I’ve been giving a lot of thought recently to the idea of “tracking” in PBL, mostly at the prodding of the teaching fellow I’m working with this year – which is so awesome, of course. Having a young teacher give you a fresh outlook on the practices that your school has come to know and accept (even if I don’t love them personally) is always refreshing to me.
I have taught with PBL in three different schools – two that tracked at Algebra II (or third year) point in the four-year curriculum and now one that tracks right from the start. Anyone who has done Jo Boaler’s “How to Learn Math” course has seen the research about tracking. So the question that my teaching fellow asked me, is why do we do it. The answers I had for him were way too cynical for a first year student teacher to hear – “Because it’s easier for the teachers to plan lessons and assessments.” “Because the class will be easier to manage, as well as parents.”, etc.
In fact, I would have to say that in a PBL math classroom the experiences that I had with the heterogeneous groupings ended up being really advantageous for both strong and weak math students. Here’s a great quote from a weaker student in a heterogeneously grouped math class, who was part of my dissertation research (that I have used before in presentations) when asked what the PBL math classroom was like for her:
“You could, kind of, add in your perspective and it kind of gives this sense like, “Oooh, I helped with this problem.” and then another person comes in and they helped with that problem, and by the end, no one knows who solved the problem. It was everyone that solved the problem. LIke, everyone contributed their ideas to this problem and you can look at this problem on the board and you can maybe see only one person’s handwriting, but behind their handwriting is everyone’s ideas. So yeah, it’s a sense of “our problem” – it’s not just Karen’s problem, it’s not just whoever’s problem, it’s “our problem”.
This shared sense of work, I believe, rubs off on both the strong and weak students and allows for mutual respect more often than not. Even my teaching fellow shared an anecdote from his class wherein a stronger student had gotten up to take a picture with his iPad of a solution a weaker student had just been in charge of discussing. The presenter seemed outwardly pleased at this and said ,”He’s taking a picture of what I did? that’s weird.”
This mutual respect then leads to a shared sense of safety in the classroom for taking risks. Today I read this tweet from MindShift:
Making mistakes in front of students was hard for this 17-yr-old at first http://t.co/VJwBjWWjce #edchat #coding pic.twitter.com/pN5PPKtZ5g
— MindShift (@MindShiftKQED) December 14, 2014
I don’t really read that much about coding, but when something talks about risk-taking, I’m right there. In this article, the student that decided to go to Cambodia and teach coding to teenage orphans makes a really keen observation:
“Everybody was a beginner, and that creates a much more safe environment to make mistakes.”
So interestingly, when the students in a classroom environment have the sense that they are all at the same level, it allows them to accept that everyone will have the same questions and opens up the potential that all will be willing to help. I don’t think this has to be done with actual tracking though – I think it can happen with deliberate classroom culture moves.
I got more insight into this when asking some students in my Honors Geometry class why they don’t like asking questions in class.
“It seems to not help that much because it shows others how much I don’t know.”
“It only allows others to feel good about themselves instead of make me feel better that my question was answered.”
“If someone else can answer my question then they end up getting a big head about it instead of really helping me understand.”
I was starting to see a trend. Now, this was not all kids, don’t get me wrong, but it was enough to get me concerned – This reminded me of a great blogpost I read by John Spencer (@edrethink) called The Courage of Creativity in which he write about how much courage it takes to put something creative out there and fail. In mathematics, many students don’t see it as being creative, so hopefully John won’t mind if I change his quote a little bit (since I am citing him here, I hope this is alright!)
“All of this has me thinking that there’s a certain amount of courage required in [risk-taking in problem solving]. The more we care about the work [and are invested in the learning or what people think of our outcomes], the scarier it is. We walk into a mystery, never knowing how it will turn out. I mention this, because so many of the visuals I see about creativity treat creative work like it’s a prancing walk through dandelions when often it’s more like a shaky scaffold up to a mountain to face a dragon.”
Thanks John!