New strategy for introducing INBs: complex instruction approach

After months of not feeling like my best teacher self in the classroom, I got fed up and spent all weekend tearing stuff down and rebuilding from the ground up.

INBs are something I know well — something that work for students. So I decided to take what I had available and, as Sam would say, turn what I DON'T know into what I DO know. Love those Calculus mottos.

So I rebuilt my version of the exponential functions unit in terms of INBs. But that meant, I would have to introduce INBs.

As one girl said, "New marking period, new me!" The kids just went with it and really took to it.

Here is what I did.

ON EACH GROUP TABLE: I placed a sample INB that began with a single-sheet Table of Contents (p. 1), an Exponential Functions pocket page (p. 3), and had pages numbered through page 7. There were TOC sheets and glue sticks on the table.

SMART BOARD: on the projector, I put a countdown timer (set for 15 minutes) and an agenda slide that said,

• New seats!
• Choose a notebook! Good colors still available!
• Make your notebook look like the sample notebook on your table 

As soon as the bell rang, I hit Start on the timer, which counted down like a bomb in a James Bond movie.

Alfred Hitchcock once said, if you want to create suspense, place a ticking time bomb under a card table at which four people are playing bridge. This seemed like good advice for introducing INBs to my students.

I think because it was a familiar, group work task approach to an unfamiliar problem, all the kids simply went went with it. "How did you make the pocket? Do you fold it this way? Where does the table of contents go? What does 'TOC' mean? What goes on page 5?" And so on and so on.

I circulated, taking attendance and making notes about participation. When students would ask me a question about how to do something, I would ask them first, "Is this a group question?" If not, they knew what was going to happen. If it was, I was happy to help them get unstuck.

Then came the acid test: the actual note-taking.

I was concerned, but they were riveted. They felt a lot more ownership over their own learning process.

There are still plenty of groupworthy tasks coming up, but at least now they have a container for their notes and reflection process.

I'm going to do a "Five Things" reflection (trace your hand on a RHS page and write down five important things from the day's lesson or group work) and notes for a "Four Summary Statements" poster, but I finally feel like I have a framework to help kids organize their learning.

I've even created a web site with links to photos of my master INB in case they miss class and need to copy the notes. Here's a link to the Box.com photo files, along with a picture of page 5:

We only got through half as much as I wanted us to get through, but they were amazed at how many notes we had in such a small and convenient space.

It feels good to be back!

Teaching Mathalicious' "Harmony of Numbers" lesson on ratios, part 1 (grade 6, CCSSM 6.RP anchor lesson)

I started teaching Mathalicious' Harmony of Numbers lesson in my 6th grade classes today, and I wanted to capture some of my thoughts before I pass out for the night.

The Good — Engagement & Inclusion
First of all, let's talk engagement. This made a fabulous anchor lesson for introducing ratios. The lesson opens with a highly unusual video of a musical number that every middle school student in America knows — One Direction's "What Makes You Beautiful."

You'll just have to watch the video for yourself to see how the surprise of this song gets revealed.

What I wish I could capture — but I can only describe — was the excitement in the room as my 6th graders realized what song was being played. It took about eight measures for the realization to kick in. Imagine a room full of South Park characters all clapping their hands to their cheeks and turning around with delight to see whether or not I really understood the religious experience I was sharing with them.

Every kid in the room was mesmerized. Even my most challenging, least engaged, most bored "I hate math" kids were riveted to the idea that music might be connected to math. It passed the Dan Pink Drive test because suddenly even the reluctant learners were choosing to be curious about something in math class. My assessment: A+

We started with a deliberately inclusive activity to kick things off — one whole-class round of Noticing and Wondering (h/t to the Math Forum). Sorry for the blurry photography of my white board notes. They noticed all kinds of really interesting things and everybody participated:

From noticing and wondering, we began to circle in on length of piano strings and pitch of notes. This was a very natural and easy transition, perhaps since so many of the students (and I) are also musicians of different sorts. Five guys, one piano, dozens of different sounds, what's not to like?

The Not Actually 'Bad,' But Somehow Slightly Less Good
One thing I noticed right away was that, while the scale of the drawings on the worksheet worked out very neatly, it was kinda small for 6th graders to work with. The range of fine motor skills in any classroom of 6th graders is incredibly wide. At one end of the spectrum, you have students who can draw the most elaborate dragons or mermaids, complete with highly refined textures and details of the scales on either creature. At the other end of the spectrum, you have the students I've come to think of as the "mashers," "stompers," and "pluckers." These are the kids who haven't yet connected with the fine motor skills and tend to mash, crush, or stomp on things accidentally. Some will pluck out the erasers from the pencils in frustration ("Damn you, pointy pencil tip!!!").

