Lifelong learning

Make Learning a Lifelong Habit

John Coleman

I recently worked my way through Edmund Morris’s first two Teddy Roosevelt biographies, The Rise of Theodore Roosevelt and Theodore Rex. Roosevelt wasn’t without flaws, but he was by nearly all accounts fascinating and intellectually voracious. He published his first book, The Naval War of 1812, at 23 and continued to write on everything from conservation to politics and biography. According to Morris, at certain periods he was rumored to read a book a day, and all this reading and writing arguably made him both charismatic and uniquely equipped to engage the host of topics he did as president: national conservation efforts, naval expansion, trust regulation, and a variety of others.

Roosevelt was what we might call a “lifetime learner.” Learning became, for him, a mode of personal enjoyment and a path to professional success. It’s a habit many of us would like to emulate. The Economist recently argued that with all the disruptions in the modern economy, particularly technology, ongoing skill acquisition is critical to persistent professional relevance. Formal education levels are regularly linked to higher earnings and lower unemployment. And apart from its utility, learning is fun. It’s a joy to engage a new topic. Having an array of interesting topics at your disposal when speaking to colleagues or friends can boost your confidence. And it’s fulfilling to finally understand a difficult new subject.

But this type of continuous and persistent learning isn’t merely a decision. It must become a habit. And as such, it requires careful cultivation.

First, developing a learning habit requires you to articulate the outcomes you’d like to achieve. Would you like to reinvigorate your conversations and intellectual activity by reading a host of new topics? Are you looking to master a specific subject? Would you like to make sure you’re up-to-date on one or two topics outside your day-to-day work? In my own life, I like to maintain a reading program that exposes me to a variety of subjects and genres with the goal of general intellectual exploration, while also digging more deeply into a few areas, including education, foreign policy, and leadership. Picking one or two outcomes will allow you to set achievable goals to make the habit stick.

Based on those choices, set realistic goals. Like many people, each year, I set a series of goals for myself. These take the form of objectives I’d like to achieve over the course of the year (e.g., read 24 books in 2017) and daily or weekly habits I need to cultivate in accordance with those goals (e.g., read for more than 20 minutes five days per week). For me, long-term goals are tracked in a planner. Daily or weekly habits I monitor via an app called momentum, which allows me to quickly and simply enter completion of my habits on a daily basis and monitor adherence. These goals turn a vague desire to improve learning into a concrete set of actions.

With goals in hand, develop a learning community. I have a bimonthly book group that helps keep me on track for my reading goals and makes achieving them more fun. Similarly, many of my writer friends join writing groups where members read and edit each other’s work. For more specific goals, join an organization focused on the topics you’d like to learn — a foreign policy discussion group that meets monthly or a woodworking group that gathers regularly to trade notes. You might even consider a formal class or degree program to add depth to your exploration of a topic and the type of commitment that is inherently structured. These communities increase commitment and make learning more fun.

To focus on your objectives, ditch the distractions. Learning is fun, but it is also hard work. It’s so extraordinarily well documented as to be almost a truism at this point, but multitasking and particularly technology (e.g., cell phones, email) can make the deep concentration needed for real learning difficult or impossible. Set aside dedicated time for learning and minimize interruptions. When you read, find a quiet place, and leave your phone behind. If you’re taking a class or participating in a reading group, take handwritten notes, which improve retention and understanding, and leave laptops, mobiles devices, and other disrupting technologies in your car or bag far out of reach. And apart from physically eliminating distractions, consider training your mind to deal with them. I’ve found a pleasant impact of regular meditation, for example, has been an improvement in my intellectual focus which has helped my attentiveness in lectures and ability to read difficult books.

Finally, where appropriate, use technology to supplement learning. While technology can be a distraction, it can also be used to dramatically aid a learning regimen. Massive Open Online Courses (MOOCs) allow remote students to participate in community and learn from some of the world’s most brilliant people with the added commitment of class participation. Podcasts, audiobooks, e-readers, and other tools make it possible to have a book on hand almost any time. I’ve found, for example, that by using audiobooks in what I think of as “ambient moments” — commuting or running, for example — I can nearly double the books I read in a year. Good podcasts or iTunes U courses can similarly deliver learning on the go. Combine these tools with apps that track your habits, and technology can be an essential component of a learning routine.

We’re all born with a natural curiosity. We want to learn. But the demands of work and personal life often diminish our time and will to engage that natural curiosity. Developing specific learning habits — consciously established and conscientiously cultivated — can be a route to both continued professional relevance and deep personal happiness. Maybe Roosevelt had it right: a lifetime of learning can be a success in itself.

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John Coleman is a coauthor of the book, Passion & Purpose: Stories from the Best and Brightest Young Business Leaders. Follow him on Twitter at @johnwcoleman.

