Sympathizing with Students

I've had two very different conversations in the past few weeks with two different colleagues, both of which relate to working with students. One of these conversations was very sympathetic to students, in a "how can we help them succeed and thrive?" sort of way. The other was...a bit less sympathetic...the sort of commiserating conversation with more of a "how do we hold students accountable to actually do the work?' sort of feeling.

I feel both of these things sometimes, as an instructor. 

But I'm coming down right now on the side of sympathizing with students. Perhaps it's because I'm taking a computer programming course on audit right now, and feeling some of the same pressures. I am an achiever, and I want to do well, and represent myself well, and really learn the things I need to be successful! Though, to be clear, auditing a course is different--as much as I want to say I sympathize with my fellow learners, I'm in a bit of a different category. I'm taking this course just for the learning, with no grade attached, and no high stakes (e.g., scholarships) riding on a grade. Also, the professor teaching the course is a friend, and is very supportive and encouraging of me taking the course. And while she is equally supportive of the other learners in the class, there is a different kind of power dynamic, I think, since I am a peer, and the students in the class really are not.

But while all of this is true, I do feel a sense of the pressures the students taking the course do. There are times when I have to re-read the text multiple times to really understand it. There are times when I am really not sure how to start coding a program that I've been assigned, and I start to trial-and-error it. (Which never seems to work out well.) My wife could tell you how she knows when I'm struggling, because I mutter under my breath and sigh a lot. The work is challenging, and it's stretching me. And I feel a very real sense of accomplishment when I solve a programming problem that has been a bugaboo for me.

But one experience in particular had me sympathizing with students. We use an online platform as part of our homework for the course. I really like this! We get immediate feedback on the snippets of code we write, and we can redo things as many times as needed to get things right. I find that this is helping me check my understanding in a step-by-step kind of way, and deepening my understanding through repeated practice when I get things wrong. Sometimes I get things right the first go. More often, it takes me two or three attempts, but I figure this is actually a good thing, because it causes me to slow down and rethink my approach, and check my understanding of the syntax of the language I'm learning.

But there are limitations to this platform, and sometimes this has me running into dead ends, because my code isn't exactly right according to the specifications of the platform. I had this experience last week with a programming problem. I wrote a piece of code that I thought would solve the problem...but no joy. So I took the error messages, and used them to try and pinpoint where things went awry. No joy. I revised, and revised, and eventually started over from scratch. No joy, no joy, no joy. I tried over 30 different submissions on this project! (I was definitely muttering under my breath about it.) I'm stubborn enough to keep working away at it, because I really want to learn this stuff for myself! But there came a point where I felt like I was banging my head against the wall.

And so...in my frustration and defeat...I turned to Google.

I found a solution, of course. And my code was about 95% correct, but I had missed a crucial step. It felt so obvious when I saw it. I fixed my code, and submitted the project. All done.

But I also felt some guilt about needing to look up help online to solve the problem. 

In this course, which I'm taking just for fun and for my own learning, I have the luxury of not caring about a grade. Did I have to find a solution for this problem? No. But I wanted to--perhaps out of wanting to represent myself well, to actually complete the assignment, do it correctly, and get 100% on this assignment. Was it cheating? In this case, no, because my professor-colleague encourages us to use our resources to help us learn, including looking things up online. But there was still some guilt there for me.

And this is where I'm feeling sympathetic with my students. They often have higher stakes attached to grades, after all. So perhaps it's no wonder that they seek out help when they run into roadblocks. And perhaps that "seeking out help" isn't always on the up-and-up. But in a moment of frustration, or uncertainty, or need to just-get-it-done-and-move-on-to-the-next-thing-because-there-is-always-more-homework, they might seek out illicit homework help.

So all of this has me thinking about what our philosophy ought to be for encouraging students to actually, deeply learn the material? Yes, I want my students to be accountable for doing the work. And, yes, I want to encourage and support my students so they will be able to be successful in learning. Both of these are true at the same time. Are they in opposition to each other? 

All of this to say, placing myself in the students' seat has been a good exercise in understanding at least some of the pressures they are experiencing. 

Image by Chris Ried via Unsplash

Computational Thinking and Solving Problems

In my last post I shared how I am taking a programming class. We're a couple weeks in now, and it's all going well enough. (So far, so good!) 

Yesterday I wrote a fun little program to help with planning a hot dog roast. (Why do hot dogs come in packages of 10, and buns in packages of 8???) It's not the most elegant code ever, I'm sure, but I tested it with a dozen or so inputs, and the math checks out. It's a functional program. I'm feeling proud of myself, even though it's a relatively small thing.

