Many people assume that teachers are born, not made. From politicians to researchers and teachers themselves, reformers have designed systems to find and promote those who can teach and eliminate those who can’t. But as Elizabeth Green explains [Green2014], that assumption is wrong, which is why educational reforms based on it have repeatedly failed.
The book is written as a history of the people who have put that puzzle together in the US. Its core begins with a discussion of what James Stigler discovered during a visit to Japan in the early 1990s:
Some American teachers called their pattern “I, We, You”: After checking homework, teachers announced the day’s topic, demonstrating a new procedure (I)… Then they led the class in trying out a sample problem together (We)… Finally, they let students work through similar problems on their own, usually by silently making their way through a worksheet (You)…
The Japanese teachers, meanwhile, turned “I, We, You” inside out. You might call their version “You, Y’all, We.” They began not with an introduction, but a single problem that students spent ten or twenty minutes working through alone (You)… While the students worked, the teacher wove through the students’ desks, studying what they came up with and taking notes to remember who had which idea. Sometimes the teacher then deployed the students to discuss the problem in small groups (Y’all). Next, the teacher brought them back to the whole group, asking students to present their different ideas for how to solve the problem on the chalkboard… Finally, the teacher led a discussion, guiding students to a shared conclusion (We).
It’s tempting but wrong to think that this particular teaching technique is some kind of secret sauce. The actual key is a practice called jugyokenkyu, which means “lesson study”:
Jugyokenkyu is a bucket of practices that Japanese teachers use to hone their craft, from observing each other at work to discussing the lesson afterward to studying curriculum materials with colleagues. The practice is so pervasive in Japanese schools that it is…effectively invisible.
In order to graduate, [Japanese] education majors not only had to watch their assigned master teacher work, they had to effectively replace him, installing themselves in his classroom first as observers and then, by the third week, as a wobbly…approximation of the teacher himself. It worked like a kind of teaching relay. Each trainee took a subject, planning five days’ worth of lessons… [and then] each took a day. To pass the baton, you had to teach a day’s lesson in every single subject: the one you planned and the four you did not… and you had to do it right under your master teacher’s nose. Afterward, everyone–the teacher, the college students, and sometimes even another outside observer–would sit around a formal table to talk about what they saw.
Putting work under a microscope in order to improve it is commonplace in sports and music. A professional musician, for example, will dissect half a dozen different recordings of “Body and Soul” or “Smells Like Teen Spirit” before performing it. They would also expect to get feedback from fellow musicians during practice and after performances. Many other disciplines work this way too: the Japanese drew inspiration from Deming’s ideas on continuous improvement in manufacturing, while the adoption of code review over the last 15 years has done more to improve everyday programming than any number of books or websites.
But this kind of feedback isn’t part of teaching culture in the US, the UK, Canada, or Australia. There, what happens in the classroom stays in the classroom: teachers don’t watch each other’s lessons on a regular basis, so they can’t borrow each other’s good ideas. The result is that every teacher has to invent teaching on their own. They may get lesson plans and assignments from colleagues, the school board, a textbook publisher, or the Internet, but each teacher has to figure out on their own how to combine that with the theory they’ve learned in education school to deliver an actual lesson in an actual classroom for actual students.
Demonstration lessons, in which one teacher is in front of a room full of students while other teachers observe, seem like a way to solve this. However, Fincher and her colleagues studied how teaching practices are actually transferred using both a detailed case study [Fincher2007] and analysis of change stories [Fincher2012]. The abstract of the latter paper sums up their findings:
Innovative tools and teaching practices often fail to be adopted by educators in the field, despite evidence of their effectiveness. Naïve models of educational change assume this lack of adoption arises from failure to properly disseminate promising work, but evidence suggests that dissemination via publication is simply not effective… We asked educators to describe changes they had made to their teaching practice… Of the 99 change stories analyzed, only three demonstrate an active search for new practices or materials on the part of teachers, and published materials were consulted in just eight… Most of the changes occurred locally, without input from outside sources, or involved only personal interaction with other educators.
Barker et al found something similar [Barker2015]:
Adoption is not a “rational action,” however, but an iterative series of decisions made in a social context, relying on normative traditions, social cueing, and emotional or intuitive processes… Faculty are not likely to use educational research findings as the basis for adoption decisions… Positive student feedback is taken as strong evidence by faculty that they should continue a practice.
This phenomenon is sometimes called lateral knowledge transfer: someone sets out to teach X, but while watching them, their audience actually learns Y as well (or instead). For example, an instructor might set out to show people how to do a particular statistical analysis in R, but what her learners might take away is some new keyboard shortcuts in RStudio. Live coding makes this much more likely because it allows learners to see the “how” as well as the “what”, and jugyokenkyu works because it creates more opportunities for this to happen.
As the cartoon below suggests, sometimes it can be hard to receive feedback, especially negative feedback. The process is easier and more productive when the people involved share ground rules and expectations. This is especially important when they have different backgrounds or cultural expectations about what’s appropriate to say and what isn’t.
You can get better feedback on your work from other people using techniques like these:
Initiate feedback. It’s better to ask for feedback than to receive it unwillingly.
Choose your own questions, i.e., ask for specific feedback. It’s a lot harder for someone to answer, “What do you think?” than to answer either, “What is one thing I could have done as an instructor to make this lesson more effective?” or “If you could pick one thing from the lesson to go over again, what would it be?”
Directing feedback like this is also more helpful to you. It’s always better to try to fix one thing at once than to change everything and hope it’s for the better. Directing feedback at something you have chosen to work on helps you stay focused, which in turn increases the odds that you’ll see progress.
