Educational Psychology Knyga
Educational Psychology Knyga
Educational Psychology Knyga
Educational Psychology
Second Edition
The Global Text Project is funded by the Jacobs Foundation, Zurich, Switzerland
Dr Sutton has published a variety research articles on teacher development as well as equity issues in
mathematics, technology, and assessment. Her recent research interests have focused in two areas: teaching
educational psychology and teachers' emotions. Recent publications can be found in Social Psychology of
Education, Educational Psychology Review, Journal of Teacher Education, and an edited volume, Emotions and
Education.
Since 2004, Dr Sutton has been working as an Administrator, first as the Director of Assessment for the
University. This position involved coordinating the student learning assessment for all graduate, undergraduate,
and student support programs. In August 2007, Dr Sutton was appointed Vice Provost for Undergraduate Studies
and is now responsible for overseeing offices and functions from academic and student service areas in order to
create a campus culture that coordinates student services with the academic mission of the University.
Preface
Dr. Kelvin Seifert: Why I wanted this book to be part of the Global Textbook Project
(3) In the competition to sell copies of educational psychology textbooks, authors and publishers have gradually
added features that raise the cost of books without evidence of adding educational value. Educational psychology
publishers in particular have increased the number of illustrations and photographs, switched to full-color editions,
increased the complexity and number of study guides and ancillary publications, and created proprietary websites
usable fully only by adopters of their particular books. These features have sometimes been attractive. My teaching
experience suggests, however, that they also distract students from learning key ideas about educational psychology
about as often as they help students to learn.
By publishing this textbook online with the Global Textbook Project, I have taken a step toward resolving these
problems. Instructors and students can access as much or as little of the textbook as they really need and find
useful. The cost of their doing is minimal. Pedagogical features are available, but are kept to a minimum and
rendered in formats that can be accessed freely and easily by anyone connected to the Internet. In the future,
revisions to the book will be relatively easy and prompt to make. These, I believe, are desirable outcomes for
everyone! --Kelvin Seifert
• to witness the diversity of growth in young people, and their joy in learning
• to experience the challenge of devising and doing interesting, exciting activities for the young
There is, of course, more than this to be said about the value of teaching. Consider, for instance, the “young
people” referred to above. In one class they could be six years old; in another they could be sixteen, or even older.
They could be rich, poor, or somewhere in between. They could come from any ethnic background. Their first
language could be English, or something else. There are all sorts of possibilities. But whoever the particular
students are, they will have potential as human beings: talents and personal qualities—possibly not yet realized—
that can contribute to society, whether as leaders, experts, or supporters of others. A teacher's job—in fact a
teacher's privilege—is to help particular “young people” to realize their potential.
Another teacher reflects: Nathan paused for a deep breath before speaking to me. “It’s not like I
expected it to be,” he said. “I’ve got five kids who speak English as a second language. I didn’t expect
that. I’ve got two, maybe three, with reading disabilities, and one of them has a part-time aide. I’ve
had to learn more about using computers than I ever expected—they’re a lot of curriculum materials
online now, and the computers help the kids that need more practice or who finish activities early.
I’m doing more screening and testing of kids than I expected, and it all takes time away from
teaching.
“But it’s not all surprises. I expected to be able to ‘light a fire’ under kids about learning to read. And
that has actually happened, at least sometimes with some children!”
As a teacher, you will be able to do this by laying groundwork for lifelong learning. You will not teach any one
student forever, of course, but you will often work with them long enough to convey a crucial message: that there is
much in life to learn—more in fact than any one teacher or school can provide in a lifetime. The knowledge may be
about science, math, or learning to read; the skills may be sports, music, or art—anything. Whatever you teach, its
immensity can be a source of curiosity, wonder and excitement. It can be a reason to be optimistic about life in
general and about your students in particular. Learning, when properly understood, is never-ending, even though it
often focuses on short-term, immediate concerns. As a teacher, you will have an advantage not shared by every
member of society, namely the excuse not only to teach valuable knowledge and skills, but to point students beyond
what they will be able to learn from you. As an old limerick put it (before the days of gender-balanced language),
“The world is full of such a plenty of things, I’m sure we should all be as happy as kings.”
Jennifer Fuller, a third teacher reflects: “OK”, suddenly getting businesslike in her tone. “Here’s my
typical day teaching tenth grade: I get up at 6:30, have a quick breakfast, get to school by 7:45 if the
traffic’s not bad. Then I check my email—usually there’s a little stuff from the principal or some other
administrator, maybe one or two from parents concerned because their child is doing poorly in one
of my classes, maybe one or two from students—“I’m going to be sick today, Ms Fuller!”—that sort of
thing. Now it’s 8:15 and I have two hours before my first class—this term I teach only biology, and I
only teach periods 2, 3, and 5. Maybe I have marking to do before class, or maybe I have to get a lab
demonstration ready. Or maybe we all have to troupe down to the library for a staff meeting
(groan…). Whatever I don’t finish in the morning, I have to finish after school. But that’s also when I
meet with the Ecology Club (I’m the faculty advisor), so I might have to finish stuff in the evening. I
try not to do it then, but a lot of times I have to. But I always quit by 9:00—that’s always when I
watch TV for an hour, or just “vegetate ” with a book.”
Whatever you teach, you will be able to feel the satisfaction of designing and orchestrating complex activities
that communicate new ideas and skills effectively. The challenge is attractive to many teachers, because that is
where they exercise judgment and “artistry” the most freely and frequently. Your students will depend on your skill
at planning and managing, though sometimes without realizing how much they do so. Teachers will need you to
know how to explain ideas clearly, to present new materials in a sensible sequence and at an appropriate pace, to
point out connections between their new learning and their prior experiences. Although these skills really take a
lifetime to master, they can be practiced successfully even by beginning teachers, and they do improve steadily with
continued teaching over time. Right from the start, though, skill at design and communication of curriculum is one
of the major “perks” of the job.
The very complexity of classroom life virtually guarantees that teaching never needs to get boring. Something
new and exciting is bound to occur just when you least expect it. A student shows an insight that you never
expected to see—or fails to show one that you were sure he had. An activity goes better than expected—or worse, or
merely differently. You understand for the first time why a particular student behaves as she does, and begin
thinking of how to respond to the student's behavior more helpfully in the future. After teaching a particular
learning objective several times, you realize that you understand it differently than the first time you taught it. And
so on. The job never stays the same; it evolves continually. As long as you keep teaching, you will have a job with
novelty.
To see what we mean, look briefly at four new trends in education, at how they have changed what teachers do,
and at how you will therefore need to prepare to teach:
• increased diversity: there are more differences among students than there used to be. Diversity has
made teaching more fulfilling as a career, but also made more challenging in certain respects.
• * increased instructional technology: classrooms, schools, and students use computers more often
today than in the past for research, writing, communicating, and keeping records. Technology has created
new ways for students to learn (for example, this textbook would not be possible without Internet
technology!). It has also altered how teachers can teach most effectively, and even raised issues about what
constitutes “true” teaching and learning.
• greater accountability in education: both the public and educators themselves pay more attention
than in the past to how to assess (or provide evidence for) learning and good quality teaching. The attention
has increased the importance of education to the public (a good thing) and improved education for some
students. But it has also created new constraints on what teachers teach and what students learn.
• increased professionalism of teachers: Now more than ever, teachers are able to assess the quality of
their own work as well as that of colleagues, and to take steps to improve it when necessary.
Professionalism improves teaching, but by creating higher standards of practice it also creates greater
worries about whether particular teachers and schools are “good enough”.
How do these changes show up in the daily life of classrooms? The answer depends partly on where you teach;
circumstances differ among schools, cities, and even whole societies. Some clues about the effects of the trends on
classroom life can be found, however, by considering one particular case—the changes happening in North America.
Language diversity
Take the case of language diversity. In the United States, about 40 million people, or 14 per cent of the
population are Hispanic. About 20 per cent of these speak primarily Spanish, and approximately another 50 per
cent speak only limited English (United States Census Bureau, 2005). The educators responsible for the children in
this group need to accommodate instruction to these students somehow. Part of the solution, of course, is to
arrange specialized second-language teachers and classes. But adjustment must also happen in “regular”
classrooms of various grade levels and subjects. Classroom teachers must learn to communicate with students
whose English language background is limited, at the same time that the students themselves are learning to use
English more fluently (Pitt, 2005). Since relatively few teachers are Hispanic or speak fluent Spanish, the
adjustments can sometimes be a challenge. Teachers must plan lessons and tasks that students actually understand.
At the same time teachers must also keep track of the major learning goals of the curriculum. In Chapter 4
(“Student Diversity”) and Chapter 10 (“Planning Instruction”), some strategies for doing so are described. As you
gain experience teaching, you will no doubt find additional strategies and resources (Gebhard, 2006), especially if
second-language learners become an important part of your classes.
11
As a result of these changes, most American and Canadian teachers are likely to have at least a few students with
special educational needs, even if they are not trained as special education teachers or have had no prior personal
experience with people with disabilities. Classroom teachers are also likely to work as part of a professional team
focused on helping these students to learn as well as possible and to participate in the life of the school. The trend
toward inclusion is definitely new compared to circumstances just a generation or two ago. It raises new challenges
about planning instruction (such as how is a teacher to find time to plan for individuals?), and philosophical
questions about the very nature of education (such as what in the curriculum is truly important to learn?). These
questions will come up again in Chapter 5, where we discuss teaching students with special educational needs.
Lifelong learning
The diversity of modern classrooms is not limited to language or disabilities. Another recent change has been
the broadening simply of the age range of individuals who count as “students”. In many nations of the world, half or
most of all three- and four-year-olds attend some form of educational program, either part-time preschool or full-
time child care (National Institute for Early Education Research, 2006). In North America some public school
divisions have moved toward including nursery or preschool programs as a newer “grade level” preceding
kindergarten. Others have expanded the hours of kindergarten (itself considered a “new” program early in the 20 th
century) to span a full-day program.
The obvious differences in maturity between preschoolers and older children lead most teachers of the very
young to use flexible, open-ended plans and teaching strategies, and to develop more personal or family-like
relationships with their young “students” than typical with older students (Bredekamp & Copple, 1997). Just as
important, though, are the educational and philosophical issues that early childhood education has brought to
public attention. Some educational critics ask whether preschool and day care programs risk becoming
inappropriate substitutes for families. Other educators suggest, in contrast, that teachers of older students can learn
from the flexibility and open-ended approach common in early childhood education. For teachers of any grade
level, it is a debate that cannot be avoided completely or permanently. In this book, it reappears in Chapter 3, where
I discuss students’ development—their major long-term, changes in skills, knowledge, and attitudes.
The other end of the age spectrum has also expanded. Many individuals take courses well into adulthood even if
they do not attend formal university or college. Adult education, as it is sometimes called, often takes place in
workplaces, but it often also happens in public high schools or at local community colleges or universities. Some
adult students may be completing high school credentials that they missed earlier in their lives, but often the
students have other purposes that are even more focused, such as learning a trade-related skill. The teachers of
adult students have to adjust their instructional strategies and relationships with students so as to challenge and
respect their special strengths and constraints as adults (Bash, 2005). The students’ maturity often means that they
have had life experiences that enhance and motivate their learning. But it may also mean that they have significant
personal responsibilities—such as parenting or a full-time job—which compete for study time, and that make them
impatient with teaching that is irrelevant to their personal goals or needs. These advantages and constraints also
occur to a lesser extent among “regular” high school students. Even secondary school teachers must ask, how they
can make sure that instruction does not waste students’ time, and how they can make it truly efficient, effective, and
valuable. Elsewhere in this book (especially in Chapters 9 through 11, about assessment and instruction), we discuss
these questions from a number of perspectives.
For a variety of reasons, however, technology has not always been integrated into teachers’ practices very
thoroughly (Haertel & Means, 2003). One reason is practical: in many societies and regions, classrooms contain
only one or two computers at most, and many schools have at best only limited access to the Internet. Waiting for a
turn on the computer or arranging to visit a computer lab or school library limits how much students use the
Internet, no matter how valuable the Internet may be. In such cases, furthermore, computers tend to function in
relatively traditional ways that do not take full advantage of the Internet: as a word processor (a “fancy typewriter”),
for example, or as a reference book similar to an encyclopedia.
Even so, single-computer classrooms create new possibilities and challenges for teachers. A single computer can
be used, for example, to present upcoming assignments or supplementary material to students, either one at a time
or small groups. In functioning in this way, the computer gives students more flexibility about when to finish old
tasks or to begin new ones. A single computer can also enrich the learning of individual students with special
interests or motivation. And it can provide additional review to students who need extra help. These changes are
not dramatic, but they lead to important revisions in teachers’ roles: they move teachers away from simply
delivering information to students, and toward facilitating students’ own constructions of knowledge.
A shift from “full-frontal teaching” to “guide on the side” becomes easier as the amount and use of computer and
Internet technologies increases. If a school (or better yet, a classroom) has numerous computers with full Internet
access, then students’ can in principle direct their own learning more independently than if computers are scarce
commodities. With ample technology available, teachers can focus much more on helping individuals in developing
and carrying out learning plans, as well as on assisting individuals with special learning problems. In these ways a
strong shift to computers and the Internet can change a teacher’s role significantly, and make the teacher more
effective.
But technology also brings some challenges, or even creates problems. It costs money to equip classrooms and
schools fully: often that money is scarce, and may therefore mean depriving students of other valuable resources,
like additional staff or additional books and supplies. Other challenges are less tangible. In using the Internet, for
example, students need help in sorting out trustworthy information or websites from the “fluff”, websites that are
unreliable or even damaging (Seiter, 2005). Providing this help can sometimes be challenging even for experienced
teachers. And some educational activities simply do not lend themselves to computerized learning—sports, for
example, driver education, or choral practice. As a new teacher, therefore, you will need not only to assess what
technologies are possible in your particular classroom, but also what will actually be assisted by new technologies.
Then be prepared for your decisions to affect how you teach—the ways you work with students.
13
Public accountability has led to increased use of high-stakes testing, which are tests taken by all students in a
district or region that have important consequences for students' further education (Fuhrman & Elmore, 2004).
High-stakes tests may influence grades that students receive in courses or determine whether students graduate or
continue to the next level of schooling. The tests are often a mixture of essay and structured-response questions
(such as multiple-choice items), and raise important issues about what teachers should teach, as well as how (and
whether) teachers should help students to pass the examinations. It also raises issues about whether high-stakes
testing is fair to all students and consistent with other ideals of public education, such as giving students the best
possible start in life instead of disqualifying them from educational opportunities. Furthermore, since the results of
high-stakes tests are sometimes also used to evaluate the performance of teachers, schools, or school districts,
insuring students’ success on them becomes an obvious concern for teachers—one that affects instructional
decisions on a daily basis. For this reason we discuss the purpose, nature, and effects of high-stakes tests in detail in
Chapter 12.
By this definition, teaching has definitely become more professional than in the past (Cochran-Smith & Fries,
2005). Increased expectations of achievement by students mean that teachers have increased responsibility not
only for their students’ academic success, but also for their own development as teachers. Becoming a new teacher
now requires more specialized work than in the past, as reflected in the increased requirements for certification and
licensing in many societies and regions. The increased requirements are partly a response to the complexities
created by the increasing diversity of students and increasing use of technology in classrooms.
Greater professionalism has also been encouraged by initiatives from educators themselves to study and
improve their own practice. One way to do so, for example, is through action research (sometimes also called
teacher research), a form of investigation carried out by teachers about their own students or their own teaching.
Action research studies lead to concrete decisions that improve teaching and learning in particular educational
contexts (Mertler, 2006; Stringer, 2004). The studies can take many forms, but here are a few brief examples:
• How precisely do individual children learn to read? In an action research study, the teacher might observe
and track one child’s reading progress carefully for an extended time. From the observations she can get
clues about how to help not only that particular child to read better, but also other children in her class or
even in colleagues’ classes.
• Does it really matter if a high school social studies teacher uses more, rather than fewer, open-ended
questions? As an action of research study, the teacher might videotape his own lessons, and systematically
compare students’ responses to his open-ended questions compared to their responses to more closed
questions (the ones with more fixed answers). The analysis might suggest when and how much it is indeed
desirable to use open-ended questions.
• Can an art teacher actually entice students to take more creative risks with their drawings? As an action
research study, the teacher might examine the students’ drawings carefully for signs of visual novelty and
innovation, and then see if the signs increase if she encourages novelty and innovation explicitly.
Purpose of the research (as “In doing assignments, how “Am I responding to my ESL
expressed by the teacher doing the successful are my students at finding students as fully and helpfully as to
research) high-quality, relevant information?” my English-speaking students, and
why or why not?”
Who is doing the study? Classroom teacher (elementary Classroom teacher (senior high
level) and school computer specialist level)—studying self;
teacher
Possibly collaborating with other
teachers or with ESL specialist.
How information is gathered and Assessing students’ assignments; Videotaping of self interacting
recorded during class discussions;
Observing students while they
search the Internet. Journal diary by teacher of
experiences with ESL vs other
Interviewing students about their
students;
search experiences
Interviews with teacher’s ESL
students
How information is analyzed Look for obstacles and “search Look for differences in type and
tips” expressed by several students; amount of interactions with ESL vs.
15
How information is reported and Write a brief report of results for Write a summary of the results in
communicated fellow staff; teacher’s journal diary;
Give a brief oral report to fellow Share results with fellow staff;
staff about results
Share results with teacher’s
students.
Two other, more complete examples of action research are summarized in Table 1. Although these examples, like
many action research studies, resemble “especially good teaching practice”, they are planned more thoughtfully
than usual, carried out and recorded more systematically, and shared with fellow teachers more thoroughly and
openly. As such, they yield special benefits to teachers as professionals, though they also take special time and
effort. For now, the important point is that use of action research simultaneously reflects the increasing
professionalism of teachers, but at the same time creates higher standards for teachers when they teach.
This book—about educational psychology and its relation to teaching and learning—can be one of your supports
as you get started. To make it as useful as possible, we have written about educational psychology while keeping in
mind the current state of teaching, as well as your needs as a unique future teacher. The text draws heavily on
concepts, research and fundamental theories from educational psychology. But these are selected and framed
around the problems, challenges, and satisfactions faced by teachers daily, and especially as faced by teachers new
to the profession. We have selected and emphasized topics in proportion to two factors: (1) their importance as
reported by teachers and other educational experts, and (2) the ability of educational psychology to comment on
particular problems, challenges, and satisfactions helpfully.
There is a lot to learn about teaching, and much of it comes from educational psychology. As a career, teaching
has distinctive features now that it did not have a generation ago. The new features make it more exciting in some
ways, as well as more challenging than in the past. The changes require learning teaching skills that were less
important in earlier times. But the new skills are quite learnable. Educational psychology, and this text, will get you
started at that task.
Chapter summary
Teaching in the twenty-first century offers a number of satisfactions—witnessing and assisting the growth of
young people, lifelong learning, the challenge and excitement of designing effective instruction. Four trends have
affected the way that these satisfactions are experienced by classroom teachers: (1) increased diversity of students,
(2) the spread of instructional technology in schools and classrooms, (3) increased expectations for accountability
in education, and (4) the development of increased professionalism among teachers. Each trend presents new
opportunities to students and teachers, but also raises new issues for teachers. Educational psychology, and this
textbook, can help teachers to make constructive use of the new trends as well as deal with the dilemmas that
accompany them. It offers information, advice, and useful perspectives specifically in three areas of teaching: (1)
students as learners, (2) instruction and assessment, and (3) the psychological and social awareness of teachers.
On the Internet
<www.ets.org/praxis> Try this website of the Educational Testing Service if you are curious to learn more
about licensing examinations for teachers, including the PRAXIS II test that is prominent in the United States (see
pp. xxx). As you will see, specific requirements vary somewhat by state and region.
<portal.unesco.org/education/en> This is the website for the education branch of UNESCO, which is the
abbreviation for the “United Nations Educational, Scientific, and Cultural Organization.” It has extensive
information and news about all forms of diversity in education, viewed from an international perspective. The
challenges of teaching diverse classrooms, it seems, are not restricted to the United States, though as the new items
on the website show, the challenges take different forms in different countries.
