Formative Assessment Pt. 1: Learning Intentions

This the first post of a series on considering embedded formative assessment in EFL  classes at high schools in Japan. In previous posts (here and here), I mentioned some of the potentially powerful reasons for making use of this type of formative assessment. Dylan Wiliam, a teacher/administrator/researcher/teacher training from the UK believes that the single most effective (and cost-effective!) way of improving learning is for teachers (and learners) to provide assessment for learning, not assessment of learning. This requires a rethinking of the purposes, timing, and techniques of assessment. In Japanese EFL classes, it will likely involve more than this…In this series, I will look at the possible application of Dylan Wiliam’s stages of formative assessment here in Japan. To learn more about Dylan Wiliam, you can visit his website, or read this article from The Guardian, or read his latest book about why and how to make greater use of formative assessment, Embedded Formative Assessment. A BBC documentary of his initiatives called The Classroom Experiment is also available on YouTube (Part 1 and Part 2). But before we go on, it is important to clear one thing up: assessment for learning is perhaps not the assessment you are thinking of if you are thinking about grading. It has very little to do with grading and everything to do with informing the teacher and the students (and possibly others, including peers and parents) about how to learn. So the topic of testing for grading will not be addressed here.

Where are we going? Or more precisely, where am I going? This is the question that should be on the minds of all learners as they select a course or arrive for the first lesson. It is a question that needs to be kept in mind as learners proceed through courses as active monitors and agents in their own learning. But often in institutionalized settings, it is not. Instead, the learners do not voice any expectations they may have and just flip through the textbook for a hint of the things they will learn. It’s frustrating for some, but years of similar starts to courses have made it unquestionably normal.

Too often in high schools in Japan, the teachers actually have a fairly similar experience. They flip through the textbook to see what it is they are going to teach in the upcoming year. That is, many schools fail to create a curriculum with specific skill targets for each year and instead they let the textbooks (OK, Ministry-approved so they must be appropriate, no?) decide what they are going to teach. It is the content of the textbook that becomes the de facto syllabus for the course. Having students learn–usually meaning “memorize”–the content of the textbook becomes everyone’s purpose. And it is at the point of this decision to not make a syllabus with specific skill targets and instead just teach the textbook from start to however far we get, that the first obstacle to deploying embedded formative assessment  emerges. For once the textbook becomes the object of learning, it changes the course content into a body of knowledge or information. It shifts the goals of the course from the learner’s skills and ability to something outside the learner. The starting and ending point of learning is no longer the learner, but the percentage of the textbook that the learner can “master.”

That is not to say that the textbook content cannot be a good part of a syllabus for a course. Used flexibly, by a dedicated teacher, a good textbook contains enough interesting activities and content that it can provide structure for a course and facilitate learning. But there’s an expression in English that we need to keep in mind: when the only tool you have is a hammer, every problem begins to look like a nail. For HS teachers in Japan, the textbook becomes the hammer with which they address the needs of every unique learner in the class. It is not the most effective way to teach and it doesn’t have to be this way. With clear skill targets, the teacher and the learners get a way of talking about learning. The teacher gets something she can show, demonstrate, and measure the progress of. The learners get a model and a yardstick. Of course all language courses feature a combination of knowledge content, skill content. But a greater emphasis on skills by everyone in the classroom is necessary to prevent the course from focusing completely on knowledge and understanding, things that will not actually matter that much when learners try to make use of the target language in the real world.

“It is important that students know where they are going in their learning and what counts as quality work, but there cannot be a simple formula for doing this,” says Mr. Wiliam. Look at that first part again: “know where they are going in their learning and what counts as quality work.” The learners need to have a better idea of what they can do now and and what they will be expected to be able to do and know by the end. They need to see it. They need to see themselves, the target, and the gap. This is, at present, not a common way that schools, English departments, or individual teachers approach the kids who come to them to learn. The focus of Mr. Wiliam’s book and  assessment for learning (AFL) is entirely the classroom and the learners in it. He does not spend any time discussing placement tests or proficiency tests. Instead, the learners are asked to consider learning intentions for every unit, topic, or module the class will encounter.  And he provides several concrete suggestions as examples for how this can be done. Many of them are collaborative in nature. I went through them and pulled out the ones that I thought could be adapted for use in English language classes in Japan. In most cases, the actual example is described as how I would imagine using the technique in HS English classes. If you want the complete list of original examples, you’ll just have to get the book, something I recommend anyway.

