Engaging Adolescent Learners: A Guide for Content-Area Teachers (#1)

 
“Schon informs us that teachers are caught between the ‘high, hard hill of research-based knowledge’ that overlooks the ‘soft, slimy, swamp of real life’ (Schon, 1987). Those who look to the theories ‘up on the hill’ typically find they are of little use in addressing the complex problems ‘down in the swamp’”
— Lent, 2006, x
 

I found this quote interesting for two reasons. One, it was incredibly relevant and coincidental to the conversation I had previously had with another educator. And two, because it has made me question my future in education, positively.

To begin with the former, a fellow educator sought me out to make sense of what the administration expects from teachers, amongst the abundance of ambiguous responsibilities. In wanting to understand the concern from my peer, they began to let out the frustration of needing more support, and having more opportunities in working with other teachers and maintaining transparency within the school. To this I empathized,. Those up on the hill may have forgotten what it is like down here in the swamp (a nice swamp, mind you).

My latter point has brought some existential matters regarding my future in the world of education. I had always thought I would be destined somewhere beyond the classroom. Maybe administration. Maybe professorship. However, this year more than ever has made me question it all due to the meaning of this quote given by Lent (2006).

How can I continue to empathize and evolve my educational studies and beliefs without being in the swamp itself? Will I become one of those up on the hill? How can I possibly be an effective and empathetic leader without being at ground level?

In the end, I must continue to stay reflective in this issue, because anyone can research and apply such practices to their own learners and find success. Whereas, another can attempt and fail. We must always tailor our practices and instruction to our learners, and educators need to understand that very sentiment when asked of anything.

 
“Even so-called advanced students frequently are not motivated to learn anything more than is necessary to obtain a passing grade. In fact, it has become a badge of honor for many students to figure out how to appear to be working while actually doing little or nothing. Cheating is rampant and after-school jobs consume more and more of teenagers’ energy and passion. The concept of learning as an inherently joyful act is overshadowed by gaining credits, passing tests, and advancing through the ranks until graduation”
— Lent, 2006, xiii
 

An interesting conversation regarding the role grades play in learning and motivation just took place between a colleague of mine and me last week. I indulge myself in these somewhat controversial, provocative discussions because they can make the biggest difference in my own philosophies. I am in year two of what I call my “grit studies,” seeking out ways to instill this idea of perseverance and steadfastness. Where does this intrinsic motivation to learn come from? Are grades only extrinsic rewards for compliance, rather than true understanding and empathy?

Essentially, I would love to look at growth. I have had my learners utilize electronic portfolios to have an archive of their works so they can showcase their growth throughout the year. To give way for insight and understandings. However, it always comes down to what grade they have and how they can gain more points. It is unfortunate to see more passion for a GPA instead of the process of learning. It may come with maturity and experience, but how can we start that earlier with learners?

“Many teachers confuse standards or curriculum with learning. These tools may help teachers and administrators manage the business of education, but deep learning is rarely standardized. Consider the idea of curriculum as a suggested menu of the vast amount of knowledge, facts, and skills accessible to students in their learning quest. Think of textbooks as rich resources that organize knowledge in an easily accessible form, not as an infallible guide for all subjects. Imagine using standards for guidance, much as new parents use childcare books to gain information about general stages of child development and not regarding those standards as sacred proclamations. Suppose we view learning as the ability to think, reason, and explore what one needs to know when one needs to know it. What would schools look like if all classrooms were bastions of thought where “habits of mind” were sharpened, much as Project 2060: Science for All Americans (Ritchhart 2002) proposed with these questions:

Evidence: How do we know?

Viewpoint: Who is speaking?

Connections: What causes this?

Supposition: How might things be different?

Meaningfulness: What’s the point? Why does it matter?

If such questions were an intrinsic part of learning for every subject area, imagine the depth of understanding that students would acquire. They would practice how to learn, not what to learn”
— Lent, 2006, p. 5

The process of learning is a skill in itself. I have continually and intentionally taught my learners strategies and skills with the endless pieces of supplemental materials that fit their interests and needs. I have noticed that many teachers will rely on their materials to guide their learners, rather than allow for their learners and learning itself to guide the way.

I appreciate the questions regarding evidence, viewpoint, connections, supposition, and meaningfulness. I am going to begin using these types of questions to guide my class discussions. For this third trimester, my learners will begin to craft their own questions for their readings. I may preface this with shifting our thinking even more toward learning as a skill. Regardless of what we learn, how we learn is the most powerful thing we can acquire. If we know how to learn, we have the world at our fingertips.


Lent, R.C. (2006). Engaging adolescent learners: A guide for content-area teachers. Portsmouth, NH: Heinemann.