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This article is about EDUCATION

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Educar os Educadores

Edgar Morin: é preciso educar os educadores

“A educação não pode ignorar a curiosidade das crianças”

– Edgar Morin

Mudanças profundas ocorreram em escala mundial nas últimas décadas do século 20, entre elas o avanço da tecnologia de informação, a globalização econômica e o fim da polarização ideológica nas relações internacionais.

Diante desse cenário, o sociólogo francês Edgar Morin, hoje com 95 anos, defende que a maior urgência no campo das ideias não é rever doutrinas e métodos, mas elaborar uma nova concepção do próprio conhecimento. No lugar da especialização, da simplificação e da fragmentação de saberes, Morin propõe um dos conceitos que o tornaram um dos maiores intelectuais do nosso tempo: o da complexidade.

Em entrevista, o pensador critica o modelo ocidental de ensino que, segundo ele, separa os conhecimentos artificialmente através das disciplinas. Para Morin, as disciplinas fechadas ensinam o aluno a ser um indivíduo adaptado à sociedade, mas impedem a compreensão dos problemas do mundo e de si mesmo.

Entrevista concedida a Andrea Rangel/O Globo

Na sua opinião, como seria o modelo ideal de educação?

A figura do professor é determinante para a consolidação de um modelo “ideal” de educação. Através da Internet, os alunos podem ter acesso a todo o tipo de conhecimento sem a presença de um professor.

Então eu pergunto, o que faz necessária a presença de um professor? Ele deve ser o regente da orquestra, observar o fluxo desses conhecimentos e elucidar as dúvidas dos alunos. Por exemplo, quando um professor passa uma lição a um aluno, que vai buscar uma resposta na Internet, ele deve posteriormente corrigir os erros cometidos, criticar o conteúdo pesquisado.

É preciso desenvolver o senso crítico dos alunos. O papel do professor precisa passar por uma transformação, já que a criança não aprende apenas com os amigos, a família, a escola. Outro ponto importante: é necessário criar meios de transmissão do conhecimento a serviço da curiosidade dos alunos. O modelo de educação, sobretudo, não pode ignorar a curiosidade das crianças.

Quais são os maiores problemas do modelo de ensino atual?

O modelo de ensino que foi instituído nos países ocidentais é aquele que separa os conhecimentos artificialmente através das disciplinas. E não é o que vemos na natureza. No caso de animais e vegetais, vamos notar que todos os conhecimentos são interligados. E a escola não ensina o que é o conhecimento, ele é apenas transmitido pelos educadores, o que é um reducionismo.

O conhecimento complexo evita o erro, que é cometido, por exemplo, quando um aluno escolhe mal a sua carreira. Por isso eu digo que a educação precisa fornecer subsídios ao ser humano, que precisa lutar contra o erro e a ilusão.

O senhor pode explicar melhor esse conceito de conhecimento?

Vamos pensar em um conhecimento mais simples, a nossa percepção visual. Eu vejo as pessoas que estão comigo, essa visão é uma percepção da realidade, que é uma tradução de todos os estímulos que chegam à nossa retina. Por que essa visão é uma fotografia? As pessoas que estão longe são pequenas, e vice-versa. E essa visão é reconstruída de forma a reconhecermos essa alteração da realidade, já que todas as pessoas apresentam um tamanho similar.

Todo conhecimento é uma tradução, que é seguido de uma reconstrução, e ambos os processos oferecem o risco do erro. Existe outro ponto vital que não é abordado pelo ensino: a compreensão humana.

O grande problema da humanidade é que todos nós somos idênticos e diferentes, e precisamos lidar com essas duas ideias que não são compatíveis.

A crise no ensino surge por conta da ausência dessas matérias que são importantes ao viver. Ensinamos apenas o aluno a ser um indivíduo adaptado à sociedade, mas ele também precisa se adaptar aos fatos e a si mesmo.

O que é a transdisciplinaridade, que defende a unidade do conhecimento?

As disciplinas fechadas impedem a compreensão dos problemas do mundo. A transdisciplinaridade, na minha opinião, é o que possibilita, através das disciplinas, a transmissão de uma visão de mundo mais complexa.

O meu livro O homem e a morte é tipicamente transdisciplinar, pois busco entender as diferentes reações humanas diante da morte através dos conhecimentos da pré-história, da psicologia, da religião. Eu precisei fazer uma viagem por todas as doenças sociais e humanas, e recorri aos saberes de áreas do conhecimento, como psicanálise e biologia.

Como a associação entre a razão e a afetividade pode ser aplicada no sistema educacional?

É preciso estabelecer um jogo dialético entre razão e emoção. Descobriu-se que a razão pura não existe. Um matemático precisa ter paixão pela matemática. Não podemos abandonar a razão, o sentimento deve ser submetido a um controle racional.

