cognitive science: the wrong end of the stick

A few years ago, some teachers began advocating the application of findings from cognitive science to education. There seemed to be something not quite right about what they were advocating but I couldn’t put my finger on exactly what it was. Their focus was on the limitations of working memory and differences between experts and novices. Nothing wrong with that per se, but working memory and expertise aren’t isolated matters.

Cognitive science is now a vast field; encompassing sensory processing, perception, cognition, memory, learning, and aspects of neuroscience. A decent textbook would provide an overview, but decent textbooks didn’t appear to have been consulted much. Key researchers (e.g. Baddeley & Hitch, Alloway, Gathercole), fields of research (e.g. limitations of long-term memory, neurology), and long-standing contentious issues (e.g. nature vs nurture) rarely got a mention even when highly relevant.

At first I assumed the significant absences were due to the size of the field to be explored, but as time went by that seemed less and less likely.  There was an increasing occurrence of teacher-B’s-understanding-of-teacher-A’s-understanding-of-Daniel-Willingham’s-simplified-model-of-working-memory, with some teachers getting hold of the wrong end of some of the sticks. I couldn’t understand why, given the emphasis on expertise, teachers didn’t seem to be looking further.

The penny dropped last week when I read an interview with John Sweller, the originator of Cognitive Load Theory (CLT), by Ollie Lovell, a maths teacher in Melbourne. Ollie has helpfully divided the interview into topics in a transcript on his website. The interview clarifies several aspects of cognitive load theory. In this post, I comment on some points that came up in the interview, and explain the dropped penny.

1.  worked examples

The interview begins with the 1982 experiment that led to Sweller’s discovery of the worked example effect. Ollie refers to the ‘political environment of education at the time’ being ‘heavily in favour of problem solving’. John thinks that however he’d presented the worked example effect, he’d be pessimistic about the response because ‘the entire research environment in those days was absolutely committed to problem solving’.

The implication that the education system had rejected worked examples was puzzling. During my education (1960s and 70s) you couldn’t move for worked examples. They permeated training courses I attended in the 80s, my children’s education in the 90s and noughties, and still pop up frequently in reviews and reports. True, they’re not always described as a ‘worked example’ but instead might be a ‘for instance’ or ‘here’s an example’ or ‘imagine…’. So where weren’t they? I’d be grateful for any pointers.

2 & 3. goal-free effect

Essentially students told to ‘find out as much as you can’ about a problem, performed better than those given specific instructions about what to find out. But only in relation to problems with a small number of possible solutions – in this case physics problems. The effect wasn’t found for problems with a large number of possible solutions.   But you wouldn’t know that if you’d only read teachers criticising ‘discovery learning’.

4. biologically primary and secondary skills

What’s determined by biology or by the environment has been a hugely contentious issue in cognitive science for decades. Basically, we don’t yet know the extent to which learning is biologically or environmentally determined.  But the contentiousness isn’t mentioned in the interview, is marginalised by David Geary the originator of the biologically primary and secondary concept, and John appears to simply assume Geary’s theory is correct, presumably because it’s plausible.

John says it’s ‘absurd’ to provide someone with explicit instruction about what to do with their tongue, lips or breath when learning English. Ollie points out that’s exactly what he had to do when he learned Chinese. John claims that language acquisition by immersion is biologically primary for children but not for adults. This flies in the face of everything we know about language acquisition.

Adults can and do become very fluent in languages acquired via immersion, just as children do. Explicit instruction can speed up the process and help with problematic speech sounds, but can’t make adults speak like a native. That’s because the adults have to override very robust neural pathways laid down in childhood in response to the sounds the children hear day-in, day-out (e.g. Patricia Kuhl’s ‘Cracking the speech code‘). The evidence suggests that differences between adult and child language acquisition are a frequency of exposure issue, not a type-of-skill issue. As Ollie says: “It’s funny isn’t it?  How it can switch category. It’s just amazing.”  Quite.

5. motivation

The discussion was summed up in John’s comment: “I don’t think you can turn Cognitive Load Theory into a theory of motivation which in no way suggests that you can’t use a theory of motivation and use it in conjunction with cognitive load theory.

 6. expertise reversal effect

John says: “As expertise goes up, the advantage of worked examples go down, and as expertise continues to go up, eventually the relative effectiveness of worked examples and problems reverses and the problems are more helpful than worked examples.

7. measures of cognitive load

John: “I routinely use self-report and I use self-report because it’s sensitive”. Other measures – secondary tasks, physiological markers – are problematic.

8. collective working memory effect

John: “In problem solving, you may need information and the only place you can get it from is somebody else.” He doesn’t think you can teach somebody to act collaboratively because he thinks social interaction is biologically primary knowledge. See 4 above.

