Photo by Towfiqu barbhuiya on Unsplash
Have you been overwhelmed with questions in your classroom? Ever feel like questions are coming at you like dodgeballs? I have noticed in recent years that students are asking more and more questions, and they are expecting me to give them all of the answers they need. It’s as if students believe I am their own private Google.
To be clear, I am not speaking of curious or inquisitive questions. I am speaking of the sort of question that if a student stopped to think, reflect, or explore, she could answer the question on her own. Yet, students are expecting me just to hand the answer over to avoid all of that “work” on their part.
For example, I am increasingly receiving a barrage of questions about instructions and steps to assignments. The question often begins with, “Wait…” Students use this as a decoy, mind you. Their intent is to make you think they don’t understand a complex idea or problem. In reality, they were in class when you gave the handout, read the instructions with them, and then took questions for clarification. Yet somehow, they were not listening or with you in the present moment. So now, they want you to think they have a serious important question about the assignment that only you can answer. When in actuality, you have already answered it.
I am finding students are lacking in the ability to think things through or problem-solve to find the answers they seek. This fall, for example, I assigned a book project in my fifth grade social studies class. I wanted to encourage students to use our vocabulary words rather than just memorize. Over the course of a couple of months, we created a geography dictionary. In creating their book, I asked students to not only define each word but provide a specific example of each one.
Once we had progressed a few weeks and had learned about the sixth word, Mitch* came up to my desk.
“Ms. Smith,” he says, “what would I put for an example of plateau?”
He wanted the direct answer so that he could move on and just write the example in his book. Instead of answering, I counter with, “Well, I don’t know. What would an example of plateau be?”
Mitch, “I don’t know.”
Me, “Ok, so what does “example” mean?”
Mitch looks at me with a blank face.
Me, “So, if I asked you what is an example of candy, what would you say?”
Mitch squints up his face and asks me, “I guess candy corn?”
Me, “Are you asking me or telling me that’s your example.”
Mitch nods, “Yes candy corn.”
Me, “Ok, so now, what is an example of a plateau?”
Mitch, “That’s what I wanted you to tell me.”
I mean really, teaching is like Abbott and Costello’s “third base!”
Me, “Mitch, if candy corn is an example of candy, what is an example of plateau?”
Mitch, “Oh ok, so I find an example of a plateau and write it down!”
Me, “Yes.”
Mitch, “Where can I find that?”
Me, “Mitch, what resources in the classroom do you have that might help you to find a specific plateau?”
Mitch just wants the answer and will now never ask a question again because I have made him think way too hard.
Me, “Mitch, look around. Where would a plateau be labeled?”
Mitch, “On a map?”
Me, “And where would you find a map in this room?”
Mitch, “Oh! Ok.”
This type of interaction occurs multiple times almost daily in my classroom. It is exhausting. And frankly, giving the answer would be so much simpler. If our goal, however, is to teach children how to think, what good is answering the question? The difference in recent years has become that students now have an expectation of not having to think. Or perhaps, they have an expectation of not having to do the hard work. Google gives a quick answer, why doesn’t everyone else? Most of the time, students in my classroom don’t even think to ask a peer sitting nearby.
Alexa, what’s the weather? And she tells you. No need to turn on the radio, television, or even really search the internet. Information is handed over immediately.
Google, who was Alexander the Great? And Google tells you the basics. No need to search, find the best book on Ancient Greece, or even read anything.
Google, how do I make pancakes when my parents aren’t home? Up pops multiple YouTube videos depicting the process.
Answers are provided within seconds, and so, these thinking and reflective skills are not being built as much in everyday life. My students just expect to be told what they want to know. If students miss the instructions, they expect me to repeat each step even if I’ve already done so 10 times. There seems to be this sense that they do not need to listen or be engaged as much because the information is out there and accessible whenever they need it. Which to some extent is true, just not in my classroom.
Because my interaction with Mitch took so long, the entire class kept looking up from their work and hearing bits and pieces. Interestingly, no one spoke up and just gave him the answer. They were curious about what sort of interaction we were having and why. After Mitch sat down, Sarah* came up to my desk.
“Ms. Smith,” she said, “I have a question about something, can you do with me what you did with Mitch?”
*Names changed for privacy purposes