The theme of the past month of teaching third and fourth graders seemed to be,
“Teachers can learn a lot from students’ mistakes.”
A good gauge for teachers to know when they are done teaching a concept is when
students demonstrate mastery through error-free practice work. Most students are
expected to make mistakes as they work to put to use a new spelling pattern, grasp
the idea that multiplication and division are related to each other, or mentally sing the
preposition song to help them locate prepositions so they can parenthesis
prepositional phrases.
Seeing errors as a normal part of learning frees classrooms from an unattainable
expectation of perfect student practice work. Practice problems are designed to bring
to light steps in a process that need some clarifying, or times when a multi-sensory
technique will enhance memorization of facts. The secret is recognizing mistakes as
opportunities for the teacher to see which students need a bit of extra instruction, and
to design engaging supplemental instruction.
In recent educational blogs, an emphasis on creating a “positive error climate” in our
classrooms has been receiving attention. A positive error climate is simply the
acknowledgment by the teacher that,
if students didn’t make mistakes, I wouldn’t have a job.
The past weeks, I found myself saying those exact words to my students when they
were a bit sheepish about needing to ask for help or when I brought a paper and my
rolling chair to their desk so we could do some error correction together. I want each
of my students to know it is okay to make mistakes, but it is not okay to be unwilling to
work with me until the underlying confusion that caused the mistake in the first place is
cleared up. On my side, I must be willing to analyze the mistakes until I understand
where the disconnect has occurred and find a fresh approach that will reteach the skill
engagingly.
One incident over the past several weeks illustrates how error correction benefits the
whole class. It came to my attention that I had failed to provide enough practice
opportunities for my students to learn the moon phases, one area of study in the
Science chapter on the moon. The at-home nightly moon phase charting that was
intended to strengthen understanding of the moon phases got out of sync with the quiz
and test cycle during some unexpected days out of school. A quick oral check of
student grasp of the waxing and waning moon phases clearly showed that another
method for identifying those phases was needed. Desks were cleared, and tubs of
Play-Doh were passed out. Smiles broke out all around as step-by-step directions for
dividing the clay into 8 small balls. An replica of the moon phases chart from the
Science book was drawn on the whiteboard, with students giving input about how the
moon phases needed to be drawn. Working as a directed activity, students took balls
of clay and fashioned corresponding moon phases and placed them on their desk to
form their own moon phase “chart.” After all the clay balls were transformed into
moons, we touched and said the name of each phase aloud. Students suggested what
they noticed about the phases’ shapes and we brainstormed ways we could remember
which was a waxing phase and which was waning. While students were at lunch, I
created a sheet of paper labels for the eight phases and laid a set on each desk. As I
read the chapter from our after-lunch novel aloud to the class, students quietly put
labels in the correct positions by their clay moon phases, checking the board chart for
accuracy. At a student’s suggestion, some make the tags into flashcards by drawing
on the back of the tag what that moon phase looked like and orienting it correctly.
Students took the tags home as a study tool. We cleaned up the clay and gave desks
a quick wipe-down before moving into afternoon subjects. About 30 minutes were
devoted to this hands-on learning activity, and the resulting understanding was worth
every minute. What made the clay moon phases “stickier” than a chart in the Science
book? Forming clay into the correct shape for each phase took time, was engaging
and as a group activity, it spawned a class discussion about techniques for
remembering the phases. Simply summarized, the activity caused students to think
longer and more deeply about the information. Leaving the activity to go to lunch and
recess and then coming back to add another layer of understanding further
strengthened the memory.
Expecting students to make mistakes, and paying attention to what holes in student
understanding those mistakes reveal are important. Noticing errors early enough to
provide additional, engaging instruction is the key, not only for dyslexic learners but for
each child in the classroom!