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!

Mythical Multiple Intelligences?

I've been wrestling with the idea of multiple intelligences for some time now.

In a nutshell, the idea behind multiple intelligence theory (first proposed by Howard Gardner in the early 1990s) is that intelligence is not a unitary trait that you either have or do not have. Rather, there are multiple ways of being "smart"--multiple intelligences. Gardner originally suggested seven types of intelligence, and later expanded the list by adding an eighth:

• Linguistic intelligence - "word smart"
• Logical-mathematical intelligence - "math smart"
• Visual-spatial intelligence - "design smart"
• Bodily-kinesthetic intelligence - "body smart"
• Musical intelligence - "music smart"
• Interpersonal intelligence - "people smart"
• Intrapersonal intelligence - "self smart"
• Naturalist intelligence - "nature smart"

These descriptors above are my own, not Gardner's. This theory is appealing to me for several reasons. It does seem that there are different ways to make sense of the world, and people do seem to have various strengths and relative weaknesses in these different ways of being "smart." Used car salesman? Definitely "people smart." Nuclear physicist? Probably has "math smart" in spades. Concert violinist? I'm thinking "music smart" is an apt description. Add to this fact, my students have always had preferences for the kinds of assignments I asked them to do. And further, I like to think of myself as a unique individual with my own areas of strength to celebrate, so it's probably no wonder that parents see their kids that way, and teachers too, and likely even the kids themselves!

Early in my teaching career, I put a lot of stock into giving my middle school students self-assessments related to these multiple intelligences, with the intent of helping them understand their own gifts and talents, and helping me as their teacher to understand more about how they see the world. But more recently, I've wondered about whether this was worthwhile. Did I really use enough different teaching methods to help my "body smart" students learn science? Was I tapping into the strengths of "self smart" students in the learning opportunities they had?

And now, thinking about those quick self-checking surveys I had my students complete...how well did they actually indicate students' actual intelligence? Were they "good enough?" Or did they misdiagnose students' intelligences? Or worse, does this just give one more label to use--or an opportunity for excuses, because "I'm just not that 'word smart,' but I am 'people smart,' so if you would just teach me that way..."???

And then, I come across things like this tweet from Dr. Daniel Willingham...

Making Connections: Thinking and Learning

This morning, when I was about to get into the shower, I was taking off my watch and I noticed that I'm starting to get get my typical biking-glove-tan-lines. That gave me a bit of joy, actually, because it means the weather has warmed up enough for me to be biking regularly again, and it's sunny enough that my arms are starting to brown (slightly) compared to my hands, which stay covered up by my palm-padded biking gloves.

Noticing this, reminded me of an Encyclopedia Brown story I read (probably around age 10? I was obsessed!) that revolved around the culprit being left-handed, and one of the clues was that a suspect had different colored hands--because he was a golfer, and only wore a glove on one hand.

The concept of only wearing one glove made me think of Michael Jackson, who used to famously wear only one glove, and I briefly wondered if his hands were different colors in the 1980s too.

And that idea of only wearing one glove in the 80s reminded me of a memory from when I was in the third grade, and a friend had gone to a Dodgers game on "batting glove night," and she gave me the glove she got--not because either of us were big baseball fans, but because we were friends, and she thought I would like it. She was right, I did. Because it was the 80s, and people could wear just one glove and be cool. (If we were pretending to be Michael Jackson, I guess.)

And that reminded me of an episode of 99% Invisible I just listened to on a bike ride this week that was all about the history of how the Dodgers moved from Brooklyn to Los Angeles, and how the city displaced a Mexican-American community from the area that would become Dodger Stadium. Listening to this podcast has helped me to make all sorts of interesting and strange connections between so many aspects of contemporary life and good design (that's where the title comes from: if it's good design, it is "99% invisible"--you only notice it if the design is bad.)

I suddenly realized this weird cognitive loop, and it made me smile

And all of this happened in about 30 seconds, as I got into the shower, closed the curtain, and turned the water on.

What's Your Brand?

Let's do a little free-association.

What pops to mind when you hear the word "brand?"

Are you picturing a cowboy, marking a cow as belonging to a certain ranch?

Or maybe you have in mind the logo for a specific company?

Or perhaps you're thinking of a celebrity who endorses a particular product?

Or...maybe you are picturing a person, and the way s/he portrays her/himself on social media?

I've been thinking about that last definition for "brand" lately. I recently have seen quite a few people on Twitter responding to this tweet, sharing their own stories of foolishness...

What's the most On Brand™️ story you have from your early childhood.

Mine is when my mom told me not to touch the electric stove when it was red, because that meant it was hot, so I made direct eye contact with her and slapped my hand down on the stove top.

— mu✨ (@prinxeMu) July 8, 2018

Learning to Teach Again: Daring Acts of Pedagogy

Last week I enjoyed attending the Heartland Christian Teachers' Convention held here at Dordt College. They keynote speaker was someone I deeply respect (and...let's be honest...I'm kind of a fanboy) and have followed on Twitter for years: Rick Wormeli. Rick is a gifted presenter, a passionate educator, and an intellectual pot-stirrer. He is unafraid to challenge teachers to rethink their classroom practices, and to not do things just because "we've always done it that way." (Not to say we need to crave novelty...but that we need to be reflective, introspective, and willing to adapt.)

