By Tina Ruybalid, Florida
Excited to be at my first educational STEM conference, I eagerly listened to the presenter, a well-known marine biology professor, describe the infamous Spiny Lobster migration when large numbers of lobsters line up single-file and march for days across the ocean floor. As he described this fascinating spectacle, he posed the question, “Why do you think the lobsters move in a queue across the ocean floor? What benefit is there to marching in this manner?”
Anxious to participate I began thinking. This formation reminded me of birds flying south for the winter. I knew that they fly in formation to catch the preceding bird’s updraft, making their flights more efficient and less draining. Maybe lobsters did the same thing, but in water.
I raised my hand. I was excited to contribute, to become a part of this engaging lesson. He pointed to me. “The formation helps them move more easily in the water.” He waited a few seconds. I stumbled for words, but since “Lobster Migration” was new to me, I didn’t have the vocabulary, although I knew what I wanted to say. “It’s the way the water flows…it helps…the movement…” I was still stuttering through my answer when he pointed to someone else. An answer was stated and the presenter yelled “Correct!”, and began to expound on the concept.
I however, was glaring at the man that answered MY question. I was angry, disappointed. I knew the answer, just didn’t have the words to express it. If only I had had more time to work it out, or been supported with probing questions, or scaffolded with vocabulary. I felt robbed of my learning.
I disengaged from the presentation, chastising myself for even trying to answer among the obviously astute scientists around me. I looked around room at the participants. They were mostly male, older, spectacled, shirts monogrammed with marine companies and universities. I on the other hand, a woman, my pastel notebook on the table, my large bright teacher bag sitting next to me on the floor.
And then, it hit me like a wet fish. I was a low expectancy student in the class. The presenter did not expect me to know the answer. Whether he moved on to save me from embarrassment, or moved on because he didn’t have the time to spend assisting my learning, he didn’t think I was capable of answering correctly.
Flashback to my classroom. How many students did I give up on too quickly because I ‘knew’ they wouldn’t get the right answer and we didn’t have time to let them sit and stare at me, or fumble for an answer? How many times had I refused eye contact because I didn’t want to embarrass them, knowing they would say the wrong thing. How often had I let them off the hook by allowing them to ‘phone a friend’ or allowing the class to ‘give them some help?’ I never returned to allow them to expand on the answer, or tell me in their own words, or explore their thinking aloud. Absent were words of feedback on what they DID answer correctly and what they still needed to consider. Now I knew first-hand how these students felt. And I was determined to change my practice.
In The Art and Science of Teaching by Robert Marzano, (Marzano 2007), Chapter 9 addresses research into the impact of teacher expectations on student achievement. Studies show that a high-expectancy student receives more positive interaction from teacher-friendly banter, frequent praise, eye contact and communicative responsiveness. Low expectancy students, on the other hand, are often seated further away, given less wait time to answer questions, less informative feedback on their responses, and less positive nonverbal communicative interactions such as leaning forward and using positive head nodding. Researchers also noted teachers based student expectations on many sources, some of which were comments in a student’s cum folder, physical attractiveness, social/economic class, and race.
Most of us have some preexisting biases with which we struggle. Conscious and unconscious beliefs are ingrained from early childhood. Sometimes we are painfully aware of them, and sometimes they unconsciously sneak their way into our professional teaching practice. It’s not something to be ashamed of and it’s not something that is easy to change; but Dr. Marzano assures us that we can change our outward behavior and instruction once we become aware of our inward unconscious presumptions.
He puts forth a simple, four step process that will assist teachers in awareness of behaviors that communicate low expectations as well as high expectations to students. And so I began my journey to conscious educational equity.
Step 1: Identify students for whom you have low expectations
As a first step, I simply printed a list of my students and quickly, without overthinking, marked my first impression. Did I expect this student to perform at a high level (+), average level (^), or low level (-)? Working through this privately allowed me to be completely honest and I promised myself that self-judgment and shame would not enter this reflective exercise.
Step 2: Identify similarities
Sorting students into columns of high, average, and low is something as teachers we do often for a variety of reasons. But sorting them due to your personal expectations, not data, and asking “why” they are placed there is a difficult and telling task. A pattern began to emerge and I became aware of unconscious judgments hiding in my instructional practice. Still vowing to ban self-judgment, and only use this as a reflective process, I immediately began creating an action plan to change my behavior.
Step 3: Identify differential treatment of low-expectancy students.
