Cultivating a Trusting Learning Environment

I’m sure we’d all agree that a trusting classroom environment is crucial for students. We know that they naturally thrive in an environment where they can reach out to be heard and possibly take creative risks. The sense of community in a trust-based classroom is stronger, and students feel more like they belong to something, which, in turn, positively impacts their learning.  All that's a given. But while teachers tend to start the school year relatively well in this area, somewhere along the line, things start to unravel. So, how do we go about actively creating this environment and, perhaps more importantly, maintaining it in the classroom? 

One way to tangibly cultivate a sense of trust in the classroom is to ensure that the physical environment reflects trust.  For example, the seating arrangement of a class sends an immediate message of trust or distrust. Sitting in rows (all facing the teacher at the front) or a U-shaped arrangement (everyone facing inward) each says something different about how much the teacher trusts the students. One approach says, “I have to have you all looking at me at all times,” and the other says, “Let’s learn together.” Compare these two:

Granted, the types of desks in the left image are designed to be more flexible. Nonetheless, any desk type can be reorganized in a shape that is more inviting than rows. Further, we’re talking about first impressions, here, as the needs for the class will shift throughout the year. (Rows might be necessary at some point, but they aren't immediately necessary.)

Of the two classrooms, though, which one would evoke more trust from the student perspective? Taking the time to mindfully choose a classroom layout that sends a message of trust is a step we can take before students even arrive in the classroom.  

Once school has begun, a teacher’s choice of words, whether spoken or written, can also serve to cultivate trust or distrust. Are we actively creating a sense of trust in how we refer to the class and students? Take a look at these two classroom posters: 

                                                       

The use of “we” and “our” makes a huge difference in establishing the foundation for trust, here, particularly the vast difference in tone between “This is MY classroom” and “This is OUR classroom.” Further, the negative expectation of failure (snarkily cushioned with "if" statements”) versus the positive expectation of “will” sends out completely different messages of trust. It’s as though one teacher  expects to have all sorts of problems, which automatically sends out an “I don’t trust you” message. The teacher on the right expresses a sense of confidence in the students (and himself/herself) that is designed to cultivate trust.   

Imagine coming into a classroom on the first day and seeing one of these posters. Which classroom would you really want to be a part of? In which classroom would you feel more likely to express your thoughts and take creative risks? (On a side note, the poster on the left is offered as a “Motivational Poster” on eBay for $8.95.  The other image is my revision of it.) Actively seeking to establish a sense of collaboration and community, once students are in the class, is another crucial step we can take.  

Maintaining the trust throughout the year is probably the most difficult part.  Well-intentioned teachers may start out the school year just fine. They’ve set up the classroom and diligently used language designed to inspire collaboration, but somewhere in October, things can fizzle. Kids start to fray our nerves; we lose patience and react without thinking. Unfortunately, losing that patience also means that any trust we’ve established will begin to dissolve. 

Acclaimed educator Rafe Esquith (2007) notes, “It is deeds that will help the children see that I not only talk the talk but walk the walk.” Walking the walk entails not only our initial actions, but also our reactions. For example, if you’ve told students that you will use a particular procedure for getting their attention (such as raising your hand or counting to five), and instead, you lose it and start yelling at them (“Alright! Everybody QUIET!”), they will no longer trust you. You are not walking the path you said you’d walk. Once you’ve lost your cool, you’ve evaporated the trust, and you’ll have to work to build it up again.

Having a strategy for maintaining patience, even in the midst of chaotic mutiny, really helped me out with high school freshmen. My strategy was a little silly, I guess. I would visualize the calmest person I could think of: Mahatma Gandhi. 

Then, I would repeat a mantra: Be what I want to see (a quick version of his famous quote “As a man changes his own nature, so does the attitude of the world change towards him” (Gandhi, 1958).

This sort of “channeling of Gandhi” strategy compelled me to pause before reacting—not unlike counting to ten, but a tad more inspirational. Who pops into your head as the epitome of patience and calm strength?

Another means of maintaining trust is to cultivate a mindset that is passionate for understanding. In this mindset, no matter what, you do whatever it takes to ensure your students “get” what you want them to get. Esquith (2007) offers this straightforward strategy in developing the mindset—answer all student questions:

I answer all questions. It does not matter if I have been asked them before. It does not matter if I am tired. The kids must see that I passionately want them to understand, and it never bothers me when they don’t. During an interview, a student named Alan once told a reporter, “Last year, I tried to ask my teacher a question. She became angry and said, ‘We’ve been over this. You weren’t listening!’ But I was listening! I just didn’t get it! Rafe will go over something five hundred times until I understand.”

