How ‘Reacting to the Past’ helps address present-day problems

This week’s readings for GEDI F18 focused on engaging and inspiring students through the use of problem-based learning and gamification. I found the article by Mark Carnes, History professor at Barnard College, most interesting. The article describes how Dr. Carnes, with the help of hundreds of scholars, created an elaborate series of games called “Reacting to the Past” that has elicited such positive responses from students that the students:

(1) were discussing the games for hours after class

(2) were passionate and dedicated to their roles in the game

(3) volunteered to come early to class to continue to play the games.

This example shows that even if students aren’t necessarily learning the prescribed course material (though they should be through the game), this pedagogical practice is engaging and helps the students learn to solve problems and work in teams, which are important skills to master.

One of the readings mentioned (though I can’t figure out which one now) that gamifying the sciences is easy (paraphrased). My thought is that any game that is effective at meeting a desired goal is challenging to develop, no matter the subject. For example, as Carnes describes, it took hundreds of experts to create “Reacting to the Past.” I can imagine that to produce an effective educational game it does require the knowledge and creativity of many different people. Like Robert Talbert says, students learn more when they have access to an expert’s experiences, thought processes, and learned mental models. What then could be better than having access to all of those experts embedded in a single game?

I started looking into the efforts being made to use gamification in Chemistry education. A quick Google search produced fewer results than I expected. I found one recent article in the Journal of Chemical Education that discussed the use of gamification to help students understand the concept of limiting reagents in stoichiometry. (I should add that the title of the article is “Clash of Chemists: A Gamified Blog To Master the Concept of Limiting Reagent Stoichiometry,” (which relates back to last week’s discussion on blogging.) The game asked students to come up with an analogy to represent the difference between stoichiometric and nonstoichiometric conditions, e.g., if you have 4 pieces of bread and 2 cups of peanut butter you can only make 2 peanut butter sandwiches because you’re limited by the 4 pieces of bread (assuming each sandwich is made of 2 pieces of bread). By the way, this is an example of a nonstoichiometric condition because you have excess peanut butter (assuming you put less than 1 cup of peanut butter on your sandwich). The game involved points and competition among peers. The feedback from students who participated in the game was generally positive and these students performed better in the class on average relative to their classmates. I liked this simple approach to a complex problem that is usually challenging for students to comprehend.

Thus, here is a list of the general chemistry topics. I don’t think anyone else in the class is a chemist, however everyone is required to take general chemistry. Does anyone remember a mental model, story, or have an idea/experience that could help students understand one of these topics? Or maybe add a game idea for a topic in your own field.

  • Acids, Bases and pH
  • Atomic Structure
  • Electrochemistry
  • Units and Measurement
  • Thermochemistry
  • Chemical Bonding
  • Periodic Table
  • Equations and Stoichiometry
  • Solutions and Mixtures

An Example of a Hybrid Learning Environment

In today’s world, asking students to sit through a lecture where a teacher deliver course material is proving to become less and less effective. There is no doubt that lectures have their inherent advantage of maintaining physical face-to-face interactions. In his article, Robert Talbert highlights some of what he believes the purposes for lectures as a teaching medium. These include conveying the thought process and the cognitive structure with which facts and problems are viewed and dealt with. On the other hand, many argue that lectures focus on teaching rather than learning. Mark Carnes writes about the emerging lack of motivation and interest in higher education. Carnes advocates for shifting from “teacher-oriented system” to learner-centered process.” Such process, Cranes argues, could help lead a departure from the classic academic experience.

As learning environments trigger different reactions by different people, there is definitely no one size that fits all approach to education. However, could a hybrid of teaching styles be successful?

In trying to answer this question, I will be sharing my experience with such a program. The Business for International Professional Program (BUSIP) offered by the University of Washington English Language Program (ELP) and Foster Business School offers a unique approach to teaching English and Business through a hybrid of lectures and simulations. The program is designed for international students who want to improve their business language abilities and develop their professional business skills. The program accepts international students from any field who completed their undergraduate education. The program consists of two main parts. The first is the lectures where students learn the themes and concepts of business. This is a typical classroom setting that includes lectures, readings, and discussions. The second part is a simulation of global business that runs throughout the quarter outside of the lecture hours.

