Category: Learning

Challenge the borders of your thinking

Creativity, LearningPublished onUpdated on1 Comment on Challenge the borders of your thinking

I know that a network map of the brain is a thing. I wonder if there is a way you could map your conceptual understanding beyond a simple mind map.

Stick with me as I explore this idea of a “map of our thinking” out loud, it has been something I have long pondered and used in discussions with others. I would primarily refer to it when talking about how provocation changes our thinking.

  • Say we could create a spatial representation of what we know about a topic.
  • It might take up a certain area and have borders.
  • It might be something we can draw.
  • Perhaps there are neighbouring relevant topics.
  • Let’s say the size is relative to our understanding, the bigger the area the more we understand about that topic.
  • We might also be able to quantify the amount of knowledge there is for any given topic, leading to a point of reference of what potential understanding there still is to discover.
  • This map is not necessarily about the connections like a mind map, but more about the aggregate “space” the discovered or known concepts take up.
  • There would be an edge. A thinking border.
  • There would be unknown territory still to be discovered.

So what happens when the borders change.

I have always wondered about the power of using provocation to challenge our thinking. To challenge the borders of what we know. I imagine a provocation being something like a newly discovered perspective on an issue or a series of facts previously not seen. All manner of things can serve as a provocation. They would break that thinking border and create a new space on the map, forcing us to draw a new edge of our thinking. That newly identified space and albeit uncharted thinking would then need some exploring, some thinking and processing. But it would soon be subsumed within the wider map of what we know about that topic.

De Bono refers to how provocations can create movement in our thinking if they are used to challenge a set of ideas. Perhaps the borders of our conceptual understanding become equally fluid when we are faced with different provocations. Perhaps those borders shift and expand, contract and become redrawn as we continue to learn.

You Should Design Learning to Privilege Experience Over Analysis

LearningPublished onUpdated on3 Comments on You Should Design Learning to Privilege Experience Over Analysis

In many ways this is a pre-cursor to some future posts about empathy. Imagine it is like a supply mission ahead of the main mission.[1]

I have long been interested in shining a light on the emotional journey of learning. At the centre stands the need for greater understanding and development of empathy. This challenge is meant on many levels, including the design of learning and the overall ambition and vision a school has.

I came across this recent piece[2] about the development of policy related to climate change. The paper is an effort to put research about human psychology into action when it comes to new policy creation. The first issue it raises squarely references the need for us to pay better attention to the way we engage others:

The Human Brain Privileges Experience Over Analysis…In short, how we feel about a given situation often has a potent influence on our decisions about how to respond (Slovic & Peters, 2006)[3].

Of course the context here is slightly different, however the same psychological findings are true when we consider the design of learning. Experiential learning is one well worn path to more engaged learners. However learner design for greater empathy is typically not.

What does this actually mean for the way I design learning?

We should continue to design learning so that it can be, “translated into relatable and concrete personal experiences.” This is that well worn path I mentioned. Increasing the empathy quotient in your class is a different ask, often changing as a result of what we just discussed. Design and co-construct periods of learning that your students connect deeply with. The research tells us that we humans will filter for those personal connections and remain much more engaged once we do. We need to turn up the dial of activities that develop the skill of empathy through relatable and concrete personal experiences.

You never really know a man until you understand things from his point of view, until you climb into his skin and walk around in it.[4]

  1. I have been reading The Martian.  ↩
  2. van der Linden, Sander, Edward Maibach, and Anthony Leiserowitz. “Improving Public Engagement With Climate Change Five “Best Practice” Insights From Psychological Science.” Perspectives on Psychological Science 10.6 (2015): 758–763.  ↩
  3. The full reference from the paper: Slovic P., Peters E. (2006). Risk perception and affect. Current Directions in Psychological Science, 15, 322–325  ↩
  4. Lee, Harper. To Kill a Mockingbird. J.B. Lippincott & Co., 1960  ↩

6 Emotional Barriers to Generating Ideas and How to Overcome Them

LearningPublished on13 Comments on 6 Emotional Barriers to Generating Ideas and How to Overcome Them

So it would seem that I have stumbled on to a little running theme in the last few blog posts about coming up with ideas. No reason to kick that habit just yet as it is one of the most intriguing of subjects. In this post I want to share some of the emotional barriers to idea generation.

In one of my favourite books: Conceptual Blockbusting, James Adams[1] outlines a range of these emotional blocks to the creative process. Behaviours and habits that can stultify our efforts.

  1. A fear to make mistakes, to fail, to risk.
  2. Preference for judging ideas rather than generating them.
  3. No tolerance for ambiguity or chaos.
  4. A lack of challenge – not engaging enough.
  5. Excessive zeal – too much speed, pace and haste.[2]
  6. An inability to relax and to incubate ideas.

Which ones do you recognise in your colleagues or students, or even sometimes in your own behaviour?

emoblocks

Most of these are of course directly linked. For example when you have a low tolerance for any sort of uncertainty you are risk averse and have a heightened fear of making mistakes. If there is too much pace, either by design or by accident, then you are less likely to relax and incubate ideas. None of these descriptions are ideal for the idea generation process. None of these are ideal for creative learning.

Let’s flip them around so that they become positive descriptions of a learning environment and see how they sound.

  1. “Make excellent mistakes.”[3]
  2. Nurture nascent ideas.
  3. Encourage uncertainty and ambiguity.
  4. Develop the mindset needed for idea generation.
  5. Provide a real, challenging and engaging purpose or context.
  6. Provide the time and space for learners to incubate their ideas.[4]:

reverseblocks

They sound like some useful guidelines to stick to. Again they have the same causal links as before. The mindset of idea generation is divergent = increasing ambiguity = the chance to make a better type of mistake. Slow the pace down = increased opportunity to ponder and cogitate a little. You get the idea.

