The Teaching-Learning Paradox Revisited (Part 2)

If the conclusions in Part 1 are correct, it does not really matter which teaching method instructors use. Lecture? Small-group? Discussion? Tutorials? Online? Some combination of these? It makes no difference. Student outcomes on final examinations will be the same.

Perhaps this conclusion is way too obvious. Why should something as superficial as the physical arrangement of the room and the shuffling around of its human components have any meaningful impact on learning?

If I’m being honest, small-group work has always struck me as a gimmick hashed-out during some administrative retreat, and whenever I employ it, I always feel like I’m appealing to some newfangled rule book in order to check an activity off of a list.

It’s pedagogical hokey-pokey.

But this is too harsh. And I’m ignoring my own conclusions from Part 1. It is not the teaching method, per say, that affects learning. If small-group work is a gimmick, then so is lecturing.

The reason that The Teaching-Learning Paradox concluded that teaching method has no impact on learning is simple:  only learning has an impact on learning.

Cue the sound of a million minds being blown.

Here it is again, in case you missed it:  Only learning has an impact on learning.

(I know it sounds like a poorly edited bumper sticker, but stay with me.)

We like to think of learning as social, as shared, as something that happens together in collective spaces and that can be facilitated by arrangements supporting a diversity of human interactions, and we tend to preference intimate, close-knit combos in which we assume the exchange of ideas and reflections will be more fluid and will lead to comprehensive understandings that far exceed what one individual could think up alone sitting in a cold lecture hall listening to someone drone on about stagflation.

But there isn’t anything magical about these arrangements in-and-of themselves. And I suspect that they are just as likely to reinforce bad learning as they are to support it. I hate to use this cliché, but it seems appropriate: if the classroom is not centered on authentic learning, shifting into small group discussion is merely rearranging deck chairs on the Titanic.

So what is authentic learning? I don’t know, but I would like to suggest some conclusions reached by cognitive science, in particular the research that centers on how we learn. Ultimately, learning must take place in the brain, whether that brain is sitting in a lecture hall, in a small group, or in front of a computer screen. We have more knowledge now of how the brain learns, and instructors and students should take advantage of this knowledge to increase learning.

It seems that, because it was published in 1968, the conclusions of The Teaching-Learning Paradox could not take cognitive strategies into account. Furthermore, since their focus was on various teaching arrangements (and not on styles, strategies, and tactics*), they were unable to analyze the actual infrastructure of learning. This supports the criticism put forth by Ten Cate and others (see Part 1) that Dubin and Taveggia are not really measuring a dependent variable by comparing final exam scores. Also, what is the true effect on the student? Certainly, one key component of learning is the demonstration of content acquisition, but are the studies in The Teaching-Learning Paradox merely testing for how efficiently the knowledge provided by the instructor slid from his mouth and onto the final exam page? Seen in that light, every study that Dubin and Taveggia analyzed was a success. The knowledge did transfer, and all at the same rate.

But what about the students? Did they learn? Really, how would you expect to measure learning if you’re merely testing how the classroom is structured. You are not testing learning or learning strategies. You are, instead, testing physical arrangements. And if the instructor and the students are not employing strategies that facilitate learning, then what is the value of the study?

Fortunately, a lot of work has been done with authentic learning strategies based on cognitive research. And in order to test these strategies, you can look at studies that are not too dissimilar from the ones Dubin and Taveggia analyzed in The Teaching-Learning Paradox. Do classrooms that employ cognitive strategies result in greater learning on final examinations? (Later we’ll address the shortcomings of solely focusing on content knowledge and memorization, but, as many cognitive scientists note, memorization is a critical component to learning, though not sufficient in-and-of itself).

This new focus on learning strategies will be a true student-centered approach, since the goal will be to figure out how students actually learn** (how the brain actually works) and to design curricula, lectures, assignments, and study sessions with this knowledge in mind. And since, as Dubin and Taveggia point out, studying is a measureable difference-maker, teachers should find ways to facilitate student learning by teaching effective strategies, delivering content with the cognitive “tricks” in mind, and motivating students to take their learning into their own hands, hearts, and minds. (Is that a Girl Scout motto?)

What are these cognitive “tricks?”

Well, let’s take one. It doesn’t matter if you’re tutoring someone one-on-one, standing in front of a lecture hall filled with 500 students, or sitting in a circle with 15 students, if you’re not asking “Why?” your students aren’t learning.

