The Sweet Spot: Learning from Educational Philosophy While Constructing My Own

 I have to preface this entry with an acknowledgement that, once again, it has been an embarrassingly long time since I last updated this blog.  I’ll skip the meandering explanation of why I haven’t written and should have. It will also have to be another time (if ever) that I publicly divulge any of the many blog-worthy Addy-ventures that have occurred in the last four years.  

Instead, I will share another guilty admission and explain why I am now writing again after so long; it is a required class assignment.  I know, I know.  I can almost hear your groan of disappointment.  

Nonetheless, I will do my best to hold your attention, for I can seamlessly weave together the theme of this post with the overarching theme of this blog. It is as simple as connecting two things that cannot (or at least should not) exist without the other: adventure and education.  

The class that I am taking, the one responsible for the words you now read, is Educational Psychology.  We are learning about different instructional methods and philosophies and applying them in different settings, seeing how they fit.  Utilizing various resources, one of our overarching goals of the class is to determine, and then describe, our own personal educational philosophies. 

What I want to do here is put down my swirling thoughts down in words and try to describe how the process of determining my educational philosophy is going.  To help me, I will share some of what I’ve learned from the book In Search of Understanding: The Case For Constructivist Classrooms, by Jacqueline Grennon Brooks and Marin G. Brooks.  

As you re-read that title (made you look) you might wonder, “what does constructivist classroom mean?”, and that would be a great question!  

Here's my take on a concise definition:

 “Constructivism” is an educational philosophy that operates under the assumption that knowledge is relative. In other words, each of us constructs our own understanding of the world. 

A “constructivist classroom”, therefore, is one in which the students become the main movers and shakers of their education.   The guidance from an ideal teacher in situation is more subtle and faciliatory, while the lesson structure is more fluid, varying based on each individual student’s interpretations, interests, and needs.

One of the things I enjoyed most about this book was the connections I felt to the examples and research that the authors chose when describing instructional methods.  They often refer to math and science lessons, and one of their very first examples was about the first time a young child visits the ocean, which means a lot to me personally.  One of my very first memories is of visiting the ocean.

Determining how much I agree with the constructivist methods that I’ve been reading about, it is only natural to draw from my prior experiences in educational settings, both as a student and as the educator.  The moments that I look back on as successful were experiences that did involve methods that Constructivists encourage, but they also involved methods that run against constructivist philosophy: lectures and demonstrations that the student then mimicked or practiced.

Two examples I can draw from are my experiences as a swimming instructor and as a sailing instructor.  Within these two settings lie excellent opportunities for students to have freedom and construct their own knowledge, but can also require specific, concise, and accurate instruction.  In both settings, as in all educational settings, safety is the primary concern. When students are literally learning in deep water, the number of safety concerns go up. 

Take a first-time swimming lesson with a three-year old.  In my past lessons I wouldn’t have been able to justify the idea of giving them complete power.  First of all, most would probably either bolt right for the toys or bolt for their parents.  If they didn’t do those things and instead bolted for the water, this is a paradoxical best AND worst case scenario.  If I’m already in the water, great, I can get to them, but if I’m not, then even if that kid has the innate gift of being able to keep their head out of the water on their own, I’ve just committed negligence.

This is, of course, an extreme example.  If I knowingly allow or physically put a child in deep water, I trust myself to know that the worst possible outcome is some water up the nose. My point is that I believe ground rules to be necessary in every educational setting, and the giving of those ground rules is traditionally given as precise directions. 

What I am learning in this class, and through interpreting Brooks and Brooks, that I didn’t know as a young undergrad teaching swim lessons over the summer holiday, is that I was taking progressive and constructivist approaches to traditional lessons without knowing it.  If you had asked me then why I was using those methods, I would have just answered that I was trying to make the lesson more fun. 

Some of these instructional highlights are presented in the book, especially in Chapter two.  Brooks and Brooks stress the importance of valuing student inquiry and physical action over the study of classical textbooks, both of which I have found empowers students and fosters engagement.  Thinking back to my own fifth grade classroom, I was much more engaged in learning about the subject of geology when I was on a field trip to a cave in central Oregon than I was reading about it in a book.

  

I have also learned that giving students as much power over their learning as possible does not mean there is no guidance.  The key is determining the right amount and type of guidance.  Brooks and Brooks recommend that a constructivist educator guide their students by presenting “good problem-solving situations” (p. 36).  This means that the situation: 

1.     1. Demands that the students make a testable prediction

2.     2.  Make use of inexpensive (read: accessible) equipment

3.      3. Is complex enough to elicit multiple possible approaches at solving the problem

4.      4. Benefits from group effort

Making sense of these varied and merited solutions to educational questions reminds me of trying to hit a baseball.  You can technically hit the ball with any part of the bat, but if you make contact with the ball too close to your hands, the ball has less power and your hands get stung.  Hit the ball with the far end of the bat and the same thing happens.  My Dad (and many other coaches) told me that I had to hit the ball with the "sweet spot" on the bat. 

What I am coming to believe is that there exists a "sweet spot" regarding guidance in a class setting.  It essentially lies between saying nothing at all, and giving enough guidance to stay safe and aligned with the learning goal (teacher- or student-derived).  The key is determining the right amount and what kind of guidance.  That is what I think I will continue to grapple with as a I move forward in developing my own educational philosophy.

More advances in knowledge yet to come, but in the meantime....

Happy trails, smooth sails, sunny summers, clean masks, and cheers to enjoying the process!