpful, and can contribute enormously to the lesson. Yet it can also get in the way. In fact, I now believe that what the teacher already knows is one of the least important factors in the student’s learning.
Unfortunately, teachers often build lessons based on what they already know. I’ve done it hundreds, if not thousands, of times. Relying on our personal knowledge is comforting, as if we’re building on familiar, solid ground. But drawing on your knowledge is far less useful for your students than constructing a lesson that causes them to reach for and build on what they know. Clearly, this paradigm challenges teachers from the first moment of lesson planning.
I have come to recognize two specific personal planning methods that have had a substantial impact on the quality of my lessons. In the first method, I read an objective, or look at a lesson, and decide I already have enough background knowledge to sufficiently teach the lesson. Although it may sound ideal, I have learned that this method can actually be the most precarious option for my students. It took me many years to realize that when I plan and teach lessons from the vantage point of feeling as if I have sufficient background knowledge, the lessons almost invariably veer in the direction of my thinking. My unintentional goal becomes guiding my students to learn what I already know. Aside from focusing on my own thinking rather than helping students to reach for their own thinking, this method ends up devaluing a lifetime of learning by attempting to compress and summarize everything I know on the subject into a short block of time.
Even if a tried-and-true lesson that I thoroughly thought out in the past could work well with my current students, using it as-is — without updating my anticipation of student thinking — limits the learning experience. But if I revisit my lessons and take into consideration my current students’ thinking, then those lessons can be very effective. However, it is important for me to think carefully about why my triedand-true lessons actually worked in the first place. Was it because of the nature of the lesson itself? Or was it because of the anticipation the teacher carried into that specific learning community? Most likely, it was largely attached to the teacher’s anticipation, which leads to another question: What exactly was the teacher anticipating? Likely, it was the effect on student thinking, and how the students — the ones who were in the classroom when the lesson was originally developed — were about to connect upcoming thinking to what they already knew.
The other lesson-preparation scenario occurs when I begin with anticipation for a lesson and recognize that my learning about the content is either insufficient, can be deepened, or is solid enough that I have the confidence to largely set aside my own thinking and allow substantial space for students to create their own learning. This scenario requires me to embrace a personal triumvirate: the readiness to learn, the anticipation of student thinking, and the willingness to move my thinking out of the way so students can reach for their own thinking. I’ve learned that good preparation is much more about “lesson anticipation” than “lesson planning.” The substantial difference between “lesson planning” and “lesson anticipation” is that planning focuses on what I plan to happen. Lesson anticipation focuses on the unexpected and opens the door to new learning possibilities — for my students and for me.
Early in my teaching career, I based my lesson planning and teaching on my own experiences. After all, I had overcome significant challenges and navigated many experiences to understand the material. But I’ve ultimately come to realize that the more I insert myself into the learning experience, the more the lesson veers toward what I know. Reread that last sentence and notice whose thinking is central when my knowledge leads the way. It was not my students’ thinking I focused on with that planning method; it was my own. In order to help my students reach for the value of what they already know — and to build on it — I often have to push myself out of the way.
Within the artistry of teaching lies attention to many critical decision-making moments, which are not always easy to anticipate. One of those moments has to do with knowing just when to help students to reach for their own thinking. One way you can encourage students to develop their thinking is to harness the power of writing. Writing provides an enormously powerful opportunity for students to simultaneously revisit what they have learned in the past and use it to make sense of new information. Picture the student who is processing new learning, reaching toward existing knowledge, and is in the habit of reaching for a writing tool with plenty of space to process. That student will reach right past my thinking, and that is exactly what I want.
I am learning to move out of the way. I am learning to allow the students to reach for what they do not know by reaching for what they already know. And I suspect that, right now as you are reading this, you are attaching Big Idea 11 to your personal context, your classroom and experiences. You are reaching right past my thinking. After all, one of the most important factors in learning is what you already know.