Introit

Scarf It Down!

We're all faced with the perennial question of how we might motivate others in our schools. In a recent interview with Karen Christensen (Rotman Magazine, Spring 2013), David Rock, founder of the NeuroLeadership Institute, shares that "they key is to create an atmosphere that promotes Status, Certainty, Autonomy, Relatedness, and Fairness. We call this the SCARF model." I find the model worthwhile because so many independent schools are positioned to implement it; some already do, without knowing it.

• Status - "Within the brain, feelings of low status actually provoke the kind of cortisol elevation associated with sleep deprivation and chronic anxiety. [...] One common threat is the custom of offering feedback. The mere phrase 'Can I give you some advice?' puts people on the defensive, because they perceive the person offering advice as claiming superiority. Inside your brain, it is the cortisol equivalent of hearing footsteps in the dark." (30-31)
• Certainty - We crave it. "At work, not knowing what will happen next can be profoundly debilitating, because it requires extra neural energy, which can undermine performance and disengage people from the present. Breaking a complex project down into small steps can help to create a feeling of certainty. Although it's highly unlikely that everything will go as planned, people will function better because the project now seems less ambiguous." (31)
• Autonomy - "As long as people feel they can execute their own decisions without much oversight, stress will remain under control. [...] A perception of reduced autonomy--for example, when someone is being micromanaged--can easily generate a threat response. When an employee experiences a lack of control, his or her perception of uncertainty is aroused, further raising stress levels." (31)
• Relatedness - "In the brain, the ability to feel trust and empathy about others is shaped by whether they are perceived to be part of the same social group. [...] In terms of workplace implications, this means that teams of diverse people cannot simply be thrown together. They must be deliberately assembled in a way that minimizes the potential for threat responses to arise." (31)
• Fairness - "The perception that an even has been 'unfair' generates a strong response in the limbic system, stirring hostility and undermining trust. The cognitive need for fairness is so strong that some people are willing to [...] commit themselves to an organization they recognize as fair." (31) In terms of an example of a threat, "the 'old boys' network provides an egregious example: those who are not a part of it always perceive their organization as fundamentally unfair, no matter how many mentoring programs are put in place." (31)

The reason why I find this SCARF model so interesting is because, when people experience a rewarding SCARF system, they are considered to be deeply engaged.  Engagement is challenging to measure, but, aided by the SCARF model, I am certain that we could devise a way to measure it through a fairly straightforward survey that would provide us with some constructive/useful data points.

In this climate, not only do we want to see students who are deeply engaged, we want/need to see faculty, staff, and leaders who are deeply engaged. Success in this realm will beget success.

Are you deeply engaged?

Role of Cognitive Science in Shaping Curriculum

Roger Schank recently released a tome that is very worthwhile: Teaching Minds - How Cognitive Science Can Save Our Schools. Schank is admittedly provocative, yet in a very good way. From the jacket: "Schank argues that class size, lack of parental involvement, and other commonly-cited factors have nothing to do with why students are not learning. The culprit is a system of subject-based instruction, and the solution is cognitive-based learning. This groundbreaking book defines what it would mean to teach thinking."

Schank outlines 12 cognitive process that, in his estimation, underlie learning: it's hard to see how it could be otherwise. They are:

Conceptual Processes

1. Prediction
2. Judgment
3. Experimentation
4. Evaluation

Analytic Processes

1. Diagnosis
2. Planning
3. Causation
4. Judgment

Social Processes

1. Influence
2. Teamwork
3. Negotiation
4. Describing

A key driver for Schank is that we are subject-bound when it comes to education. He states that, "If we wish to teach people, it is important to ask what cognitive capabilities we want them to have when we are done, not what we want them to know. In other words, we want to understand what we have to do in order to make them better able to think" (46).

I won't go into great detail here, but suffice it to say that much of what Schank offers would resonate with independent educators. He avows openly that he has problems with "knowledge" and "to know," as he sees them as inherently biased words -- biased toward how the system works currently.

He is compelling. I recommend this book to you because, if nothing else, it will provide for deep discussions in our schools. As a matter of fact, perhaps I'll recommend it as our next faculty reading project...

Assessment or Asset?

One of my eleven summer reading books is Cathy Davidson's tome, Now You See It: How the Brain Science of Attention Will Transform the Way We Live, Work, and Learn. Davidson offers a powerful and compelling narrative for us to re-consider how we do school, something this blog treats regularly.

 

Although I've not finished it just yet, I found the following quote to be powerful, perhaps because it is such a cogent statement for all that we read on Twitter, in blogs, in general educational literature, and what we hear at conferences:

"That is the glistening paradox of great education: It is not about answering test questions. It is about knowing that, when tested by the most grueling challenges ahead, you have the capacity to learn what is required to succeed" (85).