<www.edchange.org> <www.cec.sped.org> These two websites have numerous resources about diversity
for teachers from a North American (USA and Canada) perspective. They are both useful for planning instruction.
The first one—maintained by a group of educators and calling itself EdChange—focuses on culturally related forms
of diversity, and the second one—by the Council for Exceptional Children—focuses on children with special
educational needs.
Key terms
Accountability in education Instructional technology
Action research Lifelong learning
Assessment Professionalism
Diversity Teacher research
High-stakes testing
References
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19
(Kelvin Seifert)
Learning is generally defined as relatively permanent changes in behavior, skills, knowledge, or attitudes
resulting from identifiable psychological or social experiences. A key feature is permanence: changes do not count
as learning if they are temporary. You do not “learn” a phone number if you forget it the minute after you dial the
number; you do not “learn” to eat vegetables if you only do it when forced. The change has to last. Notice, though,
that learning can be physical, social, or emotional as well as cognitive. You do not “learn” to sneeze simply by
catching cold, but you do learn many skills and behaviors that are physically based, such as riding a bicycle or
throwing a ball. You can also learn to like (or dislike) a person, even though this change may not happen
deliberately.
Each year after that first visit to my students, while Michael was still a preschooler, I returned with
him to my ed-psych class to do the same “learning demonstrations”. And each year Michael came
along happily, but would again fail the task about the drinking glass and the pie plate. He would
comply briefly if I “suggested” that the amount of water stayed the same no matter which way it was
poured, but in the end he would still assert that the amount had changed. He was not learning this
bit of conventional knowledge, in spite of my repeated efforts.
But the year he turned six, things changed. When I told him it was time to visit my ed-psych class
again, he readily agreed and asked: “Are you going to ask me about the water in the drinking glass
and pie plate again?” I said yes, I was indeed planning to do that task again. “That’s good”, he
responded, “because I know that the amount stays the same even after you pour it. But do you want
me to fake it this time? For your students’ sake?”
classroom, under the supervision of a teacher (me). For me, as for many educators, the term has a more specific
meaning than for many people less involved in schools. In particular, teachers’ perspectives on learning often
emphasize three ideas, and sometimes even take them for granted: (1) curriculum content and academic
achievement, (2) sequencing and readiness, and (3) the importance of transferring learning to new or future
situations.
A side effect of thinking of learning as related only to curriculum or academics is that classroom social
interactions and behaviors become issues for teachers—become things that they need to manage. In particular,
having dozens of students in one room makes it more likely that I, as a teacher, think of “learning” as something
that either takes concentration (to avoid being distracted by others) or that benefits from collaboration (to take
advantage of their presence). In the small space of a classroom, no other viewpoint about social interaction makes
sense. Yet in the wider world outside of school, learning often does happen incidentally, “accidentally” and without
conscious interference or input from others: I “learn” what a friend’s personality is like, for example, without either
of us deliberately trying to make this happen. As teachers, we sometimes see incidental learning in classrooms as
well, and often welcome it; but our responsibility for curriculum goals more often focuses our efforts on what
students can learn through conscious, deliberate effort. In a classroom, unlike in many other human settings, it is
always necessary to ask whether classmates are helping or hindering individual students’ learning.
Focusing learning on changes in classrooms has several other effects. One, for example, is that it can tempt
teachers to think that what is taught is equivalent to what is learned—even though most teachers know that doing
so is a mistake, and that teaching and learning can be quite different. If I assign a reading to my students about the
Russian Revolution, it would be nice to assume not only that they have read the same words, but also learned the
same content. But that assumption is not usually the reality. Some students may have read and learned all of what I
assigned; others may have read everything but misunderstood the material or remembered only some of it; and still
others, unfortunately, may have neither read nor learned much of anything. Chances are that my students would
confirm this picture, if asked confidentially. There are ways, of course, to deal helpfully with such diversity of
outcomes; for suggestions, see especially Chapter 10 “Planning instruction” and Chapter 11 “Teacher-made
assessment strategies”. But whatever instructional strategies I adopt, they cannot include assuming that what I
teach is the same as what students understand or retain of what I teach.
21
• child understands and uses complete sentences • teacher encourages child to find out more
through other means in addition to asking teacher
• child’s questions tend to be relevant to the task
at hand • teacher asks questions designed to elaborate or
expand child’s thinking
• child’s correctly using most common
grammatical constructions • teacher highlights letters and sounds in the
classroom
• child can match some letters to some sounds
• teacher provides lots of paper and marking
• child can string a few letters together to make a
tools
few simple words
• teacher assists child with initial writing of
• child can tell and retell stories, poems, and
letters
songs
• teacher encourages children to enact stories,
poems, and songs
Note that this traditional meaning, of readiness as preparedness, focuses attention on students’ adjustment to
school and away from the reverse: the possibility that schools and teachers also have a responsibility for adjusting
to students. But the latter idea is in fact a legitimate, second meaning for readiness: If 5-year-old children
normally need to play a lot and keep active, then it is fair to say that their kindergarten teacher needs to be “ready”
for this behavior by planning for a program that allows a lot of play and physical activity. If she cannot or will not
do so (whatever the reason may be), then in a very real sense this failure is not the children’s responsibility. Among
older students, the second, teacher-oriented meaning of readiness makes sense as well. If a teacher has a student
with a disability (for example, the student is visually impaired), then the teacher has to adjust her approach in
appropriate ways—not simply expect a visually impaired child to “sink or swim”. As you might expect, this sense of
readiness is very important for special education, so I discuss it further in Chapter 5 “Students with special
educational needs”. But the issue of readiness also figures importantly whenever students are diverse (which is
most of the time), so it also comes up in Chapter 4 “Student diversity”.
23
reached the point in life where I began cooking meals for myself, I was more focused on whether I could actually
produce edible food in a kitchen than with whether I could explain my recipes and cooking procedures to others.
And still another example—one often relevant to new teachers: when I began my first year of teaching, I was more
focused on doing the job of teaching—on day-to-day survival—than on pausing to reflect on what I was doing.
Note that in all of these examples, focusing attention on behavior instead of on “thoughts” may have been
desirable at that moment, but not necessarily desirable indefinitely or all of the time. Even as a beginner, there are
times when it is more important to be able to describe how to drive or to cook than to actually do these things. And
there definitely are many times when reflecting on and thinking about teaching can improve teaching itself. (As a
teacher-friend once said to me: “Don’t just do something; stand there!”) But neither is focusing on behavior which
is not necessarily less desirable than focusing on students’ “inner” changes, such as gains in their knowledge or
their personal attitudes. If you are teaching, you will need to attend to all forms of learning in students, whether
inner or outward.
In classrooms, behaviorism is most useful for identifying relationships between specific actions by a student and
the immediate precursors and consequences of the actions. It is less useful for understanding changes in students’
thinking; for this purpose we need a more cognitive (or thinking-oriented) theory, like the ones described later in
this chapter. This fact is not really a criticism of behaviorism as a perspective, but just a clarification of its particular
strength or source of usefulness, which is to highlight observable relationships among actions, precursors and
consequences. Behaviorists use particular terms (or “lingo”, some might say) for these relationships. They also rely
primarily on two basic images or models of behavioral learning, called respondent (or “classical”) conditioning and
operant conditioning. The names are derived partly from the major learning mechanisms highlighted by each type,
which I describe next.
Involuntary stimuli and responses were first studied systematically early in the twentieth-century by the Russian
scientist Ivan Pavlov (1927). Pavlov’s most well-known work did not involve humans, but dogs, and specifically
their involuntary tendency to salivate when eating. He attached a small tube to the side of dogs’ mouths that
allowed him to measure how much the dogs salivated when fed (Exhibit 1 shows a photograph of one of Pavlov's
dogs). But he soon noticed a “problem” with the procedure: as the dogs gained experience with the experiment, they
often salivated before they began eating. In fact the most experienced dogs sometimes began salivating before they
even saw any food, simply when Pavlov himself entered the room! The sight of the experimenter, which had
originally been a neutral experience for the dogs, became associated with the dogs’ original salivation response.
Eventually, in fact, the dogs would salivate at the sight of Pavlov even if he did not feed them.
This change in the dogs’ involuntary response, and especially its growing independence from the food as
stimulus, eventually became the focus of Pavlov’s research. Psychologists named the process respondent
conditioning because it describes changes in responses to stimuli (though some have also called it “classical
conditioning” because it was historically the first form of behavioral learning to be studied systematically).
Respondent conditioning has several elements, each with a special name. To understand these, look at and imagine
a dog (perhaps even mine, named Ginger) prior to any conditioning. At the beginning Ginger salivates (an
unconditioned response (UR)) only when she actually tastes her dinner (an unconditioned stimulus
(US)). As time goes by, however, a neutral stimulus—such as the sound of opening a bag containing fresh dog food
—is continually paired with the eating/tasting experience. Eventually the neutral stimulus becomes able to elicit
salivation even before any dog food is offered to Ginger, or even if the bag of food is empty! At this point the neutral
stimulus is called a conditioned stimulus (UCS) and the original response is renamed as a conditioned
response (CR). Now, after conditioning, Ginger salivates merely at the sound of opening any large bag,
regardless of its contents. (I might add that Ginger also engages in other conditioned responses, such as looking
hopeful and following me around the house at dinner time.)
Before Conditioning:
During Conditioning:
After Conditioning:
Exhibit 1: Classical conditioning of Ginger, the dog. Before conditioning, Ginger salivates only to the taste of
food and the bell has no effect. After conditioning, she salivates even when the bell is presented by itself.
25
Consider, for example, a child who responds happily whenever meeting a new person who is warm and friendly,
but who also responds cautiously or at least neutrally in any new situation. Suppose further that the “new, friendly
person” in question is you, his teacher. Initially the child’s response to you is like an unconditioned stimulus: you
smile (the unconditioned stimulus) and in response he perks up, breathes easier, and smiles (the unconditioned
response). This exchange is not the whole story, however, but merely the setting for an important bit of behavior
change: suppose you smile at him while standing in your classroom, a “new situation” and therefore one to which
he normally responds cautiously. Now respondent learning can occur. The initially neutral stimulus (your
classroom) becomes associated repeatedly with the original unconditioned stimulus (your smile) and the child’s
unconditioned response (his smile). Eventually, if all goes well, the classroom becomes a conditioned stimulus in its
own right: it can elicit the child’s smiles and other “happy behaviors” even without your immediate presence or
stimulus. Exhibit 2 diagrams the situation graphically. When the change in behavior happens, you might say that
the child has “learned” to like being in your classroom. Truly a pleasing outcome for both of you!
Before Conditioning:
During Conditioning:
After Conditioning:
Exhibit 2: Respondent conditioning of student to classroom. Before conditioning, the student smiles only when
he sees the teacher smile, and the sight of the classroom has no effect. After conditioning, the student smiles at the
sight of the classroom even without the teacher present.
But less positive or desirable examples of respondent conditioning also can happen. Consider a modification of
the example that I just gave. Suppose the child that I just mentioned did not have the good fortune of being placed
in your classroom. Instead he found himself with a less likeable teacher, whom we could simply call Mr Horrible.
Instead of smiling a lot and eliciting the child’s unconditioned “happy response”, Mr Horrible often frowns and
scowls at the child. In this case, therefore, the child’s initial unconditioned response is negative: whenever Mr
Horrible directs a frown or scowl at the child, the child automatically cringes a little, his eyes widen in fear, and his
heart beat races. If the child sees Mr Horrible doing most of his frowning and scowling in the classroom, eventually
the classroom itself will acquire power as a negative conditioned stimulus. Eventually, that is, the child will not
need Mr Horrible to be present in order to feel apprehensive; simply being in the classroom will be enough. Exhibit
3 diagrams this unfortunate situation. Obviously it is an outcome to be avoided, and in fact does not usually happen
in such an extreme way. But hopefully it makes the point: any stimulus that is initially neutral, but that gets
associated with an unconditioned stimulus and response, can eventually acquire the ability to elicit the response by
itself. Anything—whether it is desirable or not.
Before Conditioning:
During Conditioning:
After Conditioning:
Exhibit 3: Respondent conditioning of student to classroom. Before conditioning, the student cringes only
when he sees Mr Horrible smile, and the sight of the classroom has no effect. After conditioning, the student
cringes at the sight of the classroom even without Mr Horrible present.
The changes described in these two examples are important because they can affect students’ attitude about
school, and therefore also their motivation to learn. In the positive case, the child becomes more inclined to please
the teacher and to attend to what he or she has to offer; in the negative case, the opposite occurs. Since the changes
in attitude happen “inside” the child, they are best thought of as one way that a child can acquire i intrinsic
motivation, meaning a desire or tendency to direct attention and energy in a particular way that originates from
the child himself or herself. Intrinsic motivation is sometimes contrasted to extrinsic motivation, a tendency to
direct attention and energy that originates from outside of the child. As we will see, classical conditioning can
influence students’ intrinsic motivation in directions that are either positive or negative. As you might suspect,
there are other ways to influence motivation as well. Many of these are described in Chapter 6 (“Student
motivation”). First, though, let us look at three other features of classical conditioning that complicate the picture a
bit, but also render conditioning a bit more accurate, an appropriate description of students’ learning.
27
Extinction can also happen with negative examples of classical conditioning. If Mr Horrible leaves mid-year
(perhaps because no one could stand working with him any longer!), then the child’s negative responses (cringing,
eyes widening, heart beat racing, and so on) will also extinguish eventually. Note, though, that whether the
conditioned stimulus is positive or negative, extinction does not happen suddenly or immediately, but unfolds over
time. This fact can sometimes obscure the process if you are a busy teacher attending to many students.
Generalization: When Pavlov studied conditioning in dogs, he noticed that the original conditioned stimulus
was not the only neutral stimulus that elicited the conditioned response. If he paired a particular bell with the sight
of food, for example, so that the bell became a conditioned stimulus for salivation, then it turned out that other
bells, perhaps with a different pitch or type or sound, also acquired some ability to trigger salivation—though not as
much as the original bell. Psychologists call this process generalization, or the tendency for similar stimuli to elicit a
conditioned response. The child being conditioned to your smile, for example, might learn to associate your smile
not only with being present in your classroom, but also to being present in other, similar classrooms. His
conditioned smiles may be strongest where he learned them initially (that is, in your own room), but nonetheless
visible to a significant extent in other teachers’ classrooms. To the extent that this happens, he has generalized his
learning. It is of course good news; it means that we can say that the child is beginning to “learn to like school” in
general, and not just your particular room. Unfortunately, the opposite can also happen: if a child learns negative
associations from Mr Horrible, the child’s fear, caution, and stress might generalize to other classrooms as well. The
lesson for teachers is therefore clear: we have a responsibility, wherever possible, to make classrooms pleasant
places to be.
Discrimination: Generalization among similar stimuli can be reduced if only one of the similar stimuli is
associated consistently with the unconditioned response, while the others are not. When this happens,
psychologists say that discrimination learning has occurred, meaning that the individual has learned to
distinguish or respond differently to one stimulus than to another. From an educational point of view,
discrimination learning can be either desirable or not, depending on the particulars of the situation. Imagine again
(for the fourth time!) the child who learns to associate your classroom with your smiles, so that he eventually
produces smiles of his own whenever present in your room. But now imagine yet another variation on his story: the
child is old enough to attend middle school, and therefore has several teachers across the day. You—with your
smiles—are one, but so are Mr Horrible and Ms Neutral. At first the child may generalize his classically conditioned
smiles to the other teachers’ classrooms. But the other teachers do not smile like you do, and this fact causes the
child’s smiling to extinguish somewhat in their rooms. Meanwhile, you keep smiling in your room. Eventually the
child is smiling only in your room and not in the other rooms. When this happens, we say that discrimination has
occurred, meaning that the conditioned associations happen only to a single version of the unconditioned stimuli—
in this case, only to your smiles, and not to the (rather rare) occurrences of smiles in the other classrooms. Judging
by his behavior, the child is making a distinction between your room and others.
In one sense the discrimination in this story is unfortunate in that it prevents the child from acquiring a liking
for school that is generalized. But notice that an opposing, more desirable process is happening at the same time:
the child is also prevented from acquiring a generalized dislike of school. The fear-producing stimuli from Mr
Horrible, in particular, become discriminated from the happiness-producing smiles from you, so the child’s learns
to confine his fearful responses to that particular classroom, and does not generalize them to other “innocent”
classrooms, including your own. This is still not an ideal situation for the student, but maybe it is more desirable
than disliking school altogether.
As with respondent conditioning, the original research about this model of learning was not done with people,
but with animals. One of the pioneers in the field was a Harvard professor named B. F. Skinner, who published
numerous books and articles about the details of the process and who pointed out many parallels between operant
conditioning in animals and operant conditioning in humans (1938, 1948, 1988). Skinner observed the behavior of
rather tame laboratory rats (not the unpleasant kind that sometimes live in garbage dumps). He or his assistants
would put them in a cage that contained little except a lever and a small tray just big enough to hold a small amount
of food. (Exhibit 4 shows the basic set-up, which is sometimes nicknamed a “Skinner box”.) At first the rat would
sniff and “putter around” the cage at random, but sooner or later it would happen upon the lever and eventually
happen to press it. Presto! The lever released a small pellet of food, which the rat would promptly eat. Gradually the
rat would spend more time near the lever and press the lever more frequently, getting food more frequently.
Eventually it would spend most of its time at the lever and eating its fill of food. The rat had “discovered” that the
consequence of pressing the level was to receive food. Skinner called the changes in the rat’s behavior an example of
operant conditioning, and gave special names to the different parts of the process. He called the food pellets the
reinforcement and the lever-pressing the operant (because it “operated” on the rat’s environment). See below.
Operant → Reinforcement
Skinner and other behavioral psychologists experimented with using various reinforcers and operants. They also
experimented with various patterns of reinforcement (or schedules of reinforcement), as well as with various
29
cues or signals to the animal about when reinforcement was available. It turned out that all of these factors—the
operant, the reinforcement, the schedule, and the cues—affected how easily and thoroughly operant conditioning
occurred. For example, reinforcement was more effective if it came immediately after the crucial operant behavior,
rather than being delayed, and reinforcements that happened intermittently (only part of the time) caused learning
to take longer, but also caused it to last longer.
Operant conditioning and students’ learning: As with respondent conditioning, it is important to ask
whether operant conditioning also describes learning in human beings, and especially in students in classrooms. On
this point the answer seems to be clearly “yes”. There are countless classroom examples of consequences affecting
students’ behavior in ways that resemble operant conditioning, although the process certainly does not account for
all forms of student learning (Alberto & Troutman, 2005). Consider the following examples. In most of them the
operant behavior tends to become more frequent on repeated occasions:
• A seventh-grade boy makes a silly face (the operant) at the girl sitting next to him. Classmates sitting around
them giggle in response (the reinforcement).
• A kindergarten child raises her hand in response to the teacher’s question about a story (the operant). The
teacher calls on her and she makes her comment (the reinforcement).
• Another kindergarten child blurts out her comment without being called on (the operant). The teacher frowns,
ignores this behavior, but before the teacher calls on a different student, classmates are listening attentively
(the reinforcement) to the student even though he did not raise his hand as he should have.
• A twelfth-grade student—a member of the track team—runs one mile during practice (the operant). He notes
the time it takes him as well as his increase in speed since joining the team (the reinforcement).
• A child who is usually very restless sits for five minutes doing an assignment (the operant). The teaching
assistant compliments him for working hard (the reinforcement).
• A sixth-grader takes home a book from the classroom library to read overnight (the operant). When she
returns the book the next morning, her teacher puts a gold star by her name on a chart posted in the room (the
reinforcement).