It was great to have Rick here on campus, and I confess, I attended every session he presented. (And live tweeted them...) It wasn't necessarily "new" material for me--I've been reading things he wrote since the mid 2000s when I was doing my Masters degree. But it was good reminders of the things I believe to be true about assessment, about differentiated instruction, about meeting the needs of students, and about teaching for understanding.

As an added bonus, I got to help out with a tech issue, and then took this awesome selfie with Rick:

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.

Planning for Day One

This one came across my Twitterfeed today (thanks to @justintarte for sharing!)...

Image by Jennifer Gonzalez @ Cult of Pedagogy. Used with permission.

Oh. Man.

What if every teacher took this approach?

On Liking and Learning

It's definitely summer-mode for me, and as I said to someone recently, this is the first time in five years that I'm neither taking courses, or teaching a course (or both) during the summer. Don't worry, I have plenty of other projects to work on, but I definitely appreciate the change of pace of being able to work a bit more on my own time-table.

For instance, yesterday morning, my colleagues in Education had an impromptu coffee time because one of our colleagues who had been out of the country for a few weeks was back, and we wanted to hear stories of her adventures abroad.

Through the course of our conversation, we wound up talking about different educational settings of which we have been part, as both students and instructors. We agreed that classroom atmosphere makes such a huge impact on students' learning, and even on their willingness to learn.

In response to this, I asked a question of my colleagues: "Do students have to like you to learn from you?"

They had a few initial responses to that wondering. We talked a bit about the difference of being liked and being respected. We talked a bit about the importance of caring relationships--that students have to know that their teachers care about them as people. But is caring the same thing as liking? (As in, can I care about my students even if I don't like them? Perhaps that's an entirely different conversation!)

We also talked about teachers that we liked very much but didn't learn much in their classes. So perhaps "learning" does not automatically result from "liking."

But I do wonder about this.

Can students learn effectively if they don't like their teachers? Is "liking" a prerequisite for "learning?" I'd love to hear what you think about this.

Public domain image from Pixabay.com

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.

Science as a Story: Promoting Cognitive Dissonance

I have to confess, I really like messing with my students. I mean, I really enjoy getting them to think about things in a new way, to reframe their previous thinking, to not just think-outside-the-box but knock-it-to-pieces-and-build-a-new-box.

I had one of those moments in my science methods class today, which was a joy this early in the semester. We are right at the beginning; today was our second class meeting. Science methods is a course for future teachers where they learn about how to teach science in the elementary or middle school classrooms they are preparing to enter in the near future. We are at the part of the course where we are thinking about foundational questions, such as, "What is science?" and "Who is a scientist?" and "Why do so many elementary teachers fear (or at least dislike) teaching science?" and "Why does Professor Mulder ask us to do so many weird things in this class?" (Okay, maybe not that last one...at least, not yet. They will be asking that in a couple weeks...)

As part of today's lesson, I asked them to start thinking about the story of science.

Here was part of my presentation, the part where I challenged them to remember what "science class" was like, and gave them a different way of thinking about what "science" could be.

Science Stories? - Created with Haiku Deck, presentation software that inspires

At the point in the presentation where I asked them to think about science as a story (the third slide here,) I had them turn to a partner and take a minute to discuss how "science as a story" fit with their experience with science in school.

It was interesting to see them turn to their partners and sort of shrug as if to say, "Yeah...so...science as a story..." I wandered around the room to eavesdrop a bit, and one pair caught my attention when they said something like, "You got us, Mulder. There's no "story" in science."

And that was the moment when I knew I had them. They were trying to find the connection, trying and failing. But I could tell from their expressions and body english that they wanted to believe it was true, even if just because I was bringing this idea up.

After their minute to discuss was up, I called the class back together, and we talked about how the idea of science as a story would change the experience of science class. What would the students' role become? How would the teacher's role shift? Would the content be experienced in the same way? What would be the same? What would look different?

From there, we turned the corner to their first major assignment for the course: writing a science autobiography--telling their own science story, or perhaps finding themselves in the story for the first time.

---

It was a great class meeting, from my perspective at least. I was able to promote some cognitive dissonance for my students. Cognitive dissonance is just what it sounds like: a "clash" between two ideas in need of resolution, because they can't be held simultaneously. Sort of like playing a white key and a the adjacent black key on a keyboard simultaneously: the sound is dissonant, not harmonious, and is in need of resolution. In my students' case, some of them have negative views of science as a subject--for a variety of reasons--but after our first two class meetings, they are already starting to see that science can be playful, and intriguing, and engaging, and--dare I say it--even fun. This is a conflicting pair of ideas for them. And the idea that "science" can be explored as a story...well, let's just say that I think we are going have to keep working on resolving these ideas, because they are still clashing a bit for some students.

I'm hopeful though, seeing how my students were learning into the playful, hands-on investigations in class, and their level of discussion, and their willingness to explore new ideas--even ones that conflict with their previous experiences--gives me a lot of hope that this is going to be a semester full of learning for us all.