O economista, muitas vezes, só trabalha através do cálculo, que é um complemento cego ao sentimento humano. Ao não levar em consideração as emoções dos seres humanos, um economista opera apenas cálculos cegos. Essa postura explica em boa parte a crise econômica que a Europa está vivendo atualmente.

A literatura e as artes deveriam ocupar mais espaço no currículo das escolas? Por quê?

Para se conhecer o ser humano, é preciso estudar áreas do conhecimento como as ciências sociais, a biologia, a psicologia. Mas a literatura e as artes também são um meio de conhecimento.

Os romances retratam o indivíduo na sociedade, seja por meio de Balzac ou Dostoiévski, e transmitem conhecimentos sobre sentimentos, paixões e contradições humanas. A poesia é também importante, nos ajuda a reconhecer e a viver a qualidade poética da vida. As grandes obras de arte, como a música de Beethoven, desenvolvem em nós um sentimento vital, que é a emoção estética, que nos possibilita reconhecer a beleza, a bondade e a harmonia. Literatura e artes não podem ser tratadas no currículo escolar como conhecimento secundário.

Qual a sua opinião sobre o sistema brasileiro de ensino?

O Brasil é um país extremamente aberto a minhas ideias pedagógicas. Mas, a revolução do seu sistema educacional vai passar pela reforma na formação dos seus educadores. É preciso educar os educadores. Os professores precisam sair de suas disciplinas para dialogar com outros campos de conhecimento. E essa evolução ainda não aconteceu. O professor possui uma missão social, e tanto a opinião pública como o cidadão precisam ter a consciência dessa missão.

Fonte: Fronteiras do Pensamento|O Globo
Veja mais Edgar Morin: “É preciso ensinar a compreensão humana”.

Prior knowledge

Prior Knowledge as an Unexpected Obstacle to Learning

By Janet G. Hudson, PhD Prior knowledge is essential for learning because it helps us make sense of new ideas and information. But when that prior knowledge is incomplete, confused, or flawed, it can create barriers to learning. Consider the following scenarios. I. Novice travelers’ experience: Awaiting the city bus in Tokyo, an American couple fumbled through their foreign currency to create various combinations of unfamiliar coins to pay the yet unknown fare. Their prior knowledge taught them that city buses require exact change upon entrance; moreover, they were aware that riders and drivers don’t patiently tolerate the uninitiated. Why wasn’t the fare posted? Were tickets purchased in advance? Their anxiety to discover the mysterious cost of this public transportation adventure rose as the bus approached. Missing piece of expert local knowledge: Bus fares in Tokyo vary by distance traveled. The fare is paid upon exiting. II. Novice student’s experience: “I took notes, studied them, and thought I did well on the history test until my professor wrote: ‘You misunderstand one of the most basic principles of this historical era. Plantation tobacco slavery was a defining characteristic of the southern Chesapeake colonies (Maryland and Virginia). Plantation slavery was NOT a feature of the northern economy as you indicated.’” Student’s prior knowledge stumbling block: This student came of age in the 21st century, and Maryland is not commonly perceived as a southern state today. So if plantation tobacco slavery existed in Maryland, as her professor indicated, then apparently plantation slavery existed in “the North,” a conclusion she drew from unknowingly linking her 21st century understanding of Maryland’s regional identity with the expert’s content. Guiding novice learners New knowledge builds on existing knowledge, and this strongly agreed-upon principle is imbedded in our education system and culture. For example, algebra builds upon mastery of multiplication, and similarly, at the K-12 level, numerically ordered grades imply that mastery of the third grade precedes entry to fourth grade. Colleges design prerequisite courses to scaffold disciplinary expertise. Pervasive agreement that new knowledge builds upon prior knowledge, however, rests on the unstated assumption that one’s prior knowledge is accurate and complete. Yet evidence abounds that this assumption is wildly optimistic if not frequently flawed. As the examples above illustrate, whether you are a novice with the Tokyo bus system or a novice in an introductory history course, your prior knowledge can become an obstacle rather than a conduit for new learning. Even with all the necessary prerequisites met, students commonly begin courses with inadequate prior knowledge or, more problematically, with prior knowledge that is confused and that includes misunderstandings, flawed thinking, and misplaced assumptions. What’s an expert to do? Step 1: Diagnose For prior knowledge to accelerate rather than hinder learning, flawed thinking, misunderstandings, confusion, and misplaced assumptions MUST be diagnosed. Only when novices recognize their confusion can it be explored and reconsidered. This is easier said than done, however, because: Novices are often unaware of their own flawed thinking or misunderstanding. Novices who recognize their lack of understanding may be too confused to form questions that experts readily understand. Novices who risk expressing their confusion with inarticulate questions that vaguely reference this, that, and the thingamabob are commonly greeted with blank stares, rolled eyes, impatient gestures, or worse—public ridicule. Novices frequently bristle at new information or ideas that experts share, especially when these contradict novices’ understanding or challenge their worldviews, political identities, or life experiences. This in turn may lead novices, consciously or unconsciously, to resist or reject the ideas. Step 2: Construct an “anatomy of confusion” Rather than expecting novices to always take the initiative, lead with their confusion, and willingly make themselves vulnerable, as disciplinary experts we can strategically bring a sense of curiosity to novices’ perspectives. We can imagine their misunderstandings, errors, and flawed assumptions as evidence for analyzing and data for constructing our discipline’s “anatomy of confusion.” How do we begin? Gather data for your anatomy of confusion: Reflect on your teaching experiences in search of common misunderstandings. Speak with colleagues about patterns of confusion they’ve noticed. Interview advanced students who may recall recent breakthroughs and remember their earlier confusion. Brainstorm with novices to increase your insights into their “flawed” understanding of your expertise. (Remember, colleagues in other disciplines, family, and friends may be willing novices ready for experimentation.) Conduct novice brainstorming exercises: Invite novices to brainstorm all the associations they make with a word, phrase, or core concept that is vital to your expertise. Note false associations and omitted ones. Invite novices to ask questions regarding a core concept you’ve identified from your discipline. The questions are your data, so look for imbedded assumptions and note vague references and missing vocabulary. Classify your data. Common misunderstandings reveal that novices tend to: Apply familiar-word meanings when discipline-specific meanings are needed Extend analogies too far or too literally Apply generalizations erroneously to specific situations Assume that rules and forms that fit one context or discipline apply equally in a different context or discipline Miss crucial concepts Finally, with the addition of self-assessments to link particular confusion with particular concepts or levels of mastery, an anatomy of confusion can become a valuable tool for constructing pathways for novices to follow away from arrays of misunderstandings toward improved and increased understanding. Reference: Ambrose et al. (2010) How Learning Works: Seven Research-Based Principles for Smart Teaching. San Francisco, CA: Jossey-Bass. * Dr. Janet G. Hudson is the Faculty Associate Director for Innovative Teaching at the University of South Carolina Center for Teaching Excellence.