Here's the output for the program I wrote. Fun, right?

I'm learning the syntax of Python, the "grammar" of the language. And I'm learning strategies to build code that is readable by both the computer (obviously) but also humans who might need to understand the code as well. And I'm learning about software development environments, and just how many places Python is used today. (It's a lot--a really useful language!)

But as interesting as it is for me to think through what I'm learning...it's even more interesting to me to reflect on how I'm learning.

I've taken programming before, and I'm finding myself calling back to the last time I took a course that involved hacking code, over 25 years ago now. The language is obviously different. But I'm thinking about the habits of mind I'm re-encountering as I'm taking this course. There is quite a bit of discourse in STEM education today about teaching what is called "computational thinking." This is the idea that we can break down problems into "computable" steps--algorithms, heuristics, and patterns that can help us solve the problem. 

I'm finding that more than learning coding in a particular language, I'm (re)learning some computational thinking strategies by taking this course. 

We're at a point in the semester where we are learning techniques for branching and iteration--"if-else" statements, and "while" loops--and the logic of understanding how the computer will process our code. This has me thinking about how I break the problem down, and how I attack the specific aspects of the problem to find a workable result.

My professor is fantastic at helping us think through "pseudocode" in class, where we take a problem, and collectively analyze the steps we might need to take to solve the problem, and sort of code it out as a series of algorithms, without actually writing all of the code in Python. Then we can work through the specifics of turning that pseudocode into the actual grammar of the language. It's a really effective teaching technique! And then, the practice: we use an online platform to practice writing small snippets of code and get immediate feedback. Because I get immediate feedback on whether my code "worked" or not, I can either move on to another exercise, or rework it, or if I really get stuck, it even offers some hints to get me thinking in a different direction. It's a pretty smart approach. This is really helping me to sharpen up my skills at attacking smaller scale problems that I can then bring to bear on the bigger coding problems that we do, like the hot dog cookout program I shared above.

When it comes to the exercises for homework, it's amazing to me how often find this pseudocode approach working--and it's also amazing to me how frustrated I get when I don't slow down and think computationally. There have been a few times where I read the problem in our online coding platform, immediately make an intuitive leap to how I think the code should function, hack out a solution to the exercise, and hit submit. And sometimes this works great! But other times...well, let's just say I hit "submit" 23 times for one exercise the other night, tweaking the code just a bit each time before hitting the button again. Ooof. I was getting a little frustrated, but when I finally got the right answer, I laughed...because I realized that I had been banging my head against the wall because I had missed a step in the initial framing of the problem, and in my rush to start hacking code, I didn't slow down to think through the steps.

And that, to me, is the most important thing I'm learning: I am often quick to make snap judgments, and I think this course has already been opening my eyes to the importance of slowing down and understanding the real situation of the problem before I just barrel on to a solution.

It's a lesson that I am going to need to keep relearning, I think. 

But I'll celebrate the small steps that I'm taking in this (re)learning process. And if you are planning a hot dog roast, I have a piece of code that might help you in the planning process.

My Latest Adventure in Learning

 I am a learner at heart. 

Having taken the StrengthsFinder assessment a couple of times now, it's been confirmed for me: "learner" is one of my top five strengths. I didn't really need the assessment to tell me this. I love to learn new things, and even re-learn things I've learned before.

Perhaps that's part of the appeal of academia for me: there is always something more for me to learn. And sometimes, it's the teaching that actually leads to more learning.

That's the case for me this semester. I'm teaching a new course--new to me, but also brand new to our institution: Robotics for K-12 Education. I'm right on the edge of my comfort zone for teaching this one. Honestly, I'm just a little anxious about it. I love robotics as a way of bringing the STEM disciplines (science, technology, engineering, and mathematics) together. But I also recognize that I have some learning to do.

I've taught math. I've taught science. I've taught technology applications. I've read books on design thinking, and problem-based learning, and I love projects as a way of building understanding. But I recognize the limitations of my current experience with actually building and programming robots.

It's not that I have no training or experience with building and programming robots. I've taught science and engineering principles at the middle school level with Lego robotics kits. I've used block-based coding tools to build Android apps. I've played around with Arduino micro-controllers. At a conference a couple years ago, I participated in a substantial workshop related to teaching computational thinking that involved programming simple robots. All of this helps.

But I realized the other day that it is 27 years ago since I took a true programming class, way back when I was a computer science major in my first year of college. Ooof.

