I have a problem, and I need your help. I love teaching young students about data and statistics. And I enjoy finding ways to make data and statistics matter more to young students. I’m troubled by how we teach students to think about data and statistics, and I have some ideas on how we can […]
Question: If someone asks you what “elicit” means, could you nail the definition? Try it. How’d you do?
Confession: I was an English Literature major in college. I tutored college-level math and fell in love with teaching because of math. But back then, words and expression and theater were my jam. And in many ways they still are.
I was co-writing an article the other month about instructional routines that elicit student discourse in the math classroom. And at one point, the word-nerd in me paused to ponder, “What the does ‘elicit’ really mean? Is it an invitation? Is it a pulling or a pushing? What other words have the same root as elicit? Illicit? Were they opposites? Did they have related etymologies?”
I figured it was worth exploring and down the rabbit-hole I went. Once again.
Welcome back Math Geeks!
In this week’s Global Math Department newsletter, I wrote about some stuff (activities, resources, writing, thinking) that I found useful, inspiring, and worth sharing. I’d like to share a few of them with you here. There’s some Desmos stuff and some pondering about place value stuff. There’s some questioning stuff and student discourse stuff. There’s also other stuff and it’s all inspiring stuff. Let’s get started.
Welcome back math geeks!
I love teaching young students about data and statistics. And I enjoy finding ways to make data and statistics matter more to young students. But I’m troubled by two curriculum practices about how we teach students to think about data and statistics, especially at the K-6 level. This post is Part 2. In my first post, I wrote about how data is often represented to students in heavily scaffolded textbook pages that rob students of the opportunity to purposely engage in thinking, wondering, and discourse…and a solution to this practice. (If you missed Part 1, click here.)
In this post, I’ll outline another troubling practice and my attempt to help to teachers work around this obstacle.
For the past few weeks, I’ve had the fun opportunity to write for the Global Math Department newsletter. Haven’t heard of the Global Math Department? It’s great tool to find out what’s going on in the online math world about math teaching and watch professional development webinars. Check the site out here and read about some of the fine folks that coordinate the work here.
In the last newsletter, Bridget Dunbar (@BridgetDunbar), Anna Bornstein (@Borschtwithanna), and I (@mathgeek76) wrote separately about the importance of grade level teachers sharing and learning from teachers at other grade levels. Teachers of all levels have a lot to learn from each other. You can find the complete newsletter here. (If you sign up, you’ll get weekly newsletters straight to your inbox!)
Here’s what I wrote about using Desmos as an instructional tool in the elementary classroom. While historically used by secondary teachers, several elementary teachers are creating a lot of useful stuff. Give it a read. Share your thinking. And I invited you to a call to action.
Welcome back math geeks! I need your help making a lesson better.
I love Price is Right because many of the games require contestants to make predictions. This often involves estimating prices of products. But sometimes contestants have to make choices of a different nature, and these choices are ripe opportunities to think about probability and expected value. And I love when a fruitful 3-Act Math opportunity presents itself. (I’ve written about one before here.)
The example I want to share now doesn’t seem to fit a 3-Act format. Maybe that’s because it’s not truly a 3-Act Math lesson. But I don’t know what else to call it. I’m curious about your thoughts on how to make it better.
Some questions I’m asking:
Is it too clunky?
What grade levels will find this lesson useful?
What concepts/standards does it best target?
What opportunities did I miss?
What extensions can be made?
I’m inviting your feedback in the comment section. Thanks for helping me get better!
A friend and I were reflecting over a beer at Twitter Math Camp in July about how to get more elementary teachers to attend this amazing conference. (Click here to know more!)
He’s an inspirational colleague with a background in special education at the elementary and middle school level. We were talking about content knowledge. He said, “My ability to teach math has always been limited by my lack of content knowledge beyond middle school.” After pondering a beat, I replied, “Me too.” Knowing my teaching experience, he leaned back with a skeptical smirk and looked askance at me. I continued…
What is Abductive Reasoning?
I’m going to share my new favorite term: abductive reasoning. Maybe you’ve known about it for years and never told me about it. (If that’s the case, you might be a jerk.) Or maybe it’s new to you too. (If that’s the case, let me know because I’m a little embarrassed I haven’t learned about abductive reasoning until recently.)
To recap, deductive reasoning is about making specific conclusions from general statements (like a math proof). Inductive reasoning is about making generalizations about specific observations (like a science experiment).
By comparison, abductive reasoning is about making your best prediction based on incomplete information.
Abductive reasoning?!?!?! Where have you been all my life? Welcome to my lexicon. Have a seat front and center and let’s talk.
(Update: This post is the second in a series about my learning and thinking about argument and how it relates to our work in the math classroom. Click here to read the first post. Click here to read the third.) Welcome back math geeks! Last week, I was preparing for a workshop facilitating the learning […]
As a student, math class was mostly about taking notes, practicing algorithms and getting right answers. And I loved it. I really did. I could hide. It was safe and without risk. I was comfortable. “I do; we do; you do” was my jam as a student. More importantly, in this teaching style, I identified as a really strong and talented math student because I learned algorithms and got right answers. That’s what good math students do in class, right? I never had to share my thinking, never had to learn from the thinking of others, never had to challenge the dimensions of my adolescent bubble of insecurity. I never had to share or listen to a classmate share an interesting math question or an elegant solution. I never had to be vulnerable.
When I started teaching, I created the same classroom culture. I was safer as a teacher as well. I could hide. Never take risks. Be comfortable. I was the author of culture in my classroom. They were the factory workforce with one job to do: consume the algorithm and produce right answers. And my teaching aligned to this goal. Employing this style of pedagogy created a silent pact in my classroom: If you sit there and do your job and let me do mine, I will never ask you to take a risk, to challenge the dimensions of your adolescent bubble of insecurity, to share anything unique or interesting about you or your thinking. Time will pass and so will you. We might be bored, but we’ll get through this together without ever knowing each other or our vulnerabilities. Now let’s open up our textbooks and get to work.