A review of the new book What's a parent to do? (2022) is on the Network for Public Education website. https://networkforpubliceducation.org/blog-content/john-thompson-how-to-make-education-better-really/
Amazon link: https://www.amazon.com/Whats-Parent-Do-Child-Education/dp/1475866798
Rowman link: https://rowman.com/ISBN/9781475866780/What%E2%80%99s-a-Parent-to-Do-How-to-Give-Your-Child-the-Best-Education
Amazon link: https://www.amazon.com/Whats-Parent-Do-Child-Education/dp/1475866798
Rowman link: https://rowman.com/ISBN/9781475866780/What%E2%80%99s-a-Parent-to-Do-How-to-Give-Your-Child-the-Best-Education
Musings on what is worth teaching
What is worth doing in a day? How should you spend your time?
Many of us begin with virtuous intentions. We want to write a heartbreakingly beautiful novel, work in a soup kitchen, be the perfect romantic partner, develop into the world’s best English teacher. But, when the time comes to actually exert time and energy towards these noble endeavors, we waver. We hesitate. There is laundry to do, social media to update, the latest film to see, the sale that ends tomorrow, a text to write to a friend.
In most lives, a gap exists between intention and action. Among adolescents, sometimes the gap between intention and action is much larger—more like a chasm than a gap.
One of the most challenging students of all time was an affable, energetic kid named David Watson. David had problems with reading comprehension, to be sure, but he could understand a text if he decided it was worth the effort. Once, when Tupac Shakur’s book of poems, The rose that grew from concrete showed up in class, David “borrowed” it overnight, and came to class the next day, reciting lines. He had not only read the book, he had meticulously committed several stanzas to memory.
David’s biggest problem was not ability, but focus. He was highly distractible, loved to talk, and rarely completed assignments. About every two weeks, I would schedule time with David to point out his string of zeros, and admonish, “You need to change your behavior or you will fail.”
“I am going to turn everything in from now on. I am going to get my grades up this term, I swear to God,” David would say in an utterly sincere voice. “I promise. Straight up. I am all A’s from here on out.”
Inevitably, David would turn in one assignment, make a big deal about it, and then promptly return to his old routine. Which meant staring at the wall, pretending to sleep, loudly crumpling a piece of paper and carrying it to the trash, engaging nearby students in a conversation, walking to the front of class to sharpen an already sharpened pencil, and doing whatever else he could think of to avoid doing the task just assigned.
David was absolutely sincere in his pledge to improve. In fact, he was absolutely sincere in every one of the thirty or so meetings we had over the course of the year, with every weekly assignment sheet, and with every “I swear to God this time” pledge to improve. David wanted to alter his irresponsible ways and get “on track.” The difficulty was not in wanting to change, but in actually changing. In terms of reticence to modify established patterns of behavior, David is not much different from most of us. Over time, habits get hardwired into the brain, and altering habits means rewiring the brain, no trivial task.
Of the traits that contribute to student success, the ability to focus always tops of the list. If David could have developed a modicum of self-discipline and the ability to focus on something for more than a few seconds at a time, he might have graduated from high school, found a good job, and led a prosperous life. But, David dropped out of school in the eleventh grade, went from job-to-job, and wound up in jail. As a human being, David had potential—he was charismatic, witty, and “spirited,” but as a student, he had little motivation to learn and no internal compass to keep him on track.
The term psychic energy, or “the power to willfully harness and focus the mind on the task-at-hand” is a useful construct for teachers, especially in terms of conceptualizing instruction. While the terms attention and engagement are popular today, I prefer psychic energy because concentration requires motivation and the expenditure of energy. Because psychic energy is not unlimited, it must be spent wisely. The psychologist Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi writes:
David’s life seemed dominated by “biologically programmed instincts,” including an obsession with popular culture (rap musicians), and his own tough guy reputation. Warnings and threats of punishment were not necessary first steps in the promotion of intellectual development. Such a negative regimen likely had been used with David throughout his academic career, though he had never changed his behaviors in response. Threats and punishments did little to enhance his desire to learn.
