Expected, Inspected, & Respected.
"We do not learn from experience … we learn from reflecting on experience."
-John Dewey |
"We do not learn from experience … we learn from reflecting on experience."
-John Dewey |
On Wednesday, I led my fellow pre-service teachers in a 10 minute math activity at the University of Winnipeg. I began with a quick slideshow and explanation of how to be a good skeptic:
Then, I invited my classmates to follow these instructions:
If you care to see the raw footage of my presentation, here it is:
And if you care to read my reflection on the presentation, read on.
As a former basketball player, I have long known the value of reviewing game tape. It allows a player to watch their actions with a critical eye, and make adjustments to improve their performance. As an EA, I thought that this common practice in athletics would be very useful if applied to the teaching profession. Simple mistakes such as speaking too quickly or softly, or not waiting long enough before soliciting answers from students could easily be corrected if a teacher was able to see themselves teaching. It surprises me that in the Education After-Degree program, although we have been required to engage in critical self-reflection many times, we have never been required to use video to do so. Without video, all we have to rely on is our own biased and faulty memories of how we believe we performed. As we all have a need to protect our egos, our memories generally paint us in a fairly rosy light. I think it is a missed opportunity to go through a Teacher Certification program without being required to watch oneself teach - especially when most people have smartphones with video recording and playback capability. The barriers to reviewing educational game tape are more psychological than technological. It can be uncomfortable to watch yourself and think, “Is that what I sound like? I didn’t know I said ‘um’ so much. Why did no one tell me I flail my arms like a maniac when I’m telling a story?” However, although the process may be cringeworthy, self-critical reflection should not be shied away from. It should be emphasized and esteemed in Canadian pedagogical practice as a way of showing competence, just as it is in the culture of Japan’s education system. That is why I took the initiative to record myself today. I watched the footage without the rose coloured glasses of memory, viewing my performance under the cold fluorescent lights, warts and all, for a more honest self-reflection.
As I do when assessing my students, I’ll start with what I thought were the positives of my presentation before I move on to the criticisms: I seemed confident and well prepared, my speaking voice was loud and clear, and the quality of the activity was excellent. My classmates seemed to be challenged by it and enjoyed the process of solving the questions and proving it to their partners.
Now for the really valuable part of reviewing the videotape: identifying areas of improvement. Although I seemed well prepared, it bothered me that because of my nerves or my forgetfulness, I forgot to reveal the MATH t-shirt that I had worn specifically for this presentation and didn’t use my daughter’s microphone with the built-in speaker.
It was better that I forgot the gimmicks than the content of the presentation, but I think it definitely would have been funnier. Especially with reverb set to maximum echo.
One key aspect that I would not have noticed without video evidence was how quickly I was speaking. If I could do it again, I would have explained the slideshow more slowly and deliberately. I have several EAL students in my practicum class this Spring and I need to become practiced at slowing down for maximum understanding. At least part of my rushing cadence was due to the nerves that come with presenting to my peers. (There goes my ego trying to protect itself again.) I will have to film myself in front of my practicum class to be sure that I succeed in making that change. Another thing I would change would be my instructions for picking up the two pieces of paper from the front of the room. At first I said that one partner should come and get one of each. That was fine. Then, when someone asked for clarification, I said it should be one sheet per partner, confusing things more than if I had said nothing at all. Whoops. Something that I wonder about is if it would have been better to announce the mathematical goals of the activity at the start of presentation, rather than launching straight into the explanation of how a good skeptic operates. Someone told me after the presentation that they were confused at first because it didn’t seem to have anything to do with math. I feel like I am getting conflicting messages about the efficacy of mystery as a pedagogical tool; some professors say that students should always know exactly what is going on while some say that a mystery can drive curiosity. I can see the logic in both arguments but it’s unclear to me when (or if) deliberate obfuscation can be beneficial.
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David Wiebe
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