Information transmission

More Content Doesn’t Equal More Learning

 

By Nicki Monahan

With access to a world of information as close as our phones, it’s easy to feel overwhelmed by all there is to teach. New material continues to emerge in every academic discipline, and teachers feel a tremendous responsibility not only to stay current themselves, but to ensure that their learners are up to date on the most recent findings. Add to this information explosion the passionate desire by faculty members to share their particular areas of expertise and it’s easy to see why content continues to grow like the mythical Hydra of Greek legend. And like Hercules, who with each effort to cut off one of Hydra’s nine heads only to have two more grow in its place, faculty struggle to tame their content monsters. 

The two most common strategies for managing course content rarely yield positive results. Cutting back or trimming content leads to agonizing decisions but does not produce substantive changes. Adding content to an already jam-packed syllabus puts us in a race to the course finish line—talking a mile a minute and leaving exhausted students in the dust. Learners in these scenarios liken the experience to trying to drink water from a fire hose. Hoarse, exhausted faculty and drowned, resentful students are not representative of the type of deep and meaningful learning that most of us aspire to.

Perhaps it’s time to rethink the role of content in teaching and learning. A fresh perspective on this problem includes thinking about our role as faculty and that of our students, as well as reconsidering the nature of curriculum design.

The role of “content expert” is a familiar and comfortable one for most of us, and the many years spent gaining expertise in a discipline may make us reluctant to relinquish this position. Yet a narrowly defined role as content expert invariably leads to a “content coverage” model of teaching that puts information transmission at the heart of what we do. And while accessing knowledge is essential in learning, it is not the end of learning.

What our students need from us is assistance in navigating the waters in an ocean of information. We can become “content curators” who judiciously select the best “artifacts” for learning, much like the museum curator analyzes and documents all of the materials available before selecting the best representations for any given collection. Our students also need to learn the skills necessary to review and evaluate various sources of information—and be able to differentiate what’s relevant, accurate, and reliable, and why. If we teach research and critical thinking skills, our learners will develop the capacity to cope with information overload, a problem that is unlikely to disappear in the near future.

A realignment of our role from content expert to content curator also puts content itself into a new perspective. Rather than “covering” content, we use carefully selected content to help students develop the skills of their discipline or their profession. So, for example, students of history learn how to use primary sources to think like historians, or biology students use a scientific approach for testing a hypothesis.

With a shift in focus from covering content to using content, curriculum design also becomes less a matter of determining “what” to teach and more a matter of “how” to facilitate learning. Critical decisions about content still need to be made, but from a different perspective. One approach is to consider the scenario that Maryellen Weimer suggests in her piece “Diversifying the Role Course Content Plays.” Imagine that you meet a student five years after he or she took your course. What would you like to have that student remember from the course? Rather than being able to cite specific facts or information, I think we’d all much rather prefer that our former students remember key concepts, ones that transformed their thinking. Often referred to as “threshold concepts,” these critical ideas can become the cornerstones on which we organize our curriculum.