What the student described is pure trust. This approach sounds easier than it is because having one student ask you something and then having the very next question be the same question can be exhausting and annoying. However, a kid who knows that you’ll answer his questions, no matter what, trusts you. In that “knowing” is the trust. 

This kind of trusting classroom environment is attainable if we take some time to reflect on how we present the physical environment, what messages we convey, and actively seek to maintain it. What do you want your kids to “know” about you? 

• Create a physical environment cultivates trust
• Use language that cultivates trust.
• Find strategies that will help you maintain patience and trust
• Answer all student questions to maintain trust. 

References

Esquith, R. (2007).  Teach like your hair’s on fire (Reprint). Retrieved from http://www.scholastic.com/browse/article.jsp?id=11644

Gandhi, M.K. (1958). The collected works of Mahatma Gandhi (Vol.19, p. 233). Delhi, India: Government of India, Ministry of Information and Broadcasting, Publications Division.

Through a Two-Dimensional Cube: A Philosophy of Education in Action

I find myself returning to a particular moment in one of my classes as an illustration of my philosophy of education. It wasn’t one of those inspirational lessons or fantastic units, either. It was a required, school-wide, test-prep math lesson.

I’m an English teacher. Let's just say, math isn't my thing.

In this school-wide initiative, we all did the same reading passage or math problem every day. These were sometimes not available until five minutes before the class and rushed out to teachers.


On this day, we had this math problem that dealt with the volume of a cube ( or something like that), and we had to figure that out to resolve the larger problem. But the image provided was two-dimensional. It was a letter T, a box that was completely laid flat.


With a very clear, personal awareness of my non-math aptitude, I was actually a better model for learners that day. First, I had to offer myself some motivation for doing the problem other than it was required because doing something that way isn’t a motivation. I had to be curious about how to solve the problem.

Teachers were given the answers, of course. But what good is an answer without wanting to understand where it comes from? 

I thought aloud about how to approach the problem as a learner for a bit and then opened it up for class collaboration, to see what we could do or not do with it. I modeled my thinking, which was probably something along the lines of "Seriously?! There has got to be a way…"
 

My mind just wasn't getting it, though.  It didn't bother anyone, least of all me, that I didn't have the answer because we often held discussions where I didn't have the answer. That was okay in my class.

So, we piddled and pondered together, and after a few minutes, a student figured it out (math whiz that he was!) jumped up excitedly and tried to tell me what to do. I didn't follow, so he ran up to the front, grabbed some scissors, cut the paper,

and made the cube by folding it over.

This learning moment exemplifies my philosophy of education. 

Now, I know a lot of people talk about strategies and methods when they discuss their philosophy of education, but I have to wonder what it is that induces those principles--what's behind the decision-making process that compels one to choose a particular strategy or method? Doesn’t our mindset come first?
Because there was no method or strategy that I used in our cube story. But we learned.

There were however, several mindsets at work, and I think my philosophy of education seems boils down to mindsets. If the mindset is appropriate, the method or strategy will emerge more naturally. They are (in no particular order): mindfulness, curiosity, creativity, and humility.

Mindfulness has to do with a state of being in response to or approach to things as a teacher (or a learner).  Whether that is a stellar discussion post from an adult learner or a snarky comment from a teenager face-to-face, I steer away from knee-jerk reactions. Rather, I prefer to take a moment and consider what is actually happening or will happen. I allow the moment to happen--it's being fully present.

In the cube story, I allowed the moment to happen. Without that mindfulness, I probably would have just glossed over to the answer.  If I attach mindfulness to an action, I would call it allowing. I enjoyed allowing the moment of not knowing, thinking, collaborating, and listening.  

Curiosity as a mindset played a large role, here--the ability to be curious about things that we might not be interested in or that we might already know a lot about is a game-changer for education. It is a mindset that has helped me in so many ways with students.  For example, I taught Frankenstein every year in AP Lang. While I can certainly say I knew the story and characters inside and out, every year, I would approach the novel with new curiosity. I created a question for myself to answer, generally along the lines of "How is this ages-old novel STILL relevant today?"  And every year, without fail, I'd come up with an answer.

Curiosity seems to attach to the action of searching. Students need to see us searching.

Creativity has recently gotten a lot of press, but I'm careful when I say that this mindset is one of the driving forces of my philosophy. I'm not a creative genius or anything, but I know it when I feel it, and I notice when it's not there.

I don't see it as a "what," though. It's a how. It's a process. It's a blend of willingness and flexibility and exciting discomfort. I want that in learners because that's where they can make some strides as far as autonomy (which they'll need) and in problem-solving.

The art of brainstorming, collaboration, and sharing all fall under this category, and it seems to be one of the areas where my former students excelled. Though our cube story focused on one person as a catalyst, it was still a collaborative moment. Perhaps creativity can be connected to the action of trusting. Without trusting each other, could we have had this moment?

