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Mostrar mensagens com a etiqueta métodos de ensino. Mostrar todas as mensagens
Mostrar mensagens com a etiqueta métodos de ensino. Mostrar todas as mensagens
quarta-feira, 1 de maio de 2019
[educação] do ensino personalizado...?
sexta-feira, 14 de dezembro de 2018
[educação] para reflexão...
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quinta-feira, 10 de agosto de 2017
sábado, 10 de outubro de 2015
coisas da educação... [umas boas] reflexões* para o fim de dia...!
no público...
* corrigido pelas 21:41
* corrigido pelas 21:41
sábado, 14 de fevereiro de 2015
coisas da educação [pedagogia]... ensino diferenciado [prós e contras]... não funciona...!
"Let's review the educational cure-alls of past decades: back to basics, the open classroom, whole language, constructivism, and E.D. Hirsch's excruciatingly detailed accounts of what every 1st or 3rd grader should know, to name a few. It seems America's teachers and students are guinea pigs in the perennial quest for universal excellence. Sadly, though, the elusive panacea that will solve all of education's woes has remained, well, elusive.
But wait! The solution has arrived, and it's been around long enough to prove its worth. What is this magical elixir? Differentiation!
Starting with the gifted-education community in the late 1960s, differentiation didn't get its mojo going until regular educators jumped onto the bandwagon in the 1980s. By my count, the Association for Supervision and Curriculum Development (now known simply as ASCD) has released more than 600 publications on differentiation, and countless publishers have followed suit with manuals and software that will turn every classroom into a differentiated one.
There's only one problem: Differentiation is a failure, a farce, and the ultimate educational joke played on countless educators and students.
"By having dismantled many of the provisions we used to offer kids on the edges of learning, ... we have sacrificed the learning of virtually every student."
In theory, differentiation sounds great, as it takes several important factors of student learning into account:
• It seeks to determine what students already know and what they still need to learn.
• It allows students to demonstrate what they know through multiple methods.
• It encourages students and teachers to add depth and complexity to the learning/teaching process.
Sounds wonderful, doesn't it? The problem is this: Although fine in theory, differentiation in practice is harder to implement in a heterogeneous classroom than it is to juggle with one arm tied behind your back.
Case in point: In a winter 2011 Education Next article, the Thomas B. Fordham Institute's Michael Petrilli wrote about a University of Virginia study of differentiated instruction: "Teachers were provided with extensive professional development and ongoing coaching. Three years later the researchers wanted to know if the program had an impact on student learning. But they were stumped. 'We couldn't answer the question ... because no one was actually differentiating,' " the researcher, Holly Hertberg-Davis, told Petrilli.
And, Ms. Hertberg-Davis herself wrote in a 2009 article in Gifted Child Quarterly: "It does not seem that we are yet at a place where differentiation within the regular classroom is a particularly effective method of challenging our most able learners."
Too, Mike Schmoker, in a 2010 Commentary for Education Week titled "When Pedagogic Fads Trump Priorities," relates that his experiences of observing educators trying to differentiate caused him to draw this conclusion: "In every case, differentiated instruction seemed to complicate teachers' work, requiring them to procure and assemble multiple sets of materials, … and it dumbed down instruction."
As additional evidence of the ineffectiveness of differentiation, in a 2008 report by the Fordham Institute, 83 percent of teachers nationwide stated that differentiation was "somewhat" or "very" difficult to implement.
It seems that, when it comes to differentiation, teachers are either not doing it at all, or beating themselves up for not doing it as well as they're supposed to be doing it. Either way, the verdict is clear: Differentiation is a promise unfulfilled, a boondoggle of massive proportions.
The biggest reason differentiation doesn't work, and never will, is the way students are deployed in most of our nation's classrooms. Toss together several students who struggle to learn, along with a smattering of gifted kids, while adding a few English-language learners and a bunch of academically average students and expect a single teacher to differentiate for each of them. That is a recipe for academic disaster if ever I saw one. Such an admixture of students with varying abilities in one classroom causes even the most experienced and conscientious teachers to flinch, as they know the task of reaching each child is an impossible one.
It seems to me that the only educators who assert that differentiation is doable are those who have never tried to implement it themselves: university professors, curriculum coordinators, and school principals. It's the in-the-trenches educators who know the stark reality: Differentiation is a cheap way out for school districts to pay lip service to those who demand that each child be educated to his or her fullest potential.
Do we expect an oncologist to be able to treat glaucoma? Do we expect a criminal prosecutor to be able to decipher patent law? Do we expect a concert pianist to be able to play the clarinet equally well? No, no, no. However, when the education of our nation's young people is at stake, we toss together into one classroom every possible learning strength and disability and expect a single teacher to be able to work academic miracles with every kid … as long as said teacher is willing to differentiate, of course.
