Instruction


 * Instruction**

Instruction is the motor of our educational car. Yes, we need a gas tank, a windshield, wheels, seats and a steering wheel, but without the motor, we’re not going anywhere. It is indeed what drives our students to their destination, our curriculum serves as the map, and assessment is the odometer and GPS system.

Indulging me in this banal metaphor is somewhat tedious to be sure, but there is a larger, more important question to which it leads. If there is such a thing as the educational car, what role do the students and the teacher play? More specifically, who is behind the wheel?

On the surface, this question appears overly simple, though I would contend that the answer to this question has the power to determine whether the high ability teacher is an undeniable success or simply mediocre. Most educators see themselves as the driver, the veritable chauffeur for the 25 students in her classroom. Outstanding teachers, however, realize that the individual students need to be driving the car. In these classrooms, it is the learner who chooses the route, pushes the pedal, makes the turns and twists, and reacts to the signs along the road.

Make no mistake, though using a metaphor, this is a real life question, and there truly are classrooms where teachers are behind the wheel and there are classrooms where the students take the helm. Deciphering which method is better is extremely simple when one considers the difference in the experience between driver and passenger. Have you ever taken an involved trip as a passenger and later been required to retrace that path? Could you? My own experience tells me that passengers oftentimes pay little attention to exactly how they arrive at a destination, whereas the driver must be acutely aware of the route. The outstanding teacher understands that to truly engage each student, the learner must be required to think on her own, to apply her learning, to solve problems, and to assess her own success.

In this extended metaphor, the question remains, if the student is driving the car, what does the teacher do? I prefer to think of the teacher as the car manufacturer. Why? The car manufacturer creates automobiles according to certain specifications. They must all conform to laws, fit on the road, go forward and backward, turn left and right, etcetera. Car manufacturers also are in need of customers. A perfectly functional car without a driver is useless.

The idea of the student as the customer, however, is problematic for many. I have engaged in numerous conversations in which my counterpart claims that compulsory attendance and the lack of a currency exchange are evidence that the notion of the student as customer is flawed. It is important to understand, however, that money is not what we want our students to spend, and compulsory attendance only brings the students through the door. “Intellectual capital” is what students have to spend, and unfortunately, it is not compulsory that students spend it. It is incumbent upon the teacher to entice her customers to use their capital in her store. When viewed in this manner, the student as customer analogy fits perfectly, and the teacher must design with the customer’s needs – even wants – in mind.

Interestingly, each customer has a different amount of intellectual capital to spend. Again, as the car manufacturer, the outstanding teacher recognizes this, and creates a car – a “driving experience,” if you will – to meet that customer’s needs. In the real world some cars are built for utility (pick-ups), some for luxury (sedans), some for performance (sports cars), and still others for efficiency (coupes). All of these types of cars come in different colors, and with different options and extras. In the educational world, we refer to this array of possible permutations and combinations as differentiation.

The outstanding teacher recognizes that differentiation is more complex than most realize. Most teachers recognize that students learn differently, and that each student possesses a strength in one particular mode over another. As a result, these teachers make certain that there are opportunities for students to excel in written expression, oral expression or in some kinesthetic fashion. Likewise, presentation of new material will occur so that students with these various strengths have an opportunity to experience the material within the mode of her choice: visual, auditory or kinesthetic. What many teachers miss, however, is that the differentiated classroom not only contains these traits, but also provides various tiers (to account for differing student abilities) for each of these activities, and frequently offers the students a choice of which activity or assessment they will perform.

As we relate this differentiation definition to our educational car, the mode of delivery and choice of assessment type is akin to choosing the color and options for the automobile. Power windows? Hi-fi stereo? Automatic or stick shift? Red, black, yellow, blue? As for providing tiered lessons, this compares nicely to the type of car. Porsches are great on the highway, but ever try to bring home a refrigerator from Lowe’s with one? There is an appropriate car for every learner and that learner’s purpose, and the car manufacturer has to have it all in order to entice each customer to spend her intellectual capital. Moreover, the customer’s satisfaction is incumbent upon the customer returning with a willingness to make future investments.

Is the expectation of this level of differentiation intimidating? Any beginning teacher who answers “no” to this query either didn’t understand its scope, or is withholding the truth! It is daunting. Realize that it is okay to start slowly. Experiment. Learn from colleagues around you. Share your ideas with them. Realize that, though you are all car manufacturers, you are not in competition with one another. Your goal is to entice as many of your customers as possible and so is theirs, but stealing one another’s customers really isn’t an option. Work together.