9. The final section of the interview highlighted, for me, two features that emerge from much of the discourse about applying cognitive science to education:

  • The importance of the biological mechanisms and the weaknesses of analogy.
  • The frame of reference used in the discourse.

biological mechanisms

In the final part of the interview John asks an important question: Is the capacity of working memory fixed? He says: “If you’ve been using your working memory, especially in a particular area, heavily for a while, after a while, and you would have experienced this yourself, your working memory keeps getting narrower and narrower and narrower and after a while it just about disappears.”

An explanation for the apparent ‘narrowing’ of working memory is habituation, where the response of neurons to a particular stimulus diminishes if the stimulus is repeated. The best account I’ve read of the biological mechanisms in working memory is in a 2004 paper by Wagner, Bunge & Badre.  If I’ve understood their findings correctly, signals representing sensory information coming into the prefrontal area of the brain are maintained for a few seconds until they degrade or are overridden by further incoming information. This is exactly what was predicted by Baddeley & Hitch’s phonological loop and visual-spatial sketchpad. (Wagner, Bunge and Badre’s findings also indicate there might be more components to working memory than Baddley & Hitch’s model suggests.)

John was using a figure of speech, but I fear it will only be a matter of time before teachers start referring to the ‘narrowing’ of working memory. This illustrates why it’s important to be aware of the biological mechanisms that underpin cognitive functions. Working memory is determined by the behaviour of neurons, not by the behaviour of analogous computer components.

frame of reference

John and Ollie were talking about cognitive load theory in education, so that’s what the interview focussed on, obviously.  But every focus has a context, and John and Ollie’s frame of reference seemed rather narrow. Ollie opens by talking about ‘the political environment of education at the time [1982]’ being ‘heavily in favour of problem solving’. I don’t think he actually means the ‘political environment of education at the time’ as such. Similarly John comments ‘the entire research environment in those days was absolutely committed to problem solving’. I don’t think, he means ‘the entire research environment’ as such either.

John also observes: “It’s only been very recently that people started taking notice of Cognitive Load Theory. For decades I put papers out there and it was like putting them into outer-space, you know, they disappeared into the ether!” I first heard about Cognitive Load Theory in the late 80s, soon after Sweller first proposed it, via a colleague working in artificial intelligence. I had no idea, until recently, that Sweller was an educational psychologist. People have been taking notice of CLT, but maybe not in education.

Then there’s the biologically primary/secondary model. It’s ironic how little it refers to biology. We know a fair amount about the biological mechanisms involved in learning, and I’ve not yet seen any evidence suggesting two distinct mechanisms. The model appears to be based on the surface features of how people appear to learn, not on the deep structure of how learning happens.

Lastly, the example of language acquisition. The differences between adults and children learning languages can be explained by frequency of exposure and how neurons work; there’s no need to introduce a speculative evolutionary model.

Not only is cognitive load theory the focus of the interview, it also appears to be its frame of reference; political issues and knowledge domains other than education don’t get much of a look in.

the penny that dropped

Ever since I first heard about teachers applying cognitive science to education, I’ve been puzzled by their focus on the limitations of working memory and the characteristics of experts and novices. It suddenly dawned on me, reading Ollie’s interview with John, that what the teachers are actually applying isn’t so much cognitive science, as cognitive load theory. CLT, the limitations of working memory and the characteristics of experts and novices are important, but constitute only a small area of cognitive science. But you wouldn’t know that from this interview or most of the teachers advocating the application of cognitive science.  There’s a real risk, if CLT isn’t set in context, of teachers getting hold of the wrong stick entirely.

references

Geary, D. (2007).  Educating the evolved mind: Conceptual foundations for an evolutionary educational psychology, in Educating the evolved mind: Conceptual foundations for an evolutionary educational psychology, JS Carlson & JR Levin (Eds). Information Age Publishing.

Kuhl, P. (2004). Early language acquisition: Cracking the speech code. Nature Reviews Neuroscience 5, 831-843.

Wagner, A.D., Bunge, S.A. & Badre, D. (2004). Cognitive control, semantic memory          and priming: Contributions from prefrontal cortex. In M. S. Gazzaniga (Ed.) The Cognitive Neurosciences (3rd edn.). Cambridge, MA: MIT Press.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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a philosophy conference for teachers

Yesterday was a bright, balmy autumn day. I spent it at Thinking about teaching: a philosophy conference for teachers at the University of Birmingham. Around 50 attendees, and the content Tweeted on #EdPhilBrum. And I met in person no fewer than five people I’ve previously met only on Twitter @PATSTONE55, @ded6ajd, @sputniksteve, @DSGhataura and @Rosalindphys.  In this post, a (very) brief summary of the presentations (missed the last one by Joris Vleighe) and my personal impressions.