Shortly afterward, she states, "Put those kids [a group she had identified] in a lecture hall, give them a standardized curriculum with standardized forms of measuring achievement and ability, and they learn a different lesson. They might well master what they are supposed to learn, but that's not education. When you think of learning as something external to yourself, learning becomes a levy--an assessment, not an asset. The assessment no longer matters after the schooling stops. The asset is a resource one draws on for a lifetime" (86).

Her clarification of assessment versus asset really struck a chord in me.

I'm spending much of my summer considering how to transform my section of 9th grade history into a project-based learning class. That is no small feat, in case you're wondering. Central to this transformation is my own need to attend to assessment versus asset. I want the kids to have the asset, every time. I just need to figure out a way to get them there, while allowing for a way to measure their progress that can be translated into a meaningful grade, since we are still wedded to grades.

The Brain and Leadership

Briefings on Talent & Leadership carried an article on the biology of leadership, with a specific focus on the brain, in the Q4 issue last year. Given the discussions on brain-based education and research in independent schools, this article is valuable for its insights into organizational leadership and how we might be better aware of the role the brain plays, in a leader as well as in employees, managers, etc.

Author David Berreby proposes some "guideposts for leadership" that are helpful:

(1) "It's top-down and bottom-up." Bottom-up processes (i.e., sights, sounds, strong feelings) are important in how people within an organization behave, but so too are top-down processes (rational decision-making and conscious thoughts). "To reach people and motivate them, engage both their top-down thinking and their bottom-up intuitions.

(2) "Big challenges don't always need big solutions." One of the brain's biases is that big problems need big reponses. Not true, as Berreby says, "remember that everything you experience has multiple meanings, because the same object is treated differently in different parts of the brain." Instead of making that big change, you might consider "slight adjustments to detail that matter at other levels of meaning. These are easier and quicker. Often, they're all it takes." Berrby cites the example of "opt-in" versus "opt-out" programs. If you institute an opt-out regime, where people have to consciously choose to refuse something, they will do the action in question (most of the time). Why? Simple: people are averse to change, and paperwork (opting out) is yet another task that seems burdensome.

(3) "Awareness of the biology helps control the biology." The weather is cited as an example of an influence over an interview, etc; folks who interview on cloudy and rainy days tend to have poor interview experiences, as opposed to those who interview on sunny days. We need to plan for the possibility that our judgment may be clouded (no pun intended) on such days; we need to identify a way to correct the rain effect (or similar).

(4) "Make the story coherent on many levels." We know that all brain functions are inter-connected; they depend on one another; they do not work in isolation. Knowing that, "the best way to engage the multi-leveled brain is to tell a story [to others: employees, mid-level managers, etc.] that works at many levels. The more parts [...] you can speak to, the more effective the message."

Check out David Berreby's blog, Mind Matters.

Review of The Shallows

"Our focus on a medium's content can blind us [...]. We're too busy being dazzled or disturbed by the programming to notice what's going on inside our heads" (3)

Nicholas Carr has written a thoughtful and sometimes provocative book about our use of the Internet, suggesting that not only is it our servant, "it is also our master" (4). His point is well-taken, yet it is difficult to believe that such statements could come from Carr, who is just as "connected" as so many of us (perhaps not so ironically, I'm writing about this book on a blog...). He has written for Wired, The Atlantic, and other magazines, and writes elsewhere about technology.

His thesis is that the Internet, where we consume so much information, serves not just as our information center, but is, in a sense, beginning to redefine how our brains process information and think about things, generally. In other words, it affects our higher-order thinking skills: how we analyze and synthesize, contemplate and reflect. It's as if the Internet is rewiring our brains, meaning that our ability to imagine is being altered.

Carr delves into the history of some well-known thinkers as well as the history of technological innovations (such as the movable print press or the typewriter) and how they altered history. He strives to show the human elements that remained resilient during those periods. What is important in these vignettes, though, is how he ends up relating historical research on brain development to larger, technological developments. He makes the reader consider what might be at stake for the human brain when a new technology becomes quite ubiquitous. His major assertion relates to the malleable brain; that the brain has a tremendous plasticity that allows it to be re-organized (re-wired, if you will). That, he points out, has consequences. Happily, though, he also underscores that, "That doesn't mean that we can't, with concerted effort, once again redirect our neural signals and rebuild the skills we've lost" (35).