The last mindset in my philosophy, Humility, was really evident, here, and it certainly played a role in moving the students forward in comprehension. They saw me struggle and succeed. They struggled and succeeded, and we had a positive learning moment. Humility, as an action, could be seen as acknowledging one’s self. I am more open and flexible in my awareness of what I don’t know.

Side note: I had to laugh, recently, because one of the comments I received on my recent course evaluations (I facilitate professional development courses for educators) was: "I know more on some topics than the facilitator does."
I thought--"Damn right, you do! I learned from you! I want to learn from you! That's what it's all about!" Though I'm sure she meant it as a negative, it was actually a sort of positive for me, if only because she saw me as fellow-learner, which was my goal anyway.    

After the student had shown the class what the heck was going on with cube, you could hear the collective, "AHHHHHH..." followed by the scribbling of the problem resolution.

We applauded him and ourselves that day. We shared in that moment of curious searching, mindful allowing, creative trusting, and humble acknowledging of ourselves and each other as a community of learners.

Buy our book! In it, Mindy and some of her former students outline best practices for developing a positive learning environment. 

Transparent Teaching of Adolescents: Creating the Ideal Class for Students and Teachers

Five Questions about the Future of Distance Education

 As a Star Trek and science fiction fan, I am somewhat disappointed that we lag behind in the predicted timeline for education. That is, we may have “communicators” and voice-activated computers, but we just don’t seem to have the social maturity that Gene Roddenberry envisioned for us so many years ago in his Star Trek world. In his world, the techno-gadgets were merely a byproduct of what we had become as a species and our ability to look beyond ourselves. Thus, overall, I don’t expect to see much change in the next fifteen years in the field of distance education. We’re just not ready. We have more growing up to do.  

Question: How do you envision the distance education field evolving in the next 15 years?

While distance education may not change much, I do see that distance learning will most likely  make a change. For example, Moller, Robison, and Huett (2012) assert that the “next  generation of distance education will be characterized by evaluation practices that value  higher level cognitive processing and real-world problem-solving” (p. 18). The chatter online  (via edu-mags, discussion forums, blogs, etc.) on this topic of project-based learning and  authentic learning and global citizenship definitely point in this direction. However, unless  designers and instructors ensure that the necessary soft skills and emotional intelligence are also part of the learning experience, then the effort may fall short.

 Question: What technologies do you envision being used in the future?

               

One of my favorite technologies is the use of holographs, and I was pleased to see that Moore and Kearsley (2012) included it as a predicted technological development (p. 278). Further, since this technology does exist, I can imagine that distance learners may one day have the opportunity to “sit in” a discussion with their instructor. The instructor could also readily use body language and other instruments to explain difficult concepts. We won’t make it to a holodeck just yet, but holographs will come close.

Question: What paradigm shifts do you predict for the future of instructional design and for teaching in distance education?

               

I predict that connectivism becomes more and more prevalent in post-secondary. Siemens (2005) notes that this model entails the kind of learning that is not individualistic (Conclusion section). Rather, it requires a depth of collaboration between learner to interface and learner to learner. Soon, the ability to see connections between seemingly disparate ideas will be a necessary skill (Connectivism section). However, the secondary learners moving into post- secondary work of this nature will be woefully ill-prepared for this shift if the current trend of test-taking continues. They will be creative-immigrants, much like so many older individuals (now) are digital-immigrants. It takes me a little longer to “get” something, but I do, eventually.

Question:  Will all learning be online learning?

I don’t think that all learning will be or should be online, particularly for younger children, largely due to their need for tactile learning. Although Moore and Kearsley (2012) do predict tactile sensors, actually “being” somewhere is far different from virtually visiting it. For example, I had seen and studied Shakespeare’s Globe Theatre for many years. However, until I stood at the foot of that stage, I hadn’t truly experienced it. My students and I (we were travelling in a group) actually got a little misty! There is a quality to reality that cannot be replaced by anything digital.

Questions: What strategies can you consider for influencing processes for high-quality distance education opportunities?

The best means by which students can be afforded high-quality distance education opportunities is for citizens to engage lawmakers, lobbyists, policy-makers, and government officials in a discussion about distance education. We should make it a platform that is just as important as other platforms in an election. Where a candidate stands on distance education will be very telling. For example, Moore and Kearsley (2012) note that “most states are investing in statewide virtual delivery systems” (p. 196), but little else is known about these efforts or their impact on students, faculty, or funding. Who we vote into the offices of the states makes a huge difference, and voting in individuals who are “traditionalists” will stall any progress forward in distance education.

All speculations, of course. However, we may want to heed some Vulcan wisdom as we take our next steps forward in distance learning:

 

             Indeed.