Use a feedback translator. Have a fellow instructor (or other trusted person in the room) read over all the feedback and give an executive summary. It can be easier to hear “It sounds like most people are following, so you could speed up” than to read several notes all saying, “this is too slow” or “this is boring”.
Most importantly, be kind to yourself. Many of us are very critical of ourselves, so it’s always helpful to jot down what we thought of ourselves before getting feedback from others. That allows us to compare what we think of our performance with what others think, which in turn allows us to scale the former more accurately. For example, it’s very common for people to think that they’re saying “um” and “err” all the time, when their audience doesn’t notice it. Getting that feedback once allows instructors to adjust their assessment of themselves the next time they feel that way.
You can give feedback to others more effectively as well:
Balance positive and negative feedback. One method is a “compliment sandwich” made up of one positive, one negative, and a second positive observation.
Organize your feedback using a rubric. Most people are more comfortable giving and receiving feedback when they feel that they understand the social rules governing what they are allowed to say and how they are allowed to say it. A facilitator can then transcribe items into a shared document (or onto a whiteboard) during discussion.
Two by Two
The rubric we find most useful for feedback on teaching is a 2x2 grid whose vertical axis is labelled “positive” and “negative”, and whose horizontal axis is labelled “content” (what was said) and “presentation” (how it was said). Observers write each of their comments in one of the grid’s four squares as they are watching the demonstration.
Whatever methods are used, the most important thing to remember is feedback on teaching is meant to be formative: its goal is to help people figure out what they are doing well and what they still need to work on.
Architecture schools often include studio classes, in which students solve small design problems and get feedback from their peers right then and there. These classes are most effective when the instructor critiques both the designs and the peer critiques, so that participants are learning not only how to make buildings, but how to give and get feedback [Schon1984]. Master classes in music serve a similar purpose, and a few people have experimented with using live coding at conferences or online in similar ways.
Everyone has nervous habits. For example, many of us become “Mickey Mouse” versions of ourselves when we’re nervous, i.e., we talk more rapidly than usual, in a higher-pitched voice, and wave our arms around more than we usually would.
Gamblers call nervous habits like this “tells”. While these are often not as noticeable as you would think, it’s good to know whether you pace, fiddle with your hair, look at your shoes, or rattle the change in your pocket when you don’t know the answer to a question.
You can’t get rid of tells completely, and trying to do so can make you obsess about them. A better strategy is to try to displace them, e.g., to train yourself to scrunch your toes inside your shoes instead of cracking your knuckles.
If you are interested in knowing more about giving and getting feedback, you may want to read [Gormally2014] and discuss ways you could make peer-to-peer feedback a routine part of your teaching. You may also enjoy [Gawande2011], which looks at the value of having a coach.
One of the key elements of instructor training is recording trainees and having them, and their peers, critique those recordings. We were introduced to this practice by UBC’s Warren Code, who got it from the Instructional Skills Workshop [ISW2017], and it has evolved to the following:
Split into groups of three.
Each person rotates through the roles of instructor, audience, and videographer. As the instructor, they have two minutes to explain one key idea from their research (or other work) as if they were talking to a class of interested high school students. The person pretending to be the audience is there to be attentive, while the videographer records the session using a cellphone or similar device.
After everyone in the group of three has finished teaching, watch the videos as a group. Everyone gives feedback on all three videos, i.e., people give feedback on themselves as well as on others.
After everyone has given feedback on all of the videos, return to the main group and put all of the feedback into the notes. Again, try to divide positive from negative and content from presentation. Try also to identify each person’s tells: what do they do that betrays nervousness, and how noticeable is it?
It’s important to record all three videos and then watch all three: if the cycle is teach-review-teach-review, the last person to teach runs out of time. Doing all the reviewing after all the teaching also helps put a bit of distance between the teaching and the reviewing, which makes the exercise slightly less excruciating.
In order for this exercise to work well:
Let people know at the start of the class that they will be asked to teach something so that they have time to choose a topic. (In our experience, telling them this in advance of the class can be counter-productive, since some people will fret over how much they should prepare.)
Groups must be physically separated to reduce audio cross-talk between their recordings. In practice, this means 2-3 groups in a normal-sized classroom, with the rest using nearby breakout spaces, coffee lounges, offices, or (on one occasion) a janitor’s storage closet.
People must give feedback on themselves, as well as giving feedback on each other, so that they can calibrate their impressions of their own teaching according to the impressions of other people. (We find that most people are harder on themselves than others are, and it’s important for them to realize this.)
Try to make at least one mistake during the demonstration of live coding so that trainees can see you talk through diagnosis and recovery, and draw attention afterward to the fact that you did this.
The announcement of this exercise is often greeted with groans and apprehension, since few people enjoy seeing or hearing themselves. However, it is consistently rated as one of the most valuable parts of the class, and also serves as an ice breaker: we want pairs of instructors at actual workshops to give one another feedback, and that’s much easier to do once they’ve had some practice and have a rubric to follow.
Setting Up Your Teaching Environment
If the room setup allows it, try to set up your environment to mimic what you would use in an actual classroom: have a glass of water handy, stand instead of sitting, and so on.
Watch [Wilson2016] as a group and give feedback on it. Organize feedback along two axes: positive vs. negative and content vs. presentation.
Have each person in the class add one point to a 2x2 grid on a whiteboard (or in the shared notes) without duplicating any points that are already up there.
What did other people see that you missed? What did they think that you strongly agree or disagree with?
Use the process described above to practice teaching in groups of three. When your group is done, the instructor will add one point of feedback from each participant to a 2x2 grid on the whiteboard or in the shared notes, without accepting duplicates. Participants should not say whether the point they offer was made by them, about them, or neither: the goal at this stage is primarily for people to become comfortable with giving and receiving feedback, and to establish a consensus about what sorts of things to look for.