This made me want to rethink the tools and scales of the modeling. It might be good to have an actual manipulative with bigger units (still to scale). Cutting things out is a good way for students this age to experience the idea of units and compatible units. Simply measuring and mentally parceling out segments is a little tough for this age group. Ironically, within a year or so, this difficulty seems to disappear. I'm sure there are a lot of great suggestions for ways to make this process of connecting the measurements to the ratios through a more physically accessible manipulative or model. But then again, I'm just one teacher, so what do I really know? My assessment: B

The Not Ugly, But Still Challenging Truth
The most difficult thing about this lesson is that 6th graders go S L O W L Y. Really slowly. My students' fastest pace was still about three times longer than the initial plan.

I am fortunate that this pacing is OK for me and my students. They need to wallow in this stuff, so I will simply take more time to let them marinate. We'll try to invent some new manipulatives for this, and I'll blog about them in a follow-up.

But the reality is that this lesson is going to take us three full periods to get through. They will be three awesome, deeply engaging learning episodes filled with deep connections as well as begging to have me play the video again (Seriously? Three times is not enough for you people???).

Even though this is a much bigger time requirement, I still give this aspect of the lesson an A+. Getting reluctant learners to be curious about something they're very well defended against is a big victory.

I'm excited to see what happens tomorrow! Thanks, Mathalicious!

Substitution with stars

This one is for Max, who asked about it on Twitter, and for Ashli, who interviewed me for her Infinite Tangents podcasts.

As Ashli and I were talking about some of the struggles we see as young adolescents make the transition from concrete thinking to abstraction, I mentioned substitution.

For many learners, there comes a point in their journey when abstraction shows up as a very polite ladder to be scaled. But for others (and I count myself among this number), abstraction showed up as the edge of a cliff looking out over a giant canyon chasm. A chasm without a bridge.

This chasm appears whenever students need to apply the substitution property of equality — namely, the principle that if one algebraic expression is equivalent to another, then that equivalence will be durable enough to withstand the seismic shift that might occur if one were asked to make it in order to solve a system of equations.

Here is how I have tinkered with the concept and procedures.

Most kids understand the idea that a dollar is worth one hundred cents and that one hundred cents is equivalent to the value of one dollar. I would characterize this as a robust conceptual understanding of the ideas of substitution and of equivalence.

One dime is equivalent to ten cents. Seventy-five pennies are equivalent to three quarters. You get the idea.

We play a game. "I have in my hand a dollar bill. Here are the rules. When George's face is up, it's worth one dollar. When George is face down, it's worth one hundred cents. Now, here's my question."

I pause.

"Do you care which side is facing up when I hand it to you?"

No one has yet told me they care.

"OK. So now, let's say that I take this little green paper star I have here on the document camera. Everybody take a little paper star in whatever color you like."

Autonomy and choice are important. I have a student pass around a bowl of brightly colored little paper stars I made using a Martha Stewart shape punch I got at Michael's.

Everybody chooses a star and wonders what kind of crazy thing I am going to have them do next.

We consider a system of equations which I have them write down in their INB (on a right-hand-side page):

We use some noticing and wondering on this little gem, and eventually we identify that y is, in fact, equivalent to 11x – 16.

On one side of our little paper star, we write "y" while on the other side, we write "11x-16":

I think this becomes a tangible metaphor for the process we are considering. The important thing seems to be, we are all taking a step out over the edge of the cliff together.

We flip our little stars over on our desks several times. This seems to give everybody a chance to get comfortable with things. One side up displays "y." The other side up displays "11x–16." Over and over and over. The more students handle their tools, the more comfortable they get with the concepts and ideas they represent.

Then we rewrite equation #1 on our INB page a little bigger and with a properly labeled blank where the "y" lived just a few short moments ago:

"Hey, look!" somebody usually says. "It looks like a Mad Lib!"

Exactly. It looks like a Mad Lib. Gauss probably starts spinning in his grave.

"Can we play Mad Libs?" "I love Mad Libs!" "We did Mad Libs in fifth grade!" "We have a lot of Mad Libs at my house!" "I'll bring in my Mad Libs books!" "No, mine!"

It usually takes a few minutes to calm the people down. This is middle school.

I now ask students to place their star y-side-up in the blank staring back at us.

Then it's time to ask everybody to buckle up. "Are you ready?"

When everybody can assure me that they are ready, we flip the star. Flip it! For good measure, we tape it down with Scotch tape. Very satisfying.

A little distributive property action, a little combining of like terms, and our usual fancy footwork to finish solving for x.

Some students stick with substitution stars for every single problem they encounter for a week. Maybe two. I let them use the stars for as long as they want. I consider them a form of algebraic training wheels, like all good manipulatives. But eventually, everybody gets comfortable making the shift to abstraction and the Ziploc bag of little stars goes back into my rolling backpack for another year.

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I'd like to thank the Academy and Martha Stewart for my fabulous star puncher, without which, this idea would never have arisen.

I wore out my first star puncher, so I've added a link above for my new paper punch that works much better for making substitution stars. Only eight bucks at Amazon. What's not to like? :)

Intro to Quadratics — from "drab" to "fab" (or at least, to something less drab)

Recently, I created a new anchor lesson for my Algebra 1 quadratics unit. I found that, while I really liked the sequencing of activities and questioning in the NCTM Illuminations lesson on "Patterns and Functions," I found their situation and set-up simultaneously boring, contrived, and inane.