The goal of the simulation is to prepare students for the global business workplace. The simulation includes a series of interactive workshops designed to mimic real-life business situations. In the simulation, the students are divided into 12 groups each represent a hypothetical entity. These groups are divided as follows: 3 groups represent different governments, 3 groups represent multinational corporations, and 6 groups represent local companies. In the simulation, each group develops strategies and goals that follow best business practices and seek to achieve them. Throughout the course, students apply what they learn in the lectures and test it in the simulation.

I found this way of learning very helpful to convey new concepts to students and push them to put it to the test. As student practice their management, marketing, and negotiation skills in a close to a real-life setting, they can decide what work and what does not work from what they learned from the lectures. This also helps teachers extract instant feedback that makes similar tools very applicable to a wide range of fields.

Making Lectures Fun

When one thinks of attending a “lecture,” what often comes to mind is an old white man standing in front of a chalkboard droning on in a monotone voice about some obscure corner of existence with little real-world relevance to the lives of the audience. This does not sound fun. And, I expect, that that old white man would be pleased to know that it was not fun, for his corner of existence is serious, very serious indeed.

Exceedingly serious.

While this may be the image that still is conjured up in my mind from time to time when I think of lectures, in reality, I have had the great fortune to sit through some amazing lectures, given by engaging, enthusiastic professors, some of whom were old, white men! The enthusiasm of some of these lecturers was what encouraged a passion for entomology within me, and many of my classmates. And, as an aspiring educator-to-be, I am inspired by their example.

Unfortunately, the lecturers that have been truly engaging and exciting in my life are few and far between, their impact like shining stars engulfed by the unmemorable void of droning “educators.” I cannot speak to what would lead someone to pursue a life of education if they cannot themselves find a reason to crack a smile once in a lecture or raise their voice above a hoarse whisper.

I get it, lecturing can be hard. Sometimes it feels like you have given this lecture 1000 times and you just cannot muster the energy to be excited for this 1001st time. But believe me, if you are feeling bored, your audience will pick up on that and return it to you 100-fold. Something that has worked for me in my, admittedly brief, experience as a lecturer, is to use a common method for reengaging the audience that can also help re-engage you. Every 20 or so minutes stop the lecture. Take a break from talking and ask the students some questions, or show an interesting, short, video clip, or have an activity that can make what you are saying to the students more real and tangible.

As I said in my last post, experiential (active) learning is not a new concept for our species, and it works wonders for conveying what facts actually mean. As an example, I have been developing a class project for an intro to entomology course that revolves around the creation of a trading card game (think Magic the Gathering for insects). This game would reflect, as well as possible, how the natural world of insects works. In a basic sense, there would be predators, herbivores, and parasites and they would have to interact with each other in a sustainable way with regards to the limited resources available in whichever habitat the players have chosen for that session (jungle, desert, field, etc.). Players would gain points for such things as having their predator consume another player’s herbivore, or for the number of offspring their parasitoid fly can produce. The game would begin with a few simple interactions, and throughout the semester, students would work in teams to create cards and game mechanics that would reflect the concepts we discussed in class. The game would get continually more complex, with cards based on real-world insects and situations (such as global climate change and invasive species), serving not to frustrate the player, but to impress upon them the interconnectedness of our natural world. A couple times each lecture we would stop and discuss, by consulting the students, how this concept could be applied to our game, and what unforeseen consequences of any new interactions could arise. And, every so often, a day of class would be devoted to test-driving our game and discussing what does and does not work and why.

I have yet to implement this game-design aspect into a real-world class, but I have a pretty good feeling that it could work, in tandem, with conventional, but exciting, lectures. Games engage the human mind in a way that straight problem solving simply cannot by providing a fun, and interesting, method to reach a specific goal. Playing games can unite people from a diverse range of backgrounds that otherwise would not ever interact, and, if designed well enough, can continue to be fun for years to come. Added to that, games can be iterative, and, if the game is successful enough, I envision an online-playable version that alumni, as well as current students, could continue to add to and engage with as research in entomology develops, and new, incredible, stories of insect behavior are discovered.

 

What classrooms can learn from games

After reading Setting Students Minds on Fire and A New Culture of Learning, I reflected on my own experiences with gaming and how those principles could be translated into classroom learning. As a gamer, I tend to play either simulation games (The Sims) or peaceful-ish quest games (Pokemon, Mario,etc.). Several principles of game-learning from these games can apply easily to classrooms and improve learning and retention.

