Posts Tagged ‘thinking’

Creative Thinking in the Classroom, Part 2

April 12th, 2010

Time. Is there a greater challenge for educators? It seems like instructional time is often the target of well-meaning but time-devouring programs. Assemblies, pep rallies, fund-raising motivational events, and those intercom announcements eat precious minutes, and these are on top of an already bloated curriculum. As a result, we tend to eliminate anything that has a whiff of being extraneous.

One major casualty: creative thinking. However, as I discussed in Part 1, for the brain creative thinking is not just the predecessor to producing art. It is a means of deepening understanding. In other words, creative thinking is a cognitive gateway to deeper, more meaningful learning. Let’s examine how learning can spark creative thinking, which can lead to deeper learning.

Learning involves four “core processes,” two of which are comprehension and elaboration. If learning proceeds in a straightforward fashion—experience→comprehension→elaboration→application—it can bypass opportunities for creative thinking. This is unfortunate because learning can spark creative thinking:

The resulting understanding prompts a creative curve. The mind says, “Wait a minute! Let’s explore that again, but this time from a different perspective, or with a different reference point, or in multiple dimensions, or by combining it with _____.” Neuroscientist and writer Gregory Berns describes this as “reverse perception.” Creative thinking, claims Berns, “comes from using the same neural circuits used to perceive natural objects,” but in reverse. Instead of perceiving what is and acting on it, the mind seeks what else could be. The individual re-explores the new data, returning to comprehension to disorganize, relabel, and re-sort the data in a different way. This difference may be in perspective, in scale, in dimension, or in any ways that alter initial thinking about the data. For example, the creative individual may engage a creative tool (e.g., drawing an analogy) or explore representational variety (e.g., a multiple intelligences approach, such as representing verbal data in a musical or spatial form).1

This figure shows the “creative curve.”

When given the opportunity to re-explore understandings, the brain often engages in re-comprehension, the sorting of critical details, and re-elaboration, the recognition of new patterns. These new patterns may be new, unique, creative. As the individual examines these new patterns, methods of expressing them may come to mind. These possible expressions are then examined for potential, and if deemed effective, the individual may proceed to producing a creative product. At this point the individual’s skills in the chosen medium come into play—i.e., an experienced and capable painter will likely produce work of a higher quality than the novice. However, both beginner and master benefit from the thinking preceding the expression because it’s the thinking that deepens understanding of the original topic.

Note that learning and creative thinking are actually overlapping processes. Both engage
(re-)comprehension and (re-)elaboration, and as a result, both have the potential to deepen understanding. If deep learning of subject matter is the goal, creative thinking can help achieve it.

Also note that creative thinking requires time and space. If learning proceeds too efficiently, opportunities for creative thinking are lost. Challenging students to revisit subject matter, reorganize its details in different schemes, and explore those reorganizations for new patterns can initiate creative insights. Those insights contribute to deeper learning.

When creative thinking leads to creative products, another opportunity for deepening learning is generated:

…creative works can deepen learning in the classroom. For example, Erica, a middle school teacher, has her students develop a series of symbols to summarize a work of literature. For example, one student summarizes Charles Dickens’s A Christmas Carol in a series of three symbols: a tightly clenched hand, that same hand with three different colored streaks of light surrounding it and a large timepiece in the background, and finally an open hand extending forward. The results become new data for the other students. As they examine the symbols, the students reprocess the details of the literature, consider the connection between the story and the symbol, and make a decision regarding the symbol’s effectiveness. This reprocessing—interacting with the symbols as if they were ‘another person’—mirrors learning’s core processes, engaging recall and thought about the original stimulus. This rethinking fosters deeper learning of the subject matter.2

There are also implications for our teaching. Want to be creative in your instructional design? Your brain needs the time and space to explore the subject matter—to reorganize it, search for new patterns, and apply the resulting insights to teaching plans. Unfortunately this time and space is probably the biggest challenge to our teaching more creatively. One way I deal with this is to look ahead and identify the major upcoming instructional units. This look ahead creates a space between what I’m currently teaching and what I will be teaching and gives my mind time to explore the subject matter in ways that enable creative thinking.