First up is passing out 4-5 examples of student work from the previous year. In the book it is done with lab reports, but it could be done with any kind of student writing (or if you have recorded examples of presentations or student speaking, that would work, too). In groups, the learners rank the works and report on how they assessed them. This lets the criteria for better performance become salient through comparison and discussion. Teachers may want to provide some topics or questions to guide the learners’ attention to specific aspects.

A variation of the  above involves the work of the present class. After the writing assignment is completed, the teacher collects them all and reads them, selecting what he thinks are the three best examples of student writing. No other feedback is on the paper at this point–no grade and no comments. The teacher hands out copies of the best student writing. The learners are asked to read them for homework and then discuss why the teacher thought these were the best. Then–and here’s the important step–all the students (including the authors of the best papers) get their papers back and are given time to redraft their writing. They then, finally, submit them for a grade.

In “Choose-Swap-Choose” learners choose a good example of their own work from several they have made (a short recorded speech, for example). They then submit these to a partner who then chooses the one he/she thinks is best. The two students discuss their choices if there is disagreement.

One good idea of reading aloud or pronunciation classes has learners in groups practicing the recitation of a short passage in the target language. Each group then chooses the learner who they think has the best accent and the whole class listens in turn to the representatives of each group. The teacher comments on the strengths and weaknesses of each one.

And finally, have the learners try to design their own test or test items for mid-term or end-of-term tests. Of course, this should be done while there is still time to make use of the feedback that emerges from this activity. But in making test items, students clearly show what they think they have learned and what they think is important.

The main thing to point out from all of the above techniques is that they provide feedback to both the learners and the teacher. The learners can use that information to make adjustments to their learning. And the teacher can use it to see what has been learned and how well in order to make adjustments to teaching. All of these techniques promote meta-cognitive skills. They also contribute to the creation of a community of learners. According to Mr. Wiliam, they also definitely lead to better learning. But would this approach work at high schools in Japan? The answer is a great big “it depends.” It depends on the levels of motivation and trust in the classroom. It depends on whether the teacher can afford the time it takes to allow learners to examine and discuss the work of others. And it depends on the mindset of the teachers. They need to be willing to try out a more learner-centered approach to teaching and learning, one with a greater emphasis on skills. Many–too many–teachers prefer to teach content at the students and leave the learning up to them. Too many have their syllabus strapped to the ankles of the syllabuses of the other teachers teaching the course in a given year. There is nothing to do but move along in lockstep. But I think that some of these ideas could be put into practice in almost any school in the prefecture where I work.

In the next post, we’ll look at what Dylan Wiliam says about how to elicit evidence of learning. Part 2: Eliciting evidence.

 

 

 

Doing What Must Be Done

Motivation–what the hell is it exactly? Well, it can be explained in terms of identity, general predispositions, or opinions toward certain groups of people or the languages associated with them. All of these are important, I guess. All of them develop over time. They are what they are when the learners seat themselves in our classes at the beginning of term and what we do has a big effect on how they change and develop over time. But in the world I inhabit, motivation has one very clear and specific meaning that is usually danced around and around. When teachers ask about how to motivate their learners, they are usually talking about one thing and one thing only.

Stated baldly: how can I get learners to do things they have to do in my class? Implied in this is that the “something” is necessary but not enjoyable. And there is probably a lot of it.

If we unpack this a little, it seems that there are a few things going on. First, the activities are necessary but they are not pleasurable. The learners know they are not pleasurable. They may or may not have accepted that they are necessary. The activities may be effective but the improvement is probably not palpable. And learners usually have no idea of how to see if they are progressing. Part of the problem is the nature of language learning, the skill-knowledge blend of learning content that must be “mastered”. And EFL learning contexts are often really similar to how war was once described: long periods of boredom punctuated by brief periods of intense activity. That is, you learn and you learn and you learn, and then one day you get a chance to use what you learn in an authentic, and/or possibly high-stakes situation. There’s a dearth of meaningful, ongoing feedback. It’s partly the nature of the EFL beast, though with the internet it doesn’t have to be (but that’s another post…). But it is also partly the problem of the type of feedback learners get. Let’s assume little Hanako gets a 60 on her term-final test after studying from April to July, as many kids apparently do in jr and sr high English classes. How is she supposed to think about this? I can English? I can’t English? Face it, the feedback inspires no confidence, and it always carries with it a huge wet blanket of doubt.