First is the way a game begins. Most games start with a little background, often in the form of a cut-scene, on why you are about to start the quest/mission. I like to be immersed in a good story, and an interesting introduction is important for setting up that story. Meanwhile, back in the classroom, if you ask any student why they are taking that class, most will just say “Because it is required for my major”. As far as motivation to finish the game, that’s pretty weak. Often, majors come with a list of required courses, but no explanation as to why those courses are necessary. I’m still not sure why I had to take an Economics course as a Soil Science major. Instructors can always see the majors of their students on the class roster, and can use the gaming strategy to start the course with a little background on what the goal is, and how accomplishing that goal can be beneficial to all players. If students can see how the objectives of the course can help them in their own long term goals, they will have a better motivation than a GPA or a piece of paper to work hard and learn the material.

Once a game has established the quest, the players have to figure out how to accomplish it. Many games have the major quest broken down into manageable pieces, and often use an expanding world system. For example, with Pokemon games, you start of in one small town, then the quest takes you to another town. After you accomplish the mini-quests there, you go on to another city, increasing your skills and the available resources as you go. Sometimes the quest takes you back to towns you’ve already visited, and sometimes you go back on your own to try to collect different types of pokemon that you may have missed. In classroom settings, some of this is already employed. A lot of lectures build on previous knowledge, and often a topic will get brought up multiples times in order to give context. However, many classrooms don’t do well with the manageable mini-quests. How many courses have you taken where most of your grade came from 1 or 2 midterms and a final? This model gives rise to the binge and purge for knowledge and very low retention. Very few games have only 1 or 2 boss battles. That would be stressful and not nearly as much fun. It would not allow players to build up their skills in an engaging manner, and most players would not stick with the game for very long.

I think the principle that most desperately needs to be brought into classrooms is the outcome of failure in games. For most classrooms, when students do poorly on a test, or don’t understand a concept, they just get a bad grade and move on to the next concept. This model does not facilitate good learning, and can be extremely detrimental to students who struggle with an early concept that later parts of the course are based on.  Whereas in a game like Pokemon, if you lose a battle, you don’t get to fail and move on. You are transported to the last town you were in, and your pokemon are healed. The worst consequence is that you lose a little in-game currency. But then you try again. Sometimes you spend a little time trying to level your pokemon up, or switch out your pokemon to try a new strategy, but then you face the gym leader again, and again, until you win. You don’t get thrown onto the next, harder quest, until your are strong enough to finish the current quest. The ability to try again and again without major consequences makes players more willing to take on a challenging game. This could easily be translated into the classroom. With writing assignments, an instructor could allow for multiple drafts. On other assessments (quizzes, tests, homework), an instructor could allow students to redo the assignment in some way that allows the student to grasp the concepts they had struggled with.

I argue that this last principle needs to so desperately come into classrooms based off my own experiences as an instructor. I have seen students, used to getting high grades, become so terrified of ruining their GPA, that the focus becomes entirely on the grade than the material. I’ve had students on writing assignments hound me with questions so relentlessly about so many minute things, it felt as though I may as well have written the assignment for them. These students were so worried about getting docked points for messing up that they were totally unwilling to take any initiative for themselves. I recognize that the more opportunities for re-doing assignments there are, the more work there is for instructors. However, I think a balance can be found that enables student learning with out paralyzing fear of failure and allows instructors to get the work done. The inordinately high level of grade stress is probably responsible for a lot of burn out and perhaps one of the reasons so many students who start college degrees do not finish them.

Week 2: Digital Learners, “Those Youths!”

One of the kids on the Digital Media video said something that stuck with me. He was talking about how his perception of lessons in school has changed from “Ugh! I have to learn this!” to “This is interesting, I want to learn this!”, and I can’t help but wonder how much the design of his courses contributed to his newfound enthusiasm for learning. Obviously, there are lots of other things that have changed (and thus an equal number of confounding variables, but it’s definitely worthy of commentary.

I mentioned the influence of design in pedagogical practice in my previous post, and I’d like to continue that line of inquiry here. I referred to the design of various classrooms and how that can contribute to improved learning outcomes and greater engagement among the students who occupy those spaces, but that concerned the built environment. This time, I’d like to look at the design of coursework, the technological infrastructures, and the integration of the two in the successful and not-so-successful examples we saw and read about this week.