In addition to recognizing the importance of understanding threshold concepts, students might also look back and recognize that it was not knowledge itself that had the greatest impact, but the ability to apply that knowledge. They might remark on the capacity to utilize a formula to solve a problem or adopt a theoretical model to produce a finished product. If we begin with these demonstrated outcomes when designing our curriculum, then content becomes a vehicle by which we help students apply what they have learned.

This forward-thinking, backward-planning approach to curriculum development that incorporates an understanding of threshold concepts is a vital tool in the battle against content dominance. If we look to the future and carefully consider what we want our students to understand deeply by the time they successfully complete our course, then we can take a backward-design approach to create the learning experiences that will help them achieve that. If we continue to view content as that which needs to be covered rather than the fuel for meaningful learning, then we are destined to fight a losing battle.

References:
 

Weimer, Maryellen. “Diversifying the Role Course Content Plays.” Faculty Focus, Sept. 24, 2014. Web.

Meyer, J.H.F. & Land, R. (2003). Threshold concepts and troublesome knowledge: linkages to ways of thinking and practicing. In Rust, C. (ed.), Improving Student Learning – Theory and Practice Ten Years On. Oxford: Oxford Centre for Staff and Learning Development, 412-424.

* Nicki Monahan is a faculty advisor in staff and organizational development at George Brown College, Toronto, Canada.

The Nature of Thinking

Are You Teaching Content Or Teaching Thought?

by Terry Heick

Thinking is troublesome.

For one, it is an intimate act splicing time and space. It is done right here, but it spans moments in the pasts and reaches out uncertainly towards moments in the future. Put another way, you think in a singular, precise space about plural, imprecise times.

It also resists uniformity (and education loves uniformity). Thought hinges on schema (familiar forms and patterns we then impose unfamiliar data to make sense of it), and emotion (in part, our internal response to the former). It is as diverse as character, experience, and affection. It’s like defining art, establishing criteria for beauty, or causing love

And whether it knows it or not, education has a thinking problem.

The Nature Of Thinking

Part of it is due to thinking’s oily skin.

What does it mean to understand, show curiosity, or think? We have tests to try to measure, but the assessment of thought isn’t the priority, but rather grasp of content–and this is another problem.

Priority.

One common response is to choose a handful of actions that indicate thinking–”power verbs”–that we hang on the wall. We then form short response questions asking students to “Analyze,” and “Evaluate,” and feel bloody well that we’re rigorous.

But in this circumstance is thinking useful, or critical? Think about the fact that we promote “thinking strategies,” which makes as much sense as a five-star restaurant promoting “cooking strategies.”

Shouldn’t a school fail to function without urgent and divergent thinking? Shouldn’t a classroom fall flat on its face when it’s not there? The way education is currently designed, the answer is no. We reteach, intervene, and remediate. Einstein’s definition of insanity seems apt here.

If our job is to teach skills, facts, and concepts–crystallized intelligence–then thinking is simply a tool, and our curriculum is content.

If our job is to teach critical thinking, design, and problem-solving–fluid intelligence–then thinking is our collective circumstance, and our curriculum becomes thought.

So, which is it?

If Curriculum Is Content

As an industry, our collective performance is far too mediocre to dabble here and there. When we 

make content proficiency our goal, all of our resources are applied there. Every unit we plan. Every walkthrough observation. Every PLC meeting we attend. Every PD we have the pleasure of experiencing. Every piece of technology we buy. Every grant we write.

We align everything in pursuit of that goal.

If our curriculum remains content, then we simply need to decide what our terms of success are, and continue to experiment until we turn all the little bar graphs that display all the data from all the assessments from red and yellow to green and blue. Or change our terms for success–new cut scores, softer assessments, etc.

Either way, critical thinking is necessarily secondary–a pathway rather than a destination or playground. And that’s okay as long as we’re on the same page here. As long as that’s what we want.

But if our curriculum is thinking–if our job is to, excuse the convenient phrasing, teach thought–then the classroom floor beneath us tilts right and then left, and our goals as educators change in important ways.

To learn to think, students need powerful and inspiring models that reflect the design, citizenship, creativity, interdependence, affection, and self-awareness we claim to want them to have.

To teach careful, creative, and truly innovative thinking, students need creative spaces and tools, and frameworks to develop their own criteria for quality and success.

They need dynamic literacy skills that they practice and build upon endlessly.

Not projects that have creativity and design thinking added on, but projects that can’t function without them.

And they need control of it all.

Units–if we use them–aren’t planned backwards from standards, but thinking habits, self-direction, and intellectual urgency. If our curriculum is content, these are simply a means to a different end. Not priorities, but feel good phrasing we add to school mission statements and casually drop in parent conferences.

