Winter Institute 2005

Principals and assistant principals from 17 ISA small schools attended the 2005 Winter Institute, held February 2-3, at Aramark’s Harrison Conference Center in Glen Cove, New York, to explore Inquiry Learning.

“Last year, as we discussed the major differences between traditional and small learning communities,” said Dr. Sandy Abrams, ISA leadership network coach, and moderator of ISA’s Winter Institute, “I became aware that we had to focus on something more important than just those differences. That led to the concept for this year’s Winter Institute, that we need, as small communities of educators and administrators committed to academic rigor and excellence for our students, new criteria for looking at instruction.”

Part of her inspiration came from Dr. Fred Newmann’s visit to ISA’s 2004 Summer Institute, where he spoke at length on authentic pedagogy, explaining that when teachers engage students’ minds through inquiry-based learning, students work willingly, that their learning is deeper, and they do better on standardized tests.

“At the core of ISA’s concept of college-based preparatory program is focus,” said Dr. Abrams, “a sharpening of our definition and understanding of what inquiry-based learning is."

With that in mind, she decided on two simulations, in math and science, and created charts called ‘What I Know,’ ‘What I’m not Sure About,’ and ‘What I’d Like to Know,’ which Winter Institute attendees, working in tandem or triads, now filled with observations and questions regarding the two simulations they were about to participate in.

At that point, Dr. Abrams introduced Jonathan Katz, ISA math consultant, to lead the ‘class’ in an inquiry-learning math lesson.

“Skill does not mean knowledge, and practice, practice, practice does not mean understanding,” said Katz as he distributed an image of the George Washington Bridge, and another of an architectural detail of arches and columns to the class. “In math, kids learn procedure, but often, there’s no correlation to concept behind the procedure.”

The room agreed, recalling past teacher complaints that covering one hundred percent of a syllabus doesn’t mean kids learn all or even half of it, and what students do learn is transient, learned for a Regents exam and quickly forgotten.

Katz nodded, holding up copies of the distributed photos, and, asking them what they saw, extracted halting comments about the obvious that developed into conversation about arches, curves and parallel lines. When he handed each member of his class a graphing calculator, they groaned much as any ninth grade class would, and when he said each of them going to design and build a bridge, the responses ranged from giddy laughter to surprise, but their was no denying the pervading sense of intrigue.

Katz asked what they would need to know to design their bridges. Angles, supports, load weights, were some answers. Until now, he said, they’d studied equations with no exponents, but to learn more about engineering a bridge, they would have to work with equations with exponents, and so, giving them a list of equations, he instructed them to enter the equation and see what the graph looked like. “Now, what happens if you change the exponent?” he asked. His class was absorbed, noting the changes in their equations that resulted in the right curve, a narrower curve; how a negative number before the ‘x’ would open the curve the opposite way. He asked the group to draw conclusions, advising them to go at their own pace, to make careful notes and review them with the observations they had made earlier.

To his question, “What else have you learned?” someone quipped, “That even principals have trouble with algebraic equations.” That elicited a laugh, but the principals and supervisors were so enthusiastic that they offered their observations nearly non-stop: that it was fun to make graphs with the calculators, that they were intrigued by not knowing the answer—which led to the itch to learn, to solve the mystery; that if they don’t understand the problem “we zone out, just like our students.” A cogent observation came next. “Teachers must be technologically handy,” said Nick Mazzarella, principal of ISA’s small school at Park East High, staring at his calculator.

“And have vision. How to see that a parabola is a place to start for a lesson on engineering,” added Janet Price, principal at Brooklyn Prep, “And how that could lead to my teacher helping me to understand the relationship of x to y.”

Wyandanch High School Principal Dr. Larry Spruill had charted his equations on the graphing calculator and seen the bridge taking shape without a mathematical clue how it happened. “But now I want to know more,” he said enthusiastically.

The group was pleased with itself until Katz nodded, saying, “And to think that ancient man was the creator of the calculation…without the machine.” The group excitedly saw that statement as a jumping-off point for another lesson.

Katz reined in their enthusiasm. “Student intrigue leads teachers to think about the next steps in teaching,” he said, moving quickly to another math problem, this one in the form of a game called ‘Twenty-seven.’ Played by two contestants with twenty-seven pieces, the object is to be the player who chooses the last piece by choosing one to four pieces at each turn. Puzzled faces lit instantly, engaged, intent as they tried to solve the puzzle by observation.