 References

Bennett, H. (Producer), & Nimoy, L. (Director). (1986). Star trek IV: The voyage home [Motion picture]. United States: Paramount Pictures.

Berman, R., Hornstein, M., & Lauritson, P. (Producers) & Frakes, J. (Director). (1996). Star Trek: First Contact [Motion picture]. United States: Paramount Pictures.

Coon, G. L. (Writer), & Newland, J. (Director). (1967). Errand of mercy [Television series episode]. In G. Roddenberry (Producer), Star Trek. Los Angeles, CA: Desilu.

Echevarria, R. (Writer), & Brooks, A. (Director). (1995). Improbable cause [Television series episode]. In I. S. Behr, R. Berman, & M. Piller (Producers), Star Trek: Deep Space Nine. Los Angeles, CA: Paramount Domestic Television.

Fontana, D. C. (Writer), & Lucas, J. M. (Director). (1968). The ultimate computer [Television series

episode]. In G. Roddenberry (Producer), Star Trek. Los Angeles, CA: Desilu.

Moller, L., Robison, D., & Huettt, J.B. (2012). Unconstrained learning: Principles for the next

 generation of distance education. In L. Moller & J.B. Huettt (Eds.)The next generation of

 distance education (pp.1-20). New York, NY: Springer.

Moore, M. G., & Kearsley, G. (2012). Distance education: A systems view of online learning (3rd

 ed.). Belmont, CA: Wadsworth.

Odenkirk, B. (Writer), & Archer, W. (Director). (2003). Kif gets knocked up a notch [Television series episode]. In M. Groening & D. Cohen (Producers), Futurama. Portland, OR: The Curiosity

Company.

Siemens, G. (2004, December). Connectivism: A learning theory for the digital age. Retrieved from:

 http://www.elearnspace.org/Articles/connectivism.htm

"Phenomenally. Phenomenal woman..." RIP

Grades and Assessment are NOT the Same Thing

I recently read some teachers interchangeably using these two phrases: “how I grade” and “how I assess." These phrases were in response to a question regarding authentic assessment, so I was confused as this was not a discussion that had anything to do with grades.  My guess is that there is a misunderstanding of the two.  

The overemphasis on test scores and school grades, coupled with our own learning experiences probably contribute the most to this confusion. They make us hungry for grades—a one-time evaluative shot—as opposed to assessment, which is far more long-reaching and entails a greater degree of effort on the part of both the assessor and the assessed.

It’s actually the goal of each concept that makes the difference.  Carnegie Mellon’s (n.d.) Eberly Center site for Teaching Excellence & Educational Innovation, asserts that “the goal of grading is to evaluate individual students’ learning and performance…the goal of assessment is to improve student learning.”

So, why the confusion?  Particularly when our ultimate goal is to improve student learning?

It seems to boil down to a habit or possibly a culture of grading. I don’t think that teachers want grades to be the driving force in their classrooms, not at all. However, the shift in mindset from grading to assessing is definitely not so easy to make. Students rebel. Parents rebel.  Districts require this or that many (arbitrary) grades. 

Further, it’s difficult to get used to NOT putting a grade on a student paper or homework submission and, instead, determine where that student needs to move forward in his/her learning.  Further, students are used to seeing grades as a way of understanding their performance. 

Once we understand the difference, we'll accomplish so much more!

Many of my English teacher peers can relate to the attempt to distinguish between assessing and grades as they would painstakingly work through a student paper, noting where the student needed to revise. However, far from using those notes as a tool to aid in learning, the student would find the nearest trash can to throw that work in.  Probably an hour or so of teacher work, pitched with LeBron-esque precision into an institutional bin. 

whoosh. 

Helping students understand the difference between grading and assessment will make a huge difference in their motivation to use the advice and suggestions we offer. They can then actually USE what we do if we make assessment the goal, not the grade. 

My AP Lang students used to go bonkers with their paper revisions because I wouldn’t grade them until they’d mastered the concept we were working on.  These are the kids who thrived on grades, so you can imagine the backlash.  Their parents were none too happy at first, either. I did have to do some explaining, but once I assured them that (eventually) their children would receive a grade and probably one that actually reflected something, they were pleased.  The end result was that the students’ writing expanded into something far more in-depth and meaningful. 

Understanding the difference between grades and assessment is a crucial first step into helping students become lifelong learners. 

Hold your ground.

Reference

Carnegie Mellon University. (n.d.) What is the difference between assessment and grading? Retrieved May 23, 2014 from http://www.cmu.edu/teaching/assessment/basics/grading-assessment.html

 
Buy our book! In it, Mindy and some of her former students outline best practices for developing a positive learning environment. 

Transparent Teaching of Adolescents: Creating the Ideal Class for Students and Teachers