The Thinking Classroom - Note-Taking (Part 1)

So I came across this tweet seeking conversations about #VNPS

Hey @pgliljedahl, we talked about #vnps today, and some people had questions about retention. There was a feeling that students tends to retain more when they write things permanently (worksheet, notebook). Is there any research on this?

— Bob Janes (@MrJanesMath) November 27, 2018

This question, of course, is an important conception to address.  More than just this question, though, it reminds me of many related questions that I have heard (and given suggestions to) many times before.  But there is so much nuance to unpack that I only briefly considered a twitter thread - before thinking that I should probably just put it in a blog instead.  I probably won't end up talking about all that I've thought about notes and the thinking classroom, but hey, it's a good start.

Here are some thoughts:

Coherence

I truly do not believe that it is helpful to only take #VNPS in isolation.  Not only do we risk oversimplifying the #thinkingclassroom and reducing it to a shiny 'fad' with extra pizzazz (see here where I argue the importance of going beyond labeling strategies), we also lose out on the complexities that we can learn from as teachers.  Worst of all, we lose out on coherence with the rest of our practice.  Of course, we build coherence in our own unique ways, as demonstrated in moments that @JudytaLarsen captured here in Ottawa last year.  This is also part of my focus in my Ignite last year.

Instead of looking at #VNPS in isolation, it's helpful to take a look at the #thinkingclassroom framework

In a way, it nullifies the rejection of #VNPS (even though I prefer to relate to #thinkingclassroom instead of just one element) on the grounds that kids need notes.  By considering the framework, it also shifts the conversation from "this won't work because kids need to write" to "how do we incorporate meaningful note-taking in our practice."

And, of course, a teacher can only work toward coherence in their teaching practice by thinking deeply about what they do, how they do, when they do, while constantly considering what they learn from their students moment-to-moment, day-to-day.

Permanence

As @sig225 attempt to illustrate:

A couple of things : 1) They take a picture AND they HAVE TO put it in their #OneNote in chronological order with the rest of their content. If they just take a picture & keep it on their phone, it's not in context of the course & gets lost.  They can then annotate it as well.

— Cal Armstrong (@sig225) November 27, 2018

If we're talking about permanence, then technically a picture can be considered as 'permanent.'  But permanence is not the focus.  Cal continued to share this:

#vnps & recall
2) Their work on the board is often pure problem-solving (messy) - they are tasked to re-create it in their #OneNote in publish-able format (what we call Level 5 in Communication in #onted parlance).  This lets them structure, sequence & annotate their work.

— Cal Armstrong (@sig225) November 27, 2018

What he is saying here - which was a bit sidetracked by the technology question after this - is extremely important.

It's not whether students write notes in the class.  It's not whether they take picture of their work on the boards.

It is about whether they have created personal meanings through the act of note-making, in a way that may consolidate, structure, and sequence their thinking, and perhaps also prompt further wonderings (e.g. I often also ask students to write down questions in their "notes")

Studenting

Sure, if students are writing things down permanently - provided that they don't lose their notes or burn them when they get home - you can consider these physical forms 'retained.'  But if we are talking about knowledge retention, then this is a completely different ball game.

In a traditional classroom, teacher talks, writes, dances around in a monkey suit, and the student writes.  But these ways of 'studenting' (sample work from Liljedahl & Allan (2013) comes to mind, Allan also has more written on the topic) does not guarantee learning or retention.

Notes are only meaningful if the students have made them meaningful.

The same can actually be said about pictures, too, in a #thinkingclassroom.  After a while of working in the #thinkingclassroom environment, it is possible for students to want to 'game the system' by appearing like they are working by taking pictures. It is not enough to simply take pictures.  It gives a false sense of knowledge that can be held in our hands.  It is about what the teacher does with these pictures.  Is it a gallery walk? Is it an activity based off of annotating their work? What are the prompts? what directions do students take? What hints and prompts emerge?

So it's not about #VNPS or note-taking, as if the two are at odds with each other.  It's also not about 'let's just do both.'  It's about building meaning into what students do.

The Thinking Classroom - Beyond Labels

This is part of a series of reflections on The Thinking Classroom.

In this first part, I think out loud about what's in a label.

We have a toy abacus from Melissa and Doug that our 2-year-old (wow, she’s already 2) enjoys playing with.  Sometimes I point at a bead and ask her what colour it is, and she enthusiastically responds with “yellow!” or “red!”

She often tries to quiz me too, and asks “what colour this, daddy?”  To which, I sometimes respond with the wrong colour or something categorically wrong like “dog” or “rain.” 