Getting away from my normal work space seems to help. Many of my creative ideas find me during morning runs. Actually, research suggests such a change of scenery increases the likelihood of creative thinking:

Sometimes a simple change of environment is enough to jog the perceptual system out of familiar categories. This may be one reason why restaurants figure so prominently as sites of perceptual breakthroughs…When confronted with places never seen before, the brain must create new categories. It is in this process that the brain jumbles around old ideas with new images to create new syntheses.3

Creative thinking and learning are complementary processes. Learning enables creative thinking, and creative thinking deepens learning. This is why my target-based organization of thinking does not include a separate ring devoted to creative thinking. I see creative thinking as a type of learning. As such, teaching students to think creatively is critical if we seek to develop self-directed learners. Add skill in expression, such as the methods and approaches taught via the arts, and we’ll be graduating creative thinkers with the skills to engage the world through art—or at least bring artful expression to their lives and work.

Sources

  1. Washburn, K.D., The Architecture of Learning: Designing Instruction for the Learning Brain (Pelham, AL: Clerestory Press, 2010), 231-232.
  2. Ibid., 234-235.
  3. Berns, G., Iconoclast: A Neuroscientist Reveals How to Think Differently (Boston: Harvard Business School Publishing, 2008), 33.

Let’s Banish Critical Thinking, Part 3: Reason & Evaluate

March 17th, 2010

No matter how close to the center their shot lands, beginning marksmen achieve success simply by hitting the target. As they learn, practice, and gain experience, the target’s center becomes their focus. They develop accuracy, intentionally steadying their state and securing the center in their sights. Thinking is similar. Engaging the target’s outer rings first supports movement toward the target’s center. Movement toward the center also increases the interaction between the rings.

Reasoning and evaluation, the target’s inner rings, are two sides of the same coin. Before we examine this coin, let’s briefly review the target’s outer circles: memorization and learning.

Some information possesses its greatest value when it’s memorized. At its best, memorizing enables efficiency in thinking and acting. However, memorizing, while valuable when engaged selectively, has its limits.

Learning often involves four core processes, or four “states” of thinking. (Thinking is more fluid than the term states suggests, but this simplification can help us understand its flow.) Through experience, the brain gains raw sensory data. During comprehension, the brain sorts, labels, and organizes the raw sensory data. Through elaboration, the brain examines the organized data for patterns, recalls relevant prior experiences, and blends the new data with your experiences to construct understanding. During application the brain practices using or expressing the new understanding. We should increase instruction in the skills of learning, not just guide student learning of core subject matter. In other words, we need to place more value and emphasis on teaching students how to self-teach (or self-learn). We need to teach them the thinking skills that enable self-directed learning.

Reasoning builds on learning because it requires knowledge of the subject about which one wants to think. That may seem obvious, but some instructional thinking programs suggest that by using their bag of tricks students will be able to think critically about anything. While certain understandings and skills do enable reasoning, there must be sufficient knowledge about the subject to avoid reasoning void of solid content or invalid due to misunderstanding.

Reasoning uses the ideas gained through learning to construct arguments, identify supportable conclusions, and structure ideas so that their relationships, value, and implications are evident. It also empowers decision-making.

Let’s watch learning and reasoning in action.

The Tour de France mesmerizes Stan. He knew that people raced on bikes, but he never saw the excitement this annual contest generates. A trip to a local bike shop intensifies Stan’s interest.

