How productive is your struggle?

   I spent some time today in a classroom working on math with a small group of students.  Math can feel tough for some people (and if it is you've probably heard them say so).  And we didn't even really get started before I noticed the visible frustration on the kids' faces.  Heads were down on the table, they were fussing with each other about silly little things that normally wouldn't bother them much, and they just started trying to copy what I was doing.

   At one point, after one too many frustrated sighs, I had to call a time out.  And we started talking about their frustration.  I talked to them about a conference I attended this summer, which was specifically a math conference, where I learned more about the concept of a productive struggle.  (I should note at this point that these students barely knew me, so you can imagine the looks I received when I started this.). You ever have it happen where you feel like you have "known" something for a long time but also didn't "know" it?  This was me with this productive struggle concept.  I can be particularly tenacious about succeeding in some ways, but I can also waver quite a bit in my resolve with others, depending on all kinds of factors.  In other words, I approach problems in the way that most people approach them; I try until I either figure it out or am done trying.

   Because math has felt easy for me most of the time (except for TRIG... yikes) it has been quite a journey as a teacher over the years.  I think it must be human nature that it's really hard to understand why others don't like what you like.  It's like you have to struggle with it too at first to really feel the frustration or anxiety or whatever emotion.  And honestly it was not as easy for me to work towards empathy rather than sympathy as I would want everyone else to imagine.  And it is work--you have to try, repeatedly, to put yourself in the shoes of others on a consistent basis.  It takes intent and patience.  I had to learn it the hard way for sure.

   So I'm talking to these teenage boys about frustrations and why the process of working through something so difficult is still so important.  Some look at me with no expression (though I can imagine what some of their thoughts were at the time), while others nod, perhaps in agreement, perhaps to get me to leave them alone so they can just finish copying what I'm doing.  We talk and then get back to work.  And there's this one student who has scowled quite a bit through this process, and he chose this moment to voice the source of that scowl.  "This isn't what Ms. Teacher said to do.  I just don't understand this.  I don't get it," in a tone that suggested he was at a fairly high level of stress by this point.

   Earlier in my career I would have let this be the time where I gave him some space to calm down some, not pushing the angst any higher, and honestly probably giving myself an out in the process.  I can see it now, "I mean I don't want to make him feel any worse.  We'll just try again another time *maybe*".  I would have done exactly what this student, who routinely experiences this emotion, wants me to do.

   Or does he?  Does he really and truly want me to just ignore his frustration and leave it be?  I guess it's possible.  But I really doubt it.  He doesn't want to feel this way about math.  He doesn't want to have a struggle that causes him to lash out instead of feel proud.  He probably expected me to ignore it, and wouldn't have been surprised if I did.  But I didn't.  I said, "okay, let's talk about it.  Let's start over and you help me get through this problem."  And I asked questions to him, and I made a point to tune out the others who were eager to try and make a guess or interject.  I asked him what he thought, what happens next, how do we fix that...  and then he answers me, puts his head in his hands, and says "uhhh I'm so dumb!"


   Now it seems like he was saying it because he struggled so much, but actually he had just realized that he did know how to do it.  He knew how to solve this equation, and he had protested its difficulty so much that he felt silly about it now.  And that's what I told him.  "You obviously aren't dumb, and you shouldn't feel that way.  You let your frustration from before cloud your head.  It felt like you couldn't do it, so you shut it out."  And he nodded in assent.  And then this kid, who sat stone-faced for the first two problems, helped me solve the last two.

   I'm not rolling out the teacher of the year carpet here y'all.  This isn't one of those movies where I work diligently to get the kids on my side and everything comes up roses.  These boys still struggle with math, and they perhaps will continue to for a while.  But I was honest with them and tried to help them see the positive of these challenging experiences, and I feel that honesty may help this student not jump to a self-deprecation so quickly next time.  I'm also not so naive as to think this one instance has changed his course or made him a believer in his math abilities.  He did get two more problems correct though than he would have otherwise, so it didn't hurt either.

    I just read this amazing blog post by Josh Parker, an instructional coach and teacher.  You can find it here.  Part of the awesomeness is that he used quotes from a great book, The Hate U Give by Angie Thomas, but the best thing about this post is that you can feel yourself in the position of this teacher and the interaction with this student.  It can be so hard to feel your lesson is sliding off the rails, or you have a student that isn't appreciating your effort, and not trying to either.  And the thought of determining the cause of this student's actions runs through your head, but pursuing it seems too difficult to try at this point.  We absolutely need to try anyway.