And so...with the recognition that my students taking this Educational Robotics course have had programming MUCH more recently than I have (and it's actually a pre-requisite for this course!)...I've decided that I should retake Programming I, just to brush up on my own skills.

So here's to learning a new language (Python), and revisiting computer science principles I've likely forgotten in the intervening decades, and updating my skillset to be better equipped to serve my students! I'm hoping to document my ongoing learning here as part of my reflective practice--both in taking the programming course, as well as in the first go at teaching the robotics course.

Hooray for adventures in learning!

I'm ready for it...bring on the Python!

The Evolution of an Undergraduate Research Project

Many of you regular readers will know that I am constantly playing with my teaching practice--experimenting, exploring, trying to improve things. Maybe this says something about my inner state; maybe this means I'm never quite satisfied that it's "good enough." Honestly, that's probably true. I'm a work in progress, and I hope that I'm continuing to get better all the time.

I've taught Introduction to Education 15 times over the past 8 years, and it's one of my favorite courses to teach. It's also the course I teach that literally anyone in my department could teach...but I love it, and I like to think I'm a good fit for it. For the most part, I feel like I've got this course dialed in to where I want it to be: it's a pretty tightly aligned course, with clear learning targets, reasonable assessments, and instructional activities designed to ensure students will come away from the course with a strong foundation for the rest of their learning in our Teacher Preparation Program.

But...it's not perfect. (Obviously, since I am not perfect!) And so, I continue tinkering with the course, tweaking it, trying to find ways to make it a more engaging learning experience for students, one that will help them discern whether becoming a teacher is their calling, and helping them develop a beginning level of the knowledge and skills they will need as professional educators, should they decide to continue in the program.

As long as I've taught the course, I've had a research project as a key assignment. I assign students to research an education reform initiative, and share what they learn with their classmates. The goals for the project are threefold:

Paper Bridges and Teaching STEM

I'm teaching a new course this semester: Methods of Teaching STEM in K-12 Schools. This is not just a new course for me, but a new course for our program entirely, which brings some joys and challenges. I have 14 years of experience teaching in the STEM fields (science, technology, engineering and math) in K-12 schools, so I have ideas about what this looks like. But the truth is, we're thinking here about the intersections of these disciplines, which is what makes this course both fun and demanding.

I have four students taking the course, and they are all in, which makes it fun. The thing is, they all have different backgrounds and different majors in education (various STEM-field interests) and that makes it a little demanding. But the flipside of that is that we have already had some really rich discussions, as they are bringing the habits and heuristics of their different disciplines to our work. The main thing I'm realizing is that we are all going to be learning together and from each other this semester, including me. I sincerely hope this is a good way of modeling "always learning, never arriving"--which has become one of my mantras for the way I think about my work as an educator.

One thing we're trying this semester: a series of design challenges. This is often where the STEM disciplines will come together in natural ways, I think, and not just for the future teachers I'm serving this semester. In my experience teaching integrative units as a middle school science teacher, I regularly collaborated with my colleague who taught math, and we would come up with projects that would demand students to use science concepts and math reasoning, leveraging technology, as they would engineer a solution to the project we proposed to them. I'm tapping into this spirit for the design challenges we're going to play with this semester.

And so, our first challenge began: the paper bridges.

Water is Taught by Thirst

(If you're a regular reader of this blog, you may recall my series from last Fall that I entitled "Learning to Teach Again." This post might be in a similar vein...)

I was visiting with my colleague, Abby, this morning. (I should note that she gave me permission to share this story.) This is her first year teaching in higher ed, and while she's an experienced educator, there are some new things to figure out. I remember that feeling so well--while I felt confident in my teaching ability...there are some things that are just a little different than teaching in K-12. One of my favorite differences is the fact that we can take time to think about our teaching practices, and collaborate, and--well, as Abby and I were doing this morning--talk about teaching. It's not that I never did this with my colleagues when I taught in K-12. I did. But it always took a little more arranging.

In our visiting this morning, we were reflecting on how it was for us way back at the beginning of our respective teaching careers. We were thinking together about how it is when you're getting started, and how daunting it is. While I felt well prepared in some ways, I felt woefully inadequate in others. (And...as I recently shared on this blog...I still feel the need to apologize to those former students of mine from way back when...)

In particular, we were thinking of how we started out feeling as if we were somehow "against" our students. Or...at least...that we felt like our students were against us. She shared how it took a few years to realize the difference it makes when we can convince our students that we are, in fact, for them. There are so many things that we can only learn by doing them.

