A few days ago I was privileged to be invited to a focus group conducted by Discovery Education concerning possible changes to some of the features within DE Streaming. It was a wonderful experience, and I enjoyed the give and take of doing the focus group online. Somewhere about half way through the meeting I had an epiphany about my own classroom instruction.
I am closed.
No, I don’t mean I’m closed for business (or out to lunch). I mean when kids ask me questions, I give them the answer. “Mr. Childers, what am I supposed to write on this line?” “Your name, Johnny, just like it says.” “Mr. Childers, what is 2 plus 3?” “That’s 5, Sam.”
Case closed.
But the focus group was different. We would look at a screenshot of a new form design and someone would ask, “If I click on this drop down menu, am I going to find XYZ?” Me? I would have said yes or no. Closed. But not the person conducting the focus group. She said, “What would you expect to find if you clicked that drop down menu?”
Wow.
Now, this might not mean much for you, but it was huge for me. Students need to struggle more than I let them. They need what one person (I can’t remember who) called “controlled floundering.” Let them tread water for awhile.
I’m trying to make my classroom more open. This semester, especially, I have told my kids to talk to their neighbors if there is something about a new website they don’t understand. If they look around and see someone else in the room who is already two steps ahead, just ask how they got there. I’m trying to develop peer teaching. But still, when the questions come to me I am too quick to just blurt out answers.
Maybe its a man thing. You know what I mean. Men feel powerful and important when we can spout out answers to stuff, fix stuff, and find our way somewhere without having to stop and ask for directions. Whatever it is, I want it to stop.
To turn an old adage on its head, closed gives a man a fish. Open teaches a man to fish.
And therein lies the difference. Are you open or closed?













This past Sunday my mom, daughter #2, grandchild #1, and I hopped into the car and drove up to Nashville to see daughter #1 in a play entitled, “Secrets of a Soccer Mom.” (Hence the asterisk after “Review” in the title. I will admit up front that I am most than just a little biased).