A big take away here is that much of this is bound by the explicit development of the mindset that is needed at this part of the process. This shouldn’t be something that is secret or assumed. Learning about and enacting the most appropriate mindset is crucial for successful idea generation. Divergent thinking all the way.[5]

Another interesting element is the importance of challenge. Adams refers to a lack of engagement that is caused by this, but it does not simply mean it is not hard enough. Challenge comes in different guises and a lack of engagement can also be caused by pseudo problems or fake scenarios that are meaningless to students. If it is not engaging enough idea generation will stall. Seek out real contexts to engage your students so that ideation is purposeful.

Let me know what you make of some of these barriers and our look at the positive side of the concepts too. It would be great to hear from you, learn about what resonates with you and what you recognise in your own practice or experience.

  1. Adams, James L., Conceptual Blockbusting, W.W.Norton & Company.13, (1976)  ↩

  2. “No! Unfortunate that you rushed to face him… that incomplete was your training.”  ↩

  3. Thanks to Daniel Pink for this useful imperative.  ↩

  4. I will spend some time in the future writing about the pace of the ideation process, in fact all of the creative process.  ↩

  5. You can read more about divergent thinking and the different thinking states, in my blog post: The Ebb and Flow between Divergent and Convergent Thinking.  ↩

School Is Not a Metaphor for Life

LearningPublished onUpdated on22 Comments on School Is Not a Metaphor for Life

School should not simply be a metaphor for life. Our students in our schools today deserve a learning experience that values the contribution they can make to the world around them now.

I have always subscribed to this model or definition of the role of school in our society. It may not be a new one, but it is not something you would call commonplace. More frequently experiences in school are metaphors for the “real” experience a student might have. We present to our peers as opposed to the audience who needs to hear our ideas. We encourage creative ideas but never network those ideas out of the room. This needs to change.

School should not simply be a metaphor for life.

I am grateful to David Hawley who recently put some words around a similar sentiment.

If we were to do something that really mattered to ourselves, our classrooms, our schools, and our community, the potential for impact would be at once local and global. Start finding ways to engage students in understanding real-world problems, and then support them in solving those problems. Every student should experience the joy that comes with being a unique and positive force in the world.

Again the idea of a new education standard comes to mind, a truthful realistic opportunity, not just brochure-ware or tokenistic gestures of student-centredness. After all,

Humanity cannot wait for students to graduate.

It is always encouraging isn’t it when you discover your own thinking articulated in someone else’s words. David Hawley references a crucial new definition of what a learning portfolio could be, something in line with parameters referencing: experience, change, influence, creative contribution and social impact.

We need to give students in every school, at every age, real agency and authentic opportunities to make a difference in this volatile, unpredictable, complex, and ambiguous world. With this in mind, we cannot be satisfied only with students learning about the world and developing deep conceptual understanding of multiple disciplines. We need young people building an ever-expanding portfolio of skills and experiences of things that they have done, created, and contributed to – things that matter to them, to others, and to the world we share.

These concepts excite me the most about the future of learning and the re-definition of “school”. I am not sure we can wait much longer. Even Dewey knew this to be true:

Education is not preparation for life; education is life itself.

Another First Day

LearningPublished onUpdated on9 Comments on Another First Day

The walk to the car was a quiet one. It wasn’t far, maybe a few hundred metres, but every one of them was a quiet one. It was the last thing I was expecting when picking my son up from his first day at another school. We had been in this situation a number of times in the last few years. It seemed George had grown accustomed to the change, a little anyway. He certainly seemed much more assured in the time leading up to his first day.

I spent the day wondering how he was getting on. It must be so tough to be supplanted into a completely different school, different faces and routines. It takes courage and resilience to keep going in the face of such wholesale changes like that. We probably don’t do it enough in our adult lives. If we had a choice we often prefer the path of the known and the familiar. I suppose the only time we are confronted with that ourselves is when we move jobs. I always enjoyed the challenge of taking on a new role, meeting new people and trying to quickly understand new responsibilities and where stuff was.

In many ways George, as a nine year old, is not quite burdened with the same social awkwardness we gather as we get older. Making friends as a nine year old is one of your major projects. And yet I still spent the day fretting about the sort of day he would have and whether he would be OK. I imagined picking him up and dealing with either a) the fallout, or b) the excited tumble of stories. That was perhaps why the quiet walk to the car surprised me.

I took his bag from his shoulder as a few of his new pals said their farewells. I scanned his face for any clues to the day, anything to help fill in the blank chapter I had. He seemed pretty calm. There was something about the quiet in him that made me feel really settled. I asked, just once, how his day had been and he replied with a short, “Fine.”

We walked through the school gates and along the road to where I had parked the car. I knew he had a big day for a nine year old, he had overcome a big challenge. He walked beside me with a calmness that I could sense. I could also tell his mind was ticking away thinking through his first day at his new school. He wasn’t rambling off a slew of stories nor was he clearly upset, he just seemed settled and comfortable walking beside me, grateful to be with me, but quietly lost in his own thoughts. I mirrored his calm and refrained from peppering him with questions every few strides, we just walked together. Although it was unusual for him not to be chattering away, it seemed, in a way, he was telling me all I needed to hear.

We got to the car and George hopped into the back. I closed my door and dumped his bag in the passenger side, we soon pulled out onto the road leaving his first day in the rear view mirror. It was probably a few minutes later that George chirped up, “That day went really fast.”

But I already knew that everything had been OK.