Hopefully these examples are enough to make four points about operant conditioning. First, the process is
widespread in classrooms—probably more widespread than respondent conditioning. This fact makes sense, given
the nature of public education: to a large extent, teaching is about making certain consequences for students (like
praise or marks) depend on students’ engaging in certain activities (like reading certain material or doing
assignments). Second, learning by operant conditioning is not confined to any particular grade, subject area, or
style of teaching, but by nature happens in nearly every imaginable classroom. Third, teachers are not the only
persons controlling reinforcements. Sometimes they are controlled by the activity itself (as in the track team
example), or by classmates (as in the “giggling” example). A result of all of the above points is the fourth: that
multiple examples of operant conditioning often happen at the same time. The skill builder for this chapter (The
decline and fall of Jane Gladstone) suggests how this happened to someone completing student teaching.
Because operant conditioning happens so widely, its effects on motivation are a bit more complex than the
effects of respondent conditioning. As in respondent conditioning, operant conditioning can encourage intrinsic
motivation to the extent that the reinforcement for an activity can sometimes be the activity itself. When a student
reads a book for the sheer enjoyment of reading, for example, he is reinforced by the reading itself; then we often
say that his reading is “intrinsically motivated”. More often, however, operant conditioning stimulates both
intrinsic and extrinsic motivation at the same time. The combining of both is noticeable in the examples that I
listed above. In each example, it is reasonable to assume that the student felt intrinsically motivated to some partial
extent, even when reward came from outside the student as well. This was because part of what reinforced their
behavior was the behavior itself—whether it was making faces, running a mile, or contributing to a discussion. At
the same time, though, note that each student probably was also extrinsically motivated, meaning that another
part of the reinforcement came from consequences or experiences not inherently part of the activity or behavior
itself. The boy who made a face was reinforced not only by the pleasure of making a face, for example, but also by
the giggles of classmates. The track student was reinforced not only by the pleasure of running itself, but also by
knowledge of his improved times and speeds. Even the usually restless child sitting still for five minutes may have
been reinforced partly by this brief experience of unusually focused activity, even if he was also reinforced by the
teacher aide’s compliment. Note that the extrinsic part of the reinforcement may sometimes be more easily
observed or noticed than the intrinsic part, which by definition may sometimes only be experienced within the
individual and not also displayed outwardly. This latter fact may contribute to an impression that sometimes
occurs, that operant conditioning is really just “bribery in disguise”, that only the external reinforcements operate
on students’ behavior. It is true that external reinforcement may sometimes alter the nature or strength of internal
(or intrinsic) reinforcement, but this is not the same as saying that it destroys or replaces intrinsic reinforcement.
But more about this issue later! (See especially Chapter 6, “Student motivation”.)
Comparing operant conditioning and respondent conditioning: Operant conditioning is made more
complicated, but also more realistic, by many of the same concepts as used in respondent conditioning. In most
cases, however, the additional concepts have slightly different meanings in each model of learning. Since this
circumstance can make the terms confusing, let me explain the differences for three major concepts used in both
models—extinction, generalization, and discrimination. Then I will comment on two additional concepts—
schedules of reinforcement and cues—that are sometimes also used in talking about both forms of conditioning, but
that are important primarily for understanding operant conditioning. The explanations and comments are also
summarized in Table 2.
31
Discrimination Learning not to respond to stimuli that are Learning not to emit behaviors that
similar to the originally conditioned stimulus are similar to the originally
conditioned operant
Schedule of Reinforcement The pattern or frequency by which a CS is The pattern or frequency by which a
paired with the UCS during learning reinforcement is a consequence of
an operant during learning
In both respondent and operant conditioning, extinction refers to the disappearance of “something”. In
operant conditioning, what disappears is the operant behavior because of a lack of reinforcement. A student who
stops receiving gold stars or compliments for prolific reading of library books, for example, may extinguish (i.e.
decrease or stop) book-reading behavior. In respondent conditioning, on the other hand, what disappears is
association between the conditioned stimulus (the CS) and the conditioned response (CR). If you stop smiling at a
student, then the student may extinguish her association between you and her pleasurable response to your smile,
or between your classroom and the student’s pleasurable response to your smile.
In both forms of conditioning, generalization means that something “extra” gets conditioned if it is somehow
similar to “something”. In operant conditioning, the extra conditioning is to behaviors similar to the original
operant. If getting gold stars results in my reading more library books, then I may generalize this behavior to other
similar activities, such as reading the newspaper, even if the activity is not reinforced directly. In respondent
conditioning, however, the extra conditioning refers to stimuli similar to the original conditioned stimulus. If I am a
student and I respond happily to my teacher’s smiles, then I may find myself responding happily to other people
(like my other teachers) to some extent, even if they do not smile at me. Generalization is a lot like the concept of
transfer that I discussed early in this chapter, in that it is about extending prior learning to new situations or
contexts. From the perspective of operant conditioning, though, what is being extended (or “transferred” or
generalized) is a behavior, not knowledge or skill.
In both forms of conditioning, discrimination means learning not to generalize. In operant conditioning,
though, what is not being overgeneralized is the operant behavior. If I am a student who is being complimented
(reinforced) for contributing to discussions, I must also learn to discriminate when to make verbal contributions
from when not to make verbal contributions—such as when classmates or the teacher are busy with other tasks. In
respondent conditioning, what are not being overgeneralized are the conditioned stimuli that elicit the conditioned
response. If I, as a student, learn to associate the mere sight of a smiling teacher with my own happy, contented
behavior, then I also have to learn not to associate this same happy response with similar, but slightly different
sights, such as a teacher looking annoyed.
In both forms of conditioning, the schedule of reinforcement refers to the pattern or frequency by which
“something” is paired with “something else”. In operant conditioning, what is being paired is the pattern by which
reinforcement is linked with the operant. If a teacher praises me for my work, does she do it every time, or only
sometimes? Frequently or only once in awhile? In respondent conditioning, however, the schedule in question is
the pattern by which the conditioned stimulus is paired with the unconditioned stimulus. If I am student with Mr
Horrible as my teacher, does he scowl every time he is in the classroom, or only sometimes? Frequently or rarely?
Behavioral psychologists have studied schedules of reinforcement extensively (for example, Ferster, et al., 1997;
Mazur, 2005), and found a number of interesting effects of different schedules. For teachers, however, the most
important finding may be this: partial or intermittent schedules of reinforcement generally cause learning to take
longer, but also cause extinction of learning to take longer. This dual principle is important for teachers because so
much of the reinforcement we give is partial or intermittent. Typically, if I am teaching, I can compliment a student
a lot of the time, for example, but there will inevitably be occasions when I cannot do so because I am busy
elsewhere in the classroom. For teachers concerned both about motivating students and about minimizing
inappropriate behaviors, this is both good news and bad. The good news is that the benefits of my praising students’
constructive behavior will be more lasting, because they will not extinguish their constructive behaviors
immediately if I fail to support them every single time they happen. The bad news is that students’ negative
behaviors may take longer to extinguish as well, because those too may have developed through partial
reinforcement. A student who clowns around inappropriately in class, for example, may not be “supported” by
classmates’ laughter every time it happens, but only some of the time. Once the inappropriate behavior is learned,
though, it will take somewhat longer to disappear even if everyone—both teacher and classmates—make a concerted
effort to ignore (or extinguish) it.
Finally, behavioral psychologists have studied the effects of cues. In operant conditioning, a cue is a stimulus
that happens just prior to the operant behavior and that signals that performing the behavior may lead to
reinforcement. Its effect is much like discrimination learning in respondent conditioning, except that what is
“discriminated” in this case is not a conditioned behavior that is reflex-like, but a voluntary action, the operant. In
the original conditioning experiments, Skinner’s rats were sometimes cued by the presence or absence of a small
electric light in their cage. Reinforcement was associated with pressing a lever when, and only when, the light was
on. In classrooms, cues are sometimes provided by the teacher or simply by the established routines of the class.
Calling on a student to speak, for example, can be a cue that if the student does say something at that moment, then
he or she may be reinforced with praise or acknowledgment. But if that cue does not occur—if the student is not
called on—speaking may not be rewarded. In more everyday, non-behaviorist terms, the cue allows the student to
learn when it is acceptable to speak, and when it is not.
33
convenience these are called psychological constructivism and social constructivism, even though both
versions are in a sense explanations about thinking within individuals.
A more recent example of psychological constructivism is the cognitive theory of Jean Piaget (Piaget, 2001;
Gruber & Voneche, 1995). Piaget described learning as interplay between two mental activities that he called
assimilation and accommodation. Assimilation is the interpretation of new information in terms of pre-existing
concepts, information or ideas. A preschool child who already understands the concept of bird, for example, might
initially label any flying object with this term—even butterflies or mosquitoes. Assimilation is therefore a bit like the
idea of generalization in operant conditioning, or the idea of transfer described at the beginning of this chapter. In
Piaget’s viewpoint, though, what is being transferred to a new setting is not simply a behavior (Skinner's “operant”
in operant conditioning), but a mental representation for an object or experience.
Assimilation operates jointly with accommodation, which is the revision or modification of pre-existing
concepts in terms of new information or experience. The preschooler who initially generalizes the concept of bird to
include any flying object, for example, eventually revises the concept to include only particular kinds of flying
objects, such as robins and sparrows, and not others, like mosquitoes or airplanes. For Piaget, assimilation and
accommodation work together to enrich a child’s thinking and to create what Piaget called cognitive
equilibrium, which is a balance between reliance on prior information and openness to new information. At any
given time, cognitive equilibrium consists of an ever-growing repertoire of mental representations for objects and
experiences. Piaget called each mental representation a schema (all of them together—the plural—was called
schemata). A schema was not merely a concept, but an elaborated mixture of vocabulary, actions, and experience
related to the concept. A child’s schema for bird, for example, includes not only the relevant verbal knowledge (like
knowing how to define the word “bird”), but also the child’s experiences with birds, pictures of birds, and
conversations about birds. As assimilation and accommodation about birds and other flying objects operate
together over time, the child does not just revise and add to his vocabulary (such as acquiring a new word,
“butterfly”), but also adds and remembers relevant new experiences and actions. From these collective revisions
and additions the child gradually constructs whole new schemata about birds, butterflies, and other flying objects.
In more everyday (but also less precise) terms, Piaget might then say that “the child has learned more about birds”.
The upper part of Exhibit 5 diagrams the relationships among the Piagetian version of psychological
constructivist learning. Note that the model of learning in the Exhibit is rather “individualistic”, in the sense that it
does not say much about how other people involved with the learner might assist in assimilating or accommodating
information. Parents and teachers, it would seem, are left lingering on the sidelines, with few significant
responsibilities for helping learners to construct knowledge. But the Piagetian picture does nonetheless imply a role
for helpful others: someone, after all, has to tell or model the vocabulary needed to talk about and compare birds
from airplanes and butterflies! Piaget did recognize the importance of helpful others in his writings and theorizing,
calling the process of support or assistance social transmission. But he did not emphasize this aspect of
constructivism. Piaget was more interested in what children and youth could figure out on their own, so to speak,
than in how teachers or parents might be able to help the young to figure out (Salkind, 2004). Partly for this reason,
his theory is often considered less about learning and more about development, which is long-term change in a
person resulting from multiple experiences. For the same reason, educators have often found Piaget’s ideas
especially helpful for thinking about students’ readiness to learn, another one of the lasting educational issues that
I discussed at the beginning of this chapter. I will therefore return to Piaget later to discuss development and its
importance for teaching in more detail.
(ZPD)
Similar ideas were proposed independently by the Russian psychologist Lev Vygotsky (1978), whose writing
focused on how a child’s or novice’s thinking is influenced by relationships with others who are more capable,
35
knowledgeable, or expert than the learner. Vygotsky proposed that when a child (or any novice) is learning a new
skill or solving a new problem, he or she can perform better if accompanied and helped by an expert than if
performing alone—though still not as well as the expert. Someone who has played very little chess, for example, will
probably compete against an opponent better if helped by an expert chess player than if competing alone against an
opponent. Vygotsky called the difference between solo performance and assisted performance the zone of
proximal development (or ZPD for short)—meaning the place or area (figuratively speaking) of immediate
change. From this perspective learning is like assisted performance (Tharp & Gallimore, 1991). Initially during
learning, knowledge or skill is found mostly “in” the expert helper. If the expert is skilled and motivated to help,
then the expert arranges experiences that allow the novice to practice crucial skills or to construct new knowledge.
In this regard the expert is a bit like the coach of an athlete—offering help and suggesting ways of practicing, but
never doing the actual athletic work himself or herself. Gradually, by providing continued experiences matched to
the novice learner’s emerging competencies, the expert-coach makes it possible for the novice or apprentice to
appropriate (or make his or her own) the skills or knowledge that originally resided only with the expert. These
relationships are diagrammed in the lower part of Exhibit 5.
In both the psychological and social versions of constructivist learning, the novice is not really “taught” so much
as just allowed to learn. The social version of constructivism, however, highlights the responsibility of the expert for
making learning possible. He or she must not only have knowledge and skill, but also know how to arrange
experiences that make it easy and safe for learners to gain knowledge and skill themselves. These requirements
sound, of course, a lot like the requirements for classroom teaching. In addition to knowing what is to be learned,
the expert (i.e. the teacher) also has to break the content into manageable parts, offer the parts in a sensible
sequence, provide for suitable and successful practice, bring the parts back together again at the end, and somehow
relate the entire experience to knowledge and skills already meaningful to the learner. But of course, no one said
that teaching is easy!
Bloom’s taxonomy makes useful distinctions among possible kinds of knowledge needed by students, and
therefore potentially helps in selecting activities that truly target students’ “zones of proximal development” in the
sense meant by Vygotsky. A student who knows few terms for the species studied in biology unit (a problem at
Bloom’s knowledge and comprehension levels), for example, may initially need support at remembering and
defining the terms before he or she can make useful comparisons among species (Bloom’s analysis level).
Pinpointing the most appropriate learning activities to accomplish this objective remains the job of the teacher-
expert (that’s you), but the learning itself has to be accomplished by the student. Put in more social constructivist
terms, the teacher arranges a zone of proximal development that allows the student to compare species
successfully, but the student still has to construct or appropriate the comparisons for him or herself.
Application Using concepts in new situations, Predict some of the things that
solving particular problems Goldilocks might have used if she
had entered your house.
Analysis Distinguish parts of information, a Select the part of the story where
concept, or a procedure Goldilocks seemed most
comfortable.
Synthesis Combining elements or parts into a new Tell how the story would have been
object, idea, or procedure different if it had been about three
fishes.
Evaluation Assessing and judging the value or Decide whether Goldilocks was a
ideas, objects, or materials in a bad girl, and justify your position.
particular situation
A second strategy may be coupled with the first. As students gain experience as students, they become able to
think about how they themselves learn best, and you (as the teacher) can encourage such self-reflection as one of
your goals for their learning. These changes allow you to transfer some of your responsibilities for arranging
learning to the students themselves. For the biology student mentioned above, for example, you may be able not
only to plan activities that support comparing species, but also to devise ways for the student to think about how he
or she might learn the same information independently. The resulting self-assessment and self-direction of learning
often goes by the name of metacognition—an ability to think about and regulate one’s own thinking (Israel,
2005). Metacognition can sometimes be difficult for students to achieve, but it is an important goal for social
constructivist learning because it gradually frees learners from dependence on expert teachers to guide their
learning. Reflective learners, you might say, become their own expert guides. Like with using Bloom’s taxonomy,
37
though, promoting metacognition and self-directed learning is important enough that I will come back to it later in
more detail (especially in Chapter 9, “Facilitating complex thinking”).
By assigning a more visible role to expert helpers—and by implication also to teachers—than does the
psychological constructivism, social constructivism is seemingly more complete as a description of what teachers
usually do in classrooms, and of what they usually hope students will experience there. As we will see in the next
chapter, however, there are more uses to a theory than whether it describes the moment-to-moment interactions
between teacher and students. As I explain there, some theories can be helpful for planning instruction rather than
for doing it. It turns out that this is the case for psychological constructivism, which offers important ideas about
the appropriate sequencing of learning and development. This fact makes the psychological constructivism valuable
in its own way, even though it (and a few other learning theories as well) seem to “omit” mentioning teachers,
parents, or experts in detail. So do not make up your mind about the relative merits of different learning theories
yet!
Chapter summary
Although the term learning has many possible meanings, the term as used by teachers emphasizes its
relationship to curriculum, to teaching, and to the issues of sequencing, readiness, and transfer. Viewed in this
light, the two major psychological perspectives of learning—behaviorist and constructivist—have important ideas to
offer educators. Within the behaviorist perspective are two major theories or models of learning, called respondent
conditioning and operant conditioning. Respondent conditioning describes how previously neutral associations can
acquire the power to elicit significant responses in students. Operant conditioning describes how the consequences
and cues for a behavior can cause the behavior to become more frequent. In either case, from a teacher’s point of
view, the learned behaviors or responses can be either desirable or unwanted.
On the Internet
<http://seab.envmed.rochester.edu/jaba> This is the website for the Journal of Applied Behavior
Analysis, and as such it is an excellent source of examples of how behaviorist learning principles can be applied to a
wide variety of behavior-related difficulties. Any article older than one year is available in full-text, free of charge
from the website. (If it is from the most recent three issues, however, you have to subscribe to the journal.)
<www.piaget.org> This is the website for the Jean Piaget Society, which in spite of its name is not just about
Piaget, but about all forms of constructivist research about learning and development, including social
constructivist versions. They have excellent brief publications about this perspective, available free of charge at the
website, as well as information about how to find additional information.
Key terms
Appropriate (verb) Extrinsic motivation
Behaviorism Generalization
Bloom’s taxonomy Learning
Classical conditioning Intrinsic motivation
Constructivism Metacognition
Psychological constructivism Operant conditioning
John Dewey Cue
Jean Piaget Operant
Assimilation Reinforcement
Accommodation Schedule of reinforcement
Equilibrium Ivan Pavlov
Schema Readiness
Social constructivism Respondent conditioning
Jerome Bruner Conditioned response
Instructional scaffolding Conditioned stimulus
Lev Vygotsky Unconditioned response
Zone of proximal development Unconditioned stimulus
Discrimination B. F. Skinner
Extinction Transfer
References
Alberto, P. & Troutman, A. (2005). Applied behavior analysis for teachers, 7th edition. Upper Saddle River,
NJ: Prentice Hall.
Anderson, L. & Krathwohl, D. (Eds.). (2001). A taxonomy for learning, teaching, and assessing: A revision
of Bloom’s taxonomy of educational objectives. New York: Longman.
Bruner, J. (1960). The process of education. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press.
Bruner, J. (1966). Toward a theory of instruction. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press.
Bruner, J. (1996). The culture of education. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press.
Copple, C. & Bredekamp, S. (2006). Basics of developmentally appropriate practice. Washington, D.C.:
National Association for the Education of Young Children.
Ferster, C., Skinner, B. F., Cheney, C., Morse, W., & Dews, D. Schedules of reinforcement. New York: Copley
Publishing Group.
Fosnot, C. (Ed.). (2005). Constructivism: Theory, perspectives, and practice, 2nd edition. New York:
Teachers College Press.
Gardner, H. (1999). Intelligence reframed: Multiple intelligences for the 21st century. New York: Basic
Books.
Gardner, H. (2006). The development and education of the mind. New York: Routledge.
39
Goldman, J. (2006). Web-based designed activities for young people in health education: A constructivist
approach. Health Education Journal 65(1), 14-27.
Gruber, H. & Voneche, J. (Eds.). (1995). The essential Piaget. New York: Basic Books.
Lavond, D. & Steinmetz, J. (2003). Handbook of classical conditioning. Boston: Kluwer Academic
Publishing.
Mazur, J. (2005). Learning and behavior, 6th edition. Upper Saddle River, NJ: Prentice Hall.
Onslow, M., Menzies, R., & Packman, A. (2001). An operant intervention for early stuttering. Behavior
modification 25(1), 116-139.
Rockmore, T. (2005). On constructivist epistemology. Lanham, MD: Rowman & Littlefield Publishers.
Salkind, N. (2004). An introduction to theories of human development. Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage
Publications.
Skinner, B. F. (1988). The selection of behavior: The operant behaviorism of B. F. Skinner. New York:
Cambridge University Press.
Tharp, R. & Gallimore, R. (1991). Rousing minds to life: Teaching, learning, and schooling in social context.
Cambridge, UK: Cambridge University Press.