The equation is relatively simple, though sometimes difficult to discern in the daily exigencies of teaching. David, like most adolescents, decided what to do with his time based upon his perceptions of potential benefits and loss. His frame of reference was the present moment—what seemed like the best choice of action in the next seven seconds—and not much beyond that. On the other hand, a teacher’s frame of reference is almost always the future. What could David do that would serve him well for the years ahead?
David and I had clashing orientations to time.
That is the insight I needed as David’s teacher way back when. I should have framed each activity in the current moment, in the context of David’s life, on the basis of the activity-at-hand being worth the expenditure of his psychic energy. My effort should not have been directed towards lecturing him on aligning his actions with more noble goals. My time would have been better spent trying to persuade him that participating in class could be both interesting and beneficial.
But, it is not enough to recognize that a student is apathetic or oppositional. A teacher must also act to engage students. About the relationship between ideas and action, business guru Peter Drucker (2001) once admonished that ideas alone change nothing.
If a teacher wanted students to read a short, nonfiction story about the scientist who helped develop penicillin, Alexander Fleming, there are endless ways to go about it. Below are two approaches.
Don’t do this:
Say, “I don’t know much about science and I really don’t care about science, but you are going to be tested on how well you comprehend certain facts. Read these pages and answer the questions at the end in complete sentences.”
Instead, do this:
Put a vitamin in the palm of your hand and walk around and show it to students. Say, “Look at this tiny pill. It always amazes me to think that taking such a tiny pill could mean the difference between life and death for some people. Have any of you gotten really sick or injured? Can you tell us about it?”
The “Don’t do this” plan does little to engage students, while the “Do this” plan works off of a small prop (a vitamin) and the personal stories of students. Another possible angle might be Alexander Fleming’s decision to forego becoming an obscenely rich billionaire by allowing everyone open access to his discovery of penicillin, free of charge. Who among your students would forego instant wealth to help humans they have never even met? Is making money or helping others more important?
What is worth doing in a day? How should you spend your time?
Many of us begin with virtuous intentions. We want to write a heartbreakingly beautiful novel, work in a soup kitchen, be the perfect romantic partner, develop into the world’s best English teacher. But, when the time comes to actually exert time and energy towards these noble endeavors, we waver. We hesitate. There is laundry to do, social media to update, the latest film to see, the sale that ends tomorrow, a text to write to a friend.
In most lives, a gap exists between intention and action. Among adolescents, sometimes the gap between intention and action is much larger—more like a chasm than a gap.
One of the most challenging students of all time was an affable, energetic kid named David Watson. David had problems with reading comprehension, to be sure, but he could understand a text if he decided it was worth the effort. Once, when Tupac Shakur’s book of poems, The rose that grew from concrete showed up in class, David “borrowed” it overnight, and came to class the next day, reciting lines. He had not only read the book, he had meticulously committed several stanzas to memory.
David’s biggest problem was not ability, but focus. He was highly distractible, loved to talk, and rarely completed assignments. About every two weeks, I would schedule time with David to point out his string of zeros, and admonish, “You need to change your behavior or you will fail.”
“I am going to turn everything in from now on. I am going to get my grades up this term, I swear to God,” David would say in an utterly sincere voice. “I promise. Straight up. I am all A’s from here on out.”
Inevitably, David would turn in one assignment, make a big deal about it, and then promptly return to his old routine. Which meant staring at the wall, pretending to sleep, loudly crumpling a piece of paper and carrying it to the trash, engaging nearby students in a conversation, walking to the front of class to sharpen an already sharpened pencil, and doing whatever else he could think of to avoid doing the task just assigned.