The sad truth is this: By having dismantled many of the provisions we used to offer to kids on the edges of learning (classes for gifted kids, classes for kids who struggle to learn, and classes for those whose behaviors are disruptive to the learning process of others), we have sacrificed the learning of virtually every student. In the same Fordham Institute report cited earlier, 71 percent of teachers reported that they would like to see our nation rely more heavily on homogeneous grouping of advanced students, while a resounding 77 percent of teachers said that, when advanced students are paired with lower-achieving students for group assignments, it's the smart kids who do the bulk of the work.
A second reason that differentiation has been a failure is that we're not exactly sure what it is we are differentiating: Is it the curriculum or the instructional methods used to deliver it? Or both? The terms "differentiated instruction" and "differentiated curriculum" are used interchangeably, yet they are not synonyms. Teachers want and need clear guidance on what it is they are supposed to do to reach differentiated Nirvana, yet the messages they receive from the "experts" are far from consistent. No wonder confusion reigns and teachers feel defeated in trying to implement the grand goals of differentiation.
Differentiation might have a chance to work if we are willing, as a nation, to return to the days when students of similar abilities were placed in classes with other students whose learning needs paralleled their own. Until that time, differentiation will continue to be what it has become: a losing proposition for both students and teachers, and yet one more panacea that did not pan out."
no education week...
coisas da educação [pedagogia]... ensino diferenciado [prós e contras]... funciona...!
"It will not surprise educators who know my work to learn that my experiences and beliefs regarding academic diversity in classrooms differ from those of James R. Delisle, who recently made the case in an Education Week Commentary that differentiated instruction can't work in today's classrooms.
Based on a conviction that conversation around differing vantage points is beneficial, I'd like to respond.
—Chris Whetzel for Education Week
I'll begin with the idea that teachers don't differentiate instruction. In fact, they do. I work with teachers regularly—in the United States and around the world—whose teaching consistently reflects the principles and practices of differentiation. It's how they do business. They don't, as Mr. Delisle writes, "beat themselves up for not doing it as well as they are supposed to be doing it," but they do understand that the pursuit of expertise in teaching is a career-long endeavor. They aren't sprinters expecting quick success, so much as marathoners in the race for the long haul.
Then there's the assertion that the only people who think differentiation is doable are those who have never tried to implement it.
Speaking first for myself, I taught for 20 years in differentiated middle school classrooms, greatly enriched by working with a group of colleagues who did the same. Like many other teachers, then and now, we invented instructional approaches we hoped would benefit our diverse learners, keeping those practices that worked and jettisoning or modifying those that didn't.
In my second life at the University of Virginia, I continue to differentiate in my classes. I also work often with school-based academic coaches and principals who share with colleagues the practices of differentiation they used successfully in their own classrooms. And there are many specialists—in special education, English-language learning, reading, gifted education—who continue to differentiate in particular settings, even as they share what they know while working alongside teachers in general education classrooms.
Mr. Delisle's fundamental argument, however, doesn't seem to be so much that differentiation can't work under any circumstances, but rather that perhaps it could if we'd just group students by ability. While I know of no aspect of education on which all studies are in total agreement, this one comes close.
For many reasons, students in lower-track classes don't achieve as well as they do in heterogeneous settings. Those classes tend to be taught by newer or less engaged teachers. The quality of curriculum and instruction is less robust than in most heterogeneous settings. The intellectual climate in tracked classes is further damped by students who know they are siloed because adults consider them to be less able than many of their peers—and they respond accordingly.
Common sense and experience tell the story, as well. As the wise Bart Simpson told his teacher in one episode of "The Simpsons": "You think I'm not smart so you're gonna put me in a remedial class and slow down what I do. At the same time, the other kids will keep moving ahead, and you think someday I'll catch up?" Follow a remedial class throughout several school days, and it becomes very difficult to assert that students in all tracks have any degree of equitable access to excellent educational opportunity.
One outcome of tracking that should be of particular concern in the current school year—the first in which "minority" students became the majority in U.S. schools—is the reality that low-track classes continue to be disproportionately composed of students of color and/or low-income students, while high-track classes remain disproportionately white and/or Asian and middle class.
Educator Martin Haberman spoke of low-track classes as supporting a "pedagogy of poverty," a label he used to reflect two realities. First, most students in the low-track classes are from low-income backgrounds. Second, the quality of learning in those classes seems a guarantee that the students in them will remain poor.
"I absolutely understand that differentiating instruction well is not easy. But then, I've never felt that teaching should be easy."