Now, let’s go back to the classroom where the summer homework has just  been distributed and students are looking at it for the first time. Their summer task is to write out all the vocabulary in their supplemental vocabulary book, several times, and get ready for a great big vocabulary test in September. Can you feel the enthusiasm in the room? No,  you most certainly can’t.

How, ask the teachers, can I motivate my students?

In materials design, you want to work on two things: use psychology to up the fragile motivation kids are feeling, and remove the friction perception they have regarding what they must do. Here is the principle represented visually, from Joshua Porter, via Stephen Anderson:

The sad reality is that at for any given assignment/activity, “there is a tug of war unfolding in our head, determining whether or not we are willing to put in the effort,” says Jonah Lehrer in a recent article. Some people are just better at putting in the effort, even in the face of wispy rewards and seemingly pointless tasks (and  higher level schools are probably filled with them). But some people are not good at it. They need to be convinced, or enticed.

Motivating learners is an ongoing process. It involves, in my opinion, giving them success, challenging their abilities/skills in meaningful and delightful ways, and getting their understanding and acceptance of the whole process. Game designers understand this. Play any successful game for a few hours and watch yourself acquire skills. In an earlier post I talked about the brilliance of Plants Vs. Zombies–the staggered introduction of new challenges, the options for personalization, and the endless delightful quirks of items, challenges, names, etc. When something has a laborious amount of work attached to it, it must be perceived by learners as really useful, or  really fun.

So back to our classroom. How do you motivate students? Don’t give them boring assignments of questionable value. Give them something  meaningful and at least a little entertaining, something they can personalize, something they can see if they have accomplished or not. Design the assignment so that the workload is not immediately obvious and daunting–something they can run with, not something they can slam into.

 

Motivational Effects that Defy 2: The Pygmalion Effect

This is the second in a series of posts on motivational effects that have proven both enduring and contentious. The first post looked at the Hawthorne effect.

But before we get into the second effect, let’s try a little thought experiment. A student, let’s call him Sue, has a mother who complains all the time that teachers just don’t challenge little Sue enough. It’s their low expectations that have caused him to be the perpetual underachiever that he is. Sue’s mother is convinced of this because the teacher seems to lavish praise and attention on Darla who gets perfects on tests, loves to volunteer answers in class, and will no doubt one day be valedictorian. Ready for the experiment? Quick, design an experiment that might prove or disprove that the teacher’s attention and expectations are in any way responsible for the performance of the two students.

And there we come to the problems with the Pygmalion effect, the notion that when greater expectations are placed on learners, they perform at higher levels.  It seems so intuitively true. At the same time, however, it is really really difficult to isolate the variables and demonstrate it objectively. Can we really prove causation? And does the effect compound over years with different teachers? If not, is it lasting? The effect is also sometimes known as the Rosenthal effect after Robert Rosenthal whose early experiments helped to get the effect recognized. His book, first published in 1968 and then updated in 1992 certainly helped to popularize the term and link it with the effect. Other names often heard are self-fulfilling prophecies or expectancy effects, the plural being significant here in order to include the effects of both positive and negative expectations. Rosenthal’s work seems to be a good place to begin, but first let’s consider the origin of the name.

Pygmalion_(Regnault)

Pygmalion was a sculptor who fell in love with a sculpture he made. According to the myth, recounted by Ovid, he is so in love with the statue that Venus eventually takes pity on him and sends Cupid to bring her, Galatea, to life. Pygmalion and Galatea get married, have a son and live pretty happily ever after. This story is the source of countless poems, stories, plays, and movies, most famously Pygmalion by Shaw (later adapted as My Fair Lady for Broadway and film). The main point here is that the teacher is a creator and the more he–let’s stay with the gender of the story–puts his heart into his work and the higher his expectations are for his charges, the more they accomplish, be it love, life, happiness, or a 27.4  IQ point gain.