Vygotsky, L. (1978). Mind in society: The development of higher psychological processes. Cambridge, MA:
Harvard University Press.
3. Student development
When one of our authors (Kelvin Seifert) was growing up, he was provided with piano lessons. Daily
practice was a staple of childhood--365 days a year, and in a home that was deliberately kept quiet
to facilitate practice. Music—especially the piano—defined a major part of his emerging self-identity.
Altogether he studied piano for 13 years, from age 4 to the end of high school, with only occasional
interruptions.
At any one time, Kelvin witnessed small changes in his skills. He performed a simple piece a bit
better than he had the previous week, or he played more of it from memory. There were direct,
obvious connections between his skills at one moment and at the moment just before or after. Back
then, if you had asked him what accounted for the changes, he would have stated without hesitation
that they were because he was “learning” specific piano pieces.
Across broader spans of time, however, he noticed changes that were more dramatic. Kelvin learned
much more complex pieces than he had several years earlier, for example. He also played with
significantly more “finesse”, sensitivity and polish than as a young child. He was even listening to
classical music on the radio some of the time! Kelvin's musical talent became transformed over the
long term, and in some sense he did not have the “same” talent that he had had as a beginner.
If you had asked what accounted for these longer-term changes, he would have had a harder time
answering than when asked about the short-term changes. He might have said simply and a bit
vaguely: “I have been getting better at piano.” If you ask the same question now, however, he would
say that his music skills had developed, that their development had been slow and gradual, and
that the changes resulted not just from simple practice, but also from becoming more widely skilled
about music in general.
Development refers to long-term personal changes that have multiple sources and multiple effects. It is like
the difference between Kelvin's music at age fifteen compared to his music at age five, rather than the difference
between his music one week and his music the next. Some human developments are especially broad and take years
to unfold fully; a person's ever-evolving ability to “read” other's moods, for example, may take a lifetime to develop
fully. Other developments are faster and more focused, like a person's increasing skill at solving crossword puzzles.
The faster and simpler is the change, the more likely we are to call the change “learning” instead of development.
The difference between learning and development is a matter of degree. When a child learns to name the planets of
the solar system, for example, the child may not need a lot of time, nor does the learning involve a multitude of
experiences. So it is probably better to think of that particular experience—learning to name the planets—as an
example of learning rather than of development (Salkind, 2004; Lewis, 1997).
If you teach multiple grade levels, as often is true of specialists or teachers in middle school or high school, then
your need for developmental knowledge will be more obvious because you will confront wide age differences on a
daily basis. As a physical education teacher, for example, you may teach kindergarten children at one time during
the day, but sixth-graders at another time, or teach seventh-graders at one time but twelfth-graders at another.
Students will differ more obviously because of age, in addition to differing because of other factors like their skills
or knowledge learned recently. Nonetheless, the instructional challenge will be the same as the one faced by
teachers of single-grade classes: you will want to know what activities and expectations are appropriate for your
students. To answer this question, you will need to know something not only about how your students are unique,
but also about general trends of development during childhood and adolescence.
Note that developmental trends vary in two important ways. The first, as indicated already, is in their generality.
Some theories or models of development boldly assert that certain changes happen to virtually every person on the
planet, and often at relatively predictable points in life. For example, a theory might assert that virtually every
toddler acquires a spoken language, or that every teenager forms a sense of personal identity. Individuals who do
not experience these developments would be rare, though not necessarily disabled as a result. Other theories
propose developmental changes that are more limited, claiming only that the changes happen to some people or
only under certain conditions. Developing a female gender role, for example, does not happen to everyone, but only
to the females in a population, and the details vary according to the family, community, or society in which a child
lives.
The second way that developmental trends vary is in how strictly they are sequenced and hierarchical. In some
views of development, changes are thought to happen in a specific order and to build on each other—sort of a
“staircase” model of development (Case, 1991, 1996). For example, a developmental psychologist (and many of the
rest of us) might argue that young people must have tangible, hands-on experience with new materials before they
can reason about the materials in the abstract. The order cannot be reversed. In other views of development, change
happens, but not with a sequence or end point that is uniform. This sort of change is more like a “kaleidoscope”
than a staircase (Levinson, 1990; Lewis, 1997; Harris, 2006). A person who becomes permanently disabled, for
example, may experience complex long-term changes in personal values and priorities that are different both in
timing and content from most people's developmental pathway.
42
In general, educational psychologists have tended to emphasize explanations of development that are relatively
general, universal and sequential, rather than specific to particular cultures or that are unsequenced and
kaleidoscopic (see, for example, Woolfolk, 2006, Chapter 3; or Slavin, 2005, Chapters 8 and 9). Such models
(sometimes called “grand theories”) have the advantage of concisely integrating many features of development,
while also describing the kind of people children or adolescents usually end up to be. The preference for integrative
perspectives makes sense given educators’ need to work with and teach large numbers of diverse students both
efficiently and effectively. But the approach also risks overgeneralizing or oversimplifying the experiences of
particular children and youth. It can also confuse what does happen as certain children (like the middle-class ones)
develop with what should happen to children. To understand this point, imagine two children of about the same age
who have dramatically very different childhood experiences—for example, one who grows up in poverty and
another who grows up financially well-off. In what sense can we say that these two children experience the same
underlying developmental changes as they grow up? And how much should they even be expected to do so?
Developmental psychology, and especially the broad theories of developmental psychology, highlight the
“sameness” or common ground between these two children. As such, it serves as counterpoint to knowledge of their
obvious uniqueness, and places their uniqueness in broader perspective.
2 85 7.0
6 115 20.0
10 135 31.0
14 162 52.0
18 169 60.5
There are other points to keep in mind about average height and weight that are not evident from Table 9. The
first is that boys and girls, on average, are quite similar in height and weight during childhood, but diverge in the
early teenage years, when they reach puberty. For a time (approximately age 10-14), the average girl is taller, but
not much heavier, than the average boy. After that the average boy becomes both taller and heavier than the
average girl—though there remain individual exceptions (Malina, et al., 2004). The pre-teen difference can
therefore be awkward for some children and youth, at least among those who aspire to looking like older teenagers
or young adults. For young teens less concerned with “image”, though, the fact that girls are taller may not be
especially important, or even noticed (Friedman, 2000).
A second point is that as children get older, individual differences in weight diverge more radically than
differences in height. Among 18-year-olds, the heaviest youngsters weigh almost twice as much as the lightest, but
the tallest ones are only about 10 per cent taller than the shortest. Nonetheless, both height and weight can be
sensitive issues for some teenagers. Most modern societies (and the teenagers in them) tend to favor relatively short
women and tall men, as well as a somewhat thin body build, especially for girls and women. Yet neither “socially
correct” height nor thinness is the destiny for many individuals. Being overweight, in particular, has become a
common, serious problem in modern society (Tartamella, et al., 2004) due to the prevalence of diets high in fat and
lifestyles low in activity. The educational system has unfortunately contributed to the problem as well, by gradually
restricting the number of physical education courses and classes in the past two decades.
The third point to keep in mind is that average height and weight is related somewhat to racial and ethnic
background. In general, children of Asian background tend to be slightly shorter than children of European and
North American background. The latter in turn tend to be shorter than children from African societies (Eveleth &
Tanner, 1990). Body shape differs slightly as well, though the differences are not always visible until after puberty.
Asian youth tend to have arms and legs that are a bit short relative to their torsos, and African youth tend to have
relatively long arms and legs. The differences are only averages; there are large individual differences as well, and
these tend to be more relevant for teachers to know about than broad group differences.
At about the same time that puberty accentuates gender, role differences also accentuate for at least some
teenagers. Some girls who excelled at math or science in elementary school may curb their enthusiasm and displays
of success at these subjects for fear of limiting their popularity or attractiveness as girls (Taylor & Gilligan, 1995;
Sadker, 2004). Some boys who were not especially interested in sports previously may begin dedicating themselves
to athletics to affirm their masculinity in the eyes of others. Some boys and girls who once worked together
44
successfully on class projects may no longer feel comfortable doing so—or alternatively may now seek to be working
partners, but for social rather than academic reasons. Such changes do not affect all youngsters equally, nor affect
any one youngster equally on all occasions. An individual student may act like a young adult on one day, but more
like a child the next. When teaching children who are experiencing puberty, , teachers need to respond flexibly and
supportively.
Even if physical skills are not a special focus of a classroom teacher,, they can be quite important to students
themselves. Whatever their grade level, students who are clumsy are aware of that fact and how it could potentially
negatively effect respect from their peers. In the long term, self-consciousness and poor self-esteem can develop for
a child who is clumsy, especially if peers (or teachers and parents) place high value on success in athletics. One
research study found, for example, what teachers and coaches sometimes suspect: that losers in athletic
competitions tend to become less sociable and are more apt to miss subsequent athletic practices than winners
(Petlichkoff, 1996).
The problem is not only the prevalence of illness as such (in winter, even in the United States, approximately
one person gets infected with a minor illness every few seconds), but the fact that illnesses are not distributed
uniformly among students, schools, or communities. Whether it is a simple cold or something more serious, illness
is particularly common where living conditions are crowded, where health care is scarce or unaffordable, and where
individuals live with frequent stresses of any kind. Often, but not always, these are the circumstances of poverty.
Table 6 summarizes these effects for a variety of health problems, not just for colds or flu.
Source: Richardson, J> (2005). The Cost of Being Poor. New York: Praeger. Spencer, N. (2000). Poverty and
Child Health, 2nd edition. Abington, UK: Radcliffe Medical Press. Allender, J. (2005). Community Health
Nursing. Philadelphia: Lippinsott, Williams & Wilkins.
As students get older, illnesses become less frequent, but other health risks emerge. The most widespread is the
consumption of alcohol and the smoking of cigarettes. As of 2004, about 75 per cent of teenagers reported drinking
an alcoholic beverage at least occasionally, and 22 per cent reported smoking cigarettes (Center for Disease Control,
2004a). The good news is that these proportions show a small, but steady decline in the frequencies over the past 10
years or so. The bad news is that teenagers also show increases in the abuse of some prescription drugs, such as
inhalants, that act as stimulants (Johnston, et al., 2006). As with the prevalence of illnesses, the prevalence of drug
use is not uniform, with a relatively small fraction of individuals accounting for a disproportionate proportion of
usage. One survey, for example, found that a teenager was 3-5 times more likely to smoke or to use alcohol, smoke
marijuana, or use drugs if he or she has a sibling who has also indulged these habits (Fagan & Najman, 2005).
Siblings, it seems, are more influential in this case than parents.
46
cognitive stage theory of a Swiss psychologist named Jean Piaget. Piaget created and studied an account of how
children and youth gradually become able to think logically and scientifically. Because his theory is especially
popular among educators, we focus on it in this chapter. We will look at other cognitive perspectives—ones that are
not as fully “developmental”, in later chapters, especially Chapter 9 (“Facilitating complex thinking”).
In brief comments in Chapter 2 (see “Psychological constructivism”) about how Piaget explained learning, we
described Piaget as a psychological constructivist: in his view, learning proceeded by the interplay of assimilation
(adjusting new experiences to fit prior concepts) and accommodation (adjusting concepts to fit new experiences).
The to-and-fro of these two processes leads not only to short-term learning, as pointed out in Chapter 1, but also to
long-term developmental change. The long-term developments are really the main focus of Piaget’s cognitive
theory.
After observing children closely, Piaget proposed that cognition developed through distinct stages from birth
through the end of adolescence. By stages he meant a sequence of thinking patterns with four key features:
4. Each later stage incorporated the earlier stages into itself. Basically this is the “staircase” model of
development mentioned at the beginning of this chapter. Piaget proposed four major stages of cognitive
development, and called them (1) sensorimotor intelligence, (2) preoperational thinking, (3) concrete
operational thinking, and (4) formal operational thinking. Each stage is correlated with an age period of
childhood, but only approximately.
The infant’s actions allow the child to represent (or construct simple concepts of) objects and events. A toy
animal may be just a confusing array of sensations at first, but by looking, feeling, and manipulating it repeatedly,
the child gradually organizes her sensations and actions into a stable concept, toy animal. The representation
acquires a permanence lacking in the individual experiences of the object, which are constantly changing. Because
the representation is stable, the child “knows”, or at least believes, that toy animal exists even if the actual toy
animal is temporarily out of sight. Piaget called this sense of stability object permanence, a belief that objects
exist whether or not they are actually present. It is a major achievement of sensorimotor development, and marks a
qualitative transformation in how older infants (24 months) think about experience compared to younger infants (6
months).
During much of infancy, of course, a child can only barely talk, so sensorimotor development initially happens
without the support of language. It might therefore seem hard to know what infants are thinking, but Piaget devised
several simple, but clever experiments to get around their lack of language, and that suggest that infants do indeed
represent objects even without being able to talk (Piaget, 1952). In one, for example, he simply hid an object (like a
toy animal) under a blanket. He found that doing so consistently prompts older infants (18-24 months) to search
for the object, but fails to prompt younger infants (less than six months) to do so. (You can try this experiment
yourself if you happen to have access to young infant.) “Something” motivates the search by the older infant even
without the benefit of much language, and the “something” is presumed to be a permanent concept or
representation of the object.
In a way, children immersed in make-believe seem “mentally insane”, in that they do not think realistically. But
they are not truly insane because they have not really taken leave of their senses. At some level, Ashley and Jeremy
always know that the banana is still a banana and not really a telephone; they are merely representing it as a
telephone. They are thinking on two levels at once—one imaginative and the other realistic. This dual processing of
experience makes dramatic play an early example of metacognition, or reflecting on and monitoring of thinking
itself. As we explained in Chapter 2, metacognition is a highly desirable skill for success in school, one that teachers
often encourage (Bredekamp & Copple, 1997; Paley, 2005). Partly for this reason, teachers of young children
(preschool, kindergarten, and even first or second grade) often make time and space in their classrooms for
dramatic play, and sometimes even participate in it themselves to help develop the play further.
Concrete operational thinking differs from preoperational thinking in two ways, each of which renders children
more skilled as students. One difference is reversibility, or the ability to think about the steps of a process in any
order. Imagine a simple science experiment, for example, such as one that explores why objects sink or float by
having a child place an assortment of objects in a basin of water. Both the preoperational and concrete operational
48
child can recall and describe the steps in this experiment, but only the concrete operational child can recall them in
any order. This skill is very helpful on any task involving multiple steps—a common feature of tasks in the
classroom. In teaching new vocabulary from a story, for another example, a teacher might tell students: “First
make a list of words in the story that you do not know, then find and write down their definitions, and finally get a
friend to test you on your list”. These directions involve repeatedly remembering to move back and forth between a
second step and a first—a task that concrete operational students—and most adults—find easy, but that
preoperational children often forget to do or find confusing. If the younger children are to do this task reliably, they
may need external prompts, such as having the teacher remind them periodically to go back to the story to look for
more unknown words.
The other new feature of thinking during the concrete operational stage is the child’s ability to decenter, or
focus on more than one feature of a problem at a time. There are hints of decentration in preschool children’s
dramatic play, which requires being aware on two levels at once—knowing that a banana can be both a banana and
a “telephone”. But the decentration of the concrete operational stage is more deliberate and conscious than
preschoolers’ make-believe. Now the child can attend to two things at once quite purposely. Suppose you give
students a sheet with an assortment of subtraction problems on it, and ask them to do this: “Find all of the
problems that involve two-digit subtraction and that involve borrowing’ from the next column. Circle and solve
only those problems.” Following these instructions is quite possible for a concrete operational student (as long as
they have been listening!) because the student can attend to the two subtasks simultaneously—finding the two-digit
problems and identifying which actually involve borrowing. (Whether the student actually knows how to “borrow”
however, is a separate question.)
In real classroom tasks, reversibility and decentration often happen together. A well-known example of joint
presence is Piaget’s experiments with conservation, the belief that an amount or quantity stays the same even if it
changes apparent size or shape (Piaget, 2001; Matthews, 1998). Imagine two identical balls made of clay. Any child,
whether preoperational or concrete operational, will agree that the two indeed have the same amount of clay in
them simply because they look the same. But if you now squish one ball into a long, thin “hot dog”, the
preoperational child is likely to say that the amount of that ball has changed—either because it is longer or because
it is thinner, but at any rate because it now looks different. The concrete operational child will not make this
mistake, thanks to new cognitive skills of reversibility and decentration: for him or her, the amount is the same
because “you could squish it back into a ball again” (reversibility) and because “it may be longer, but it is also
thinner” (decentration). Piaget would say the concrete operational child “has conservation of quantity”.
The classroom examples described above also involve reversibility and decentration. As already mentioned, the
vocabulary activity described earlier requires reversibility (going back and forth between identifying words and
looking up their meanings); but it can also be construed as an example of decentration (keeping in mind two tasks
at once—word identification and dictionary search). And as mentioned, the arithmetic activity requires
decentration (looking for problems that meet two criteria and also solving them), but it can also be construed as an
example of reversibility (going back and forth between subtasks, as with the vocabulary activity). Either way, the
development of concrete operational skills support students in doing many basic academic tasks; in a sense they
make ordinary schoolwork possible.
The hypothetical reasoning that concerned Piaget primarily involved scientific problems. His studies of formal
operational thinking therefore often look like problems that middle or high school teachers pose in science classes.
In one problem, for example, a young person is presented with a simple pendulum, to which different amounts of
weight can be hung (Inhelder & Piaget, 1958). The experimenter asks: “What determines how fast the pendulum
swings: the length of the string holding it, the weight attached to it, or the distance that it is pulled to the side?” The
young person is not allowed to solve this problem by trial-and-error with the materials themselves, but must reason
a way to the solution mentally. To do so systematically, he or she must imagine varying each factor separately, while
also imagining the other factors that are held constant. This kind of thinking requires facility at manipulating
mental representations of the relevant objects and actions—precisely the skill that defines formal operations.
As you might suspect, students with an ability to think hypothetically have an advantage in many kinds of school
work: by definition, they require relatively few “props” to solve problems. In this sense they can in principle be
more self-directed than students who rely only on concrete operations—certainly a desirable quality in the opinion
of most teachers. Note, though, that formal operational thinking is desirable but not sufficient for school success,
and that it is far from being the only way that students achieve educational success. Formal thinking skills do not
insure that a student is motivated or well-behaved, for example, nor does it guarantee other desirable skills, such as
ability at sports, music, or art. The fourth stage in Piaget’s theory is really about a particular kind of formal
thinking, the kind needed to solve scientific problems and devise scientific experiments. Since many people do not
normally deal with such problems in the normal course of their lives, it should be no surprise that research finds
that many people never achieve or use formal thinking fully or consistently, or that they use it only in selected areas
with which they are very familiar (Case & Okomato, 1996). For teachers, the limitations of Piaget's ideas suggest a
need for additional theories about development—ones that focus more directly on the social and interpersonal
issues of childhood and adolescence. The next sections describe some of these.
50
knowledge and beliefs, it is the work of Lawrence Kohlberg and his critic, Carol Gilligan. Their theories are
definitely not the only ones related to social development of students, and their ideas are often debated by other
researchers. But their accounts do explain much about social development that is relevant to teaching and
education.
Trust and mistrust Birth to one year Development of trust between caregiver and child
Autonomy and shame Age 1-3 Development of control over bodily functions and activities
Initiative and guilt Age 3-6 Testing limits of self-assertion and purposefulness
Industry and inferiority Age 6-12 Development of sense of mastery and competence
Identity and role confusion Age 12-19 Development of identity and acknowledge of identity by others
Intimacy and isolation Age 19-25+ Formation of intimate relationships and commitments
Integrity and despair Age 50+ Acceptance of personal life history and forgiveness of self and
others
Almost as soon as this crisis is resolved, however, a new one develops over the issue of autonomy and shame.
The child (who is now a toddler) may now trust his or her caregiver (mother), but the very trust contributes to a
desire to assert autonomy by taking care of basic personal needs, such as feeding, toileting, or dressing. Given the
child’s lack of experience in these activities, however, self-care is risky at first—the toddler may feed (or toilet or
dress) clumsily and ineffectively. The child’s caregiver, for her part, risks overprotecting the child and criticizing his
early efforts unnecessarily and thus causing the child to feel shame for even trying. Hopefully, as with the earlier
crisis of trust, the new crisis gets resolved in favor of autonomy through the combined efforts of the child to exercise
autonomy and of the caregiver to support the child’s efforts.