Actual photograph of San Francisco monkeys

hosting a tea party in the wild

As is so often the case, I find that a certain, judicious sprinkling of silliness and fun in the set-up can really liven up the lesson. A certain amount of contrivance is necessary in many activities, even those that are based on "real-world situations." So why not stretch the real world to make it conform to the needs of my algebra students?

The Made To Stick elements are all here: multiple access points are provided through manipulatives, storytelling, and humor.

My student investigation sheet, Table for Eighteen... Monkeys is available on Box.com. A PDF of the Table Tiles master is available here on Box.com
here.

Tiny plastic monkeys sold separately. :)

UPDATE: Worksheets now also on the Math Teacher's Wiki, at http://msmathwiki.pbworks.com/w/page/55614036/Algebra%201#view=page

Thoughts On Making Math Tasks "Stickier"

Last year, the book that changed my teaching practice the most was definitely Dan Pink's Drive: The Surprising Truth About What Motivates Us. It helped me to think through how I wanted to structure classroom tasks in order to maximize intrinsic motivation and engagement.

This year, the book that is influencing my teaching practice the most would have to be Made To Stick: Why Some Ideas Survive and Others Die by Chip and Dan Heath. I bought it to read on my Kindle, and I kind of regret that now because it is one of those books (like Drive) that really needs to be waved around at meaningful PD events.

The Heath brothers' thesis is basically that any idea, task, or activity can be made "stickier" by applying six basic principles of stickiness. Their big six are:

1. Simple
2. Unexpected
3. Concrete
4. Credible
5. Emotional
6. Story

The writer in me is bothered by the failure of parallel structure in the last item on this list (Seriously? SERIOUSLY? Would it have killed you to have used a sixth adjective rather than five adjectives and one noun? OTOH, that does make the list a little stickier for me, because my visceral quality of my reaction only adds to the concreteness of my experience, so there is that). But that is a small price to pay for a very useful and compact rubric. It also fits in with nicely with a lot of the brain-based learning ideas that @mgolding and @jreulbach first turned me on to.

This framework can also help us to understand — and hopefully to improve —a lot of so-so ideas that start with a seed of stickiness but haven't yet achieved their optimal sticky potential.

I wanted to write out some of what I mean here.

For example, I have often waxed poetic about Dan Meyer's Graphing Stories, which are a little jewel of stickiness when introducing the practice of graphing situations, yet I find a lot of the other Three-Act Tasks to be curiously flat for me and non-engaging. Some of this has to do with the fact that I am not a particularly visual learner, but I also think there is some value in analyzing my own experience as a formerly discouraged math learner. I have learned that if I can't get myself to be curious and engaged about something, I can't really manage to engage anybody else either.

Made To Stick has given me a vocabulary for analyzing some of what goes wrong for me and what goes right with certain math tasks. The six principles framework are very valuable for me in this regard, both descriptively and prescriptively. For example, Dan's original Graphing Stories lesson meets all of the Heath brothers' criteria. It is simple, unexpected, concrete, credible, emotional, and narrative. The lesson anchors the learning in students' own experience, then opens an unexpected "curiosity gap" in students' knowledge by pointing out some specific bits of knowledge they do not have but could actually reach for if they were simply to reach for it a little bit.

But I would argue that the place where this lesson succeeds most strongly is in its concreteness, which is implemented through Dan's cleverly designed and integrated handout. At first glance, this looks like just another boring student worksheet. But actually, through its clever design and tie-in to the videos, it becomes a concrete, tangible tool that students use to expose and investigate their own curiosity gaps for themselves.

Students discover their own knowledge gap through two distinct, but related physical, sensory moments: the first, when they anchor their own experiences of walking in the forest, crossing over a bridge, and peering out over the railing as they pass over (sorry, bad Passover pun), and the second, when they glance down at the physical worksheet and pencil in their own hands and are asked to connect what they saw with what they must now do.

This connection in the present moment to the students' own physical, tangible experience must not be underestimated.

Watching the video — even watching a worldclass piece of cinematography — is a relatively passive sensory experience for most of us.

But opening a gap between what I see as a viewer and what I hold in my hands — or what I taste (Double-Stuf Oreos!), smell, feel, or hear — and I'm yours forever.

"My work here is done."

This way of thinking has given me a much deeper understanding of why my lessons that integrate two or three sensory modalities always seem to be stickier than my lessons that rely on just one modality. Even when the manipulatives I introduce might seem contrived or artificial, there is value in introducing a second or third sensory dimension to my tasks. In so doing, they both (a) add another access point for students I have not yet reached and (b) expose the gap in students' knowledge by bringing in their present-moment sensory experiences. And these two dimensions can make an enormous different in students' emotional engagement in a math task.