The bikes themselves, the accessory equipment, the experience of freedom riding even in the store’s parking lot draws Stan into a new world, and, thus, into learning. In conversation with the store’s knowledgeable salesperson, Stan asks questions about bike types, manufacturers, and basic equipment needs. He leaves with a copy of a book, in which he seeks new information on bike selection and maintenance. His vocabulary expands, as terms like derailleur and carbon-fiber frame contribute to his emerging understanding. Stan researches road vs. mountain vs. BMX bikes and considers what type of cycling most interests him. He charts information about various makes and models of bike and reviews expert opinions on each. He considers this data from various perspectives: What do riders say about a make/model? What are repair shops’ experience with each? What does each manufacturer reveal about the intended use for each of their models? Stan actively seeks needed information and organizes and examines it in ways that deepen his understanding of this new world.

Stan grows more excited as his learning deepens, and soon he is eager to purchase his own bike.

Enter reasoning.

Decision-making is similar to constructing a valid argument, and making a sound decision requires many of the same understandings and skills. For example, Stan’s research may have revealed that Brand A offers a longer warranty on all its bikes than all the other manufacturers he reviewed. Thus, he forms a statement that represents reality (i.e., not an opinion)—a “categorical statement”: “Brand A’s warranty is longer than the other manufacturers I am considering.” As he continues to review what his research reveals, he forms several such statements—some universal and some particular in nature.

Stan also monitors his thinking as he compares features on differing models. For example, Stan knows from his various test rides that he has a strong preference for a specific type of shifting and braking controls. When comparing controls, he stays aware that, because of his bias, he will likely favor models with his preferred controls. This is not an error in his thinking, but it does present an additional consideration.

Stan also monitors his thinking for fallacies. For example, he watches for post hoc errors, such as eliminating a make just because it is the company that supports his favorite cyclist’s main competitor—e.g., “They must make bikes for jerks because so-and-so rides one.”) He also tries to minimize emotionally potent factors—e.g., “I really like the detailing on this model. Since it’s cool, I’ll get that bike.”

Throughout this process, Stan is constructing a conditional argument with as much truth and validity his understanding of cycling allows. He is reasoning. When the time comes to discuss getting a bike with his parents, who offered to contribute to the purchase as part of Stan’s birthday present, he’s ready with a well-crafted “argument” and a decision made via his best reasoning abilities.

Note how Stan’s learning enabled his reasoning. Had he selected a bike on his first visit to the bike shop immediately following the Tour de France, he would likely have made a different, less-reasoned decision, which may or may not have proved to be a wise choice. Emotion would have been the main basis of his decision because he did not possess the understanding that his period of learning provided. Without knowledge of a subject, we tend to make affective, less-informed decisions. (Note, you can never completely eliminate emotion’s role in decision-making, but you can moderate its influence. See Jonah Lehrer’s How We Decide for an extended discussion of this.)

Problem-solving follows a similar route. The first step involves learning about the problem and its context (or reviewing such information if the problem arises in a familiar area). Reasoning then both produces and evaluates potential solutions. If the first attempt does not solve the problem, analysis of the attempt in relation to the problem often leads to another potential solution. Though we often portray trial and error as an unstructured process, the truth is that better trials often result from learning and reasoning. (Think about it, do you really want a surgeon who approaches a problem through a pure, unthinking trial-and-error approach?) Selecting a potential solution is not that different from decision-making, which is a focused form of reasoning.

Now, you may be wondering, why my visual, the target, separates reasoning and evaluation when both seem to be involved in forming valid and truthful arguments. When I use the term evaluation, I mean the capacity to analyze, evaluate, and accept or reject someone else’s argument. This certainly requires the same understandings and skills of reasoning, but it requires understanding the argument and its constructs as formed by someone else.

Is this more difficult than forming valid arguments and engaging in metacognition throughout the process? I wouldn’t claim that, except that there is an additional step, and this additional step is crucial. The thinker must understand, without initial bias, the argument another makes. (We have plenty of adults in our nation’s capital and on our cable “news” networks who regularly demonstrate their lack of this crucial, additional step.) This requires overcoming challenges such as the error of discrediting the messenger rather than evaluating the message—an error that can hijack thinking before a single idea of the argument has been considered. This is a significant challenge that is largely absent from forming one’s own valid arguments.