As teachers, we have an intimidating–borderline overwhelming–index of academic standards that every student needs to master. But as both an industry and a culture, we complain that students “can’t think for themselves.”

So which is it–should we teach content, or teach students how to think? This isn’t a false dichotomy; we can teach both thinking and traditional curriculum–teach one through the other–but it just might be that we’re trying to serve two masters and failing both.

Changing Curriculum Forms In Response To Changing Times

How would curriculum change if our priority was on critical, creative, and collaborative thinking?

What role would existing content play?

How would it change the kinds of interactions students have with ideas–and one another?

Would this be easier to assess, or more difficult? Would assessment continue to be central to how we drive learning, or would something else act as the catalyst–collaboration, creativity, ideas, models, etc.?

What does the reality of the modern age of information–this age of Google–suggest that we “teach”?

Do students need teachers less in such a context, or more than ever?

How should curriculum respond to a new world? Can we simply “update” things as we go, or is it time for rethinking of our collective practice?

What would you want for your own children–a curriculum of content, or a curriculum of thought?

And is it up to educators to decide? Where are parents and communities? Do they understand these shifts? Shouldn’t they? What’s at stake if they don’t?

Teachers are forced to squint at 21st century learning frameworks, Ken Robinson videos, Common Core standards, technology initiatives, and dozens of other “pushes” and make sense of it all with students increasingly numb to their efforts.

So let’s be clear once and for all–in a public forum and accessible language that our local communities understand–where our priority lies.

Image attribution flickr user :::m@x:::; Are You Teaching Content, Or Teaching Thought?

Aprendizagem

Four Student Misconceptions about Learning

By Maryellen Weimer, PhD

"Efficient and effective learning starts with a proper mindset," Stephen Chew writes in his short, readable, and very useful chapter, "Helping Students to Get the Most Out of Studying." Chew continues, pointing out what most of us know firsthand, students harbor some fairly serious misconceptions that undermine their efforts to learn. He identifies four of them.

1. Learning is fast — Students think that learning can happen a lot faster than it does. Take, for example, the way many students handle assigned readings. They think they can get what they need out of a chapter with one quick read through (electronic devices at the ready, snacks in hand, and ears flooded with music). Or, they don't think it's a problem to wait until the night before the exam and do all the assigned readings at once. "Students must learn that there are not shortcuts to reading comprehension." (p. 216) Teachers need to design activities that regularly require students to interact with course text materials.
2. Knowledge is composed of isolated facts — Students who hold this misconception demonstrate it when they memorize definitions. Chew writes about the commonly used student practice of making flash cards with only one term or concept on each card. The approach may enable students to regurgitate the correct definition, but they "never develop a connected understanding or how to reason with and apply concepts." (p.216) The best way for teachers to correct this misconception is by using test questions that ask students to relate definitions, use definitions to construct arguments, or apply them to some situation.
3. Being good at a subject is a matter of inborn talent rather than hard work — All of us have had students who tell us with great assurance that they can't write, can't do math, are horrible at science, or have no artistic ability. Chew points out that if students hold these beliefs about their abilities, they don't try as hard in those areas and give up as soon as any difficulty is encountered. Then they have even more evidence about those absent abilities. Students need to bring to learning a "growth mindset," recognized by statements like this, "Yes, I'm pretty good at math, but that's because I've spend a lot of time doing it." Teacher feedback can play an important role in helping students develop these growth mindsets.
4. I'm really good at multi-tasking, especially during class or studying — We've been all over this one in the blog. "The evidence is clear: trying to perform multiple tasks at once is virtually never as effective as performing the tasks one at a time focusing completely on each one." (p. 217) Chew also writes here about "inattentional blindness" which refers to the fact that when our attention is focused on one thing, we aren't seeing other things. "The problem of not knowing what we missed is that we believe we haven't missed anything." (p.217)

Pointing out these misconceptions helps but probably not as much as demonstrations. Students, especially those in the 18-24 age range, don't always believe what their teachers tell them. The evidence offered by a demonstration is more difficult to ignore.

Please be encouraged to read Chew's whole chapter (it's only eight pages). It's in an impressive new anthology which is reviewed in the February issue of The Teaching Professor newsletter. Briefly here, the book contains 24 chapters highlighting important research on the science of learning. The chapters are highly readable! They describe the research in accessible language and explore the implications of those findings. Very rarely do researchers (and most of these chapters are written by those involved with research) offer implementable suggestions. This book is full of them.

And here's the most impressive part about this book: you can download it for free. It's being made available by the American Psychological Association's Society for the Teaching of Psychology. Yes, it's a discipline-based piece of scholarly work, but as the editors correctly claim it's a book written for anyone who teaches and cares about learning. Kudos to them for providing such a great resource!