Later, Helene Hodges, a former official of the education association ASCD, wrote about "a pedagogy of plenty," describing the nature of rich learning experiences in high-track classes, where more privileged students are the norm. Detailing the kind of intellectually rich environment typical of those classes, she concluded that they were not only heavily populated by students whose lives were marked by "plenty," but that continual engagement with the kind of learning opportunities in those classes predicted a continuing life of plenty for students in them.
Recent work in neuroscience and psychology reveals two findings that should be central in educational planning. First, virtually all brains are malleable. When we teach as though students are smart, they become smarter. Second, a related but separate body of research indicates that teachers who believe firmly in the untapped capacity of each learner, and thus set out to demonstrate to students that by working hard and working smart they can achieve impressive goals, get far better results than teachers who believe some students are smart, others are not, and little can be done to change that. It's difficult to grow brains and help students develop growth mindsets in remedial contexts.
That undermines a chief point of Mr. Delisle's argument that bright learners can't fare well in heterogeneous classrooms. Studies have shown, after all, that advanced learners achieve more in homogeneous settings. I am a firm believer that schools owe every student what the noted researcher John Hattie calls "plus-one learning" in his book Visible Learning for Teachers. With plus-one learning, teachers are obliged to ensure that each learner—including those who are most advanced—moves forward consistently from his or her starting point.
I have no more patience with classes where advanced learners stagnate than I do with classes that shortchange kids who struggle with school. Here are a couple of points worth considering, however. The studies most cited in terms of benefits of homogeneous instruction for bright learners examined two conditions: heterogeneous classrooms in which little or nothing was done to provide plus-one learning for advanced learners, and homogeneous classrooms in which teachers regularly planned for plus-one learning.
In the two decades since those studies, I've observed and studied schools in which the entire faculty focused on providing a third condition: differentiation in mixed-ability classrooms where regular planning for a full spectrum of learners—including advanced learners—was a given.
Teachers in those schools typically "teach up," planning first for advanced learners, then scaffolding instruction to enable less advanced students to access those rich learning experiences. Further, they extend the initial learning opportunities when they are not sufficiently challenging for highly advanced learners. In those schools, achievement for the full spectrum of learners—including advanced learners—rose markedly when compared to peer schools where this approach was not pervasive.
For the record, I've never felt differentiation was a panacea. I have never advocated what I'd call "Noah's Ark" classrooms assigned two of every kind of learner in the school. I absolutely understand that differentiating instruction well is not easy. But then, I've never felt that teaching should be easy.
I work with a growth mindset about teachers, as about students. I believe that with intelligent, sustained support, most teachers can learn—step by step and over time—the attitudes and skills necessary to provide plus-one learning in the context of classrooms that are both academically rich and academically diverse. "
Carol Ann Tomlinson is the William Clay Parrish Jr. professor and chair of educational leadership, foundations, and policy at the University of Virginia's Curry School of Education, in Charlottesville. She is also the author of numerous books on differentiated instruction, including The Differentiated Classroom: Responding to the Needs of All Learners, 2nd Edition (ASCD, 2014) and Assessment and Student Success in a Differentiated Classroom (ASCD, 2013). She leads the Differentiated Instruction Cadre for ASCD Professional Learning Services.
Vol. 34, Issue 19, Pages 26,32
Based on a conviction that conversation around differing vantage points is beneficial, I'd like to respond.
—Chris Whetzel for Education Week
I'll begin with the idea that teachers don't differentiate instruction. In fact, they do. I work with teachers regularly—in the United States and around the world—whose teaching consistently reflects the principles and practices of differentiation. It's how they do business. They don't, as Mr. Delisle writes, "beat themselves up for not doing it as well as they are supposed to be doing it," but they do understand that the pursuit of expertise in teaching is a career-long endeavor. They aren't sprinters expecting quick success, so much as marathoners in the race for the long haul.
Then there's the assertion that the only people who think differentiation is doable are those who have never tried to implement it.
Speaking first for myself, I taught for 20 years in differentiated middle school classrooms, greatly enriched by working with a group of colleagues who did the same. Like many other teachers, then and now, we invented instructional approaches we hoped would benefit our diverse learners, keeping those practices that worked and jettisoning or modifying those that didn't.
In my second life at the University of Virginia, I continue to differentiate in my classes. I also work often with school-based academic coaches and principals who share with colleagues the practices of differentiation they used successfully in their own classrooms. And there are many specialists—in special education, English-language learning, reading, gifted education—who continue to differentiate in particular settings, even as they share what they know while working alongside teachers in general education classrooms.
Mr. Delisle's fundamental argument, however, doesn't seem to be so much that differentiation can't work under any circumstances, but rather that perhaps it could if we'd just group students by ability. While I know of no aspect of education on which all studies are in total agreement, this one comes close.