Additionally, by learning to form truthful and valid arguments, students gain experiential knowledge that can aid valid evaluation. An analogy may help clarify this relationship. Housing inspectors undergo various levels of education and meet certain requirements depending on where their practice is located. Thorough inspectors often have construction experience. Knowing from experience where builders are tempted to take short-cuts helps the inspector know what to examine carefully. From constructing experience, the inspector gains knowledge that strengthens his evaluation capacity. Similarly, forming truthful and valid arguments aids evaluation of arguments made by others.

Reasoning and evaluation depend on skills. The table below details some of these essential abilities. (D. Q. McInerny’s Being Logical provides a great and succinct introduction to many of these concepts.)

These abilities can be viewed as a series of developmental steps that can be emphasized in the classroom. For example, a group of educators in Philadelphia took the ability to form conditional arguments and discussed, “What is the range of this skill? What do its initial steps of development look like? What would its fullest expression look like?” After we grappled with these concepts, we considered when instruction for each step might begin and where it might mature to mastery. Here’s what evolved:

Exploring thinking in this way helps a plan for instruction to emerge. Teachers gain guidance for actually teaching thinking and can better plan for its inclusion in learning.

Ideally, I believe we’d approach everything through a thinking lens. For example, instead of teaching magnetism as a science unit, we’d teach a thinking skill, such as stating premises and conclusions, using magnetism as the subject matter. Simply altering how we view and approach instruction can make the difference between students seeing us as the expert from whom they must learn and seeing themselves as capable learners who possess the skills they need to learn independently.

My intention in this series has not been to provide an exhaustive look at thinking but to suggest an alternate perspective. By seeing thinking as central to learning rather than a nice addition to classroom interaction, we can begin to explore the implications for our teaching, from what we teach to how we teach it. I have not explored creativity in this series. I plan to do so in my next post, which I’ll present as separate from this series.

Thank you for reading and for your comments. These posts are intended to be discussion starters. I certainly learn much from the interaction they spark. I hope you’ll learn, reason, and evaluate these ideas and share your own conclusions!

Image: ‘DSC04717http://www.flickr.com/photos/81607647@N00/26584970

Making the Shift, Part 2: Toolboxes not Suitcases

August 17th, 2009

Ever go through a turnstile and realize something you needed was left on the other side of the gateway? During my first encounter with a public transit system, I tried to take a rolling suitcase through a subway turnstile. Of course I ended up on one side of the gateway with my luggage on the other. Fortunately a friendly New Yorker (They do exist!) saw my dilemma and hoisted my suitcase over the turnstile.

Such gateways are one-way by design; they promote lawful movement in single directions. However, a similar design for teaching, learning, and thinking limits student learning and its usefulness. Much of what we should emphasize ends up like my suitcase—on the wrong side of the turnstile.

For example, we may teach a biology unit on cell construction and emphasize new terminology and locations of various cell parts. Then, after students seem to have absorbed the information and can recite it back, we may engage them in “critical thinking” by asking questions that represent various “levels” of a taxonomy. Like my suitcase, thinking gets pulled along behind and occasionally doesn’t make it through the gate. It gets left behind because of pressures to cover the curriculum or because the assessment will only involve the memorization elements of the unit. If time allows, if the gateway stays open, we might pull in some thinking.

But what if thinking were not a wheeled suitcase but a toolbox, something we carry in-hand and set in a central place to enable our work, our learning? What if instead of thinking of ourselves as teaching content, we viewed ourselves as teaching thinking?

That doesn’t mean students would not learn any content. In fact, content would be exactly what they’d gain by making thinking the force that “pulls in” new understandings. After all, students need to learn how to learn to function successfully once a teacher is no longer telling them what to know.