Reference and link: Benassi, V. A., Overson, C. E., & Hakala, C. M. (Editors). (2014). Applying science of learning in education: Infusing psychological science into the curriculum. Available at the Teaching of Psychology website: http://teachpsych.org/ebooks/asle2014/index.php

Autopoiese e conhecimento

A 40 años de la autopoiesis de Maturana, el concepto más revolucionario de la ciencia chilena a nivel mundial

El alcance de éste se estudia en medicina, educación, filosofía y psicología cognitiva. Maturana partió con la biología molecular, pasó al sistema nervioso y luego siguió con la biología del conocimiento y el lenguaje. Hoy, afirma que los humanos somos seres donde la biología y la cultura son "autopoiéticas". Durante los últimos 50 años el biólogo sistémico ha dedicado su tiempo a comprender el conocimiento y el entendimiento humano.

Humberto Maturana

Hector Cossio

Hace más de 50 años, Humberto Maturana era un joven biólogo que comenzaba a hacer clases en el ex Instituto de Ciencias, hoy Facultad de Ciencias de la Universidad de Chile. Entonces tenía poco más de 30 años y ya lo obsesionaba intentar dar respuesta a preguntas imposibles, o imposibles para quienes no buscan afanosamente encontrar respuestas. En sus propias palabras recuerda: “Yo me creía capaz de responder todas las preguntas, pero hubo una que me hizo un alumno en 1960 que no supe responder”. En esa clase Maturana estaba hablando de los primeros seres vivos en el mundo y calculó que la vida había comenzado hacía 2.800 millones de años. Entonces el alumno preguntó: “¿Que comienza hace 2.800 millones de años, de modo que usted me dice ahora que los seres vivos comenzaron entonces?

Maturana se quedó en silencio, después de unos segundos respondió: “No lo sé, pero si usted vuelve a mi clase el próximo año le voy a proponer una respuesta”. Si el alumno volvió o no a la clase nadie lo recuerda, pero a partir de ese momento la búsqueda de la respuesta se convirtió en su tema. Se hizo biólogo sistémico, con su ex discípulo Francisco Varela formó una de las duplas científicas chilenas que más ha aportado al conocimiento mundial, escribió varios cientos de papers y ha dado miles de horas en charlas, clases y simposios. Los resultados de sus estudios se han aplicado a la biología, la medicina, la educación, la filosofía y la psicología cognitiva.

No obstante todo ello, hubo un solo concepto que dio el punto de partida. Un concepto que hoy cumple 40 años y por el cual este viernes el profesor Maturana será homenajeado en el marco de un seminario internacional organizado por el Instituto de Filosofía y Ciencias de la Complejidad (IFICC): la autopoiesis.

Del Quijote a la autopoiesis

Francisco Varela

Antes de intentar explicar la autopoiesis –que a modo de introducción sería necesario señalar que es un término que no ha conocido límites de aplicación–, habría que contar cómo fue que Maturana ya siendo un próspero científico progresista –a mediados de los 60– aceptó a un joven discípulo para crear junto a él el primer libro en que se habla de sistemas autopoiéticos, De máquinas y seres vivos.

“Francisco Varela fue alumno mío en el Instituto de Ciencias, enviado por un profesor de la Católica. Tenía 20 años y estaba estudiando medicina y yo lo entrevisté. Fue en el curso de una conversación larga. Yo no tenía preestablecido lo que iba a ser. La conversación fue sobre sus intereses. Tenía intereses filosóficos, pero estaba estudiando medicina, tenía intereses políticos. En algún momento, yo le pregunto: ‘¿Bueno, pero qué te interesa en la vida?’”

“Y él me dice: ´Quiero entender el psiquismo en el universo’”.

“‘Humm…, bien, bienvenido’ y lo acepté. ¿Y por qué lo hice? Yo creo porque me gustó la audacia de quien quiere estudiar el psiquismo en el universo”. 

Con este estudiante, que rápidamente dejó la medicina, Maturana comenzó a madurar la respuesta sobre el origen de los seres vivos que casi 10 años antes le había hecho el otro estudiante. Sentía que ya tenía la respuesta, pero le faltaba el concepto. Como su especialidad es la biología sistémica, el biólogo aventuró su teoría en términos moleculares. “Los seres vivos son sistemas de dinámicas cíclicas, cerradas en sí mismas, como redes de autoproducción de los componentes moleculares que las constituyen”. En palabras simples, sería algo así como que los seres vivos se hacen a sí mismos, se autoproducen, que el resultado de estos sistemas cíclicos de producción molecular es el mismo ser vivo. Hoy, es probable que esto no constituya novedad, pero hace 40 años fue toda una revolución, porque se propuso dejar de pensar en la función de los órganos (la preocupación científica de esos días) para concentrarse en el resultado del proceso molecular. Esta aventura, originalmente biológica, alcanzó ribetes entonces insospechados, que llevó al biólogo a otro mundo, para nada menos complejo: el conocimiento, el entendimiento humano.