Eventually, about the time a child is of preschool age, the autonomy exercised during the previous period
becomes more elaborate, extended, and focused on objects and people other than the child and basic physical
needs. The child at a day care center may now undertake, for example, to build the “biggest city in the world” out of
all available unit blocks—even if other children want some of the blocks for themselves. The child’s projects and
desires create a new crisis of initiative and guilt, because the child soon realizes that acting on impulses or
desires can sometimes have negative effects on others—more blocks for the child may mean fewer for someone else.
As with the crisis over autonomy, caregivers have to support the child’s initiatives where possible, but also not make
the child feel guilty just for desiring to have or to do something that affects others' welfare. By limiting behavior
where necessary but not limiting internal feelings, the child can develop a lasting ability to take initiative. Expressed
in Erikson’s terms, the crisis is then resolved in favor of initiative.
Even though only the last of these three crises overlaps with the school years, all three relate to issues faced by
students of any age, and even by their teachers. A child or youth who is fundamentally mistrustful, for example, has
a serious problem in coping with school life. If you are a student, it is essential for your long-term survival to believe
that teachers and school officials have your best interests at heart, and that they are not imposing assignments or
making rules, for example, “just for the heck of it.” Even though students are not infants any more, teachers
function like Erikson’s caregiving parents in that they need to prove worthy of students’ trust through their initial
flexibility and attentiveness.
Parallels from the classroom also exist for the crises of autonomy and of initiative. To learn effectively, students
need to make choices and undertake academic initiatives at least some of the time, even though not every choice or
initiative may be practical or desirable. Teachers, for their part, need to make true choices and initiatives possible,
and refrain from criticizing, even accidentally, a choice or intention behind an initiative even if the teacher privately
believes that it is “bound to fail”. Support for choices and initiative should be focused on providing resources and on
guiding the student’s efforts toward more likely success. In these ways teachers function like parents of toddlers
and preschoolers in Erikson’s theory of development, regardless of the age of their students.
52
things. There are risks involved in working on these skills and qualities, because there can be no guarantee of
success with them in advance. If the child does succeed, therefore, he or she experiences the satisfaction of a job
well done and of skills well learned—a feeling that Eriks0n called industry. If not, however, the child risks feeling
lasting inferiority compared to others. Teachers therefore have a direct, explicit role in helping students to resolve
this crisis in favor of industry or success. They can set realistic academic goals for students—ones that tend to lead
to success—and then provide materials and assistance for students to reach their goals. Teachers can also express
their confidence that students can in fact meet their goals if and when the students get discouraged, and avoid
hinting (even accidentally) that a student is simply a “loser”. Paradoxically, these strategies will work best if the
teacher is also tolerant of less-than-perfect performance by students. Too much emphasis on perfection can
undermine some students’ confidence—foster Erikson’s inferiority—by making academic goals seem beyond reach.
Teachers can minimize role confusion in a number of ways. One is to offer students lots of diverse role models—
by identifying models in students’ reading materials, for example, or by inviting diverse guests to school. The point
of these strategies would be to express a key idea: that there are many ways to be respected, successful, and satisfied
with life. Another way to support students’ identity development is to be alert to students’ confusions about their
futures, and refer them to counselors or other services outside school that can help sort these out. Still another
strategy is to tolerate changes in students’ goals and priorities—sudden changes in extra-curricular activities or in
personal plans after graduation. Since students are still trying roles out, discouraging experimentation may not be
in students’ best interests.
possible, even if it was clearly not lived perfectly. Since personal history can no longer be altered at the end of life, it
is important to make peace with what actually happened and to forgive oneself and others for mistakes that may
have been made. The alternative is despair, or depression from believing not only that one’s life was lived badly, but
also that there is no longer any hope of correcting past mistakes.
Even though Erikson conceives of these crises as primarily concerns of adulthood, there are precursors of them
during the school years. Intimacy, for example, is a concern of many children and youth in that they often desire,
but do not always find, lasting relationships with others (Beidel, 2005; Zimbardo & Radl, 1999). Personal isolation
is a particular risk for students with disabilities, as well as for students whose cultural or racial backgrounds differ
from classmates’ or the teacher’s. Generativity—feeling helpful to others and to the young—is needed not only by
many adults, but also by many children and youth; when given the opportunity as part of their school program, they
frequently welcome a chance to be of authentic service to others as part of their school programs (Eyler & Giles,
1999; Kay, 2003). Integrity—taking responsibility for your personal past, “warts and all”, is often a felt need for
anyone, young or old, who has lived long enough to have a past on which to look. Even children and youth have a
past in this sense, though their pasts are of course shorter than persons who are older.
In its original version, Maslow’s theory distinguishes two types of needs, called deficit needs and being
needs (or sometimes deficiency needs and growth needs). Table 8 summarizes the two levels and their sublevels.
Deficit needs are prior to being needs, not in the sense of happening earlier in life, but in that deficit needs must be
satisfied before being needs can be addressed. As pointed out, deficit needs can reappear at any age, depending on
circumstances. If that happens, they must be satisfied again before a person’s attention can shift back to “higher”
needs. Among students, in fact, deficit needs are likely to return chronically to those whose families lack economic
or social resources or who live with the stresses associated with poverty (Payne, 2005).
Physiological needs
Cognitive needs
54
Self-actualization needs
After physiological and safety needs are met, love and belonging needs emerge. The person turns attention to
making friends, being a friend, and cultivating positive personal relationships in general. In the classroom, a
student motivated at this level may make approval from peers or teachers into a top priority. He or she may be
provided for materially and find the classroom and family life safe enough, but still miss a key ingredient in life—
love. If such a student (or anyone else) eventually does find love and belonging, however, then his or her motivation
shifts again, this time to esteem needs. Now the concern is with gaining recognition and respect—and even more
importantly, gaining self-respect. A student at this level may be unusually concerned with achievement, for
example, though only if the achievement is visible or public enough to earn public recognition.
People who are motivated by self-actualization have a variety of positive qualities, which Maslow went to some
lengths to identify and describe (Maslow, 1976). Self-actualizing individuals, he argued, value deep personal
relationships with others, but also value solitude; they have a sense of humor, but do not use it against others; they
accept themselves as well as others; they are spontaneous, humble, creative, and ethical. In short, the self-
actualizing person has just about every good quality imaginable! Not surprisingly, therefore, Maslow felt that true
self-actualization is rare. It is especially unusual among young people, who have not yet lived long enough to satisfy
earlier, deficit-based needs.
In a way this last point is discouraging news for teachers, who apparently must spend their lives providing as
best they can for individuals—students—still immersed in deficit needs. Teachers, it seems, have little hope of ever
meeting a student with fully fledged being needs. Taken less literally, though, Maslow’s hierarchy is still useful for
thinking about students’ motives. Most teachers would argue that students—young though they are—can display
positive qualities similar to the ones described in Maslow’s self-actualizing person. However annoying students may
sometimes be, there are also moments when they show care and respect for others, for example, and moments
when they show spontaneity, humility, or a sound ethical sense. Self-actualization is an appropriate way to think
about these moments—the times when students are at their best. At the same time, of course, students sometimes
also have deficit needs. Keeping in mind the entire hierarchy outlined by Maslow can therefore deepen teachers'
understanding of the full humanity of students.
When it comes to schooling and teaching, moral choices are not restricted to occasional dramatic incidents, but
are woven into almost every aspect of classroom life. Imagine this simple example. Suppose that you are teaching,
reading to a small group of second-graders, and the students are taking turns reading a story out loud. Should you
give every student the same amount of time to read, even though some might benefit from having additional time?
Or should you give more time to the students who need extra help, even if doing so bores classmates and deprives
others of equal shares of “floor time”? Which option is more fair, and which is more considerate? Simple dilemmas
like this happen every day at all grade levels simply because students are diverse, and because class time and a
teacher’s energy are finite.
Embedded in this rather ordinary example are moral themes about fairness or justice, on the one hand, and
about consideration or care on the other. It is important to keep both themes in mind when thinking about how
students develop beliefs about right or wrong. A morality of justice is about human rights—or more specifically,
about respect for fairness, impartiality, equality, and individuals’ independence. A morality of care, on the other
hand, is about human responsibilities—more specifically, about caring for others, showing consideration for
individuals’ needs, and interdependence among individuals. Students and teachers need both forms of morality. In
the next sections therefore we explain a major example of each type of developmental theory, beginning with the
morality of justice.
56
Preconventional Level:
Stage 1: Obedience and punishment Action that is rewarded and not punished
Stage 2: Market exchange Action that is agreeable to the child and child's partner
Conventional Level:
Stage 3: Peer opinion Action that wins approval from friends or peers
Stage 4: Law and order Action that conforms to community customs or laws
Postconventional Level:
Stage 5: Social contract Action that follows social accepted ways of making decisions
Stage 6: Universal principles Action that is consistent with self-chosen, general principles
Eventually the child learns not only to respond to positive consequences, but also learns how to produce them by
exchanging favors with others. The new ability creates Stage 2, an ethics of market exchange. At this stage the
morally “good” action is one that favors not only the child, but another person directly involved. A “bad” action is
one that lacks this reciprocity. If trading the sandwich from your lunch for the cookies in your friend’s lunch is
mutually agreeable, then the trade is morally good; otherwise it is not. This perspective introduces a type of fairness
into the child’s thinking for the first time. But it still ignores the larger context of actions—the effects on people not
present or directly involved. In Stage 2, for example, it would also be considered morally “good” to pay a classmate
to do another student's homework—or even to avoid bullying or to provide sexual favors—provided that both
parties regard the arrangement as being fair.
Eventually, as the child becomes a youth and the social world expands even more, he or she acquires even larger
numbers of peers and friends. He or she is therefore more likely to encounter disagreements about ethical issues
and beliefs. Resolving the complexities lead to Stage 4, the ethics of law and order, in which the young person
increasingly frames moral beliefs in terms of what the majority of society believes. Now, an action is morally good if
it is legal or at least customarily approved by most people, including people whom the youth does not know
personally. This attitude leads to an even more stable set of principles than in the previous stage, though it is still
not immune from ethical mistakes. A community or society may agree, for example, that people of a certain race
should be treated with deliberate disrespect, or that a factory owner is entitled to dump waste water into a
commonly shared lake or river. To develop ethical principles that reliably avoid mistakes like these require further
stages of moral development.
58
Paying attention to due process certainly seems like it should help to avoid mindless conformity to conventional
moral beliefs. As an ethical strategy, though, it too can sometimes fail. The problem is that an ethics of social
contract places more faith in democratic process than the process sometimes deserves, and does not pay enough
attention to the content of what gets decided. In principle (and occasionally in practice), a society could decide
democratically to kill off every member of a racial minority, for example, but would deciding this by due process
make it ethical? The realization that ethical means can sometimes serve unethical ends leads some individuals
toward Stage 6, the ethics of self-chosen, universal principles. At this final stage, the morally good action is
based on personally held principles that apply both to the person’s immediate life as well as to the larger
community and society. The universal principles may include a belief in democratic due process (Stage 5 ethics),
but also other principles, such as a belief in the dignity of all human life or the sacredness of the natural
environment. At Stage 6, the universal principles will guide a person’s beliefs even if the principles mean
disagreeing occasionally with what is customary (Stage 4) or even with what is legal (Stage 5).
One such framework has been developed by Carol Gilligan, whose ideas center on a morality of care, or
system of beliefs about human responsibilities, care, and consideration for others. Gilligan proposed three moral
positions that represent different extents or breadth of ethical care. Unlike Kohlberg, Piaget, or Erikson, she does
not claim that the positions form a strictly developmental sequence, but only that they can be ranked hierarchically
according to their depth or subtlety. In this respect her theory is “semi-developmental” in a way similar to Maslow’s
theory of motivation (Brown & Gilligan, 1992; Taylor, Gilligan, & Sullivan, 1995). Table 10 summarizes the three
moral positions from Gilligan’s theory
Position 2: Conventional Action that considers others' needs or preferences, but not one's own
care
Position 3: Integrated care Action that attempts to coordinate one's own personal needs with those of
others
As a moral position, a survival orientation is obviously not satisfactory for classrooms on a widespread scale. If
every student only looked out for himself or herself, classroom life might become rather unpleasant! Nonetheless,
there are situations in which focusing primarily on yourself is both a sign of good mental health and relevant to
teachers. For a child who has been bullied at school or sexually abused at home, for example, it is both healthy and
morally desirable to speak out about how bullying or abuse has affected the victim. Doing so means essentially
looking out for the victim’s own needs at the expense of others’ needs, including the bully’s or abuser’s. Speaking
out, in this case, requires a survival orientation and is healthy because the child is taking caring of herself.
In classrooms, students who operate from Position 2 can be very desirable in some ways; they can be eager to
please, considerate, and good at fitting in and at working cooperatively with others. Because these qualities are
usually welcome in a busy classroom, teachers can be tempted to reward students for developing and using them.
The problem with rewarding Position 2 ethics, however, is that doing so neglects the student’s development—his or
her own academic and personal goals or values. Sooner or later, personal goals, values, and identity need attention
and care, and educators have a responsibility for assisting students to discover and clarify them.
60
In classrooms, integrated caring is most likely to surface whenever teachers give students wide, sustained
freedom to make choices. If students have little flexibility about their actions, there is little room for considering
anyone’s needs or values, whether their own or others’. If the teacher says simply: “Do the homework on page 50
and turn it in tomorrow morning”, then the main issue becomes compliance, not moral choice. But suppose instead
that she says something like this: “Over the next two months, figure out an inquiry project about the use of water
resources in our town. Organize it any way you want—talk to people, read widely about it, and share it with the class
in a way that all of us, including yourself, will find meaningful.” An assignment like this poses moral challenges that
are not only educational, but also moral, since it requires students to make value judgments. Why? For one thing,
students must decide what aspect of the topic really matters to them. Such a decision is partly a matter of personal
values. For another thing, students have to consider how to make the topic meaningful or important to others in the
class. Third, because the time line for completion is relatively far in the future, students may have to weigh personal
priorities (like spending time with friends or family) against educational priorities (working on the assignment a bit
more on the weekend). As you might suspect, some students might have trouble making good choices when given
this sort of freedom—and their teachers might therefore be cautious about giving such an assignment. But the
difficulties in making choices are part of Gilligan’s point: integrated caring is indeed more demanding than the
caring based only on survival or on consideration of others. Not all students may be ready for it.
Chapter summary
Understanding development, or the long-term changes in growth, behavior, and knowledge, helps teachers to
hold appropriate expectations for students as well as to keep students’ individual diversity in perspective. From
kindergarten through the end of high school, students double their height, triple their weight, experience the social
and hormonal effects of puberty, and improve basic motor skills. Their health is generally good, though illnesses are
affected significantly by students’ economic and social circumstances.
Cognitively, students develop major new abilities to think logically and abstractly, based on a foundation of
sensory and motor experiences with the objects and people around them. Jean Piaget has one well-known theory
detailing how these changes unfold.
Socially, students face and resolve a number of issues—especially the issue of industry (dedicated, sustained
work) during childhood and the issue of identity during adolescence. Erik Erikson has described these crises in
detail, as well as social crises that precede and follow the school years. Students are motivated both by basic human
needs (food, safety, belonging, esteem) and by needs to enhance themselves psychologically (self-actualization).
Abraham Maslow has described these motivations and how they relate to each other.
Morally, students develop both a sense of justice and of care for others, and their thinking in each of these
realms undergoes important changes as they mature. Lawrence Kohlberg has described changes in children and
youth’s beliefs about justice, and Carol Gilligan has described changes in their beliefs about care.
On the Internet
<www.srcd.org/press> This is part of the website for the Society for Research in Child Development, an
organization that supports research about children and youth, and that advocates for government policies on their
behalf. The specific web page recommended here contains their press releases, which summarize findings from
current research and their implications for children’s welfare. You will need to register to use this page, but
registration is free.
<www.apa.org> This is the website for the American Psychological Association, the largest professional
association of psychologists in the English-speaking world. From the homepage you can go to a section called
“psychology topics”, which offers a variety of interesting articles and press releases free of charge. Among other
topics, for example, there are articles about obesity and its effects, as well as about factors that support (and/or
detract from) children’s well-being.
Key terms
Development Identity
Puberty Intimacy, generativity, and integrity
Cognition Maslow’s hierarchy of needs
Cognitive stages Deficit needs
Jean Piaget Being needs
Sensorimotor stage Self-actualization
Object permanence Moral development
Preoperational stage Lawrence Kohlberg
Dramatic play Carol Gilligan
Concrete operational stage Morality of justice
Decenter Preconventional justice
Conservation Ethics of obedience
Formal operational stage Ethics of mutual advantage
Hypothetical reasoning Conventional justice
Social development Ethics of peer opinion
Erik Erikson Ethics of law and order
Abraham Maslow Postconventional justice
Lawrence Kohlberg Ethics of social contract
Carol Gilligan Ethics of universal principles
Psychosocial crises Morality of care
Trust, autonomy, and initiative Survival Orientation
Industry Conventional care
62
Integrated care
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4. Student diversity
I’ll tell you this: There are some people, and then there are others.
(Anna Harris)
Anna Harris was Kelvin Seifert's grandmother as well as a schoolteacher from about 1910 to 1930.
She used to make comments, like the one above, that sounded odd but that also contained a grain of
wisdom. In this case her remark makes a good theme for this chapter—and even for teaching in
general. Students do differ in a multitude of ways, both individually and because of memberships in
families, communities or cultural groups. Sometimes the differences can make classroom-style
teaching more challenging, but other times, as Anna Harris implied, they simply enrich classroom
life. To teach students well, we need to understand the important ways that they differ among
themselves, and when or how the differences really matter for their education. This chapter offers
some of that understanding and suggests how you might use it in order to make learning effective
and enjoyable for everyone, including yourself.
For convenience we will make a major distinction between differences among individuals and
differences among groups of students. As the term implies, individual differences are qualities
that are unique; just one person has them at a time. Variation in hair color, for example, is an
individual difference; even though some people have nearly the same hair color, no two people are
exactly the same. Group differences are qualities shared by members of an identifiable group or
community, but not shared by everyone in society. An example is gender role: for better or for worse,
one portion of society (the males) is perceived differently and expected to behave a bit differently
than another portion of society (the females). Notice that distinguishing between individual and
group differences is convenient, but a bit arbitrary. Individuals with similar, but nonetheless unique
qualities sometimes group themselves together for certain purposes, and groups unusually contain a
lot of individual diversity within them. If you happen to enjoy playing soccer and have some talent
for it (an individual quality), for example, you may end up as a member of a soccer team or club (a
group defined by members’ common desire and ability to play soccer). But though everyone on the
team fits a “soccer player’s profile” at some level, individual members will probably vary in level of
skill and motivation. The group, by its very nature, may obscure these signs of individuality.
To begin, then, we look at several differences normally considered to be individually rather than
group based. This discussion will necessarily be incomplete simply because individual differences are
so numerous and important in teaching that some of them are also discussed in later chapters. Later
sections of this chapter deal with three important forms of group diversity: gender differences,
cultural differences, and language differences.
That said, there is evidence that individuals, including students, do differ in how they habitually think. These
differences are more specific than learning styles or preferences, and psychologists sometimes call them cognitive
styles, meaning typical ways of perceiving and remembering information, and typical ways of solving problems
and making decisions (Zhang & Sternberg, 2006). In a style of thinking called field dependence, for example,
individuals perceive patterns as a whole rather than focus on the parts of the pattern separately. In a
complementary tendency, called field independence, individuals are more inclined to analyze overall patterns
into their parts. Cognitive research from the 1940s to the present has found field dependence/independence
differences to be somewhat stable for any given person across situations, though not completely so (Witkin, Moore,
Goodenough, & Cox, 1977; Zhang & Sternberg, 2005). Someone who is field dependent (perceives globally or
“wholistically”) in one situation, tends to a modest extent to perceive things globally or wholistically in other
situations. Field dependence and independence can be important in understanding students because the styles
affect students’ behaviors and preferences in school and classrooms. Field dependent persons tend to work better in
groups, it seems, and to prefer “open-ended” fields of study like literature and history. Field independent persons,
on the other hand, tend to work better alone and to prefer highly analytic studies like math and science. The
differences are only a tendency, however, and there are a lot of students who contradict the trends. As with the
broader notion of learning styles, the cognitive styles of field dependence and independence are useful for tailoring
instruction to particular students, but their guidance is only approximate. They neither can nor should be used to
“lock” students to particular modes of learning or to replace students’ own expressed preferences and choices about
curriculum.