David was absolutely sincere in his pledge to improve. In fact, he was absolutely sincere in every one of the thirty or so meetings we had over the course of the year, with every weekly assignment sheet, and with every “I swear to God this time” pledge to improve. David wanted to alter his irresponsible ways and get “on track.” The difficulty was not in wanting to change, but in actually changing. In terms of reticence to modify established patterns of behavior, David is not much different from most of us. Over time, habits get hardwired into the brain, and altering habits means rewiring the brain, no trivial task.
Of the traits that contribute to student success, the ability to focus always tops of the list. If David could have developed a modicum of self-discipline and the ability to focus on something for more than a few seconds at a time, he might have graduated from high school, found a good job, and led a prosperous life. But, David dropped out of school in the eleventh grade, went from job-to-job, and wound up in jail. As a human being, David had potential—he was charismatic, witty, and “spirited,” but as a student, he had little motivation to learn and no internal compass to keep him on track.
The term psychic energy, or “the power to willfully harness and focus the mind on the task-at-hand” is a useful construct for teachers, especially in terms of conceptualizing instruction. While the terms attention and engagement are popular today, I prefer psychic energy because concentration requires motivation and the expenditure of energy. Because psychic energy is not unlimited, it must be spent wisely. The psychologist Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi writes:
- If we don’t take charge of its direction, our life will be controlled by the outside to serve the purpose of some other agency. Biologically programmed instincts will use it to replicate the genetic materials we carry; the culture will make sure that we use it to propagate its values and institutions; and other people will try to take as much of our energy as possible to further their own agenda—all of this without regard to how any of this will affect us.
David’s life seemed dominated by “biologically programmed instincts,” including an obsession with popular culture (rap musicians), and his own tough guy reputation. Warnings and threats of punishment were not necessary first steps in the promotion of intellectual development. Such a negative regimen likely had been used with David throughout his academic career, though he had never changed his behaviors in response. Threats and punishments did little to enhance his desire to learn.
The equation is relatively simple, though sometimes difficult to discern in the daily exigencies of teaching. David, like most adolescents, decided what to do with his time based upon his perceptions of potential benefits and loss. His frame of reference was the present moment—what seemed like the best choice of action in the next seven seconds—and not much beyond that. On the other hand, a teacher’s frame of reference is almost always the future. What could David do that would serve him well for the years ahead?
David and I had clashing orientations to time.
That is the insight I needed as David’s teacher way back when. I should have framed each activity in the current moment, in the context of David’s life, on the basis of the activity-at-hand being worth the expenditure of his psychic energy. My effort should not have been directed towards lecturing him on aligning his actions with more noble goals. My time would have been better spent trying to persuade him that participating in class could be both interesting and beneficial.
But, it is not enough to recognize that a student is apathetic or oppositional. A teacher must also act to engage students. About the relationship between ideas and action, business guru Peter Drucker (2001) once admonished that ideas alone change nothing.
- …a planner's beautiful plans die because he or she does not follow through. Like so many brilliant people, he or she believes that ideas move mountains. But bulldozers move mountains; ideas show where the bulldozers have to go to work.
If a teacher wanted students to read a short, nonfiction story about the scientist who helped develop penicillin, Alexander Fleming, there are endless ways to go about it. Below are two approaches.
Don’t do this:
Say, “I don’t know much about science and I really don’t care about science, but you are going to be tested on how well you comprehend certain facts. Read these pages and answer the questions at the end in complete sentences.”
Instead, do this:
Put a vitamin in the palm of your hand and walk around and show it to students. Say, “Look at this tiny pill. It always amazes me to think that taking such a tiny pill could mean the difference between life and death for some people. Have any of you gotten really sick or injured? Can you tell us about it?”
The “Don’t do this” plan does little to engage students, while the “Do this” plan works off of a small prop (a vitamin) and the personal stories of students. Another possible angle might be Alexander Fleming’s decision to forego becoming an obscenely rich billionaire by allowing everyone open access to his discovery of penicillin, free of charge. Who among your students would forego instant wealth to help humans they have never even met? Is making money or helping others more important?