The Oak School studies by Rosenthal and Jacobson showed that teacher expectations matter, especially for younger or newer learners (when the teacher has not yet had a chance to form an opinion of expectation). Basically, teachers were told fabricated results of  students on a standardized achievement test. After a year, the students who had reportedly scored really high on that test were doing better in their classes, thanks to the higher expectations of the teacher. Rosenthal and Jacobson measured IQ gains and there are reasons to be suspect of their methodology and findings, but Rosenthal is adamant about the existence of a Pygmalion effect. The findings of this study and several others by Rosenthal, as well as their implications for teachers and administrators, are nicely covered in this short article.

In a more recent  overview of 35 years of Pygmalion studies by Jussim and Harber (2005) a more sober view of the research into self-fulfilling prophecies can be found. The findings are summarized as follows:

“(1) Self-fulfilling prophecies in the classroom do occur, but these effects are typically small, they do not accumulate greatly across perceivers or over time, and they may be more likely to dissipate than accumulate; (2) powerful self-fulfilling prophecies may selectively occur among students from stigmatized social groups; (3) whether self-fulfilling prophecies affect intelligence, and whether they in general do more harm than good, remains unclear; (4) teacher expectations may predict student outcomes more because these expectations are accurate than because they are self-fulfilling.” (pg. 131)

It seems that recent research seems to be focusing on race, gender, and social stigmatization and the role of teachers in perpetuating social discrepancies (see work by Rhona Weinstein, for example). But what about individual learners? Is the effect of teacher expectations really “unclear” or “small”? Work by Dweck (Mindset, 2006: click here for my review) seems to suggest that what and how a teacher does in the classroom can make a big, clear difference. Praising effort rather than accomplishments can lead to considerably more future effort and eventually much greater success. So it seems likely that expectations (of effort, of success) have some bearing on that. I for one would not be so quick to dismiss the findings of Mr. Rosenthal just for procedural reasons. But the interaction between teachers and students is complicated and dynamic and it may be difficult to draw actionable conclusions. In any case, it would seen prudent to always expect more from learners. Of course, one has to believe that improvements are always possible. For me, research into brain plasticity and how people become experts has helped me to strongly believe in the potential of each learner. I also try to get my learners to understand that talent is not necessarily something they are born with, which takes some doing usually because the belief in innate talent is really pervasive.

Perhaps a more disturbing possibility that we can take away from all this  is the one that Japanese learners of English belong to a group that is stigmatized, that is, expected to fail when it comes to English, if I may extrapolate a little from finding (2) in Jussim & Harber. It has often struck me as strange that students who cannot string three words together in English by high school are not considered unusual, but a student who, say, cannot multiply 8 by 9 in junior high school would cause a major freak-out. There are different standards for different subjects. The (particularly communicative) expectations for English learners in Japan are painfully low and that needs to change. If work by Weinstein is any indication, it will require considerable time and effort to effect such change.

Jussim, L. and Harber, K. (2005). Teacher expectations and self-fulfilling prophecies: Knowns and unknowns, resolved and unresolved controversies.  Personality and Social Psychology Review 9, 131-155

Feedback

One of the keynote speakers at the Wireless Ready conference on March 29 was Russsel Stannard. With a background in EFL and a degree in multimedia, he has done something simple and garnered a lot of attention, including articles in the Guardian and Times as well as invitations to talk at conferences such as Wireless Ready. That simple thing is to adapt screen capture software for the use of providing feedback for students. In his case, he uses Camtesia by TechSmith. What he does is “video” himself correcting a student’s written assignment, recording himself highlighting sections of the text, drawing marks, and making audio comments. He then sends those videos to students in the form of Flash or Windows media files (or others) and students open them up, listen to the corrections and suggestions and then redo their written work and send it back. Technically simple and pedagogically powerful. And the students apparently love it. At his website, you can find out more information, see example videos, and even watch instructional videos that show you how to do it (as well as other things). This is something I am definitely going to try in the new school year (starting tomorrow!!).