Another cognitive style is impulsivity as compared to reflectivity. As the names imply, an impulsive cognitive
style is one in which a person reacts quickly, but as a result makes comparatively more errors. A reflective style is
the opposite: the person reacts more slowly and therefore makes fewer errors. As you might expect, the reflective
style would seem better suited to many academic demands of school. Research has found that this is indeed the
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case for academic skills that clearly benefit from reflection, such as mathematical problem solving or certain
reading tasks (Evans, 2004). Some classroom or school-related skills, however, may actually develop better if a
student is relatively impulsive. Being a good partner in a cooperative learning group, for example, may depend
partly on responding spontaneously (i.e. just a bit “impulsively”) to others’ suggestions; and being an effective
member of an athletic team may depend on not taking time to reflect carefully on every move that you or your team
mates make.
There are two major ways to use knowledge of students’ cognitive styles (Pritchard, 2005). The first and the
more obvious is to build on students’ existing style strengths and preferences. A student who is field independent
and reflective, for example, can be encouraged to explore tasks and activities that are relatively analytic and that
require relatively independent work. One who is field dependent and impulsive, on the other hand, can be
encouraged and supported to try tasks and activities that are more social or spontaneous. But a second, less obvious
way to use knowledge of cognitive styles is to encourage more balance in cognitive styles for students who need it. A
student who lacks field independence, for example, may need explicit help in organizing and analyzing key
academic tasks (like organizing a lab report in a science class). One who is already highly reflective may need
encouragement to try ideas spontaneously, as in a creative writing lesson.
Multiple intelligences
For nearly a century, educators and psychologists have debated the nature of intelligence, and more specifically
whether intelligence is just one broad ability or can take more than one form. Many classical definitions of the
concept have tended to define intelligence as a single broad ability that allows a person to solve or complete many
sorts of tasks, or at least many academic tasks like reading, knowledge of vocabulary, and the solving of logical
problems (Garlick, 2002). There is research evidence of such a global ability, and the idea of general intelligence
often fits with society’s everyday beliefs about intelligence. Partly for these reasons, an entire mini-industry has
grown up around publishing tests of intelligence, academic ability, and academic achievement. Since these tests
affect the work of teachers, I return to discussing them later in this book.
But there are also problems with defining intelligence as one general ability. One way of summing up the
problems is to say that conceiving of intelligence as something general tends to put it beyond teachers’ influence.
When viewed as a single, all-purpose ability, students either have a lot of intelligence or they do not, and
strengthening their intelligence becomes a major challenge, or perhaps even an impossible one (Gottfredson, 2004;
Lubinski, 2004). This conclusion is troubling to some educators, especially in recent years as testing school
achievements have become more common and as students have become more diverse.
But alternate views of intelligence also exist that portray intelligence as having multiple forms, whether the
forms are subparts of a single broader ability or are multiple “intelligences” in their own right. For various reasons
such this perspective has gained in popularity among teachers in recent years, probably because it reflects many
teachers’ beliefs that students cannot simply be rated along a single scale of ability, but are fundamentally diverse
(Kohn, 2004).
One of the most prominent of these models is Howard Gardner’s theory of multiple intelligences
(Gardner, 1983, 2003). Gardner proposes that there are eight different forms of intelligence, each of which
functions independently of the others. (The eight intelligences are summarized in Table 11. Each person has a mix
of all eight abilities—more of one and less of another—that helps to constitute that person’s individual cognitive
profile. Since most tasks—including most tasks in classrooms—require several forms of intelligence and can be
completed in more than one way, it is possible for people with various profiles of talents to succeed on a task
equally well. In writing an essay, for example, a student with high interpersonal intelligence but rather average
verbal intelligence might use his or her interpersonal strength to get a lot of help and advice from classmates and
the teacher. A student with the opposite profile might work well alone, but without the benefit of help from others.
Both students might end up with essays that are good, but good for different reasons.
Musical: ability to create and understand music • singing, playing a musical instrument
• composing a tune
Logical: Mathematical: logical skill; ability to reason, • solving mathematical problems easily and
often using mathematics accurately
Spatial: ability to imagine and manipulate the • completing a difficult jigsaw puzzle
arrangement of objects in the environment
• assembling a complex appliance (e.g. a bicycle)
Intrapersonal: sensitivity to one's own thoughts and • noticing complex of ambivalent feelings in
feelings oneself
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As evidence for the possibility of multiple intelligences, Gardner cites descriptions of individuals with
exceptional talent in one form of intelligence (for example, in playing the piano) but who are neither above nor
below average in other areas. He also cites descriptions of individuals with brain damage, some of whom lose one
particular form of intelligence (like the ability to talk) but retain other forms. In the opinion of many psychologists,
however, the evidence for multiple intelligences is not strong enough to give up the “classical” view of general
intelligence. Part of the problem is that the evidence for multiple intelligences relies primarily on anecdotes—
examples or descriptions of particular individuals who illustrate the model—rather than on more widespread
information or data (Eisner, 2004).
Nonetheless, whatever the status of the research evidence, the model itself can be useful as a way for teachers to
think about their work. Multiple intelligences suggest the importance of diversifying instruction in order to honor
and to respond to diversity in students’ talents and abilities. Viewed like this, whether Gardner’s classification
scheme is actually accurate is probably less important than the fact there is (or may be) more than one way to be
“smart”. In the end, as with cognitive and learning styles, it may not be important to label students’ talents or
intellectual strengths. It may be more important simply to provide important learning and knowledge in several
modes or styles, ways that draw on more than one possible form of intelligence or skill. A good example of this
principle is your own development in learning to teach. It is well and good to read books about teaching (like this
one, perhaps), but it is even better to read books and talk with classmates and educators about teaching and getting
actual experience in classrooms. The combination both invites and requires a wide range of your talents and usually
proves more effective than any single type of activity, whatever your profile of cognitive styles or intellectual
abilities happens to be.
• They learn more quickly and independently than most students their own age.
• They often have well-developed vocabulary, as well as advanced reading and writing skills.
• They are very motivated, especially on tasks that are challenging or difficult.
Contrary to a common impression, students who are gifted or talented are not necessarily awkward socially, less
healthy, or narrow in their interests—in fact, quite the contrary (Steiner & Carr, 2003). They also come from all
economic and cultural groups.
Ironically, in spite of their obvious strengths as learners, such students often languish in school unless teachers
can provide them with more than the challenges of the usual curriculum. A kindergarten child who is precociously
advanced in reading, for example, may make little further progress at reading if her teachers do not recognize and
develop her skill; her talent may effectively disappear from view as her peers gradually catch up to her initial level.
Without accommodation to their unusual level of skill or knowledge, students who are gifted or talented can
become bored by school, and eventually the boredom can even turn into behavior problems.
Partly for these reasons, students who are gifted or talented have sometimes been regarded as the responsibility
of special education, along with students with other sorts of disabilities. Often their needs are discussed, for
example, in textbooks about special education, alongside discussions of students with intellectual disabilities,
physical impairments, or major behavior disorders (Friend, 2008). There is some logic to this way of thinking
about their needs; after all, they are quite exceptional, and they do require modifications of the usual school
programs in order to reach their full potential. But it is also misleading to ignore obvious differences between
exceptional giftedness and exceptional disabilities of other kinds. The key difference is in students' potential. By
definition, students with gifts or talents are capable of creative, committed work at levels that often approach
talented adults. Other students—including students with disabilities—may reach these levels, but not as soon and
not as frequently. Many educators therefore think of the gifted and talented not as examples of students with
disabilities, but as examples of diversity. As such they are not so much the responsibility of special education
specialists, as the responsibility of all teachers to differentiate their instruction.
Enrichment involves providing additional or different instruction added on to the usual curriculum goals and
activities. Instead of books at more advanced reading levels, for example, a student might read a wider variety of
types of literature at the student's current reading level, or try writing additional types of literature himself. Instead
of moving ahead to more difficult kinds of math programs, the student might work on unusual logic problems not
assigned to the rest of the class. Like acceleration, enrichment works well up to a point. Enrichment curricula exist
to help classroom teachers working with gifted students (and save teachers the time and work of creating
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enrichment materials themselves). Since enrichment is not part of the normal, officially sanctioned curriculum,
however, there is a risk that it will be perceived as busywork rather than as intellectual stimulation, particularly if
the teacher herself is not familiar with the enrichment material or is otherwise unable to involve herself in the
material fully.
Obviously acceleration and enrichment can sometimes be combined. A student can skip a grade and also be
introduced to interesting “extra” material at the new grade level. A teacher can move a student to the next unit of
study faster than she moves the rest of the class, while at the same time offering additional activities not related to
the unit of study directly. For a teacher with a student who is gifted or talented, however, the real challenge is not
simply to choose between acceleration and enrichment, but to observe the student, get to know him or her as a
unique individual, and offer activities and supports based on that knowledge. This is essentially the challenge of
differentiating instruction, something needed not just by the gifted and talented, but by students of all sorts. As you
might suspect, differentiating instruction poses challenges about managing instruction; we discuss it again in more
detail in Chapter 9 (“Facilitating complex thinking”) and Chapter 10 (“Instructional planning”).
Although there are many exceptions, boys and girls do differ on average in ways that parallel conventional
gender stereotypes and that affect how the sexes behave at school and in class. The differences have to do with
physical behaviors, styles of social interaction, academic motivations, behaviors, and choices. They have a variety of
sources—primarily parents, peers, and the media. Teachers are certainly not the primary cause of gender role
differences, but sometimes teachers influence them by their responses to and choices made on behalf of students.
During the first two or three years of elementary school, gross motor skills develop at almost the same average
rate for boys and girls. As a group, both sexes can run, jump, throw a ball, and the like with about equal ease,
though there are of course wide significant differences among individuals of both sexes. Toward the end of
elementary school, however, boys pull ahead of girls at these skills even though neither sex has begun yet to
experience puberty. The most likely reason is that boys participate more actively in formal and informal sports
because of expectations and support from parents, peers, and society (Braddock, Sokol-Katz, Greene, & Basinger-
Fleischman, 2005; Messner, Duncan, & Cooky, 2003). Puberty eventually adds to this advantage by making boys
taller and stronger than girls, on average, and therefore more suited at least for sports that rely on height and
strength.
In thinking about these differences, keep in mind that they refer to average trends and that there are numerous
individual exceptions. Every teacher knows of individual boys who are not athletic, for example, or of particular
girls who are especially restless in class. The individual differences mean, among other things, that it is hard to
justify providing different levels of support or resources to boys than to girls for sports, athletics, or physical
education. The differences also suggest, though, that individual students who contradict gender stereotypes about
physical abilities may benefit from emotional support or affirmation from teachers, simply because they may be less
likely than usual to get such affirmation from elsewhere.
Differences in social interaction styles happen in the classroom as well. Boys, on average, are more likely to
speak up during a class discussion—sometimes even if not called on, or even if they do not know as much about the
topic as others in the class (Sadker, 2002). When working on a project in a small co-ed group, furthermore they
have a tendency to ignore girls’ comments and contributions to the group. In this respect co-ed student groups
parallel interaction patterns in many parts of society, where men also have a tendency to ignore women’s comments
and contributions (Tannen, 2001).
But again, consider my caution about stereotyping: there are individuals of both sexes whose behaviors and
choices run counter to the group trends. (I have made this point as well in “Preparing for Licensure: Interpreting
Gender-Related Behavior” by deliberately concealing the gender of a student described.) Differences within each
gender group generally are far larger than any differences between the groups. A good example is the “difference” in
cognitive ability of boys and girls. Many studies have found none at all. A few others have found small differences,
with boys slightly better at math and girls slightly better at reading and literature. Still other studies have found the
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differences not only are small, but have been getting smaller in recent years compared to earlier studies.
Collectively the findings about cognitive abilities are virtually “non-findings”, and it is worth asking why gender
differences have therefore been studied and discussed so much for so many years (Hyde, 2005). How teachers
influence gender roles?
Teachers often intend to interact with both sexes equally, and frequently succeed at doing so. Research has
found, though, that they do sometimes respond to boys and girls differently, perhaps without realizing it. Three
kinds of differences have been noticed. The first is the overall amount of attention paid to each sex; the second is
the visibility or “publicity” of conversations; and the third is the type of behavior that prompts teachers to support
or criticize students.
Attention paid
In general, teachers interact with boys more often than with girls by a margin of 10 to 30 percent, depending on
the grade level of the students and the personality of the teacher (Measor & Sykes, 1992). One possible reason for
the difference is related to the greater assertiveness of boys that I already noted; if boys are speaking up more
frequently in discussions or at other times, then a teacher may be “forced” to pay more attention to them. Another
possibility is that some teachers may feel that boys are especially prone to getting into mischief, so they may
interact with them more frequently to keep them focused on the task at hand (Erden & Wolfgang, 2004). Still
another possibility is that boys, compared to girls, may interact in a wider variety of styles and situations, so there
may simply be richer opportunities to interact with them. This last possibility is partially supported by another
gender difference in classroom interaction, the amount of public versus private talk.
Table 12: Gender differences in how teachers praise and criticize students
teacher
Gender differences also occur in the realm of classroom behavior. Teachers tend to praise girls for “good”
behavior, regardless of its relevance to content or to the lesson at hand, and tend to criticize boys for “bad” or
inappropriate behavior (Golombok & Fivush, 1994). This difference can also be stated in terms of what teachers
overlook: with girls, they tend to overlook behavior that is not appropriate, but with boys they tend to overlook
behavior that is appropriate. The net result in this case is to make girls’ seem more good than they may really be,
and also to make their “goodness” seem more important than their academic competence. By the same token, the
teacher’s patterns of response imply that boys are more “bad” than they may really be.
At first glance, the gender differences in interaction can seem discouraging and critical of teachers because they
imply that teachers as a group are biased about gender. But this conclusion is too simplistic for a couple of reasons.
One is that like all differences between groups, interaction patterns are trends, and as such they hide a lot of
variation within them. The other is that the trends suggest what often tends in fact to happen, not what can in fact
happen if a teacher consciously sets about to avoid interaction patterns like the ones I have described. Fortunately
for us all, teaching does not need to be unthinking; we have choices that we can make, even during a busy class!
But this kind of understanding can get complicated. To organize the topic, therefore, I will discuss aspects of
cultural diversity according to how directly they relate to language differences compared to differences in other
social and psychological features of culture. The distinction is convenient, but it is also a bit arbitrary because, as
you will see, the features of a culture overlap and influence each other.
75
In classrooms as in other social settings, bilingualism exists in different forms and degrees. At one extreme are
students who speak both English and another language fluently; at the other extreme are those who speak only
limited versions of both languages. In between are students who speak their home (or heritage) language much
better than English, as well as others who have partially lost their heritage language in the process of learning
English (Tse, 2001). Commonly, too, a student may speak a language satisfactorily, but be challenged by reading or
writing it—though even this pattern has individual exceptions. Whatever the case, each bilingual student poses
unique challenges to teachers.
Unbalanced bilingualism
Unfortunately, the bilingualism of many students is “unbalanced” in the sense that they are either still learning
English, or else they have lost some earlier ability to use their original, heritage language—or occasionally a bit of
both. The first sort of student—sometimes called an English language learner (ELL) or limited English learner
(LEL)—has received the greatest attention and concern from educators, since English is the dominant language of
instruction and skill and obviously helps prepare a student for life in American society. ELL students essentially
present teachers with this dilemma: how to respect the original language and culture of the student while also
helping the student to join more fully in the mainstream—i.e. English-speaking—culture? Programs to address this
question have ranged from total immersion in English from a young age (the “sink or swim” approach) to phasing
in English over a period of several years (sometimes called an additive approach to bilingual education). In general,
evaluations of bilingual programs have favored the more additive approaches (Beykont, 2002). Both languages are
developed and supported, and students ideally become able to use either language permanently, though often for
different situations or purposes. A student may end up using English in the classroom or at work, for example, but
continue using Spanish at home or with friends, even though he or she is perfectly capable of speaking English with
them.
Language loss
What about the other kind of imbalance, in which a student is acquiring English but losing ability with the
student’s home or heritage language? This sort of bilingualism is quite common in the United States and other
nations with immigrant populations (Tse, 2001). Imagine this situation: First-generation immigrants arrive, and
they soon learn just enough English to manage their work and daily needs, but continue using their original
language at home with family and friends from their former country. Their children, however, experience strong
expectations and pressure to learn and use English, and this circumstance dilutes the children’s experience with the
heritage language. By the time the children become adults, they are likely to speak and write English better than
their heritage language, and may even be unable or unwilling to use the heritage language with their own children
(the grandchildren of the original immigrants).
This situation might not at first seem like a problem for which we, as teachers, need to take responsibility, since
the children immigrants, as students, are acquiring the dominant language of instruction. In fact, however, things
are not that simple. Research finds that language loss limits students’ ability to learn English as well or as quickly as
they otherwise can do. Having a large vocabulary in a first language, for example, has been shown to save time in
learning vocabulary in a second language (Hansen, Umeda & McKinney, 2002). But students can only realize the
savings if their first language is preserved. Preserving the first language is also important if a student has impaired
skill in all languages and therefore needs intervention or help from a speech-language specialist. Research has
found, in such cases, that the specialist can be more effective if the specialist speaks and uses the first language as
well as English (Kohnert, et al., 2005). Generally, though also more indirectly, minimizing language loss helps all
bilingual students’ education because preservation tends to enrich students’ and parents’ ability to communicate
with each other. With two languages to work with, parents can stay “in the loop” better about their children’s
educations and support the teacher’s work—for example, by assisting more effectively with homework (Ebert,
2005).
Note that in the early years of schooling, language loss can be minimized to some extent by the additive or
parallel-track bilingual programs that I mentioned above. For a few years, though not forever, young students are
encouraged to use both of their languages. In high school, in addition, some conventional foreign language classes—
notably in Spanish—can be adjusted to include and support students who are already native speakers of the
language alongside students who are learning it for the first time (Tse, 2001). But for heritage languages not
normally offered as “foreign” languages in school, of course, this approach will not work. Such languages are
especially at risk for being lost.
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• Eye contact varies by culture. In many African American and Latin American communities, it is considered
appropriate and respectful for a child not to look directly at an adult who is speaking to them (Torres-
Guzman, 1998). In classrooms, however, teachers often expect a lot of eye contact (as in “I want all eyes on
me!”) and may be tempted to construe lack of eye contact as a sign of indifference or disrespect.
• Social distance varies by culture. In some cultures, it is common to stand relatively close when having a
conversation; in others, it is more customary to stand relatively far apart (Beaulieu, 2004). Problems may
happen when a teacher and a student prefer different social distances. A student who expects a closer
distance than does the teacher may seem overly familiar or intrusive, whereas one who expects a longer
distance may seem overly formal or hesitant.
• Wait time varies by culture. Wait time is the gap between the end of one person’s comment or question and
the next person’s reply or answer. In some cultures wait time is relatively long—as long as three or four
seconds (Tharp & Gallimore, 1989). In others it is a “negative” gap, meaning that it is acceptable, even
expected, for a person to interrupt before the end of the previous comment. In classrooms the wait time is
customarily about one second; after that, the teacher is likely to move on to another question or to another
student. A student who habitually expects a wait time long than one second may seem hesitant, and not be
given many chances to speak. A student who expects a “negative” wait time, on the other hand, may seem
overeager or even rude.