One of the most successful examples were the classes featured in Setting Students’ Minds on Fire, in which the teacher made the course material more engaging by turning it into a role-playing game. It was a huge success, primarily because, as was stated in the article, “the strongest gains come from pedagogies that feature teamwork and problem solving”. The atmosphere of friendly–but rigorous–competition drove the students to improve, thereby receiving positive reinforcement in the form of increased success in the game, which caused them to become more dedicated to it, and because the game relied on a store of knowledge that could only be acquired by learning the material, the students became better strategists and also better scholars of the material. This was a fascinating study in what happens when gamification goes wonderfully right, and I would have loved to learn more about the mechanics of the game and how exactly it was played. Unfortunately, for every instance in which gamification is successful, there are several more examples where it fails. One example from my own life was the last-ditch attempt to introduce online gaming into my middle school’s English and Language Arts classes. While this was many years ago, the consistently low test scores and rankings of that particular school indicate that not much has changed. Instead of reviewing the literature and emphasizing the importance of strategic thinking, problem solving, and planning ahead, the administration merely foisted computer games on their English classes in the hope that something would stick. It did not, nor did the reading and writing scores improve.

Even in classes with strict teachers, students who were determined to text their friends, pass notes, or otherwise remain disengaged would always find a way to achieve their ends: one enormous mistake a lot of the more conservative authors of this week’s articles made was to underestimate the cunning of adolescents and young adults. The intentionally disengaged student is the primary reason why I fall firmly in the middle of the spectrum when it comes to devices in class. I believe that they can be of great use, the ADA requires that those who have disabilities be given dispensation to use devices if they aid in learning, and they can be a fun way to involve even the most aloof students. These tools are becoming more integrated into our daily lives than ever before, and I personally believe that trying to stem the tide alone is futile. We should use this newfound power for good and show our students that classes can be more rewarding than scrolling through their newsfeeds. It’s no small task, but I believe the next generation of teacher can rise to the occasion.

Programming learning resources for Kids in 21st Century

Years ago, I start teaching my son how to programming. To him, use a computer is a normal thing and he is very happy to learn it. In the Montgomery County Public Schools, all students have a Chromebook and use it to learn math and reading in class.

I share the resource I used in this blog.

  1. Scratch (https://scratch.mit.edu/): A visual programming language for children developed by MIT. My son’s school teaches Scratch in the gifted program. This is a game developed by my son.

  2. Swift Playgrounds (https://www.apple.com/swift/playgrounds/): It is an iPad app that for learning Swift. Swift is a programming language developed by Apple. You can create a mobile app using Swift. This app is very fun.

  3. Grasshopper (https://grasshopper.codes/): It is an iPhone/iPad app teaches learners to write JavaScript. JavaScript is a popular programming language during recent years.

  4. React (https://reactjs.org/): React is a JavaScript library for building the Web application. It is developed by Facebook. It is an advanced programming language, so for now, I only teach my son the basic like write HTML.

Bill Gates learned to code when he was in high school in 1969. In 2012, there was a 12 years old kid developed an app and presented it in the TED (A 12-year-old app developer | Thomas Suarez). Now is 2018, when will you start teaching your kid to code?

Source: Google

The “Googling the Error” section of the “Arc of Life Learning” chapter in Douglas Thomas and John Seely Brown’s A New Culture of Learning resonated with me the most this week. Possibly because these days I am Allen and he is me. I was not always this way. When I arrived at Virginia Tech as a graduate student in June 2017, my fellow lab mates suggested I learn the program R as this allows for graphing data in the format my advisor prefers. Apparently Excel graphs are deemed a bit unprofessional in the world I only recently became a part of—who knew? I saw that there was book available to teach all there was to know about R, thus I asked if this was the best way to learn the program. I was a new graduate student eager to learn things the “right way”. In summary I was told “No. Just google anything you need to know.” They were not wrong. Even after taking a class in my department which essentially teaches R in the context of environmental sampling and monitoring—still not wrong. I would absolutely argue that the class was helpful for two of the reasons Robert Talbert lists in “Four things lecture is good for”: modeling thought processes and giving context. However, now that I am beyond the class and actually to the point where I have my own data to work with, it is nearly impossible and time-consuming to search through the course material for the specific file which contained a specific example of how to change the range on the y-axis. I try, I really do—primarily because I want to actually make use of what I learned and the work I put into the semester, but my priority is producing results not holding on to principle.