Carr is concerned about the distraction of our minds. "The constant distractedness that the Net encourages [...] is very different from the kind of temporary, purposeful diversion of our mind that refreshes our thinking when we're weighing a decision. The Net's cacophony of stimuli short-circuits both conscious and unconscious thought, preventing our minds from thinking either deeply or creatively" (119). What is more, the Net disrupts our brain's long-term memory because we don't deal with information in our working memory; the Net encourages the use of short-term memory, meaning that most information doesn't arrive at the working memory center, let alone in our long-term memory.

Although I agree with him on the notion of the Net disrupting long-term memory and working memory, I don't think that we've got a lost cause on our hands. Instead, from an educator's point of view, I think we have an opportunity to harness the power of the Internet and bend it to our human will, if that makes sense. As adults, we may be a "crunch generation" in regards to technology (the Internet in particular): we're crunched because the Internet took us by storm, we are continuing to deal with it -- and be overwhelmed by it, and we're trying to figure out how to master it. Therein lies the opportunity. Can we take control of the medium, and re-orient it to allow us to continue to benefit from those higher-order thinking skills that characterize us as human beings? It is imperative that we do so. Otherwise, we may devolve into having "the mental life of a sea slug" (187).

Carr seems to recognize the same thing in his epilogue, where he points out the outstanding problem with computers (in general): they don't make judgments; they follow unyielding rules. They will miss a moment of brilliance because they lack human adaptability and reaction; instead, they would identify a moment of (potential) brilliance as a deviation from the formulas that make their programs run.

In other words, we need to be purposeful about our humanity, even though we co-exist with rapidly-changing technology that is altering our human experience.

To thine own self be true!

Brains and Technology

Has it occurred to us that independent school students use so much technology--and use it well--because the technologies that now surround us are more in tune with how we are wired as humans? I would posit that there is a synergy to be marked between the human brain and the latest technologies, specifically social networking technologies (and similar) in the Web 2.0 world.

Consider, for example, how often we hear or use the word "intuitive" when we are talking about technology. Smart phones are increasingly "intuitive"; such-and-such a website is "intuitive"; program X is "intuitive." Something that is intuitive is something that is directly apprehended, or something that is readily learned or understood.

We shouldn't use the term "intuitive" lightly. If these technologies are truly intuitive, then, in a sense, we are utilizing technologies that are somewhat (perhaps only superficially, at this point) analagous to our own brains. What are the implications of that connection? That is the question, I believe, that lies at the heart of the discussions schools are having around technology and what to do with it. That very connection is why we sometimes feel so burned out by technology; we're increasing our own brain interface, in a way. It's exhausting because it's so hard to keep up with! Our brains, after all, continue to function quite industriously while we sleep; they're always creating and connecting. Now that technology appears to be doing the same (even if it's being manipulated to do, rather than doing it by itself), nothing appears to ever sleep, to ever take a rest.

How do we harness that connection in order to make the most of it, yet give it shape and definition?

Visual Thinking

Clive Thompson writes a worthwhile article in the October 2010 issue of Wired magazine, "Think Visual." His thesis, based at least in part on Dan Roam's book, The Back of the Napkin, is that the best way to solve complicated problems might be to draw them. Roam argues, as Thompson says, "that our culture relies too heavily on words. Our school systems--and political systems--are designed to promote people who are verbal and eloquent. And text tends to encourage us to describe our problems as narratives or linear lists of facts. But dynamic, complicated problems--like global warming and economic reform--often can't be boiled down to simple narratives. They're systems; they have many little parts affecting one another. In those situations, drawing a picture can clarify what's going on" (66).

As Thompson writes, however, "Unfortunately, picture-drawing is considered childish, which is partly why visual thinking has taken a backseat to verbal agility. But that may be changing, because the Internet has boosted the utility of imagery." He cites the example of Roam, who "drew a series of witty napkin pictures" to describe the recent health care debate. "Within a few weeks, nearly 300,000 people had viewed the images; many emailed Roam thanking him for finally explaining the reform" (66). You can view a video with Dan Roam here, where talks about rethinking PowerPoint.

How might schools incorporate this level of visualization in extant curricula? At what point might we stop considering picture-drawing childish and consider it as a go-to resource? Such an approach would underscore the importance of learning styles, something which continues to make many folks uncomfortable and even suspicious.

Right Brain Development

For all the talk about right-brain versus left-brain and how so many schools need to move away from left-brain tasks and to introduce more right-brain tasks, few people are proposing just how we begin to do that.

The left-brain versus right-brain dilemma (these are generic, over-arching terms, mind you) is not solely about student learning; it's about adult learning as well--faculty, staff, administration. For example, change leadership requires substantive involvement of the right brain.