Dunlosky, et al. present ten learning techniques based on cognitive research in a 2013 article titled “Improving Students’ Learning with Effective Learning Techniques: Promising Directions From Cognitive and Educational Psychology.” Each technique is summarized and bolstered with supporting studies. The first, “elaborative interrogation” is essentially a fancy way of asking students “Why?” and encouraging them to construct their own answers. You might present some content on (drawing from my own experience) the correlation between the increase in sophisticated literature during the so-called American Renaissance period  and the rise of American printing companies. “Why do you suppose literature became more sophisticated as more printing companies arose?” Or, in a Mythology course, you could have students read creation myths from several different cultures and ask them “Why do so many of these cultures portray female goddesses as earthbound and male gods as living in the sky?” The idea is that learners must now actively construct new knowledge in response to the question, and in doing so, retrieve existing knowledge in order to fill in the gaps: “The prevailing theoretical account of elaborative-interrogation effects is that elaborative interrogation enhances learning by supporting the integration of new information with existing prior knowledge” leading to insights that are “self-generated rather than provided” (8). More learning is actually occurring in the learner’s brain as they struggle to develop an answer, and not just as part of a transfer from the instructor to the pages of the final exam. The authors cite one study where “Why” questions were integrated into a biology text, resulting in higher exam scores compared to a control group.

This is true learner-centered, active learning, not the kind that is staged by simply rearranging the classroom. The interesting thing about the above study is that the vast majority of their strategies are student studying strategies, some involving annotation of texts, pacing of study sessions, and mnemonic devices. The idea is to empower students to turn their own brains on to better learning strategies. We want lifelong learners who learn to do things for themselves. We want more of the learning to be happening in their own brains.

I will discuss more examples of cognitive strategies in futures posts, but I’d like to close with a few words from education theorist Bill McKeachie who discussed the “learning” approach to teaching in a 2008 interview in Teaching of Psychology:

We also found that when students thought more about the material, they were likely to become more intrinsically motivated and interested in the material for its own sake rather than just to pass the test. That shift in focus makes a big difference. If teachers are interested in helping students learn for the rest of their lives, then they should want their students to develop intrinsic motivation for learning and not just learn when they are told to learn because they are going to be tested on it.

A couple of things here: First, next time I’ll discuss the work of Daniel Willingham (who is also one of the authors of the study I cite above) who echoes McKeachie’s deceptively simple call for getting students to think about the material. It sounds obvious. However, if you want to make something stick in the brain, you first need to figure out how to make it sticky.

Second, McKeachie’s emphasis on intrinsic motivation could not be more important. And this is exactly what Dubin and Taveggia’s The Teaching-Learning Paradox cannot measure. In fact, I don’t think intrinsic motivation can be measured quantitatively. This is what prompted B.F. Skinner to disagree with cognitive research, since it could not be observed as behavior could. (McKeachie recounts their disagreement in the interview.)

Dubin and Taveggia could, however, (in limited samples) measure the effect of studying, and found it to be positive for test results. If we can help students become intrinsically motivated, get them to pay closer and deeper attention (to think about the material, in Willingham’s and McKeachie’s formulation, which means to take advantages of cognitive tricks that line up with how the brain actually learns), arm them with proven study skills, and structure class sessions with the cognitive research in mind, measurable improvements might be recorded. If students need to learn how to learn, then teachers need to teach them how to learn.

In short: if you want learning, you have to teach learning.

*In Part 1, I suggested a difference between method and style. I’m going to alter this. I like the word “arrangements” better to describe Dubin and Taveggia’s focus on comparing lectures, discussion, one-on-one sessions and other such organizational methods. For now, at least, “styles, strategies, and tactics” will be a stand-in for a discussion of approaches to authentic learning that can occur irrespective of classroom arrangements.

**Next time I’ll cover Daniel Willingham’s claim that learning styles, as they have been propagated, do not exist.

What is Mythology? (Part 8: Mythopoly)

The word “Mythopoly” came to me as I was waking up this morning, so I thought I better try to explain what my subconscious was thinking.

I had hoped that I had coined a new term, but a quick Google search discovered a few custom-made board games bearing that title, including Sarah Anderson’s wonderful gameboard pictured below:


I am thinking of “Mythopoly,” however, as a combination of Mythology and out-sized claims to ownership, the idea of one religion seeking to sell a story as its own, as the only authentic version, or even to claim that its worldview is “the one true way,” effectively crowding out all competing views.