   We spend a large portion of our day with students who are struggling with some aspect of what we are doing, and that's our job.  I wonder, though, if we couldn't help alleviate what feels like that "burden" by getting students more involved in the process?  If we can get students to recognize the importance of how they approach their problems (all their problems, not just math) and how they prioritize the procedure for solving them, in what ways would that change the look and feel of our learning environments?  Could we have more students feel less frustration during instruction and instead look at the fertility of their effort?  I'd like to think so.  I don't know that it would be a sudden, magical transformation but if we all had a moment or two each day with our students like I had in math, it seems like some pretty hefty changes could occur, and maybe we would all feel a little more productive in our struggles.

So Meta

   Real talk: I love my job of helping educators, but I have really really enjoyed some classroom time as of late.  Teachers have been so welcoming of new ideas and have invited me in to model them, so I've been lucky enough to work with students on all kinds of activities, from Math Talks to #booksnaps to even video recording.

   I've always tried to model a "kind transparency" with my students.  If there are strengths or weaknesses, I share them both, but in a way to encourage perseverance, not excuse a lack of effort.  And over the years, I've realized that honesty with students is not only important for your relationship with them, but it's also really beneficial for their own agency.  Somewhere along the way, we as a society formed a pretty solid assumption that students know the importance of their actions without our help, and they can adequately monitor their decisions and thinking without our assistance.  And yea, some of us grew up and were able to pick up what we needed to know through the observation of our family, teachers and other adults.  But it also seems evident that some didn't receive the same opportunities and counsel.  Bottom line is that we cannot wish into our students the importance of knowledge and thought towards their futures.  We have to walk the talk so that they hopefully will too.

    Students don't want to feel foolish or unprepared, and more often than not, they aren't as apathetic as they'd like us to believe either.  So if you show them ways to be better, and encourage that potential, they will respond.  There's a word spreading all over the middle school where I work: metacognition.  I've brought it up in almost every class I've visited, disguising it initially as a way to impress their parents with a large, multisyllabic word.  We talk about the importance of thinking about your thinking.  I show them ways that they didn't even realize they were already using metacognition.  I provide a *very* basic explanation of what the process of metacognition does for your brain, which usually gets me some intrigued but kind of skeptical facial expressions.  (I totally understand their skepticism though; I mean how often does it work that you get physical benefit from essentially doing what you normally do naturally?  It's like losing weight by sleeping just because you roll around and breathe.)  

   After we talk about it we usually do something fun.  If you haven't done a Math Talk before or don't even know what it is, check this book out.  It is still something that I did not do with enough fidelity in my classroom, but any chance for a student to practice explaining their thinking, right or wrong, is productive time.  Plus there are variations of the process you can do that could work in all subject areas, because the goal is just to get kids to consider their processes for thinking and solving problems.  In some language arts classes we have worked on #booksnaps as a way for students to reflect on the effects of reading on their thinking and emotions.  If you want to learn more about it, check out this post by Tara Martin, the teacher that started it all.  

   

   Several years ago the expression "so meta" rose to popularity for a year or two.  I personally can't say it without thinking of That's So Raven (which I didn't even watch--I know, it's weird).  Anyway, it was one of those colloquial phrases that come and go, and when you look it up online today there's still no real agreement on a specific definition.  I never really used it, but I remember hearing it a few times, and at each instance it sounded like it was describing a moment that was "next level cool" or an experience that was relevant or influential on multiple levels.  That was my unofficial definition.  Anyway, this expression has popped up in my head a few times in the last couple months because of the continued use of the word metacognition by myself and others.  I've honestly had to stop myself from trying to "reintroduce" the phrase to the general public.

But I finally get why it was a thing.  There is something so cool about seeing a truly impactful idea or practice take root and grow.  It is absolutely amazing to be able to ask a group of 6th graders what metacognition means and have them immediately answer you, or watch students get excited about reading reflections when they used to outwardly groan.  It is "so meta" to hear students talk about how they realized that voicing their metacognition helps them get better ways to solve problems.  Imagine the "meta" of hearing a learner tell another that the answer isn't as important as the process.  When I think back on those metacognition exercises (see what I did there?), I can't help but feel excited about the places our kids are going.  And I hope that we can continue to help them on their journey too.  That would be "so meta."