For many reasons, students in lower-track classes don't achieve as well as they do in heterogeneous settings. Those classes tend to be taught by newer or less engaged teachers. The quality of curriculum and instruction is less robust than in most heterogeneous settings. The intellectual climate in tracked classes is further damped by students who know they are siloed because adults consider them to be less able than many of their peers—and they respond accordingly.
Common sense and experience tell the story, as well. As the wise Bart Simpson told his teacher in one episode of "The Simpsons": "You think I'm not smart so you're gonna put me in a remedial class and slow down what I do. At the same time, the other kids will keep moving ahead, and you think someday I'll catch up?" Follow a remedial class throughout several school days, and it becomes very difficult to assert that students in all tracks have any degree of equitable access to excellent educational opportunity.
One outcome of tracking that should be of particular concern in the current school year—the first in which "minority" students became the majority in U.S. schools—is the reality that low-track classes continue to be disproportionately composed of students of color and/or low-income students, while high-track classes remain disproportionately white and/or Asian and middle class.
Educator Martin Haberman spoke of low-track classes as supporting a "pedagogy of poverty," a label he used to reflect two realities. First, most students in the low-track classes are from low-income backgrounds. Second, the quality of learning in those classes seems a guarantee that the students in them will remain poor.
"I absolutely understand that differentiating instruction well is not easy. But then, I've never felt that teaching should be easy."
Later, Helene Hodges, a former official of the education association ASCD, wrote about "a pedagogy of plenty," describing the nature of rich learning experiences in high-track classes, where more privileged students are the norm. Detailing the kind of intellectually rich environment typical of those classes, she concluded that they were not only heavily populated by students whose lives were marked by "plenty," but that continual engagement with the kind of learning opportunities in those classes predicted a continuing life of plenty for students in them.
Recent work in neuroscience and psychology reveals two findings that should be central in educational planning. First, virtually all brains are malleable. When we teach as though students are smart, they become smarter. Second, a related but separate body of research indicates that teachers who believe firmly in the untapped capacity of each learner, and thus set out to demonstrate to students that by working hard and working smart they can achieve impressive goals, get far better results than teachers who believe some students are smart, others are not, and little can be done to change that. It's difficult to grow brains and help students develop growth mindsets in remedial contexts.
That undermines a chief point of Mr. Delisle's argument that bright learners can't fare well in heterogeneous classrooms. Studies have shown, after all, that advanced learners achieve more in homogeneous settings. I am a firm believer that schools owe every student what the noted researcher John Hattie calls "plus-one learning" in his book Visible Learning for Teachers. With plus-one learning, teachers are obliged to ensure that each learner—including those who are most advanced—moves forward consistently from his or her starting point.
I have no more patience with classes where advanced learners stagnate than I do with classes that shortchange kids who struggle with school. Here are a couple of points worth considering, however. The studies most cited in terms of benefits of homogeneous instruction for bright learners examined two conditions: heterogeneous classrooms in which little or nothing was done to provide plus-one learning for advanced learners, and homogeneous classrooms in which teachers regularly planned for plus-one learning.
In the two decades since those studies, I've observed and studied schools in which the entire faculty focused on providing a third condition: differentiation in mixed-ability classrooms where regular planning for a full spectrum of learners—including advanced learners—was a given.
Teachers in those schools typically "teach up," planning first for advanced learners, then scaffolding instruction to enable less advanced students to access those rich learning experiences. Further, they extend the initial learning opportunities when they are not sufficiently challenging for highly advanced learners. In those schools, achievement for the full spectrum of learners—including advanced learners—rose markedly when compared to peer schools where this approach was not pervasive.
For the record, I've never felt differentiation was a panacea. I have never advocated what I'd call "Noah's Ark" classrooms assigned two of every kind of learner in the school. I absolutely understand that differentiating instruction well is not easy. But then, I've never felt that teaching should be easy.
I work with a growth mindset about teachers, as about students. I believe that with intelligent, sustained support, most teachers can learn—step by step and over time—the attitudes and skills necessary to provide plus-one learning in the context of classrooms that are both academically rich and academically diverse. "
Carol Ann Tomlinson is the William Clay Parrish Jr. professor and chair of educational leadership, foundations, and policy at the University of Virginia's Curry School of Education, in Charlottesville. She is also the author of numerous books on differentiated instruction, including The Differentiated Classroom: Responding to the Needs of All Learners, 2nd Edition (ASCD, 2014) and Assessment and Student Success in a Differentiated Classroom (ASCD, 2013). She leads the Differentiated Instruction Cadre for ASCD Professional Learning Services.
Vol. 34, Issue 19, Pages 26,32
no education week...
quarta-feira, 23 de abril de 2014
segunda-feira, 27 de agosto de 2012
quinta-feira, 26 de julho de 2012
segunda-feira, 12 de março de 2012
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