In the same section of A New Culture of Learning, a passage caused me to reflect on my understanding of what we discussed last week: “by ‘googling’ the error, he was able to tap into—and learn from—large, diverse networks of programming and hobbyists who all faced similar issues.” Networked learning. But the thing is, I often overlook the people in the process that comprise this network. Often, Google is viewed as this omnipotent being that has all the answers. Too many times I’ve seen people cite Google Images (not even going to talk about Wikipedia). In reality, Google is simply a search engine that directs us to questions and answers provided by real people. When I “google the error,” I unfortunately don’t make any attempts to be a part of the conversation. I get my answer and I get out. Really, I should be more grateful to all the people who were helpful enough to take the time to answer questions for people like me and of course, the brave answer-seekers.

POST 2: It’s your tuition, it’s your choice…or is it mine?

In the spirit of my recent blog post on connectivity, as well as the additional classroom discussions from this week, I feel it is only right to continue the conversation of connection into another area of the classroom- particularly, our students and their connection with devices (phones, tablets, computers, etc).

After reading Anya Kamenetz‘s piece, Laptops and Phones In The Classroom: Yea, Nay Or A Third Way?, I could not help but ponder, and even dwell on, how I address technology usage in my own class. And perhaps more importantly, if I address it correctly or if there even is a “correct” way to address it.

Kamenetz does such a great job of offering a number of different opinions and viewpoints from professionals around the country, all of whom are far more credible than me, which I appreciate. However, in doing so, I was left more lost on the topic than when I started. In addition, I kind of felt like I fit into a number of views, as opposed to just one, which further complicated the matter.

To begin, I have always had the attitude that what students do during their time in my class is their choice, I should not, nor can I, control them. While I do not say this explicitly to them, as my title suggests, it’s their tuition, it’s their choice. My only rule is that as long as what they are doing does not distract those around them, they are free to use their phones and their computers as they please. What works best for their learning, works best for me.

My reasoning for this is pretty simple: 1. It is a 50 minute class and pretty much everything I cover will be important, so they really have no reason to be distracted by a computer or phone anyways- aka, I beat them to the punch, 2. Some students do better with taking notes on their computer/tablet/etc. so why deprive them of that freedom and advantage? and 3. Given the structure of the course, much of our time is spent interacting with one another anyways, so the need for them is limited.

However, as noted, in reading the piece I could not help but think twice about my approach. At times I got caught thinking that maybe technology is not necessary and I should ban it, except for in the case of an emergency. Yet in doing this I might deprive a student from their ability to learn to the best of their ability, which is not fair to them. I then thought, what if I involved technology as a tool for learning? Maybe that could work. Regardless of how I spun it, I was flip flopping between views and approaches and honestly even until now, I still do not know what is correct.

Perhaps their is no correct answer. Perhaps it is dependent on the instructor. Perhaps it is more dependent on the group of students that semester. Who even knows. What I do know, or at least what I think I know, is this: technology is only going to advance further and become more pervasive in the lives of our students. What might work now, may not work in 5 years. What works in 5 years, might not work now.

As future classroom leaders I think it is not only beneficial, but also imperative to think about the classroom environment that we plan to create for those students. Regardless of whether it involves cellphones and computers, it is our duty to foster a space where learning and connection can occur, because while it may be their tuition, perhaps we do have a little say in the whole thing.

Thanks for making it this far- I’d love to hear your thoughts, feedback, or other!

Get those kids [with their technology] off my lawn

simpsonscellinclas

Lectures are boring… sometimes

Lectures (whether in-person or virtual) should present information and help students understand content by making connections between ideas, demonstrating or explaining difficult concepts, or simply presenting the information in a way that makes it easier for students to remember the information later. Lectures should highlight important concepts and synthesize information that would otherwise take students hours to find and read. However, lectures are often an ebb and flow of new information and boring redundancy.

Teachers are sometimes blamed for students distracting themselves with technology because they aren’t using teaching methods that “kids today” understand. And it may be true that some courses and instructors are unengaging and boring. However, in the regular flow of a lecture, the information receiver will likely be bored during some parts of the lecture because they already understand a concept, are confused and do not know what is happening in the lecture, or simply find the course subject boring. The presence of occasional boredom is a symptom of group learning, when an instructor is teaching to students of different backgrounds.