Often this is accomplished by simple omission. Some religious leaders and parents do not teach children alternative myths, either because they are not familiar with other traditions, or because they wish to keep their youth in willful ignorance. (Philosopher Daniel Dennett has been advocating for the teaching of world religions in public schools. In this video, he explains how ignorance of other traditions contributes to the toxic environment of distrust between faiths.)

Perhaps such comparative studies might also create inter-faith dialogue (of the constructive or deconstructive sort) as uncanny connections between myths emerge. In Part 7, I said that regardless of attempts to read myths as literal divine transmissions, myths will always remain myths. When read closely and with an open-mind, it becomes impossible to take them simply at face value.

What other conclusions could students of world religions reach upon learning, for example, the endless list of gods and mythological figures before the time of Jesus who were brought into this world in miraculous ways, either by being conceived through Parthenogenesis (birth without fertilization), emerging through their mother’s sides instead of the vaginal passage (Buddha and Set), or by being born from a rock (Mithra) or even from the foam surrounding severed genitalia floating in the ocean (Aphrodite)?


One could conclude that these alternative stories are false and that only Jesus’s miraculous birth is true (In other words, enact a mythopoly). Or, you could see these sorts of miraculous births for what they are: well-trodden motifs in mythological stories, created for effect or symbolism or propaganda. They imply a great deal about the special status of the character, and may even suggest a theology (to be born in a non-natural way preserves purity and cleanliness and a certain remove from the material trappings of this world), but they should not be taken literally.

This idea of miraculous birth is just one of countless mythological motifs used around the world, in various cultures, and across different time periods. Once you lay out the world’s mythical motifs on the table, like cards, and sort them neatly into piles (one pile, let’s say, for all the myths featuring angry sky gods at war with earth-bound goddesses, or another pile for myths with half-man/half-god characters sent to earth to prove something to the world), it becomes much more difficult to maintain a Mythopoly without a serious case of denial.

Two distinct possibilities could then arise in the mind of the student:

1) All myths are bogus, just recycled themes passed along as pre-rational attempts at explaining, indoctrinating, and entertaining captive audiences, but they are ultimately the by-product of a by-gone era.

2) It can’t just be a coincidence that cultures who had no communication with each other and/or lived one thousand years apart developed mythologies featuring compatible ideas. It must be universal psychological principles at play, reflecting fundamental similarities between humans across time and across cultures.* Therefore, by studying these myths, we can learn about the human experience and how it has been represented in mythological imagery as old 4000 years (which just includes the oldest written myths, not artwork or cave paintings that are even tens of thousands of years older).

Option 2 has led to an entire tradition of mythological study, beginning perhaps with Carl Jung and moving through Northrop Frye, Joseph Campbell, and James Hillman, perhaps even into integral thinkers, such as Ken Wilber (who claims Campbell as an early inspiration, and whose work is comparative to its core) and William Irwin Thompson (who is highly critical of what he sees as “chauvinism” in Campbell’s work, but who nonetheless reads and approaches mythology as a mirror of psyche.) It is this kind of archetypal, psychological, and spiritual reading of Mythology that is featured heavily in my course and which is one basis for reading it critically in a Literature classroom.

In fact, no study of Mythology is complete without diving into the work of Joseph Campbell, who may be single-handedly responsible for restoring contemporary interest in mythology. More on Campbell in future posts.

*There are, of course, other explanations for certain reoccurring content. First, stories passed along via oral transmission really could survive, thrive, and become absorbed into other traditions as long as the geographical scope was not too large. This is why, for example, the story of Noah’s Ark appears first in the Sumerian tale of Gilgamesh and then migrates into Jewish oral tradition over several hundred years. Apparently, it was a powerful enough story to maintain an audience for so long. Second, translation conducted by colonizing groups was often accompanied by substantial revision in order to interpose their own culture into the subjugated people’s myths and values. This is why some Aztec myths contains Christian imagery and references. Third, we cannot automatically discount the idea of a World Spirit or “Meta-God” whose divine revelation, though unitive, takes on the local flavor wherever it appears. In other words, there is a God, but It is just way more multicultural than It gets credit for. Finally, one can always take a more conspiratorial route and read these coincidences as the product of an alien being leaving messages for us. After all, the various accounts of gods walking the earth in spectral form (or something like the far-roaming white-skinned god writers such as Graham Hancock discuss) could be connected to the same parental alien civilization doing its proselytizing. Doubtful, but imagination is a wonderful thing. 

Dan Willingham: Learning Styles Don’t Exist