The students I teach now sometimes express to me how they feel a little uncertain about stepping into their own classrooms. I always reassure them that they will be well-prepared to begin their work as professional educators--better than I was, I think! But they will be well-prepared to begin their work...they will learn a lot through the doing!

Abby and I parted ways to get to work on other things. There is always grading to be done; there is always planning for the next lesson.

But a little while later, Abby emailed me a poem. She had come across it while preparing for a lesson for one of her courses, and read it through new eyes in light of our conversation.

The poem is by Emily Dickinson, and it is entitled "Water, Is Taught By Thirst." Give it a read:

Water, is taught by thirst.
Land—by the Oceans passed.
Transport—by throe—
Peace—by its battles told—
Love, by Memorial Mold—
Birds, by the Snow. 

Image by Patrik Nygren [CC BY-SA 2.0]

And maybe teaching is that way too. We learn by doing, by experience, by making mistakes, by the antithesis of what we intended.

Maybe it's a good reminder of how far I've come...and how far I still have to go in my growth towards mastering this arcane art of teaching.

Maybe it's a reminder for my students too...to recognize their false-starts, and missteps, and tentative tries in the classroom as the place where learning really happens--for them, and for their own students as well.

Readiness to Learn: A Reflection on the Silage Pile

Last night I had a new experience: I helped cover a silage pile.

You should know that I'm a city kid through-and-through, and even though I've lived in the midwest for quite a few years now, I know next to nothing about farming. But when I had the opportunity to help out with a church fundraiser that involved heading out into the country, I was up for it.

My view from the bottom of the pile, where I was holding down the tarp.

Learning to Teach Again

Tomorrow morning I will enter the classroom again, beginning my 20th year as a professional educator. I am excited! And...I have the jitters again, as usual.

This fall I'm teaching a new course. I'm adding World Regional Geography to my repertoire, and I'm really excited for this! I love geography, and I'm grateful for the opportunity to help my students expand their view of the world.

But I'm anxious about it too.

Teaching and Ramen Noodles

Seeing the title of this post might make you think that it's about teachers' compensation packages. While that is definitely a topic we should discuss sometime, that's not the point of this post.

Instead, a story in contrasts, and a thought I had in response to it.

Earlier this summer, my wife and were vacationing in Hawaii. (Yes, it was fantastic.) We enjoyed every part of it, including the food. Near our hotel, there was an area where there were many food trucks parked, and we had lunch there a couple of times, trying different cuisines offered through the window of a mobile kitchen.

Here was my favorite:

When the signs on the truck are in both Japanese and English, it's a good omen.

Doing Hard Things

This past weekend I had a new experience: I participated in a triathlon.

I say "participated," because I wasn't really in it to "compete." That would have been a whole different experience, I suspect. I was part of a trio; we had a swimmer, a runner, and I was the biker for our team. We said from the outset that we were in it for the experience; we were sure we weren't going to win, but as I said to my friends, "I feel like I'm winning because I'm doing this!" (Cheesy? Yes. Trite? Definitely. True? Well...yeah, I think so.)

Team 3 Amigos! Go! Fight! Participate!

Team 3 Amigos: that was us. We were not out to compete, really. We were participating. We were trying something out, and learning by participating. And I definitely participated--I put myself out there to try something new that challenged me, and I learned a couple of important things through my participation, by getting in there and doing a hard thing.

Finishing Well

The end is in sight!

For regular readers, you will likely know that I am currently studying in the Doctor of Education (Ed.D.) program in Educational Technology at Boise State University. I cannot tell you what a phenomenal experience this has been for me over the past four years.

I recently submitted my dissertation to my committee, and my final defense meeting is scheduled. This is the culmination of my studies, and I can hardly believe that I am at this point! In fact, as I think about it, I'm now curious how many of my friends and relatives don't actually know the process I've been working through in my doctoral work. So, here it is in a nutshell, for those who are interested...

Learning from Students

My Twitterfriend, Maggie Bolado (@mrsbolado) shared this image the other day. I love it! She gave me permission to use it for this blog post. (Thanks a bunch, Maggie!)

Image by Maggie Bolado. Used with permission.

Feedback: Timely, Specific, and Actionable

It has been an incredibly busy season of writing for me lately. My dissertation is coming together, and in fact, I have finished writing all five chapters! That doesn't mean the work is complete, however. There are ongoing edits, and then the preparation for the defense when there is a "final" document ready. But it feels really, really good to be at this point.