The problem with modern technology is that it allows the slightly-bored student to escape immediately. What may have been 60 seconds of boredom turns into 240 seconds of distraction. The threshold for distraction is lowered, because we are given instant positive feedback of being entertained by checking our electronic devices. We have now missed some portion of the lecture and are slightly lost, which is may mean that understanding the lecture is difficult. We receive the negative reinforcement that lecture is boring. We distract ourselves with technology again.

I have been a student in networked and non-networked classrooms. And over and over again, students are playing on a computer or phone. Sometimes there is no pretense- the student is watching YouTube the entire class. But often it’s not continuous- just having email or a website up, or looking up something online that is class related. But the ability to escape is a constant pull. Maybe we’re only looking at our phones for 15 minutes out of the 50 minute lecture, but we’re thinking of checking them for another 15.

PLLcell

It’s technology’s fault for [not] being there

Technology in the classroom can be distracting. And it seems to be a problem with two knee-jerk solutions: 1) Get rid of all technology or 2) Incorporate all possible technology into the classroom.

I lean towards the first response. I’m not saying that technology cannot be incorporated into a course. Various platforms allow us to instantly and easily submit assignments, provide feedback and grades, and exchange information. They allow us to engage in distance learning and online discussions. And technology can be used to engage students.

But technology in a class can facilitate distractions. Teachers shouldn’t give up on trying to keep students focused on the lecture instead of their phones and computer screens. It shouldn’t be included in a course just because it can be. Do we need to give students more-expensive electronic versions of equipment or integrate phone applications into a class?

Conversely, technology shouldn’t be used because it’s easier to facilitate and grade than in-person interactions. By replacing in-person with online discussion, words are stripped of their tone and corresponding body language. After spending time crafting the perfect blog post, might we not be a bit defensive about people questioning our ideas? Or reading someone’s post after a bad week of work may result in a negative interpretation of a neutral comment.

I enjoy writing and reading. I’m not saying that we shouldn’t write. Writing forces us look at our rambling thoughts and structure them into coherency. It allows us to pick out our best arguments and cut redundant and contradictory information. I simply question whether instead of encouraging more individual interfacing with the whole of the internet or on a virtual platform just shared with a class, we should be encouraging communication in the physical world.

Life Beyond the Classroom

As a person who wishes to continue teaching as a vocation—who, too, sees teaching as her calling—I hope to never lose perspective of what it is to be a student. And, if I feel that sense slipping, I hope I’ll have the self-awareness to know it’s time to go back and better empathize with my students.

I’m saying this because, as a composition teacher and creative writing graduate student here, I’m constantly empathizing with my students; we have a lot to juggle. As I sit writing this, I do so with the anxiety that I’m doing so with only so much time until it’s due, that I have to do work for three other classes I’m taking, that I need to grade and prepare for the two classes I’m teaching, that I need to write for my freelance position, that I need to work on my applications for future advancement opportunities, that I need to block out time to work on my thesis.

Notice how, in my rant, I unintentionally write I “have” to do this, I “need” to do that. As it seems, my perception of my work—of learning, in general—is currently one that’s being done not out of joy, but out of obligation. Not, as Gardner Cambell calls for, out of the “adventure” it should be viewed to be. Instead, in writing even this post, I’m wondering how to keep my head above water as a student who’s dealing with the “management structures,” the “mechanics of ‘student success.’”

Dr. Michael Wesch’s talk followed me throughout last week; I, too, kept discussing and wondering about the same questions he says all his students want answered, particularly “Who am I?” and “Am I going to make it?”

To be sure, my students ask these same questions to themselves, which is why I’m trying constantly to get my students to understand their purpose and worth on this campus, and to see those same qualities in themselves beyond the traditional learning environment. In class, I ask them what they want out of their lives. Then I ask them again—what do you really want? I ask them what they wish they’d learned, but never had. I ask them what they want from me. I ask them how they best learn. I ask them how they think they can accomplish their goals. And, while listening and responding to my students’ responses, I push them to at least consider the best practices, learning styles, and ideas beyond those with which they’re entering in college; likewise, I push them to, at best, consider themselves beyond the college environment. That’s what we’re preparing them for, no?

What happens to curiosity when we lose the will to be curious at all? How can we relieve the pressure from students? How can we prove to the world that this is necessary—that helping students discover the joy, the complexity, and the practicality in studying will lead to the most effective real-world problem-solving?

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