Katz asked, “What questions are you asking?” The answers came fast and furious. Did it matter who started? Maybe the answer was in how many pieces you took? Or if you took the same number all along?

“How is questioning working for you?” Katz asked.

“There’s only one way to do this,” Dina Heisler, principal of Pablo Neruda Academy said, “We have to play.”

And play they did. Within three moves it became obvious that “the answer is, it doesn’t matter how many pieces you pick, as long as the number you leave is a multiple of five,” said one principal, delighted and excited at solving the problem. “If you can make a fifty-something man who always considered himself mathematically-challenged feel a sense of accomplishment at this, think how this will make our kids feel!”

Again, Katz sent them to note their observations, and measure them against the ones they made before the simulation began. “The goal with math is to experience the process, to think, to be involved and come to discovery on one’s own. That triumph, the “Hey! I got it!” comes with the kind of confidence that can’t be taught,” Katz said.

The room buzzed with the excitement and pleasure of discovery, so that Dr. Abrams looked rueful as she reminded them of their purpose, advising them to list all evidence they considered to constitute inquiry learning in Jon Katz’ lesson.

Next up was Mardi Tuminaro, ISA coach at Peekskill, with a science lesson. Her proposed scenario? “I’m your principal and I’ve observed your science class. I watched you have your kids measure out the volume of a particular liquid and calculate the density of the volume on a chart you, the teacher, have already completed all the parts of except for the numbers they’ll fill in. Then, your students graphed that volume as a line on a pre-drawn axis with pre-marked spaces.” She looked around the room. “What was your teaching object for the lesson? Why do you teach it?”

“Because they have to learn that as volume increases, so does mass,” called out one principal. “Because it’s always on the Regents,” offered another, to wry laughter.

“But what about understanding?” the coach asked. “Did your students come away confident in their understanding of what volume was?”

“Doubtful,” said a principal.

Ms. Tuminaro nodded. “Why was it not an effective lesson?”

Some said there wasn’t enough active student involvement to make the lesson come alive, to engage student thought. Some answered in their role as the science teacher Ms. Tuminaro made her initial proposition to. “They just don’t pay attention. If they did, they’d learn.”

“Yes, but why?”

“Because there’s no motivation,” Derek Jones, Excelsior Academy principal offered.

“Yes, but,” said Alma Barat, assistant principal of Bayard Rustin, still playing the role of teacher, “if I had done a lesson with more involvement, the classroom would have been noisy and messy, and ­­you (the principal in observation) wouldn’t have liked that.”

Ms. Tuminaro countered, “Wouldn’t it be worth it to have a class where all the students are more involved? Where they use authentic pedagogy, constructing his or her knowledge with real world applications for it through inquiry related to the discipline of science? After all, learning science means embracing the scientific method.”

One role-playing teacher shook his head. “I have to cover all this material in my syllabus and move on. If some of the kids don’t get it, they’ll have to stay for extra help or get help somewhere else.” Another principal cum teacher offered, “You know, they come to me unprepared. They’ve been allowed to slide by in the lower grades. I don’t have the time for remediation AND new work.” “Yes,” another called. “My department head would have mine if I didn’t cover everything that’ll be on the Regents exam.”

It sounded awful, but everyone recognized the arguments, including Ms. Tuminaro.

“But now you know there’s a better way. What do you think of when you think of ‘the scientific method’?”

In the next few minutes, she’d compiled steps to the method: observation, question, hypothesis, experiment, collection of data, conclusion (success or trying again).

“So, now, let’s plan a lesson on buoyancy. You’ve paired students off, and have a double period. What would you need?”

Answers were shouted out—containers, easels and paper for graphing, and lots and lots of water. “Enough for all the kids in class,” Marc Sternberg said.

“Yes, but, I have no time to develop new lessons,” one pseudo-teacher complained. Others said it took too much time to set up pairs of kids and clean up after the experiment, the period would be over before work was finished; and then there was the group dynamic, with everyone talking, spilling, laughing, control would be impossible,” Alma Barat said.

“Okay,” Tuminaro tried, “let’s rethink this. Remember, I said a double period, and paired-off kids. You don’t have to have all of them doing the experiment, you only need one pair to do it. Other pairs will—” She points to her chart. “Facilitate, gather, record, report, measure.” If all the ‘Oh’s and ‘I see’s were an indication, everyone got the message—that there was time enough to implement the lesson, and more, that students would engage, would be interested, involved, questioning, certainly less unruly. That there would be less work for teacher in drawing already filled in charts and nearly finished graphs wasn’t lost on them either.