• In most non-Anglo cultures, questions are intended to gain information, and it is assumed that a person
asking the question truly does not have the information requested (Rogoff, 2003). In most classrooms,
however, teachers regularly ask test questions, which are questions to which the teacher already knows the
answer and that simply assess whether a student knows the answer as well (Macbeth, 2003). The question:
“How much is 2 + 2?” for example, is a test question. If the student is not aware of this purpose, he or she
may become confused, or think that the teacher is surprisingly ignorant! Worse yet, the student may feel
that the teacher is trying deliberately to shame the student by revealing the student’s ignorance or
incompetence to others.
In white, middle-class American culture, the self is usually thought of as unique and independent—a unitary,
living source of decisions, choices, and actions that stands (or should eventually stand) by itself (Greenfield, et al.,
2003; Rogoff, 2003). This view of the self is well entrenched in schools, as for example when students are expected
to take responsibility for their own successes or failures and when they are tested and evaluated individually rather
than as a group or team. As teachers, furthermore, most of us subscribe to the idea that all students are unique,
even if we cannot implement this idea fully in teaching because of the constraints of large classes. Whatever the
circumstances, teachers tend to believe in an independent self.
To a greater or lesser extent, however, the majority of non-white cultures and ethnic groups believe in something
closer to an interdependent self, or a belief that it is your relationships and responsibilities, and not uniqueness
and autonomy, that defines a person (Greenfield, 1994; Greenfield, et al., 2003). In these cultures, the most worthy
person is not the one who is unusual or who stands out in a crowd. Such a person might actually be regarded as
lonely or isolated. The worthy person is instead the one who gets along well with family and friends, and who meets
obligations to them reliably and skillfully. At some level, of course, we all value interpersonal skill and to this extent
think of ourselves as interdependent. The difference between individual and interdependent self is one of emphasis,
with many non-white cultures emphasizing interdependence significantly more than white middle-class society in
general and more than schools in particular.
There can be consequences of the difference in how the students respond to school. Here are some of the
possibilities—though keep in mind that there are also differences among students as individuals, whatever their
cultural background. I am talking about tendencies, not straightforward predictions.
• Preference for activities that are cooperative rather than competitive: Many activities in school are
competitive, even when teachers try to de-emphasize the competition. Once past the first year or second
year of school, students often become attentive to who receives the highest marks on an assignment, for
example, or who is the best athlete at various sports or whose contributions to class discussion the most
verbal recognition from the teacher (Johnson & Johnson, 1998). Suppose, in addition, that a teacher
deliberately organizes important activities or assignments competitively (as in “Let’s see who finishes the
math sheet first.”). Classroom life can then become explicitly competitive, and the competitive atmosphere
can interfere with cultivating supportive relationships among students or between students and the teacher
(Cohen, 2004). For students who give priority to these relationships, competition can seem confusing at
best and threatening at worst. What sort of sharing or helping with answers, the student may ask, is truly
legitimate? If the teacher answers this question more narrowly than does the student, then what the
student views as cooperative sharing may be seen by the teacher as laziness, “freeloading”, or even cheating.
• Avoidance of standing out publicly: Even when we, as teachers, avoid obvious forms of competition, we
may still interact frequently with students one at a time while allowing or inviting many others to observe
the conversation. An especially common pattern for such conversations is sometimes called the IRE cycle,
an abbreviation for the teacher initiating, a student responding, and the teacher then evaluating the
response (Mehan, 1979). What is sometimes taken for granted is how often IRE cycles are witnessed
publicly, and how much the publicity can be stressful or embarrassing for students who do not value
standing out in a group but who do value belonging to the group. The embarrassment can be especially
acute if they feel unsure about whether they have correct knowledge or skill to display. To keep such
students from “clamming up” completely, therefore, teachers should consider limiting IRE cycles to times
when they are truly productive. IRE conversations may often work best when talking with a student
privately, or when confirming knowledge that the student is likely to be able to display competently already,
or when “choral” speaking (responding together in unison) is appropriate.
• Interpersonal time versus clock time: In order to function, all schools rely on fairly precise units of time as
measured on clocks. Teachers typically allot a fixed number of minutes to one lesson or class, another fixed
79
number of minutes for the next, another for recess or lunch time, and so on. In more ways than one,
therefore, being on time becomes especially valued in schools, as it is in many parts of society. Punctuality
is not always conducive, however, to strong personal relationships, which develop best when individuals do
not end joint activities unilaterally or arbitrarily, but allow activities to “finish themselves”, so to speak—to
finish naturally. If personal relationships are a broad, important priority for a student, therefore, it may
take effort and practice by the student to learn the extent to which schools and teachers expect punctuality.
Punctuality includes the obvious, like showing up for school when school is actually scheduled to begin. But
it also includes subtleties, like starting and finishing tasks when the teacher tells students to do so, or
answering a question promptly at the time it is asked rather than sometime later when discussion has
already moved on.
Chapter summary
Students differ in a multitude of ways, both individually and as groups. Individually, for example, students have
a preferred learning style as well as preferred cognitive or thinking styles. They also have unique profiles or
intelligence or competence that affect how and what they learn most successfully.
In addition to individual diversity, students tend to differ according to their gender, although there are
numerous individual exceptions. Motor abilities as well as motivation and experience with athletics gradually
differentiate boys and girls, especially when they reach and begin high school. Socially, boys tend to adopt
relationships that are more active and wide-ranging than do girls. Academically, girls tend to be a bit more
motivated to receive slightly higher marks in school. Teachers sometimes contribute to gender role differences—
perhaps without intending—by paying attention to boys more frequently and more publicly in class, and by
distributing praise and criticism in ways differentiated by sex.
Students also differ according to cultures, language, and ethnic groups of their families. Many students are
bilingual, with educational consequences that depend on their fluency in each of their two languages. If they have
more difficulty with English, then programs that add their first language together with English have proved to be
helpful. If they have more difficulty with their first language, they are risk for language loss, and the consequences
are also negative even if more hidden from teachers’ views.
In addition to language differences as such, students differ according to culture in how language is used or
practiced—in taking turns at speaking, in eye contact, social distance, wait time, and the use of questions. Some of
these differences in practice stem from cultural differences in attitudes about self-identity, with non-Anglo
culturally tending to support a more interdependent view of the self than Anglo culture or the schools. Differences
in attitudes and in use of language have several consequences for teachers. In particular—where appropriate—they
should consider using cooperative activities, avoid highlighting individuals’ accomplishments or failures, and be
patient about students’ learning to be punctual.
On the Internet
<www.nabe.org> This is the website for the National Association of Bilingual Educators, which represents
both English Language Learners and their teachers. The website offers a variety of information, free of charge,
about all aspects of bilingual education, including introductory summaries of the field, position papers released to
the government and the press, and research articles from their journals.
<www.singlesexschools.org> This website represents the National Association for Single Sex Public
Education, which as its name implies advocates for all-girl and all-boy classes and schools. The website contains
thoughtful summaries of the advantages to both boys and girls if they are educated separately and in public schools.
Whether you agree with their point of view or not, their point of view is worth considering; though keep in mind
that their supporting information tends to come from media sources (e.g. newspapers) instead of full-fledged
research studies.
Key terms
African-American English Impulsivity
Balanced bilingualism Independent self
Bilingual Individual differences
Cognitive styles Interdependent self
Culture IRE cycle
Dialect Language loss
Ebonics Learning styles
English language learner (ELL) Limited English learner (LEL)
Ethnicity Metacognition
Eye contact Multiple intelligences
Field dependence Reflectivity
Field independence Social distance
Gender roles Test questions
Group differences Unbalanced bilingualism
Identity Wait time
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Beaulieu, C. (2004). Intercultural study of personal space: A case study. Journal of Applied Social
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Birx, H. J. (2005). Encyclopedia of human anthropology. Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage Publications.
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The second person: A century later, a child named Helen Keller lost her sight and hearing as a
result of illness during infancy. In spite of this misfortune, though, Helen devised a language of
gestural signs for communicating with a tutor, and was soon also using Braille to study both French
and Latin. At ten, she wrote and published a short story. Yet like Ms Wheatley, Ms Keller also faced
substantial, chronic skepticism about her capacities. Prominent educators accused her of plagiarizing
others’ writings and merely “parroting” others’ ideas without understanding them (Keller, 1954;
Bogdan, 2006). Eventually, as with Wheatley, a panel was assembled—though this time the members
were professional experts about disabilities—to determine whether Ms Keller was in fact capable of
writing what she published. The panel decided that she was indeed capable, though only by a slim
margin (five judges vs four).
The third person: In 1978, Sue Rubin was born with a disability that limited her speech to
disordered bursts of sound and occasionally echoing phrases of other people. She was labeled autistic
because of her symptoms, and assumed to be profoundly retarded. With support and encouragement
from her mother and others, however, Sue eventually learned to type on a keyboard without assistance.
She learned to communicate effectively when she was about 13 and was able to go to school. Since then
she has made many presentations about autism at conferences and recently co-edited a book about
autism, titled Autism: The Myth of the Person Alone (Bogdan, et al., 2005).
One of these individuals experienced racial discrimination and the other two experienced physical disabilities,
but notice something important: that all three were defined by society as disabled intellectually. Initially, their
achievements were dismissed because of widespread assumptions—whether about race or disability—of their
inherent incompetence. All three had to work harder than usual, not only to acquire literacy itself, but also to prove
that their literacy was genuine and worthy of respect.
Since the time of Phillis Wheatley, North American society has eliminated slavery and made some progress at
reducing certain forms of racism, though much remains to be done. In 1954, for example, the United States
Supreme Court ruled that public schools could not be segregated by race, and in doing so recognized, at least
legally, the intellectual competence of African-Americans as well as the moral obligation of society to provide all
citizens with the best possible education. It has taken longer to recognize legally the rights and competence of
persons with disabilities, but events and trends beginning in the 1970s have begun to make it happen. This chapter
begins by explaining some of these and how they have altered the work of teachers.
Growing support for people with disabilities: legislation and its effects
Since the 1970s political and social attitudes have moved increasingly toward including people with disabilities
into a wide variety of “regular” activities. In the United States, the shift is illustrated clearly in the Federal
legislation that was enacted during this time. The legislation partly stimulated the change in attitudes, but at the
same time they partly resulted from the change. Three major laws were passed that guaranteed the rights of
persons with disabilities, and of children and students with disabilities in particular. Although the first two affected
teachers’ work in the classroom, the third has had the biggest impact on education.
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• Free, appropriate education: An individual or an individual’s family should not have to pay for education
simply because the individual has a disability, and the educational program should be truly educational (i.e.
not merely care-taking or “babysitting” of the person).
• Due process: In case of disagreements between an individual with a disability and the schools or other
professionals, there must be procedures for resolving the disagreements that are fair and accessible to all
parties—including the person himself or herself or the person’s representative.
• Fair evaluation of performance in spite of disability: Tests or other evaluations should not assume test-
taking skills that a person with a disability cannot reasonably be expected to have, such as holding a pencil,
hearing or seeing questions, working quickly, or understanding and speaking orally. Evaluation procedures
should be modified to allow for these differences. This provision of the law applies both to evaluations made
by teachers and to school-wide or “high-stakes” testing programs.
• Education in the “least restrictive environment”: Education for someone with a disability should provide as
many educational opportunities and options for the person as possible, both in the short term and in the
long term. In practice this requirement has meant including students in regular classrooms and school
activities as much as possible, though often not totally.
• An individualized educational program: Given that every disability is unique, instructional planning for a
person with a disability should be unique or individualized as well. In practice this provision has led to
classroom teachers planning individualized programs jointly with other professionals (like reading
specialists, psychologists, or medical personnel) as part of a team.
Considered together, these provisions are both a cause and an effect of basic democratic philosophy. The
legislation says, in effect, that all individuals should have access to society in general and to education in particular.
Although teachers certainly support this philosophy in broad terms, and many have welcomed the IDEA legislation,
others have found the prospect of applying it in classrooms leads to a number of questions and concerns. Some ask,
for example, whether a student with a disability will disrupt the class; others, whether the student will interfere
with covering the curriculum; still others, whether the student might be teased by classmates. Since these are
legitimate concerns, I will return to them at the end of this chapter. First, however, let me clarify exactly how the
IDEA legislation affects the work of teachers, and then describe in more detail the major disabilities that you are
likely to encounter in students.
Alternative assessments
In the context of students with disabilities, assessment refers to gathering information about a student in
order both to identify the strengths of the student, and to decide what special educational support, if any, the
student needs. In principle, of course, these are tasks that teachers have for all students: assessment is a major
reason why we give tests and assignments, for example, and why we listen carefully to the quality of students’
comments during class discussions. For students with disabilities, however, such traditional or conventional
strategies of assessment often seriously underestimate the students’ competence (Koretz & Barton, 2003/2004;
Pullin, 2005). Depending on the disability, a student may have trouble with (a) holding a pencil, (b) hearing a
question clearly, (c) focusing on a picture, (d) marking an answer in time even when he or she knows the answer,
(e) concentrating on a task in the presence of other people, or (f) answering a question at the pace needed by the
rest of the class. Traditionally, teachers have assumed that all students either have these skills or can learn them
with just modest amounts of coaching, encouragement, and will power. For many other students, for example, it
may be enough to say something like: “Remember to listen to the question carefully!” For students with disabilities,
however, a comment like this may not work and may even be insensitive. A student with visual impairment does
not need be reminded to “look closely at what I am writing on the board”; doing so will not cause the student to see
the chalkboard more clearly—though the reminder might increase the student’s anxiety and self-consciousness.
There are a number of strategies for modifying assessments in ways that attempt to be fair and that at the same
time recognize how busy teachers usually are. One is to consider supplementing conventional assignments or tests
with portfolios, which are collections of a student’s work that demonstrate a student’s development over time, and
which usually include some sort of reflective or evaluative comments from the student, the teacher, or both
(Carothers & Taylor, 2003; Wesson & King, 1996). Another is to devise a system for observing the student regularly,
even if briefly, and informally recording notes about the observations for later consideration and assessment. A
third strategy is to recruit help from teacher assistants, who are sometimes present to help a student with a
disability; an assistant can often conduct a brief test or activity with the student, and later report on and discuss the
results with you.
If you reflect on these strategies, you may realize that they may sometimes create issues about fairness. If a
student with a disability demonstrates competence one way but other students demonstrate it another, should they
be given similar credit? On the other hand, is it fair for one student to get a lower mark because the student lacks an
ability—such as normal hearing—that teachers cannot, in principle, ever teach? These ethical issues are legitimate
and important, and I therefore return to them in Chapters 11 and 12, which discuss assessment in much more
detail.
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his or her time in regular classes throughout the student’s school career; in this case, adjustment of the curriculum
would not be an issue.
For you, the policy favoring the least restrictive environment means that if you continue teaching long enough,
you will very likely encounter a student with a disability in one or more of your classes, or at least have one in a
school-related activity for which you are responsible. It also means that the special educational needs of these
students will most often be the “mildest”. Statistically, the most frequent forms of special needs are learning
disabilities, which are impairments in specific aspects of learning, and especially of reading. Learning disabilities
account for about half of all special educational needs—as much as all other types put together. Somewhat less
common are speech and language disorders, cognitive disabilities, and attention deficit hyperactivity disorders
(or ADHD). Because of their frequency and of the likelihood that you will meet students for whom these labels have
been considered, I describe them more fully later in this chapter, along with other disability conditions that you will
encounter much less frequently.
Student: Sean Cortinez Birth Date: 26 May 2002 Period Covered by IEP:
September 20xx – July 20xy
Address: Phone:
Support Team
List general needs here; use separate sheet(s) for specific, short-term objectives as appropriate:
Sean can read short, familiar words singly, but cannot read connected text even when familiar. Needs help
especially with decoding and other “word attack” skills. Some trouble focusing on reading tasks. Sean speaks
clearly and often listens well when the topic interests him.
Signatures:
Teacher(s): G. Eidse
Principal: L. Stauffer
Exhibit 6: A sample individual educational plan. (Note that actual visual formats of IEP plans vary.)
If you have a student with an IEP, you can expect two consequences for teaching. The first is that you should
expect to make definite, clear plans for the student, and to put the plans in writing. This consequence does not, of
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course, prevent you from taking advantage of unexpected or spontaneous classroom events as well in order to
enrich the curriculum. But it does mean that an educational program for a student with a disability cannot consist
only of the unexpected or spontaneous. The second consequence is that you should not expect to construct an
educational plan alone, as is commonly done when planning regular classroom programs. When it comes to
students with disabilities, expect instead to plan as part of a team. Working with others ensures that everyone who
is concerned about the student has a voice. It also makes it possible to improve the quality of IEPs by pooling ideas
from many sources—even if, as you might suspect, it also challenges professionals to communicate clearly and
cooperate respectfully with team members in order to serve a student as well as possible.
Still, categories of disabilities do serve useful purposes by giving teachers, parents, and other professionals a
language or frame of reference for talking about disabilities. They also can help educators when arranging special
support services for students, since a student has to “have” an identifiable, nameable need if professionals are to
provide help. Educational authorities have therefore continued to use categories (or “labels”) to classify disabilities
in spite of expressing continuing concern about whether the practice hurts students’ self-esteem or standing in the
eyes of peers (Biklen & Kliewer, 2006). For classroom teachers, the best strategy may be simply to understand how
categories of disabilities are defined, while also keeping their limitations in mind and being ready to explain their
limitations (tactfully, of course) to parents or others who use the labels inappropriately.
That said, what in fact are the major types of disabilities encountered by teachers? Let us take them one at a
time, beginning with the more common ones.
Learning disabilities
A learning disability (or LD) is a specific impairment of academic learning that interferes with a specific
aspect of schoolwork and that reduces a student’s academic performance significantly. An LD shows itself as a
major discrepancy between a student’s ability and some feature of achievement: the student may be delayed in
reading, writing, listening, speaking, or doing mathematics, but not in all of these at once. A learning problem is not
considered a learning disability if it stems from physical, sensory, or motor handicaps, or from generalized
intellectual impairment (or mental retardation). It is also not an LD if the learning problem really reflects the
challenges of learning English as a second language. Genuine LDs are the learning problems left over after these
other possibilities are accounted for or excluded. Typically, a student with an LD has not been helped by teachers’
ordinary efforts to assist the student when he or she falls behind academically—though what counts as an “ordinary
effort”, of course, differs among teachers, schools, and students. Most importantly, though, an LD relates to a fairly
specific area of academic learning. A student may be able to read and compute well enough, for example, but not be
able to write.
LDs are by far the most common form of special educational need, accounting for half of all students with
special needs in the United States and anywhere from 5 to 20 per cent of all students, depending on how the
numbers are estimated (United States Department of Education, 2005; Ysseldyke & Bielinski, 2002). Students with
LDs are so common, in fact, that most teachers regularly encounter at least one per class in any given school year,
regardless of the grade level they teach.
• Albert, an eighth-grader, has trouble solving word problems that he reads, but can solve them easily if he
hears them orally.
• Bill, also in eighth grade, has the reverse problem: he can solve word problems only when he can read them,
not when he hears them.
• Carole, a fifth-grader, constantly makes errors when she reads textual material aloud, either leaving out
words, adding words, or substituting her own words for the printed text.
• Emily, in seventh grade, has terrible handwriting; her letters vary in size and wobble all over the page,
much like a first- or second-grader.
• Denny reads very slowly, even though he is in fourth grade. His comprehension suffers as a result, because
he sometimes forgets what he read at the beginning of a sentence by the time he reaches the end.
• Garnet’s spelling would have to be called “inventive”, even though he has practiced conventionally correct
spelling more than other students. Garnet is in sixth grade.
• Harmin, a ninth-grader has particular trouble decoding individual words and letters if they are unfamiliar;
he reads conceal as “concol” and alternate as “alfoonite”.
• Irma, a tenth-grader, adds multiple-digit numbers as if they were single-digit numbers stuck together: 42 +
59 equals 911 rather than 101, though 23 + 54 correctly equals 77.
With so many expressions of LDs, it is not surprising that educators sometimes disagree about their nature and
about the kind of help students need as a consequence. Such controversy may be inevitable because LDs by
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definition are learning problems with no obvious origin. There is good news, however, from this state of affairs, in
that it opens the way to try a variety of solutions for helping students with learning disabilities.