“Noooo….  Silly daddy, it’s blue,” she’d say, and we’d laugh.

I remember the first few times I counted the beads.  I’d announce loudly as I moved the beads from left to right, one by one: “1, 2, 3…”  I did it carefully and watched her reactions. She watched attentively as I did it with the different colours.

I did this with each of the colours - something repetitive that would be boring with my high school kids.  I didn’t mind.  It was lovely and kind of soothing to count like this, and to watch her tilt her head slightly to the left.

Time sped quickly as I finished all ten beads of different colours.  All of the beads are now to the right side.  I moved my fingers to begin moving the beads from the right to left this time.  Immediately after I said “one…,” she yelled in protest

“Nooo…” She grabbed my right hand with her left and moved the beads back.

I was surprised, but I had a faint idea why she might have done this.  I wanted to find out for sure.

“Why?” I asked - something I try to do often with her, even though her responses don’t always make sense.  In this case, her response didn’t make sense.  But she explained enthusiastically, and made many gestures to the beads, while making several statements confidently (even though I couldn’t understand those statements).

“What is this one?” I tried a different strategy to understand what she meant and pointed at the bead closest to the left.

“Ten.”  She announced with a beaming smile on her face.

That was illuminating.  It seems that she had associated the numbers with the individual beads.  The words with the location of the bead, instead of the quantity.  I wondered briefly about how to best approach this.  Then I continued onto trying different things.

Words have meaning because we give them meaning.

We have a small dishwasher that we bought a few years ago.  It works well for us, since we’re in a small apartment downtown, and there’s just the three of us.  Instead of establishing regular chores, my partner and I just do the dishes when we see them (or at least that’s the plan).

Early on in our dishwasher-using life, we decided to use a little magnet to indicate when the dishes were clean or dirty.  Magnet on: dirty.  Magnet off: clean. 

This worked out well.  We could put dishes in whenever and be able to do them all together when the little dishwasher is full.  Magnet on; magnet off.  Dirty; clean.

Inexplicably, I tend to treat the little dishwasher somewhat like a dish rack.  I’d still wash most dishes by hand, and then put them in the dishwasher.  My partner, on the other hand, treats it more like a dishwasher.  She’d rinse the dishes quickly and simply place them in.  On; off; dirty; clean.  There’s no reason to designate who’s running the dishwasher or not.  Or is there?

I was playing with Sophie when my partner loudly exclaimed.  She was surprised by the dishes being dirty when she started to unload them.  “Did you run the dishwasher?” She came and asked.  “No, did you?” I quickly responded, since I recognized that I’ve been terrible with dishes lately. 

“Why isn’t the magnet on?”

I tried to think.  I probably took it off by accident.  Or maybe I put in the first few plates and forgot to put the magnet back on.  The reason was lost on me.  The magnet was a symbol, a label, for our dirty dishes.  Like the bat signal or an ‘SOS’ spelled out with rocks on a lost beach – a cry for help.  ‘On’ was dirty and ‘off’ was clean.

But labels have meaning because we give them meaning.

The thinking classroom has been sweeping across the mathematics education community for a while now.  Certainly through #MTBoS as well.  Alex Overwijk, I, and a few others from Ottawa encountered these ideas from Peter Liljedahl many years ago and began to incorporated these ideas immediately.  The elements from the thinking classroom framework has been powerful and transformative for us, and continues to evolve our practices. 

A year or two after, the ideas blew up in various places through different forms (twitter, for example).  For many, the ideas about the thinking classroom came second hand.  Either through Al’s sessions at TMC that one year, or elsewhere. 

For some, it was met with enthusiasm: another strategy to try; more stories of success to replicate; can’t be hard to start.  For some, it was met with skepticism: another silver bullet; more so-called experts ramming ideas down our throats; can't work for my students.

I find both enthusiasm and skepticism important, but the attitudes can be troubling.

Enthusiasm is good, but it requires that we put ourselves in it.  It’s good to take risks and try different things in our practice.  It’s not good to think of ourselves as soulless puppets that channel, for example, 'the thinking classroom'.  In passing, I’ve often heard similar sentiments:  “Oh, I’m doing a Dan Meyer today” or “That was a Marian Small lesson.”  You cannot be anyone but yourself.  I attempted to illustrate this with a spoken word piece during my ignite.  You cannot, and should not, be anyone but yourself.  I mean, what exactly does it mean to be doing a 'Dan' or 'Marian' anyway?  Detailed answers would probably differ from person to person anyway.  Let's not reduce their work to broad strokes.

