I never understood all the fuss about that old riddle鈥斺�淚f a tree falls in a forest and no one is around to hear, does it still make a sound?鈥� Isn鈥檛 it just a question of how we choose to define the word sound? If we mean 鈥渧ibrations of a certain frequency transmitted through the air,鈥� then the answer is yes. If we mean 鈥渧ibrations that stimulate an organism鈥檚 auditory system,鈥� then the answer is no.
More challenging, perhaps, is the following conundrum sometimes attributed to defiant educators: 鈥淚 taught a good lesson even though the students didn鈥檛 learn it.鈥� Again, everything turns on definition. If teaching is conceived as an interactive activity, a process of facilitating learning, then the sentence is incoherent. It makes no more sense than 鈥淚 had a big dinner even though I didn鈥檛 eat anything.鈥� But what if teaching is defined solely in terms of what the teacher says and does? In that case, the statement isn鈥檛 oxymoronic鈥攊t鈥檚 just moronic. Wouldn鈥檛 an unsuccessful lesson lead whoever taught it to ask, 鈥淪o what could I have done that might have been more successful?鈥�
That question would indeed occur to educators who regard learning鈥攁s opposed to just teaching鈥攁s the point of what they do for a living. More generally, they鈥檙e apt to realize that what we do doesn鈥檛 matter nearly as much as how kids experience what we do.
Consider what happens between children and parents. When each is asked to describe some aspect of their life together, the responses are strikingly divergent. For example, a large Michigan study that focused on the extent to which children were included in family decisionmaking turned up different results depending on whether the parents or the children were asked. (Interestingly, three other studies found that when there is some objective way to get at the truth, children鈥檚 perceptions of their parents鈥� behaviors are no less accurate than the parents鈥� reports of their own behaviors.)
But the important question isn鈥檛 who鈥檚 right; it鈥檚 whose perspective predicts various outcomes. It doesn鈥檛 matter what lesson a parent intended to teach by, say, giving a child a 鈥渢imeout鈥� (or some other punishment). If the child experiences this as a form of love withdrawal, then that鈥檚 what will determine the effect. Similarly, parents may offer praise in the hope of providing encouragement, but children may resent the judgment implicit in being informed they did a 鈥済ood job,鈥� or they may grow increasingly dependent on pleasing the people in positions of authority.
From both punishments and rewards, moreover, kids may derive a lesson of conditionality: I鈥檓 loved鈥攁nd lovable鈥攐nly when I do what I鈥檓 told. Of course, most parents would insist that they love their children no matter what. But, as one group of researchers put it in a book about controlling styles of parenting, 鈥淚t is the child鈥檚 own experience of this behavior that is likely to have the greatest impact on the child鈥檚 subsequent development.鈥� It鈥檚 the message that鈥檚 received, not the one that the adults think they鈥檙e sending, that counts.
Exactly the same point applies in a school setting, since educators, too, may use carrots and sticks on students. We may think we鈥檙e emphasizing the importance of punctuality by issuing a detention for being late, or that we鈥檙e making a statement about the need to be respectful when we suspend a student for yelling an obscenity, or that we鈥檙e supporting the value of certain behaviors when we offer a reward for engaging in them.
But what if the student who鈥檚 being punished or rewarded doesn鈥檛 see it that way? What if his or her response is, 鈥淭hat鈥檚 not fair!鈥� or 鈥淣ext time I won鈥檛 get caught鈥� or 鈥淚 guess when you have more power you can make other people suffer if they don鈥檛 do what you want鈥� or 鈥淚f they have to reward me for x, then x must be something I wouldn鈥檛 want to do鈥�?
It鈥檚 tempting, when students are given some kind of assessment, to assume the results primarily reveal how much progress each kid is, or isn鈥檛, making鈥攔ather than noticing that the quality of the teaching is also being assessed.
We protest that the student has it all wrong, that the intervention really is fair, the consequence is justified, the reward system makes perfect sense. But if the student doesn鈥檛 share our view, then what we did cannot possibly have the intended effect. Results don鈥檛 follow from behaviors, but from the meaning attached to behaviors.
The same is true of teachers who are stringent graders. Their intent鈥攖o 鈥渦phold high standards鈥� or 鈥渕otivate students to do their best鈥濃�攊s completely irrelevant if a low grade is perceived differently by the student who receives it, which it almost always is. Likewise, if students view homework as something they can鈥檛 wait to be done with, it doesn鈥檛 matter how well-designed or valuable we think those assignments are. The likelihood that they will help students learn more effectively, let alone become excited about the topic being taught, is exceedingly low.
If teachers just do their thing and leave it up to each student to make sense of it鈥斺�渟o that the child comes to feel, as he is intended to, that when he doesn鈥檛 understand it is his fault鈥� (to borrow John Holt鈥檚 words)鈥攖hen meaningful learning is likely to be in awfully short supply in those classrooms.
But let鈥檚 face it: It鈥檚 easier to concern yourself with teaching than with learning, just as it鈥檚 more convenient to say the fault lies with people other than you when things go wrong. It鈥檚 tempting, when students are given some kind of assessment, to assume the results primarily reveal how much progress each kid is, or isn鈥檛, making鈥攔ather than noticing that the quality of the teaching is also being assessed.
鈥淚 taught a good lesson ...鈥� probably suggests that learning is viewed as a process of absorbing information, which in turn means that teaching consists of delivering that information. (Many years ago, the writer George Leonard described lecturing as the 鈥渂est way to get information from teacher鈥檚 notebook to student鈥檚 notebook without touching the student鈥檚 mind.鈥�) This approach is particularly common among high school and college teachers, who have been encouraged to think of themselves as experts in their content areas (literature, science, history) rather than in pedagogy. The reductio ad absurdum would be those who 鈥渢ook their content so very seriously that they forgot their students,鈥� as Linda McNeil put it in her devastating portrait of high school, Contradictions of Control: School Structure and School Knowledge.
The trouble may start in schools of education, where preservice teachers in many states spend very little time learning about learning, relative to the time devoted to subject-matter content. Worse, when teachers these days are told to think about learning, it may be construed in behaviorist terms, with an emphasis on discrete, measurable skills. The point isn鈥檛 to deepen understanding (and enthusiasm), but merely to elevate test scores.
The fact is that real learning often can鈥檛 be quantified, and a corporate-style preoccupation with 鈥渄ata鈥� turns schooling into something shallow and lifeless. Ideally, attention to learning signifies an effort to capture how each student makes sense of the world, so we can meet them where they are. 鈥淭eaching,鈥� as Deborah Meier has reminded us, 鈥渋s mostly listening.鈥� (It鈥檚 the learners, she adds, who should be doing most of the 鈥渢elling,鈥� based on how they grapple with an engaging curriculum.) Imagine how American classrooms would be turned inside out if we ever really put that wisdom into action.
And it鈥檚 not just listening in the literal sense that鈥檚 needed, but the willingness to imagine the student鈥檚 point of view. How does it feel to be sitting there with your shaky efforts to write an essay or solve a problem subjected to continuous evaluation? (Many teachers who expect their students to bear up under, and even benefit from, a constant barrage of criticism are themselves often extremely sensitive to any suggestion that their craft could be improved.) Indeed, educators ought to make a point of trying something new in their own lives, something they must struggle to master, in order to appreciate what their students put up with every day.
Finally, as teachers are to students, so administrators are to teachers. Successful school leadership doesn鈥檛 depend on what principals and superintendents do, but on how their actions are regarded by their audience鈥攏otably, classroom teachers. Those on the receiving end may be older than students, but the moral is the same: It鈥檚 best to see what we do through the eyes of those to whom it鈥檚 done.