Mientras Varela pensaba que era necesario formalizar la teoría, es decir, darle validez mediante un razonamiento matemático, a Maturana se le cruza este conocimiento con lo que ya había empezado a ver en el sistema nervioso, que también eran procesos cerrados internos. Y se le viene una nueva gran pregunta. Y si el sistema nervioso es un sistema cíclico de producción molecular que se autoproduce, ¿qué pasa con la percepción?, ¿son los elementos externos los percibidos o es la experiencia, lo que le pasa a uno, lo que le da el sentido?

Mientras, el concepto que finalmente terminó por definir el proceso nació de una conversación anecdótica con un literato, Juan de Dios Bulnes. “Él me contó que su tesis había sido sobre el dilema del Quijote, que era si debía dedicarse a la producción (poiesis) de cuentos de caballería o a la praxis, la caballería misma. Ésa es la palabra que yo necesito, me dije,  ’poiesis’, porque lo seres vivos se producen a sí mismos. ¡Autopoiesis! Y así creé una palabra griega legítima”.

La biología del conocer

¿Si los seres vivos son sistemas cíclicos cerrados que se autoproducen y el sistema nervioso lo es asimismo también, qué es lo que nos hace entender las cosas, qué hace que la gente pueda convivir, si la percepción no depende tanto de lo que está afuera sino de lo que ocurre en nuestro interior? Para dar una respuesta a esta pregunta, que aún siendo lógica deja abierta muchas más interrogantes, Maturana recurre a un ejemplo sencillo para explicar la percepción, y cómo todo finalmente se arma en el lenguaje.  Nuestros ojos, explica, nuestra retina, no percibe la misma composición espectral de los colores. Está claro que frente a un color, que podría ser verde, no todos vemos la misma composición, pero todos lo llamamos igual. Entonces el color no se capta en la retina, se da en la experiencia, en la palabra.

“Todos ven verde, pero todos no ven el mismo verde. No sabemos lo que ven, eso es lo que no sabemos, pero todos le ponen el mismo nombre y si le ponen el mismo nombre quiere decir que ven lo mismo, porque resulta que el nombre no es lo que está allá, sino lo que le pasa a uno, entonces yo pude demostrar que la actividad en la retina se correlaciona con el nombre del color, no con la composición espectral del color”.

Esta función que se da en el lenguaje no responde a un conjunto de símbolos codificados mediante un consenso. Para Maturana lo fundamental es la acción del lenguaje y la interacción, es decir, la convivencia que se da en los seres humanos en el lenguaje. Y como se trata de una acción, no de un conjunto simbólico, el biólogo prefiere hablar de lenguajear.

 

La Matríztica y la biología cultural

De acuerdo a la lógica maturaniana, la convivencia que se da en el lenguaje entre los seres humanos es la clave para entender cómo la experiencia es la que nos va dirigiendo en la vida, según cada circunstancia. Para entender esta nueva conceptualización, el profesor acuñó el concepto de “deriva natural”, que se une a la evolución de la especies. Para el pensador, el vivir en convivencia y el conocer están siempre a la deriva, al igual que el navegante de un velero que ha perdido el motor de la nave, las velas y los remos y se encuentra a merced de las corrientes. “Los organismos realizan su vivir en la tangente que va apareciendo momento a momento en el deslizarse en un entorno sin que ellos sepan para dónde van”. La sobrevivencia en el ejemplo, entonces, tiene que ver con las decisiones que se toman sobre la base de las experiencias. De modo que si está a la deriva, pero conoce la dirección y velocidad que toman las corrientes, podría calcular la hora y el destino.

Esas experiencias, bajo la misma lógica, están determinadas por la emoción. En este punto el conocimiento se vuelve también autopoiético, y aunque si bien la autopoiesis define un concepto de producción molecular, también sirve para identificar que los seres humanos, en tanto personas, vale decir, individualidades que se relacionan a través del lenguaje y que conviven en la deriva natural, constituyen un todo compuesto de biología con cultura.

Hablar de que los seres humanos somos biológicos y culturales parece una obviedad tremenda, por eso es que Maturana elimina el “y”, y sostiene que las personas somos seres “biológicosculturales” indivisibles, así como la biología y la química es bioquímica.

Esta reflexión es el fundamento de la Matríztica, el instituto que el doctor Maturana ha levantado junto a Ximena Dávila, también discípula, para investigar la matriz biológico-cultural de la existencia humana. La propuesta del instituto es explicar las experiencias desde las experiencias, como un hacer propio del modo de vivir humano (cultura) en un fluir en el entrelazamiento del lenguajear y el emocionar (conversar), que es donde sucede todo lo humano.