Of course, we like to think that we treat all of our students with fairness and respect. But I wanted to study myself. What was my initial reaction when a student I had flagged as “low-expectancy” didn’t answer a question correctly? How often did I make eye contact with this student? How often did I speak directly to them, or engage in conversation with them? What was my reaction when I saw they were not engaged? Did I let them stay that way so I didn’t interrupt the flow of the classroom since I knew they ‘probably wouldn’t get it anyway’ or did I pull them into the discussion or activity. Were they given the same effective instruction, even if it meant I had to dedicate more time and use different strategies and resources?
The results surprised me. I did, indeed, exhibit many of the behaviors researchers pointed to when it came to low expectations.
Step 4: Treat low-expectancy and high-expectancy students the same
Easy to say, harder to do. I was already working on behavioral changes – more eye contact, positive body language, prompting, and playful engagement, but the academic interactions were more difficult. I needed strategies and support to make this happen. I was committed to truly having high expectations for all my students and practicing conscious equity in my classroom and I needed help.
The ILC
I proposed tackling this issue to my team during our ILC. Wary looks met my suggestion, such an “untouchable” (and uncomfortable) subject, but I was determined. It was an important aspect of practice, consciously providing ALL students with highly effective, equitable instruction, regardless of personal bias. We started with the non-threatening SRI protocol: Equity Perspectives: Creating Space for Making Meaning on Equity Issues. One or two questions from this protocol were posed each week for a 5-10 minute open discussion. The guided discussion allowed our team to build trust and explore the dynamics of equity in education and in our personal professional practice. Using the SRI Equity Protocol, we were able to vet our lesson plans and reflect on equitable instruction by posing the suggested questions during planning. While planning, we used the “Go-Rounds” questions to ensure that we were addressing all learning modalities and student populations. But we didn’t stop there.
As a team we planned to purposely engage ‘low-expectancy’ students. At first, as with all new learning, it seemed mechanical. We crafted specific questions as well as the answer we expected from all students. Targeting our low expectancy students, we planned responses based on typical answers we received. If the question was answered incorrectly – we would point out what WAS correct about the answer, or give the correct question to the incorrect answer. For example, if we asked a student to explain the water cycle, and he or she replied “rain” we responded by stating, “Yes, rain is one part of the water cycle. What happens to the rain when it lands on the ground?” We planned strategies to combat the learned behavior of low expectancy students such as silence, “I don’t know” answers, and short one word replies. Complicated questions were broken into parts to support thought, and if the student seemed very anxious, we planned to temporarily give them a pass by collecting other answers from the class and then returning to the student for their input. During our ILC, we recognized that many of these students’ behaviors resulted from embarrassment, fear, and low self-confidence. We purposely focused on making sure these students had success in our classrooms by protecting them from negative comments from other students and validating their contributions to the class.
Our mechanical teaching has given way to a more natural flow. Students that we had once expected little of, are now confident and engaged in learning. These students understand that we see them as capable of academic success and we expect them to produce quality work. High expectations are the norm for all students, and they have risen to the challenge.
During our LC, we were all anxious to share the triumphs and struggles we had experienced with the students we had targeted. Weekly, we shared how we had noticed changes in these students that were sparked by changes in our instructional behavior. One colleague described it as a “balloon rising.” Another said it was like her student “had overcome fear and discovered confidence.” Did these students still occasionally revert back to a lack of engagement and off the wall answers (if any) to questions posed? Of course. Did we, as teachers, respond as usual? No. We expected the behavior. We had used our LC to troubleshoot, and we had strategies in our back pocket for re-engagement. All of our Low Expectancy students made gains at the end of the year and a few shining examples even scored at grade-level or above. The difference in how these students approached learning was what inspired us, as their teachers, to transform our practice. These students moved us by showing growth in those vital non-cognitive skills – motivation to learn, perseverance (even when fearful and frustrated), and self-discipline to practice and reflect on a regular basis. The pure joy exuded when they realized they had reached a goal was all the incentive we needed to make this a permanent part of our instruction.
Of course, improvement is a continuous process and delivering truly equitable instruction requires conscious and consistent reflection and change. Having a strong team to collaborate and learn with is key to enjoying this transformative journey.
As for the Lobster question, I am grateful I was able to experience what it feels like to be a “low expectancy student.” And for the record, I learned the terminology. One reason Lobsters march in formation is because the “hydrodynamic force” is less when moving behind another lobster.
Sometimes we need a “lead lobster” in our schools to face the resistance, before a queue will form. But once we are connected and marching, our trek to conscious equity will be significantly easier.
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Marzano, R. J. (2007). The art and science of teaching: A comprehensive framework for effective instruction. Alexandria, VA: ASCD.
If you have any questions, feedback for Tina, she can be reached at ruybalidt@gmail.com. Feel free to discuss this and other topics in our Facebook group.
