Ability & what about...

In this week's reading about ability and self-efficacy, I find myself wondering about kids (okay, people in general) like myself. I will admit to still having many tendencies I developed throughout elementary, middle, and high school-- and even college.

As a high-achieving kid, I always assumed that having to put in effort meant that I wasn't good at something. I hated practicing piano because I figured I shouldn't have to (and I got through 12 years of piano lessons, progressing, without much practice at all). Learning fractions brought me to tears because it didn't come naturally. No one ever told me that trying meant that I was stupid. (edit: I do realize, in retrospect and upon further reflection, that I was fairly consistently praised for work that was below my ability level but still great for the grade/age I was... and that I was praised for completing work very quickly. That certainly didn't help my views on effort.) I honestly think that, in most of my classrooms, the teachers did try to institute a learning goal environment. We had choices and opportunities for self-directed learning, we worked in cooperative groups, and my teachers gave actual, concrete feedback-- not just grades.

And while, at 24, I know that putting in effort does not mean that you aren't good at something-- and I know, as a teacher, that I want my students to know and believe this too-- I have trouble actually living by it. I've never had to try very hard, and I resent having to put in much effort.

For example, I took Chinese my freshman year of college. I was excited and ready to learn a new language. I had grand visions of being fluent in English, Spanish, and now Chinese. As the class progressed and I wasn't at the top of the class-- not only that, but I had to try really hard to even barely pass on the quizzes-- I decided I would quit Chinese. I passed it off as though I hadn't really wanted to take Chinese anyway-- that it was a silly, whimsical fancy of a freshman in college. I was protecting my GPA. When would I even want to use Chinese anyway? It's not like I would be returning to China and relying on my Mandarin skills. If I was going to study abroad anywhere (which, incidentally, I didn't, because I was afraid I wouldn't make it in a new place), it would be a Spanish-speaking country. I didn't need the language credits. I had already fulfilled them by rocking the AP Spanish exam and the Spanish SAT IIs. So I dropped Chinese. I still got a B- in my second semester. But in my mind, I had to try really hard, so it wasn't worth it.

Similarly, my senior year in college, I decided to finally fulfill that silly math requirement that my liberal arts college had in place. I decided to take the easiest course offered. I had barely made it through AP Calculus in high school (you know, with an 85% or something like that-- in my mind, barely passing), so I signed up for "Mathematical Concepts without Calculus." I rarely went to class, and was annoyed when I deigned to show up for a quiz or test and it was hard. I took the class credit/non-- again, to protect my GPA. I was majoring in art. I could do basic math. Why did I even need to fulfill this silly requirement?

Seeing a pattern here? I know I am. What I want to know is how, after 24 years of having this mentality, I can reverse it. I need to relearn how to think about my own abilities, and how to accept that effort (especially on things that don't come naturally and that I don't necessarily see the immediate value of) is, in fact, a good thing. I also want to know how I can work to prevent this in my own high-achieving students. I can practically guarantee you that they probably feel similarly.

I was just talking to a friend (who graduated high school at 15) who has a similar mentality to me. An excerpt of our gchat (used with her permission):

Kaitlin: oh me too

me: i guess

and i want to know why we feel that way

Kaitlin: what you wrote is exactly what I feel

and if you're not good at it, you don't like it, and avoid it

me: YES

exactly

Kaitlin: by not good I mean, have to actually study, or take more than 15 minutes on it

me: which i want to touch on, too

yep

Kaitlin: not even "not good" by conventional standards

it's "not IMMEDIATELY good"

me: yep

Kaitlin: yeah, it's important to try to figure out why that is

and how the cycle can be broken

and if you find out how, please let me know

Interesting, isn't it? We attended the same high school. Our high school was an amazing place, and I definitely worked hard... sometimes. One fault of our school was that "passing" was 80%. It seemed great in theory. Push already bright kids to really try, to really succeed and prove their mastery. In practice, I feel like I need to stop trying to protect my image and my mentality as soon as I feel like I might be approaching a less-than-B kind of grade.

So how do I change my mindset? How do I prevent this problem for my own students? Because I honestly know these things-- I went through a teacher prep program and honestly do believe that putting in effort is a GOOD thing. So why do I resent it when I have to do it? Why do I quit as soon as tasks get hard and put up walls? And how can I change it?

Article from The Atlantic

I keep mentioning this article in my classes, and I suppose I should probably leave a link to it so I can find it later, when I want to refer to it again (as I'm sure I will).

http://www.wendymogel.com/articles/item/how_to_land_your_kid_in_therapy_the_atlantic/

It's an extremely interesting article that I find extremely relevant to educational psychology... and motivation in particular.