“The pattern of generating data, putting it up, discussing it, is indeed the scientific method,” Tuminaro said. “Group work is motivational. There’s a loyalty to group and a desire for (group) success in comparison to other [option: competing] groups. This outcome is vastly overlooked. As it is, there’s a disconnect between the syllabus, necessary teaching ends, and student learning.”

Yes, but science is daunting. How do you create a science lesson?

“You create a question, giving students the ability to make observation, analysis, to form conclusions,” Tuminaro said.

Janet Price worried. “Even so, there’s a disconnect between science experiments or classroom learning and the Regents exams.”

“Not when you fall back on the scientific method,” Tuminaro reminded her. “You ask your student to reflect on the knowledge they’ve gained, to write questions that occur as they do their experiments. Cull them. Answer them one by one and share those answers with the class. The idea is to get students to teach a portion of this information to the others, to own it more fully. Yes, we acknowledge there’s a Regents, that lots of our students are English as second language students, but getting them to own their knowledge, to write about it, is good preparation for those exams. But first, must come engagement. Getting these students to form their ideas—in simple words, even in their own language—is that form of engagement which will lead to more reading, writing, ELL development. “

For example, when taken to a museum, students are each asked to choose one exhibit his/her friend shouldn’t miss and why, and to write about it. As they do the exercise, they gain more confidence in their abilities; teachers gain more confidence in their students’ abilities—a double gain.

Dr. Abrams asked her group to jot down notes on the science lesson, and to compare them with the comments they’d made earlier on inquiry learning. “How did the two simulations inform you on inquiry-based learning?”

Participants described them as visual, explorative, open-ended. “I discovered,” said one. Some wondered if some teachers would fear inquiry-based learning was too much freedom. “But the lessons’ guidelines and expectations were clear and necessary for inquiry-based learning to succeed,” said Coach Tuminaro. “Inquiry-based learning provides a necessary structure—security—for students, within which some freedom to explore must be allowed.”

And how does a teacher help his students to learn this way?

“What you give them to observe and to start with is key. Your lesson must be carefully planned to lead them to certain questions,” said Katz. As students awake to concepts, they become excited. All kinds of real world observations become relevant when presented this way, when students plot the points they see the curves, wires, the components of a bridge. They see real-world applications of abstract objects like parabolas and curves.

Abrams request for a review of Tuminaro’s coaching engendered such descriptions as non-judgmental and focused, making it easy for the ‘teachers’ she guided to change direction without feeling disgruntled, a good thing, administrators recognized.

As they broke for lunch, John Angelet, Bayard Rustin’s principal, said, “This inquiry-based learning is so exceptional, it’s a wonder more schools don’t use it.”

“They will,” Katz said.

“It works,” said Norma Morales, principal at ISA’s Bronx International School. “Our kids have been taking the Regents for two years now, and we’ve been reading them, grading them, observing the results. That’s when you realize how low the standards are.” She shook her head. “Our kids know so much more, their knowledge is so much deeper than the answers those exam questions ask for.”

In the afternoon session, Abrams constructed another exercise, a gallery walk. She defined eight major components of inquiry learning, and posted each on an easel-held chart. The administrators, in triads, reviewed the elements in terms of what they thought they meant, writing samples from the morning’s simulations that evidenced the components on large post-it notes which they attached to the easels where they felt they belonged. The administrators then walked the gallery, reading and addressing the elements, focusing on what they needed to deepen their understanding of the elements of inquiry-based learning.

Afterwards, as a group, they once more examined the eight. Abrams elicited an example from each, asking, “What would it take to implement in your school? What are the obstacles you anticipate?”

The thoughtful discussion continued until it was time to go; the participants were slow to leave, breaking up into smaller groups that continued along various paths.

Said Dr. Abrams of this Winter Institute, “I structured the day along the model of inquiry approach to instruction. Research has shown that this is what works with students, and our mission is to really reach students who have fallen through the cracks, for whatever the reason.”

It worked for principals, as well. Abrams’ inquiry approach was an unobtrusive frame that fostered a day of intense inquiry that led to observation, demonstration, powerful discussion, and triumphant—and constructive—discovery.

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