I have the immense pleasure of being the Senior High ELA Curriculum Coach for PWSD 76 in Alberta, and today that meant the opportunity once again to get together as a coaching cohort. During our meeting we viewed a previously aired webinar by Jim Knight (@jimknight99). I enjoyed tweeting what I was learning throughout. One section of the webinar that caught my attention was regarding the need to praise students more than we correct them. (Hopefully I’m not putting too many words into Jim’s mouth.)
These statements reminded me of some thoughts I’d heard a while ago that emphasized the idea that praising children may not be the best approach if we want to raise kids who are intrinsically motivated to do the right thing rather than doing it because of the attention they receive from doing so. I didn’t have the sources of these quotes with me at the moment, but I tweeted a couple questions out based upon the impact of these statements. The idea of not offering praise is one that I’ve actually tried to put into practice (when I remember to do so) with my students and my own kids.
When I got home today, I had a couple replies from Jim Knight about what I had tweeted. Jim had a question for me that I didn’t have a ready answer for. He asked, “Re: praise. Do you think teachers should only give corrective feedback? I think both, but we often overlook positive.” I went back to the webinar link and listened to this portion again. Here’s one statement that made his tweet reply begin to make sense: “The bottom line is, that you want to make sure that you’re giving more positive attention to the students than negative attention. If all you do is correct students, pretty quickly the students know ‘If I want to get that teacher’s attention, the only way I can get it is by acting up.‘” I’m assuming correction is being viewed then as negative attention; we correct when a student has been “acting up” in some way. This dichotomy of praise and correction is something that I didn’t see addressed in my reading about “the pitfalls of praise,” as Joe Bower (@Joe_Bower) puts it in his blog post If I Don’t Praise Children, What Can I do?
Joe’s post was the first I read on this matter. At the time, I remember, it didn’t feel right to hear that I shouldn’t praise my own son or daughters when they do something great. But the logic makes sense: “If I praise Amber by saying “good job”, it’s the equivalent of patting her on the head and throwing a mirror inches in front of her face – like the praise, the mirror would encourage Amber to focus on how her good-will benefited her.” I realized I didn’t want my children to be motivated to do good in order to feel good themselves; I want them to do good because it’s the right thing to do. And I certainly didn’t want to manipulate my children or create praise junkies or steal their pleasure, make them lose interest, or reduce achievement as Alfie Kohn (@alfiekohn) writes about in Five Reasons to Stop Saying ‘Good Job!’ These writings and others inspired me to look for alternatives to praise my children and my students (though I must admit I’ve been rather inconsistent and that’s probably worse than picking a side and sticking to it). A couple suggestions that I really liked as alternatives also came from Joe and Alfie: Say nothing, state what you saw, and talk less–ask more. Joe’s question to Amber, “Did you see the smile on that ladies face?” seemed to be a great alternative to “Wow, that was such a nice thing that you just did!” Though, it may be argued that this question still encourages Amber to do good because it will impress others, if not her teacher. Perhaps a better question would be something along the lines of: “Can you tell me why you chose to help that lady.” This would require Amber to think about her own motivation and the results of her actions, and it may lead to follow up questions. I believe my response to Jim Knight lies buried somewhere in this last alternative.
As I mentioned, Jim’s perspective of praise comes from the relationship between praise and correction. His webinar suggests a 5:1 ratio of praise to correction. Thinking about my own practice, I think I’d be lucky to have a 1:5 ration in my classroom. Jim notes that it’s not uncommon to find ratios of 1:10, 1:15 or even 0:28 in one Australian classroom. What is the impact of this on students? I can’t imagine that constant correction without praise will result in a positive self-image for a child. And I believe this is Jim’s point.
I think I’m going to have to argue that if we are going to continue to provide students with correction, then we are going to have to also provide them with praise. But is this the answer? I’m going to step out on a limb here (hoping it doesn’t break away from under me) and suggest we stop doing both? Through the course of researching and writing this blog, I continued to reflect on Jim’s question to me: “Do I think that teachers should only give corrective feedback?” My answer is this: I believe praise is harmful to children, yet I also believe that constant correction without praise would also be harmful. The only option I’m left with then is to abolish both. Is this possible? Can we teach without the use of correction?
A short time ago, I would have said no, of course we can’t! However, my focus on critical thinking and collaboration is beginning to lead me to believe that students are capable of correcting themselves and each other. I had an experience recently that reinforces this for me. My ELA 10 class was working on getting commas and semicolons placed correctly within their sentence structures. They were collaborating with a partner to write proper sentences based upon particular criteria I provided. I was hovering, observing, refusing to answer questions (instead, helping them find the answers in the handouts they had in triplicate from a variety of sources showing the info in different ways). Then I began to take pictures of the sentences they were creating. I paused the activity and displayed their own examples on the board, using polleverywhere.com to ask the class whether the sentence used correct punctuation or not. The results came in, and were not unanimous. This let me know there were still some students struggling to figure things out, and it provided the opportunity for students to try to defend their answers. The ones who were incorrect were unable to do so, but those who were correct provided justification from the notes and helped the others see why. This is one example of how questioning students and providing the time for conversations and critical thinking could help us eliminate the need for correction in our classrooms and allow me to sleep soundly with the belief that praise should also defer to questioning and self-reflection.
I couldn’t sleep last night and continued to reflect on this issue. Here’s my problem: My mind tells me that what I wrote is pretty solid; however, my heart wants to disagree. I want to offer praise. I want to offer correction. Where does this desire come from? Am I conditioned from growing up in a system that has told me this is what we do, or am I feeling a desire inherent in all humanity? Where I ended up is admitting that perhaps I’m being too black and white about the issue. I tend to do that (you’ll see it if you follow my blog and I’m hoping you’ll help keep me in line). During my second year teacher’s evaluation, this was also the critique of of my acting principal. I blame it on my strict religious upbringing where things were either right or they were wrong. I’ve begun to mellow since then, wanting to be open to other perspectives and looking for common ground, but I tend to fall back on the “draw a line in the sand” approach when first confronted with a new issue. In this case, I’m looking for common ground. I see value in praise, which is why I’ve had a hard time not doing it. I see value in correction, you can ask my own children about that. As stated above, I see value in withholding praise and correction as well. Perhaps that’s the answer I’m looking for. Perhaps it’s a matter of analyzing the context and making a decision of what’s best for this child in this situation. Does that sound like a cop-out? I hope not. I’m finally beginning to view education from this point of view, striving to individualize and see the gray areas where perhaps much of my time should be spent.