But after working with these patients over time, I came to believe that no florid denial or distortion was going on. They truly did seem to have caring and loving parents, parents who gave them the freedom to “find themselves” and the encouragement to do anything they wanted in life. Parents who had driven carpools, and helped with homework each night, and intervened when there was a bully at school or a birthday invitation not received, and had gotten them tutors when they struggled in math, and music lessons when they expressed an interest in guitar (but let them quit when they lost that interest), and talked through their feelings when they broke the rules, instead of punishing them (“logical consequences” always stood in for punishment). In short, these were parents who had always been “attuned,” as we therapists like to say, and had made sure to guide my patients through any and all trials and tribulations of childhood. As an overwhelmed parent myself, I’d sit in session and secretly wonder how these fabulous parents had done it all.

Until, one day, another question occurred to me: Was it possible these parents had done too much?

I think that this passage from Mogel's article in The Atlantic says a lot about parenting (and certainly teaching, as well) these days. Kids develop the skills to deal with problems in life by wrestling with them-- it provides them experience and resilience. If we allow students to struggle and "fall down," they can prove to themselves they will be able to get back up and move on.

We've been talking about attribution this week, and I think that failures and struggles can be a big part of what drives the "good" attributions we want kids to make. That is, failing and seeing that you failed because you didn't study enough (leading you to make an internal, unstable attribution) can lead you to increase your motivation and drive to study and work harder. Some parents today (and some teachers) are quick to blame or question outside forces in kids' failures.

The teacher grades unfairly. The test was too hard. The project wasn't clearly defined. We didn't have enough time to complete it the way we wanted to. On and on the excuses come-- and frequently, parents are right there leading the charge (Mogel talks about this in the article as well). Kids learn through modeling-- and a lot of the modeling many kids see is this kind of excuse-making. Parents are likely well-intentioned: they just want to see their child do well! What parent doesn't want that? (And, for that matter, what teacher doesn't want that?) However, this can backfire in leaving students struggling later on-- for motivation, for direction, for self-confidence...

I think, then, that the teacher may have to take on some of the work that needs to be done. As if we need more to do. But if we don't, we're doing our students a disservice. We need to show kids that the consequences they see are a result of their actions; that their hard work and tries can (and usually do) pay off. I'm not sure exactly what this looks like in a classroom, or how to effectively model it, but it's something that needs to be done. Of course, without parent awareness and cooperation, any work we do in the classroom can quickly and easily be done at home. Perhaps this is more of a societal issue than one that can be tackled in a single classroom.

In any case, good food for thought. I love the article.

Why do I have to do this?

"Students may also be work avoidant if they feel capable of doing the work but see no reason for doing it. They find little challenge, stimulation, satisfaction or meaning in the work they do and, consequently, only do enough work to get by" (Seifert, p. 143).

In the readings I have done so far for the week, this particular passage stuck out at me. I think it is largely because I have been this student, and I know several people who not only were this student, but had this lack of motivation drive them to drop out of high school or quit trying. A good friend and my sister are two such people. I also think these students can often be overlooked in typical classrooms.

As a gifted child in a public school that didn't have the resources to deal with advanced students, I remember procrastinating, avoiding reading in school because it felt too easy, and rushing through projects-- that should have taken a week or two-- in a few hours all because I didn't see the purpose, meaning, or value in them. I don't remember what I learned from these projects or papers-- and I hope that I can reach through to students in new and different ways (through reframing projects, adding depth and interest, or offering options for students to pursue) to get them to embrace their learning and perform as well as they can. Of course, I did eventually get over this mentality, but it wasn't an easy road. I struggled to develop good study habits (and still do, to this day), and even through college believed that I shouldn't have to study and wondered why I had to try. Finding motivation in that situation can be extremely difficult-- and difficult in a different way from not being motivated because I felt like I couldn't. The skills needed to deal with breaking through in an "I don't see why I should do this because what meaning could it possibly have for me" situation are different from the skills needed to break through an "I can't possibly do this" situation.

For both my sister and my friend, circumstances were similar, but continued later in life. I was lucky enough to attend a different school that was able to push me to be motivated and invested in my learning; my sister and friend were not. My friend ended up dropping out of high school because, as he said, "I didn't see the point anymore." He is a brilliant person and was not motivated or reached by many of his high school teachers or classes. He was not challenged or stimulated by much of the work he did; the same can be said for my younger sister. She barely graduated from high school. When she did attend class, she sailed through and got A's. She barely graduated because she didn't attend. She didn't see the point-- because she was smart enough to not have to try and lost motivation because of it.

I think it is sometimes easy to see those children who are not motivated because they perceive themselves lacking in skill; however, I think it is often harder to pick out those children who are not motivated and only doing the minimum because they don't feel invested or challenged. As an educator, it's important to keep an eye out for children on both ends of this motivational spectrum.