A cursory look at brain waves might be helpful. We need to shift from using beta waves to employing more alpha waves. The issue is that low amplitude beta waves are associated with being awake and having our eyes open, quite literally. Alpha waves are associated with a relaxed state--with the eyes closed. These brain waves are incredibly strong; in fact, they are the strongest brain signals produced that are detected by electroencephalography (EEG).

The point is that open eyes produce an abundance of beta waves, while closed eyes produce an abundance of alpha waves.

How might we use this knowledge to our advantage in schools, insofar as learning is concerned, but also insofar as leadership is concerned? Do we schedule time to meditate throughout the day? In some schools, that may be the answer. In other schools, perhaps it is to schedule "down time" during the school day, when students are permitted to engage in something relaxing, whether that is reading, sitting quietly, or what not. In terms of our school leaders, we can understand that some quiet time (meditation, relaxation) will afford them the opportunity to be increasingly thoughtful and reflective.

If we were able to cultivate the whole brain during the school day/school year, one wonders what new heights we might reach.

Scarred for Life

In his excellent essay, "Remembrance of Emotions Past", Joseph LeDoux refers to a Swiss physician named Edouard Claparede, who performed an experiment related to memory in the early twentieth century. After many days of introducing and re-introducing himself to a particular patient who could never remember him (due to brain damage), one day he concealed a tack in his palm, and, when the patient shook Claparede's hand, she (the patient) was pricked. In subsequent visits to her, although she could not recollect having met him, she refused to shake his hand. As LeDoux states, "It now seems that Claparede was seeing the operation of two different memory systems in his patient--one involved in forming memories of experiences and making those memories available for conscious recollection at some later time, and another operating outside of consciousness and controlling behavior without explicit awareness of the past learning" (153).

The latter memory system that LeDoux references is one that "forms implicit or nondeclarative memories about dangerous or otherwise threatening situations. Memories of this type are created through the mechanisms of fear conditioning [...]" 154. The mere sight of the physician became what is called a "learned trigger" to the aforementioned patient.

Conditioned fear is a fascinating topic. Consider, for example, that, "once the learning has taken place, the stimulus does not have to be consciously perceived in order to elicit the conditioned emotional responses" (154). LeDoux goes on to call this type of fear-conditioned memory the "emotional memory" (154), and he further posits that the emotional memory is reactivated through the amygdala system, coordinated with the hippocampal system, in a sort of "unified memory function" (171).

Let us now integrate this research with education. As advisors, we are all familiar with students who did not like such-and-such a teacher. Granted, the vast majority of these "dislikes" are usually due to personality differences and the like, but, when a faculty member truly performs some act that writes itself into the emotional memory of a student, how can we reasonably expect that student to finish a class with that faculty member, with any degree of success? It is reasonable, for example, to tell the student to "just deal with it"? Knowing what LeDoux has written about how the actual stimulus no longer needs to be present (consciously perceived) in order to elicit the emotional response, why would we push a student to continue with faculty member x, y, or z?

This approach, i.e., usage of the term "emotional memory" and potentially acknowledging its role, creates some interesting potentialities. For example, once aware of it, would students use it as a tool to affect those teachers whom they dislike? Would parents leverage it against the administration? Would administrators be willing to use it when providing a performance appraisal? What would the litigious potentialities be? Would it be better to leave "emotional memory" out of the equation entirely?

We know that emotion is intimately intertwined with learning, so how do we proceed?

Neuroscience and the Nature of Learning

Sarah-Jayne Blakemore and Uta Frith's work on learning and remembering is tremendously useful for independent school educators, mostly because it provides us with a lexicon for discussions of how our students are learning. Consider the following list.

• episodic memory
• semantic memory
• procedural memory
• working memory
• prospective memory
• implicit learning
• conditioned response
• conditional learning
• explicit learning

How might we incorporate such terminology when writing progress reports or quarterly reports, for example? Should we? Would it involve too much explanation to parents (what each term means, etc.)? Would it be better to keep such a lexicon in-house for awhile?

We may not be neuroscientists, but using the aforementioned terms is probably more useful than conjecturing what interconnections (etc.) the following areas are exhibiting in Suzie or Johnny:

• cerebellum
• basal ganglia
• premotor
• anterior cingulate
• prefrontal cortex
• hippocampus
• frontopolar cortex
• frontal cortex
• entorhinal cortex
• temporal lobes

Even if you're a biology teacher, using such terms would overwhelm parents, to be sure (unless they're neuroscientists!). What is more, even the neuroscientists are trying to figure out just how these areas interrelate, or sometimes don't, and how learning is affected.

What we do know is that the brain is wonderfully complex, and that the ability to learn certain things is predicated on how well-wired these areas of the brain are, how much teachers use activities that encourage use of these areas, and so on. Learning and neuroscience needs to be a partnership of exploration.