The best part of being "finished" is that there now is THE THING that can be addressed for the edits. My advisor has been fantastic throughout this process: he gives me feedback that is timely, specific, and actionable, and the turn-around for his comments on each draft has been amazing. I am able to see the strengths and weaknesses of different sections of my writing, where the ideas are solid, and where I need to rethink things. Each draft I work through is a little better than the last, and I am confident that the next draft is going to be even better than the last one I submitted. (At this point, it feels like there is always a "next draft"...but I know the time is coming when it's going to be good enough.)

My writing desk...it's getting worse, but the writing is getting better...

This experience has me thinking about the way teachers provide feedback to their students.

Learning to Be Uncomfortable

My friend, the amazing Alice Keeler, dropped this great quote in an online conversation today.

Alice was talking about the way things sometimes change in a software update; the developers move buttons or menu items to new places, and it causes us to have to rethink, to relearn. But I love the twist here: those small moments of a little discomfort might be avenues to new learning.

I turned it into a graphic, because we should take this to heart, teachers. We should keep learning new things. We should keep striving to get better.

But we also need to recognize that learning new things can be a challenge. Learning new things can be hard.

There is always a learning curve; and a little discomfort in the process of learning should be expected.

When Your Students are a Blessing

Yes, I own a seflie-stick. No I'm not embarrassed about it. I'm also wearing a Christmas sweater
with a T-Rex on it (wearing a Christmas sweater of its own, of course)...so I don't embarrass too easily.

This crew.

This was the group of students I was privileged to teach in my "Teaching Science Pre-K through Middle School" course this semester.

We just has our last class meeting, and I am truly, truly sad to be finishing things up with them.

To celebrate, I brought candy canes, and wore a horrible-amazing Christmas sweater, and we made slime, because science.

This group of students was an absolute blessing for me this semester.

When Teaching Isn't Teaching

While pedaling to campus this morning I was suddenly struck by a thought. (This happens more often...)

If my students aren't learning, am I actually teaching?

You know what I mean?

I know there are days where I am clearly doing the work of presenting content in class.

I lecture.

I demonstrate.

I assign readings.

I show a video clip.

I ask questions of the students.

I ask students to share their stories.

I arrange materials for hands-on activities.

I ask my students to do ridiculous things--like bring three pairs of socks to Intro to Ed. (Yes, that last one actually happened yesterday...I taught them to juggle.)

I do a lot of things in my work of teaching.

But what if my students don't actually learn anything by my song-and-dance? What if they go through the motions, do the things I ask them to do, play the game...but don't come away having learned something new, made meaning of the materials, found clarity where there was confusion.

Have I really taught?

What if teaching isn't really teaching unless there is learning? And how does this thought impact what I do in my classroom today?

That golden time when I have a few moments to get
centered...helps me to feel fully ready to teach!
Image by David Mulder [CC BY-SA 2.0]

Fighting Procrastination

I confess it: I procrastinate.

I think I am getting better at this, but only because I have so many things going on in my life that I can't afford to procrastinate on everything.

On the other hand...I have so many things going on in my life, that there are times things get pushed to the back burner, or even set on a cooling rack away from the heat entirely...and don't seem to make their way back onto the stove.

I've had to learn a few techniques along the way to keep up. Here are my top three tips for fighting procrastination:

Do You Have the Guts to Ask?

Image by Alan Levine [CC BY 2.0]

After my last post, I tweeted a series of questions, challenging teachers (I suppose) to try asking their students for feedback about their teaching. Here's one:

What do you think you would hear if you surveyed your students about your teaching? #edchat #elemchat #mschat

— Dave Mulder (@d_mulder) January 14, 2016

Get in there and Jump!

I had a fun new experience this past weekend: I took my kids and nephews and nieces to an indoor trampoline park. You would think that I was there to be the responsible adult, but let's be honest: I was just the biggest kid in there. Here, this might help you picture the scene:

That's me, "levitating" with the smaller humans jumping around me...

Yellow Submarine Moments: Stop Worrying So Much About What Other People Think

I recently introduced my kiddos to the Beatles. I am a little ashamed that it took me this long.

I had their compilation album 1 on in the car the other day, and my daughter asked me what band this was.

[OH. MY. I haven't introduced them to the Beatles? I am neglecting my duty as a parent to make sure my kids know good music, and a little history of rock and roll!]

So we listened...

"Love Me Do" ("Is this a love song? It's weird...")

"She Loves You" ("Another love song?")

"I Want to Hold Your Hand" ("These guys sing a lot of love songs, don't they?")

"Help!" ("I like this one, Dad!")

"Yesterday" ("He sounds kind of sad.")

"Day Tripper" ("That is my favorite guitar part ever!")

And then...