Skepticism is good, but it requires investigation and exploration.  It’s good to reflect on the things we try and to think critically about the why, how, what, when, and where’s.  It’s not good to reduce other people’s stories only to ideas we recognize.  “Spiralling,” for some, has been reduced to simply doing random topics throughout the year.  The “thinking classroom,” at least for some, has been reduced to students using whiteboards.  This is a shame.  Since if that’s what you believe it to be – then that’s what it will be.  Personally, I've found it helpful to try to draw connections no matter what ideas I encounter.  Whether something is useful to my practice - is up to me.

Similar to what I wrote before about the damages caused by the metaphor of the pendulum, I shout this from this virtual rooftop:

Word have meaning because we give them meaning.  

Labels have meaning because we give them meaning.

The thinking classroom, as Peter has pointed out every time he facilitates a workshop, is brimming with complexity and diversity.  It is a structure, from which we build ourselves, pose our questions, and involve (and evolve) our experiences and expertise.

Yes, students use VNPS in VRG every day, but that’s only the beginning.  These are designed to shatter institutional and (seemingly) non-negotiated norms in our classrooms.  But there so much more than this.  I mean, what happens when you smash these norms?  Of course we would need to rebuild!

Our teacher moves still matter.  Our teacher moves are still what makes the difference as we build our worlds with our students.

Our world has meaning because we give it meaning.

How do you bungee? A PD Session from last year.

What are labels good for, anyway?

This has been a wondering of mine for quite a while.

I think I had a vague feeling that labels are unhelpful to our teaching practices when I initially began blogging, but I couldn't really put it into words.

And so, even in the very beginning of my blogging life (which has been greatly overshadowed by my being-a-dad life now), I chose to mostly share 'act 1's.  Like this compilation of act 1's in 2012.  I also specifically explored the differences between those two act 1's that I put in the same post.

A year later, I had a better feeling about this vague idea of mine, and so I argued that, "maybe we shouldn't share act 2's" when we blog.  I went on to write:

It is important for teachers to develop their own approaches and mold ideas into ones that will work for them.  In other words, just like how we want our students to construct their thoughts and understanding - why not do the same with teachers?  Makes sense to be constructivist through and through.  Emphasizing act 1 and act 3 may be the best way to approach this.

I've heard people say that "the three act idea doesn't work!" "Students get tired of always seeing these pictures and videos!" "I can't do this every day!"... so on and so forth

In my mind, there is an important relationship between what I was attempting to argue back then, and a recent conversation about #thinkingclassroom from Nat and several others

Cette conversation au sujet du "Thinking Classroom" est tellement importante. Quel est le but du modèle? Tableaux blancs, groupes aléatoires? Ou développer un culture d'autonomie et de réflexion? Est-ce qu'il y a juste une façon d'atteindre l'objectif?  https://t.co/CGhIPceI3G pic.twitter.com/gqNps0eU2v

— Pierre Tranchemontagne (@Pierre_Tranche) February 7, 2018

Pierre is completely right in that it is important to have conversations about more than just labels.  We need to really explore what it is that we're doing, instead of stopping short at labeling what we do - devoid of ourselves and our students.

Not to mention that labels are easy to dismiss.  "Oh, that 3-act stuff doesn't work." "Oh, I tried that #thinkingclassroom thing, it doesn't work for my kids"

But how do we have these conversations?

I attended Canadian Mathematics Education Study Group in 2016, and I was blown away by the format of one particular session.  It's a 'working group' that tackles a problem (in math education) together.  Participants in the same group talk and exchange ideas, and facilitators draw out ideas and help discussions.  We did this for several days.  The intention is not to direct, but to truly facilitate conversations - respecting and valuing the places that people are all at with respect to their lived experiences and expertise (participants include teachers, teacher educators, mathematicians, researchers).

It was refreshing.

These weren't presentations.  Or fake-facilitation where there's actually a secret agenda.

It seemed genuine, and I loved it.  It reminded me more of my own classroom activities, where students have/develop their own agency.

I then spent the next little while after attending CMESG, thinking about how I might be able to bring a similar kind of experience to our provincial wide math education conference that I typically attend - the OAME annual conference.

So I made up a rough idea of what the session might look like, and grabbed Al Overwijk and Bruce McLaurin to join me on this experimental session.

We then met on several occasions trying to figure out the details:

• What is our purpose of this session?
• What might our prompts be?
• What's something we can focus on?
• What can we debrief?
• Should we debrief?

We toiled over each one of them (not to mention other questions that came out).