Activating executive function (EF) offers a potential gateway for developing both understanding of new content and strategic abilities for future learning and success. Executive function comprises “complex cognitive processes that serve ongoing, goal-directed behaviors,”1 including goal setting and planning, self-regulation and metacognition, and working memory processes, such as organizing and patterning data. Executive function serves both as “infrastructure” and “overseer” of other cognitive functions.2 By itself, EF lacks purpose, but when infused with ideas and concepts, it illustrates the brain working at its best. Perhaps most importantly for us as teachers, EF enables intention, the transfer of new learning to novel situations. Teaching only to know—that is, to repeat on demand—does not engage the cognitive processes that promote intention. Martha Bridge Denkla describes such knowing as being able to recall a strategy without the capacity to be strategic.3 Simply knowing does not require the level of EF activation that doing does.

Philip David Zelazo suggests that the EF processes of solving problems and attaining goals reveal EF “subfunctions.” These subfunctions can be easily understood by viewing their roles through the questions they attempt to answer:

  • representation: “What do I need to accomplish? What is preventing me from accomplishing it?”
  • planning: How can I get from the current state to the desired state?
  • execution: What’s next? Check. What’s next?
  • evaluation: Did that action accomplish its intended result? What do I need to change to make progress toward the desired state?4

Teaching students to successfully engage these subfunctions equips them to learn independently. Engaging these subfunctions as a means of learning new content equips students to use their learning beyond the classroom. This brief look at executive functions reveals some principles that provide guidance for making thinking more of a toolbox and less of a rolling suitcase. An emphasis on teaching for action, or on teaching for knowing how, is more likely to produce transferable learning. Since doing requires greater executive function engagement than simply knowing, teaching that engages students in doing better equips students to transfer their learning to new situations.

Knowing that should become more of a by-product of applying know-how. Rather than just asking, “What do students need to know?” we need to ask “What can students do/produce to foster learning of what they need to know?” (This has additional implications for what and how we teach. I’ll explore these in a future post.)

Increasing an emphasis on executive function is better education for life. It’s impossible to know what knowledge and skills will be essential in the future, but it is certain that EF will continue to enable successful living.

Before concluding, allow me to attempt to prevent some potential misunderstandings. First, I am not advocating abandonment of the disciplines. As the Purview Project states, the disciplines “have contributed to man’s construction of knowledge for ages.” I believe the disciplines will continue to form much of the content schools teach. What I am suggesting is that how we teach the disciplines needs to change. Others have recently suggested similar ideas—e.g., Jose Bowen’s “Teach Naked” approach, which advocates increased thinking in the classroom. But an implication of changing the “how” is changing the “what.” If we’re going to engage students in more thinking, we need to equip and strengthen them to think optimally. I’ll explore this more in future posts.

Second, the ideas expressed here are easier to envision in content-heavy disciplines, such as social studies than in skill-heavy disciplines such as reading and math. I’ll explore these differences in future posts and suggest ways these principles can be applied in both types of material.

In conclusion, I have a confession. I’m writing this post as much to process these ideas as I am to communicate them. I’m in the learning process, which means I have more questions than answers, vague ideas than concrete specifics, and swirling concepts than guiding frameworks. Over the weekend I was asked what was “going on” in my head. In reply, I listed at least seven different major elements. This post is a very initial attempt to sort through some of them. I hope to explore and clarify these ideas in future posts. Stay tuned!

  1. Meltzer, L. “Executive Function: Theoretical and Conceptual Frameworks,” in Meltzer, L. (ed.), Executive Function in Education: From Theory to Practice, (New York: The Guilford Press, 2007), 1-2.
  2. Denckla, M. B. “Executive Functions: Binding Together the Definitions of Attention-Deficit/Hyperactivity Disorder and Learning Disabilities,” in Meltzer, L. (ed.), Executive Function in Education: From Theory to Practice, (New York: The Guilford Press, 2007), 7.
  3. Ibid, 11.
  4. Zelazo, P. D., “Executive Function Part One: What is executive function?” http://www.aboutkidshealth.ca/News/Executive-Function-Part-One-What-is-executive-function.aspx?
    articleID=8024&categoryID=news-type

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