If you haven’t yet read The Talent Code by Daniel Coyle, you should. Coyle premise is that talent isn’t born – it’s grown. By three important factors: deep practice, ignition, and master coaching. His book has contributed to changing how I look at my role as a teacher.
I ran across Coyle’s blog post recently: There are Two Types of Coaches. Which are You?
Coyle offers a few statements for us to consider to figure out which type. I’ve taken the liberty of replacing the people/workplace/other language with teacher/classroom/student language.
- A) I treat all of my students as mostly the same.
- B) I treat my students as individuals, with unique motivations, strengths, and weaknesses.
- A) In my classroom, I focus on drills and repetition.
- B) In my classroom, I focus on awareness and feedback, and helping each student take ownership of the process.
- A) In my classroom, I focus on delivering the knowledge to my students to drive improvement.
- B) In my classroom, I focus on building partnerships with my students to create the knowledge together.
- A) I’m fascinated by designing drills for students to do.
- B) I’m fascinated by building plans, tools, and systems for students to use.
- A) I’m obsessed with each student’s progress.
- B) I’m obsessed with each student’s process.
So what do you think? Is your focus as a teacher on building skill? Or is your focus as a teacher on building students?
Would your students agree with you?
See Coyle’s blog post to find out your official results on his unofficial quiz and check out The Talent Code to read more about becoming a master coach – a builder of people.
From my husband’s Advent 3 sermon Something on Patience and Joy:
… We might lift up the teacher as an example of patience. A good teacher knows that finally you just can’t impose the answer in a student’s brain as much as you might want to. You have to wait for that student to do that work herself, or not. This is tough, tough work, but finally, there can be no hostile takeover of the mind and will of a student. Learning is voluntary; it’s not mandatory. You have a classroom discussion, and you hear a “wrong-headed answer” (Kenneson). You want to jump in and fix it. But you might kill the thing that is fermenting there if you rush it. You cannot take over that process. You can only make the invitation, and then wait to see if the student will do the work and make her own connections. Teaching takes patience, or it’s not teaching …
At the beginning of our polygons unit, students played a round of hexagons polygraph in Desmos. One student is the picker and another is the guesser. The picker selects a hexagon, and the guesser asks yes or no questions to determine which one was selected.
Let’s take a look at a round between SO and SA. SO selected a hexagon. SA asked:
SO answered no.
SA eliminated one.
SO answered no.
SA eliminated two.
SO answered no.
SA eliminated three more.
SO answered no, and SA eliminated all but one.
What a great way for students to learn how to practice MP6: attend to precision. In a whole class discussion, we talked about what it meant for a polygon to be regular. We talked about convex and concave. We talked about symmetry. It turns out that the hexagon SO chose actually does have rotational symmetry – it just didn’t have line symmetry like the rest. My students and I have so many opportunities to learn from each other when we take time to slow down, share our thinking, and listen to other’s thinking.
After a round of Polygraph last year, one student reflected that he learned that he could ask questions to find an answer.
Which has me thinking more about Slow Conversations. The Polygraph practice round celebrates the beauty and diversity of all of our students.
How might we teach our students to embrace that diversity by not only asking questions to identify and learn about each other’s uniqueness but also listening to each other’s responses? That’s where Slow Math intersects with Slow Conversations.
I often wonder what we would include in a Slow Math manifesto.
Slow Math is about asking questions. #AskDontTell is one hashtag I regularly use that describes my teaching. But how often does my perspective make me think more about the questions I ask than the questions my students ask?
e e cummings wrote,
always the beautiful answer
who asks a more beautiful question
In “A More Beautiful Question”, Warren Berger tries to figure out why children start school asking hundreds of questions a day but then their questioning “falls off a cliff” as they go through school.
In a Slow Math classroom, questions are not only welcomed – they are sought.
One of our math teachers, Shera Higbee, sent the following to our math department over the weekend.
Slow Math is not just about how to do math … it’s about valuing why the math works. I am grateful to work with teachers who agree. And I am grateful for students who recognize and appreciate that why is valued.
We are talking about student voice in one of my graduate classes this semester, and so we’ve been looking out for and paying closer attention to opportunities for students to use their voice in our classrooms and in our school.
One question I have is whether student voice = student choice.
I wonder what student voice in a math class has to do with slow math.
I looked back at a lesson from last year when students had the opportunity to select the task they wanted to work.
We were practicing show your work, and we used Jill’s leveled learning progression to monitor student progress.
Students looked at the first task (Circles and Squares) and noted what they wonder about how the figures are related to each other.
We watched Dan’s video for the second task (Some Really Obscure Geometry Problem), and I sent a Quick Poll to collect their best estimates of the area percentage for each region.
The third figure came from the Mathematics Assessment Project, but it is no longer available.
All of the tasks provided students the opportunity to practice MP7 look for and make use of structure and think about area ratios in figures.
Each team selected the task they wanted to spend more time working.
Students had choice in geometry that day. Did students have voice?
Was that a class period well spent, even if we didn’t synthesize ideas as a whole class? Would it have been better (and worth the time) if students have reviewed the work of those who worked on a different task? What difference does providing #slowmath student voice opportunities make for students?
And so the journey continues …
I saw Julie’s tweet a few days ago with the hashtag #talklessam (started from one of the sessions at Twitter Math Camp).
My family and I have been listening to Hamilton nonstop for the past 3 weeks, so when I saw talk less, I immediately heard (in tune) Aaron Burr’s advice to Alexander Hamilton when they first met:
Don’t let them know what you’re against or what you’re for
Although Burr’s advice is a sign of his weakness, I wonder whether it a sign of strength for teachers in a Slow Math classroom. I’ve seen and learned from so many teachers with a great poker face during class discussions. With practice, I have gotten better at not giving away who is correct and who is incorrect. I’ve gotten better at asking “are you sure” to both correct and incorrect responses so that students have to discuss why they are answering what they are answering.
How might you implement Burr’s advice in your next lesson?
I think of Tim Kanold’s blog post Leaving the Front of the Classroom Behind, in which he urges us to look at how much time we are leading from the front and how much time students have the opportunity for peer to peer discourse.
Robert Kaplinsky recently issued a call to action to post a sign on your door, welcoming observers to your classroom to give feedback on what you’re working on. Maybe you want to combine Tim’s advice with Aaron Burr’s and ask someone to time the interactions in your classroom. How many minutes are you talking compared to your students?
I’ll look forward to reading about your experience over at #ObserveMe and #talklessam.