To start, we needed a common task that has been popular enough for people to talk about.  This serves as the background on which we might have important conversations about: our particular teacher moves during class, our reasons for deciding on moves, our interpretations of the happenings of our classes/culture/lessons.

We know we really want to get to the meat of the session - our decisions for doing or not doing certain things, and under what circumstances - within lessons.

For us, these have emerged as important considerations - regardless of what tasks or activities we're running.

We wanted to create a space where people not only feel safe enough to share, but brave enough to really dig into why they do what they do.  A tall order for a class that we get to keep for one semester - a monstrous order for a 1 hour session.  We had a lot of discussion about whether we should share some of our own experiences.  If so, how we might do that.  Since we want to disturb the power dynamic of presenter vs audience, we decided not to.  

But then a different difficulty emerged: what might we debrief or consolidate?

We settled on 3 slides

The first slide is simply the title of the session:

The second one was

and finally

With the "five practices" in the back of our minds, we worked on anticipating the possible responses that people might have.

As people began to register, we also took note as to who had joined our session (at least on paper).

This was definitely a group of impressive thinkers and educators.  There were also a few well-known (on twitter) educators joining the session (e.g. Jon, Mary, Dan, and many more).  Since there were so many great people, we were excited about the possibilities of in-depth discussions about our practice.  At the same time, we also worried a bit about power dynamics a bit more.  Could the presence (of e.g. Dan Meyer) intimidate others from sharing their ideas? Or perhaps alter what they would have said in his absence?

But we can't control how people react, and so we went on with our initial plan.

People walked in, we sorted them in random groups with some cards, and then sent them to some temporary whiteboards to work on the two prompts.

Throughout the whole time we watched and listened to people's ideas and responses.  There were certainly a few themes that we were hearing.  Bruce, Al, and I passed each other frequently and exchanged quick words about "this group's talking about this in this way" and "this group is talking about that in this way".

Toward the end of the session, I stuck to our original plan.  I didn't share ideas about what we might do with barbie bungee (e.g. I don't use barbie).  Bruce and Al also held their tongue as we discussed.

Instead, I summarized some of the ideas that groups have come up with.  And in the spirit of the 5 practices, did my best to connect some of their ideas together (similarities, differences).

We then highlighted that the whole point of this session was to - from start to finish - focus on the different ways that we approach things, do things, think about things, explore things, make decisions about things.

I made a reference to the work on Flow from Peter Liljedahl (based on Csikszentmihalyi's work)

This was to emphasize that - what we do during classroom time - matters.

It isn't simply about setting up a well-known activity and everything will work out great.  It isn't about starting what has been a successful "3-act task" and calling it a day.  It isn't about simply having vertical whiteboards, and all the kids will suddenly love school.

It was to emphasize that our actions are what matters.  (I subsequently made a similar point during the ignite in the same conference linked here and here)

I also shared a google doc to invite people to read more or to discuss more - but also referencing the fact that barbie bungee had been brought up on several occasions by others in the past - when they noticed that it seemed to work for some, and not others.  (coincidentally Dan Meyer also talked about this at his keynote later that day - and gave us a quick shout-out)

As a side-note, Al and I subsequently did an impromptu session about the #thinkingclassroom the very next session, because their presenter didn't show up.  Al mainly led the session and he did an excellent job as he always does.  When I tweeted out that we (mostly Al) did an impromptu session, it was confused with our bungee session.  It was a bit regrettable since we put so much thought into that session for it to be something 'impromptu.'

Some Reflections After the Session

Bruce, Al, and I spoke about this session afterward.  I enjoyed it, but was unsettled.  I wanted more.  I wanted to dig more at what surfaced.  I felt that we could go so much deeper into our teacher moves - and worried that we didn't go far enough.  Bruce and I chatted a bit about this - and he thought it went well.  He made a good point that it was difficult to build that environment that quickly to begin with.

But I suppose it's a consistent theme with me - where I always want more discussions, deeper debates, and further explorations.

This upcoming OAME we have a session that also aims to explore how we do what we do.  Bruce, who had retired since then, will unfortunately not been joining us (he is absolutely amazing, and certainly had a quiet exit like Tim Duncan).

Instead, I'm excited to have Nat Banting join us for this upcoming session, which will use another popular task/activity as a background: Visual Patterns.

There are some obvious ties to the amazing work that Fawn Nguyen has been doing, but we also wanted to open the doors to other ways of using and having visual patterns beyond the website.

In any case... stay tuned!

What are your thoughts?

As people that respect agency and learning, how do you facilitate adult learning in the brief conference sessions that we often have?  How do you navigate power dynamics as well as perceived 'right answers' or 'silver bullets'?