42 23 11 47 97 41
+ 59 + 54 + 48 + 23 + 64 + 27
Three out of the six problems are done correctly, even though Irma seems to use an incorrect
strategy systematically on all six problems.
From the point of view of behaviorism, changing Irma’s behavior is tricky since the desired behavior (borrowing
correctly) rarely happens and therefore cannot be reinforced very often. It might therefore help for the teacher to
reward behaviors that compete directly with Irma’s inappropriate strategy. The teacher might reduce credit for
simply finding the correct answer, for example, and increase credit for a student showing her work—including the
work of carrying digits forward correctly. Or the teacher might make a point of discussing Irma’s math work with
Irma frequently, so as to create more occasions when she can praise Irma for working problems correctly.
too impulsive and not reflective enough, as discussed in Chapter 4. Her style also suggests a failure of
metacognition (remember that idea from Chapter 2?), which is her self-monitoring of her own thinking and its
effectiveness. As a solution, the teacher could encourage Irma to think out loud when she completes two-digit
problems—literally get her to “talk her way through” each problem. If participating in these conversations was
sometimes impractical, the teacher might also arrange for a skilled classmate to take her place some of the time.
Cooperation between Irma and the classmate might help the classmate as well, or even improve overall social
relationships in the classroom.
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The tendency to “over-diagnose” is more likely for boys than for girls (Maniadaki, et al., 2003), presumably because
gender role expectations cause teachers to be especially alert to high activity in boys. Over-diagnosis is also
especially likely for students who are culturally or linguistically non-Anglo (Chamberlain, 2005), presumably
because cultural and language differences may sometimes lead teachers to misinterpret students’ behavior. To
avoid making such mistakes, it is important to keep in mind that in true ADHD, restlessness, activity, and
distractibility are widespread and sustained. A student who shows such problems at school but never at home, for
example, may not have ADHD; he may simply not be getting along with his teacher or classmates.
Causes of ADHD
Most psychologists and medical specialists agree that true ADHD, as opposed to “mere” intermittent
distractibility or high activity, reflects a problem in how the nervous system functions, but they do not know the
exact nature or causes of the problem (Rutter, 2004, 2005). Research shows that ADHD tends to run in families,
with children—especially boys—of parents who had ADHD somewhat more likely than usual to experience the
condition themselves. The association does not necessarily mean, though, that ADHD is inborn or genetic. Why? It
is because it is possible that parents who formerly had ADHD may raise their children more strictly in an effort to
prevent their own condition in their children; yet their strictness, ironically, may trigger a bit more tendency, rather
than less, toward the restless distractibility characteristic of ADHD. On the other hand (or is it “on the third
hand”?), the parents’ strictness may also be a result, as well as a cause of, a child’s restlessness. The bottom line for
teachers: sorting out causes from effects is confusing, if not impossible, and in any case may not help much to
determine actual teaching strategies to help the students learn more effectively.
In any case, since teachers are not doctors and medications are not under teachers’ control, it may be more
important simply to provide an environment where a student with ADHD can organize choices and actions easily
and successfully. Clear rules and procedures, for example, can reduce the “noise” or chaotic quality in the child’s
classroom life significantly. The rules and procedures can be generated jointly with the child; they do not have to be
imposed arbitrarily, as if the student were incapable of thinking about them reasonably. Sometimes a classmate can
be enlisted to model slower, more reflective styles of working, but in ways that do not imply undue criticism of the
student with ADHD. The more reflective student can complete a set of math problems, for example, while
explaining what he or she is thinking about while doing the work. Sometimes the teacher can help by making lists of
tasks or of steps in long tasks. It can help to divide focused work into small, short sessions rather than grouping it
into single, longer sessions. Whatever the strategies that you use, they should be consistent, predictable, and
generated by the student as much as possible. By having these qualities, the strategies can strengthen the student’s
self-direction and ability to screen out the distractions of classroom life. The goal for teachers, in essence, is to build
the student’s metacognitive capacity, while at the same time, of course, treating the student with respect.
Intellectual disabilities
An intellectual disability is a significant limitation in a student’s cognitive functioning and daily adaptive
behaviors (Schalock & Luckasson, 2004; American Association on Mental Retardation, 2002). The student may
have limited language or impaired speech and may not perform well academically. Compared to students with
learning disabilities discussed earlier, students with intellectual disabilities have impairments to learning that are
broader and more significant. They score poorly on standardized tests of intelligence (like the ones discussed later,
in Chapter 12). Everyday tasks that most people take for granted, like getting dressed or eating a meal, may be
possible, but they may also take more time and effort than usual. Health and safety can sometimes be a concern (for
example, knowing whether it is safe to cross a street). For older individuals, finding and keeping a job may require
help from supportive others. The exact combination of challenges varies from one person to another, but it always
(by definition) involves limitations in both intellectual and daily functioning.
As a teacher, you may hear more than one term for describing students with intellectual disabilities. If the
disability is mild, teachers sometimes refer to a student with the disability simply as a slow learner, particularly if
the student has no formal, special supports for the disability, such as a teaching assistant hired specifically to assist
the student. If the disability is more marked, then the student is more likely to be referred to either as having an
intellectual disability or as having mental retardation. In this chapter I primarily use the term intellectual
disability, because it has fewer negative connotations while still describing one key educational aspect of the
disability, cognitive impairment. Keep in mind, however, that actual intellectual disabilities are always more than
cognitive: they also involve challenges about adapting to everyday living.
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Source: American Association on Mental Retardation, 2002: Schalock & Luckassen, 2004.
As a classroom teacher, the intellectual disabilities that you are most likely to see are the ones requiring the least
support in your classroom. A student requiring only intermittent support may require special help with some
learning activities or classroom routines, but not others; he or she might need help with reading or putting on
winter clothes, for example, but primarily on occasions when there is pressure to do these things relatively quickly.
Students requiring somewhat more support are likely to spend somewhat less time in your classroom and more
time receiving special help from other professionals, such as a special education teacher, a speech and language
specialist, or an assistant to these professionals. These circumstances have distinct implications for ways of
teaching these students.
Giving extra help takes time and perseverance, and can try the patience of the student (and of you, too). To deal
with this problem, it may help to reward the student frequently for effort and successes with well-timed praise,
especially if it is focused on specific, actual achievements; “You added that one correctly”, may be more helpful than
“You’re a hard worker”, even if both comments are true. Giving appropriate praise is in turn easier if you set
reasonable, “do-able” goals by breaking skills or tasks into steps that the student is likely to learn without becoming
overly discouraged. At the same time, it is important not to insult the student with goals or activities that are too
easy or by using curriculum materials clearly intended for children who are much younger. Setting expectations too
low actually deprives a student with an intellectual disability of rightful opportunities to learn—a serious ethical and
professional mistake (Bogdan, 2006). In many curriculum areas, fortunately, there already existing materials that
are simplified, yet also appropriate for older students (Snell, et al., 2005). Special education teacher-specialists can
often help in finding them and in devising effective ways of using them.
An adaptive, functional approach can help in nonacademic areas as well. In learning to read or “tell time” on a
clock, for example, try focusing initially on telling the times important to the student, such as when he or she gets
up in the morning or when schools starts. As you add additional times that are personally meaningful to the
student, he or she works gradually towards full knowledge of how to read the hands on a clock. Even if the full
knowledge proves slow to develop, however, the student will at least have learned the most useful clock knowledge
first.
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skills, I might add, that are beneficial for everyone to learn, disabled or not. (I discuss group work more thoroughly
in Chapter 9, “Facilitating complex thinking”)
Behavioral disorders
Behavioral disorders are a diverse group of conditions in which a student chronically performs highly
inappropriate behaviors. A student with this condition might seek attention, for example, by acting out disruptively
in class. Other students with the condition might behave aggressively, be distractible and overly active, seem
anxious or withdrawn, or seem disconnected from everyday reality. As with learning disabilities, the sheer range of
signs and symptoms defies concise description. But the problematic behaviors do have several general features in
common (Kauffman, 2005; Hallahan & Kauffman, 2006):
• they tend to be socially unacceptable (e.g. unwanted sexual advances or vandalism against school property)
• they have no other obvious explanation (e.g. a health problem or temporary disruption in the family)
The variety among behavioral disorders means that estimates of their frequency also tend to vary among states,
cities, and provinces. It also means that in some cases, a student with a behavioral disorder may be classified as
having a different condition, such as ADHD or a learning disability. In other cases, a behavioral problem shown in
one school setting may seem serious enough to be labeled as a behavioral disorder, even though a similar problem
occurring in another school may be perceived as serious, but not serious enough to deserve the label. In any case,
available statistics suggest that only about one to two per cent of students, or perhaps less, have true behavioral
disorders—a figure that is only about one half or one third of the frequency for intellectual disabilities (Kauffman,
2005). Because of the potentially disruptive effects of behavioral disorders, however, students with this condition
are of special concern to teachers. Just one student who is highly aggressive or disruptive can interfere with the
functioning of an entire class, and challenge even the best teacher’s management skills and patience.
• physical features of the classroom—such as the classroom being too warm or too cold, the chairs being
exceptionally uncomfortable for sitting, or seating patterns that interfere with hearing or seeing
• instructional choices or strategies that frustrate learning—including restricting students’ choices unduly,
giving instructions that are unclear, choosing activities that are too difficult or too long, or preventing
students from asking questions when they need help
By identifying the specific variables often associated with disruptive behaviors, it is easier to devise ways to
prevent the behaviors, either by avoiding the triggers if this is possible, or by teaching the student alternative but
quite specific ways of responding to the triggering circumstance.
In addition, strategies based on behaviorist theory have proved effective for many students, especially if the
student needs opportunities simply to practice social skills that he has learned only recently and may still feel
awkward or self-conscious in using (Algozzine & Ysseldyke, 2006). Several behaviorist techniques were discussed in
Chapter 2, including the use of positive reinforcement, extinction, generalization, and the like. In addition to these,
teachers can arrange for contingency contracts, which are agreements between the teacher and a student about
exactly what work the student will do, how it will be rewarded, and what the consequences will be if the agreement
is not fulfilled (Wilkinson, 2003). An advantage of all such behaviorist techniques is their precision and clarity:
there is little room for misunderstanding about just what your expectations are as the teacher. The precision and
clarity in turn makes it less tempting or necessary for you, as teacher, to become angry about infractions of rules or
a student’s failure to fulfill contracts or agreements, since the consequences tend already to be relatively obvious
and clear. “Keeping your cool” can be especially helpful when dealing with behavior that is by nature annoying or
disrupting.
Fairness in disciplining
Many strategies for helping a student with a behavior disorder may be spelled out in the student’s individual
educational plan, such as discussed earlier in this chapter. The plan can (and indeed is supposed to) serve as a
guide in devising daily activities and approaches with the student. Keep in mind, however, that since an IEP is akin
to a legal agreement among a teacher, other professionals, a student and the student’s parents, departures from it
should be made only cautiously and carefully, if ever. Although such departures may seem unlikely, a student with a
behavior disorder may sometimes be exasperating enough to make it tempting to use stronger or more sweeping
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punishments than usual (for example, isolating a student for extended times). In case you are tempted in this
direction, remember that every IEP also guarantees the student and the student’s parents due process before an
IEP can be changed. In practice this means consulting with everyone involved in the case—especially parents, other
specialists, and the student himself—and reaching an agreement before adopting new strategies that differ
significantly from the past.
Instead of “increasing the volume” of punishments, a better approach is to keep careful records of the student’s
behavior and of your own responses to it, documenting the reasonableness of your rules or responses to any major
disruptions. By having the records, collaboration with parents and other professionals can be more productive and
fair-minded, and increase others’ confidence in your judgments about what the student needs in order to fit in more
comfortably with the class. In the long term, more effective collaboration leads both to better support and to more
learning for the student (as well as to better support for you as teacher!).
Physical challenges that are this serious are relatively infrequent compared to some of the other special needs
discussed in this chapter, though they are of course important in the lives of the students and their families, as well
as important for teachers to accommodate. Only about one per cent of US students have a hearing loss serious
enough to be served by special programs for such students (United States Department of Education, 2005). Only
about half that number have visual impairments that lead them to be served by special programs. For two reasons,
though, these figures are a bit misleading. One reason is that many more students have vision or hearing problems
that are too mild (such as wearing eyeglasses for “ordinary” nearsightedness). Another is that some students with
serious sensory impairments may also have other disabilities and therefore not be counted in statistics about
sensory impairments.
Hearing loss
A child can acquire a hearing loss for a variety of reasons, ranging from disease early in childhood, to difficulties
during childbirth, to reactions to toxic drugs. In the classroom, however, the cause of the loss is virtually irrelevant
because it makes little difference in how to accommodate a student’s educational needs. More important than the
cause of the loss is its extent. Students with only mild or moderate loss of hearing are sometimes called hearing
impaired or hard of hearing; only those with nearly complete loss are called deaf. As with other sorts of
disabilities, the milder the hearing loss, the more likely you are to encounter the student in a regular classroom, at
least for part of the day.
receives additional diagnosis) sooner. Mild or moderate hearing loss is much more common, however, and is more
likely to be overlooked or mistaken for some other sort of learning problem (Sherer, 2004). Students with a mild
hearing loss sometimes have somewhat depressed (or lowered) language and literacy skills—though not always, and
in any case so do some students without any loss. They may also seem not to listen or attend to a speaker because of
trouble in locating the source of sounds—but then again, sometimes students without loss also fail to listen, though
for entirely different reasons. Students with hearing loss may frequently give incorrect answers to questions—but so
do certain other students with normal hearing. In addition, partial hearing loss can be hidden if the student teaches
himself or herself to lip read, for example, or is careful in choosing which questions to answer in a class discussion.
And so on. Systematic hearing tests given by medical or hearing specialists can resolve some of these ambiguities.
But even they can give a misleading impression, since students’ true ability to manage in class depends on how well
they combine cues and information from the entire context of classroom life.
In identifying a student who may have a hearing loss, therefore, teachers need to observe the student over an
extended period of time and in as many situations as possible. In particular, look for a persistent combination of
some of the following, but look for them over repeated or numerous occasions (Luckner & Carter, 2001):
• less worldly knowledge than usual because of lack of involvement with oral dialogue and/or delayed literacy
• Take advantage of the student’s residual hearing. Seat the student close to you if you are doing the talking,
or close to key classmates if the students are in a work group. Keep competing noise, such as unnecessary
talking or whispering, to a minimum (because such noise is especially distracting to someone with a
hearing loss). Keep instructions concise and to-the-point. Ask the student occasionally whether he or she is
understanding.
• Use visual cues liberally. Make charts and diagrams wherever appropriate to illustrate what you are saying.
Look directly at the student when you are speaking to him or her (to facilitate lip reading). Gesture and
point to key words or objects—but within reason, not excessively. Provide handouts or readings to review
visually the points that you make orally.
• Include the student in the community of the classroom. Recruit one or more classmates to assist in
“translating” oral comments that the student may have missed. If the student uses American Sign Language
(ASL) at home or elsewhere, then learn a few basic, important signs of ASL yourself (“Hello” “thank you”
“How are you?”). Teach them to classmates as well.
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Visual impairment
Students with visual impairments have difficulty seeing even with corrective lenses. Most commonly the
difficulty has to do with refraction (the ability to focus), but some students may also experience a limited field of
view (called tunnel vision) or be overly sensitive to light in general. As with hearing loss, labels for visual
impairment depend somewhat on the extent and nature of the problem. Legal blindness means that the person has
significant tunnel vision or else visual acuity (sharpness of vision) of 20/200 or less, which means that he or she
must be 20 feet away from an object that a person with normal eyesight can see at 200 feet. Low vision means that
a person has some vision usable for reading, but often needs a special optical device such as a magnifying lens for
doing so. As with hearing loss, the milder the impairment, the more likely that a student with a vision problem will
spend some or even all the time in a regular class.
• Take advantage of the student’s residual vision. If the student still has some useful vision, place him or her
where he can easily see the most important parts of the classroom—whether that is you, the chalkboard, a
video screen, or particular fellow students. Make sure that the classroom, or at least the student’s part of it,
is well lit (because good lighting makes reading easier with low vision). Make sure that handouts, books and
other reading materials have good, sharp contrast (also helpful with a visual impairment).
• Use non-visual information liberally. Remember not to expect a student with visual impairment to learn
information that is by nature only visual, such as the layout of the classroom, the appearance of
photographs in a textbook or of story lines in a video. Explain these to the student somehow. Use hands-on
materials wherever they will work, such as maps printed in three-dimensional relief or with different
textures. If the student knows how to read Braille (an alphabet for the blind using patterns of small bumps
on a page), allow him to do so.
• Include the student in the community of the classroom. Make sure that the student is accepted as well as
possible into the social life of the class. Recruit classmates to help explain visual material when necessary.
Learn a bit of basic Braille and encourage classmates to do the same, even if none of you ever become as
skilled with it as the student himself or herself.
Chapter summary
Since the 1970s support for people with disabilities has grown significantly, as reflected in the United States by
three key pieces of legislation: the Rehabilitation Act of 1973, Americans with Disabilities Act of 1990, and the
Individuals with Disabilities Education Act (IDEA). The support has led to new educational practices, including
alternative assessments for students with disabilities, placement in the least restrictive environment, and individual
educational plans.
There are many ways of classifying people with disabilities, all of which carry risks of stereotyping and
oversimplifying individuals’ strengths and needs. For the purposes of education, the most frequent category is
learning disabilities, which are difficulties with specific aspects of academic work. The high prevalence of learning
disabilities makes this category especially ambiguous as a description of particular students. Assistance for students
with learning disabilities can be framed in terms of behaviorist reinforcement, metacognitive strategies, or
constructivist mentoring.
Attention deficit hyperactivity disorder (ADHD) is a problem in sustaining attention and controlling impulses.
It can often be controlled with medications, but usually it is also important for teachers to provide a structured
environment for the student as well.
Intellectual disabilities (or mental retardation) are general limitations in cognitive functioning as well as in the
tasks of daily living. Contemporary experts tend to classify individuals with these disabilities according to the
amount and frequency of support they need from others. Teachers can assist these students by giving more time
and practice than usual, by including adaptive and functional skills in what they teach, and by making sure that the
student is included in the daily life of the classroom.
Behavioral disorders are conditions in which students chronically perform highly inappropriate behaviors.
Students with these problems present challenges for classroom management, which teachers can meet by
104
identifying circumstances that trigger inappropriate behaviors, by teaching interpersonal skills explicitly, and by
making sure that punishments or disciplinary actions are fair and have been previously agreed upon.
Physical and sensory disabilities are significant limitations in health, hearing, or vision. The signs both of
hearing loss and of vision loss can be subtle, but can sometimes be observed over a period of time. Teaching
students with either a hearing loss or a vision loss primarily involves making use of the students’ residual sensory
abilities and insuring that the student is included in and supported by the class as well as possible.
Key terms
Alternative assessment Least restrictive environment (LRE)
Americans with Disabilities Act of 1990 Learning disabilities
Attention deficit hyperactivity disorder (ADHD) Mental retardation
Behavioral disorders Portfolio assessment
Contingency contracts Rehabilitation Act of 1973
Hearing loss Sensory impairment
Individuals with Disabilities Education Act Transition planning
Individual educational plan (IEP) Visual impairment
Intellectual disabilities
On the Internet
Each of the following websites represents an organization focused on the needs of people with one particular
type of disability. Each includes free access to archives of non-current journals and other publications, as well as
information about conferences, professional training events, and political news relevant to persons with disabilities.
(Note that the sponsoring organizations about hearing loss and about intellectual disabilities changed their names
recently, though not their purposes, so their websites may eventually change names as well.)
<www.ldanatl.org> This is primarily about learning disabilities, but also somewhat about ADHD.
<www.add.org> This website is primarily about ADHD. Note that its website name uses an older terminology
for this disability, ADD (no “H”) for attention deficit disorder (with the term hyperactivity).
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2
Score Mean
Standard deviation
N