Geert Biesta: Teachers, teaching and the beautiful risk of education

The language we use to describe education is important. English doesn’t have words to accurately denote what Biesta considers to be key purposes of education, but German does:

  • Ausbildung (‘qualification’) – cultivation, knowledge & skills
  • Bildung (‘socialisation’) – developing identity in relation to tradition
  • Erziehung (‘subjectivisation’) – grown-up engagement with the world.

These facets are distinct but overlap; focussing on purposes individually can result in:

  • obsession with qualifications
  • strong socialisation – conformity
  • freedom as license.

Education has an interruptive quality that allows the integration of its purposes. The risk of teaching is that the purposes might not be achieved because the student is an active subject, not a ‘pure object’.

Judith Suissa : ‘Seeing like a state?’ Anarchism, philosophy of education and the political imagination

Anarchist tools allow us to question fundamental assumptions about the State, often not questioned by those who do question particular State policies. State education per se is rarely questioned, for example.

Anarchism is often accused of utopianism, but utopianism has different meanings and can serve to ‘relativise the present’.

Andrew Davis:  The very idea of an ‘evidence based’ teaching method. Educational research and the practitioner

One model of ‘evidence based’ teaching is summarised as ‘it works’. But what is the ‘it’? Even a simple approach like ‘sitting in rows’ can involve many variables. ‘It works’ bypasses the need for professional judgement and overlooks distinction between instrumental and relational understanding (Skemp). Children should have relational cognitive maps; new knowledge needs a place.

Regulative rules apply to activities whose existence is independent of the rules e.g. driving on the left-hand side of the road.

Constituitive rules are rules on which the activity depends for its existence e.g the rules of chess. Many educational functions involved constitutive rules and collective intentions.

Joe Wolff:  Fake news and twisted values: political philosophy in the age of social media

Fake news and twisted values can emerge for different reasons.

  • innocent mistakes: out of context citations, misattributed authorship, different criteria in use e.g. life expectancy
  • propaganda: Trojan Horse speeches, manipulation of information
  • peer reviewed literature: errors, replication crisis Difficulties with access and readability

writing for philosophers

Philosophy isn’t my field, but lately I’ve been dabbling in it increasingly often. The main obstacle to accessibility hasn’t been the concepts, but the terminology. I’ve ploughed through a dense argument stopping sometimes several times a sentence to find out what the words refer to, only to discover eventually I’ve been reading about a familiar concept called something else in another domain, but explained in ways that address philosophers’ queries and objections.  I now call these texts writing for philosophers.  An example is Daniel Dennett’s Consciousness Explained. Struggled with the words only to realise I’d already read Antonio Damasio explaining similar ideas but writing for biologists.

Like @PATSTONE55 I was expecting this conference to consist of presentations for philosophers and that I’d struggle to keep up. But it wasn’t and we didn’t.  Instead there were very accessible presentations for teachers. And themes that, as Pat also found, were very familiar, or at least had been familiar some decades ago.  It felt like a rather glitchy time warp flipping between the 1970s and the present. In the present context, the themes felt distinctly subversive.  Three key themes emerged for me.

context is everything

Everything is related; education is a multi-purpose process, underpinned by political assumptions, it’s relational, and evaluating evidence isn’t straightforward. The disjointed educational policy ‘ideas’ that have dominated the education landscape for several decades are usually a failure waiting to happen. They waste huge amounts of time and money, have contributed to teacher shortages and have caused needless problems for students. In systems theory they’d be catchily termed sub-systems optimisation at the expense of systems optimization, often shortened to suboptimization. Urie Bronfenbrenner wasn’t mentioned yesterday, but he addressed the issue of the social ecology in the 70s in his ecological systems theory of child development.

implicit assumptions are difficult to detect

It’s easy to focus on one purpose of education and ignore others, easy to assume the status quo can’t be questioned, easy to what’s there and difficult to spot what’s missing, and all too easy to forget what things look like from a child’s perspective.

We all make implicit assumptions, but because they are implicit and assumptions, it’s fiendishly difficult for us to make our own assumptions explicit. Sometimes a fresh pair of eyes is enough, sometimes a colleague from another discipline can help, but sometimes we need a radical, unorthodox perspective like anarchism.

space and time are essential for reflection

Most people can learn facts (I use the term loosely) pretty quickly, but putting the facts in context might require developing or changing a schema and you can’t do that while you’re busy learning other facts. It’s no accident that thinkers from Aristotle to Darwin did their best thinking whilst walking. Neurons need downtime to make and strengthen connections. There’s a limit to how much time children (or adults) can spend actively ‘learning’. Too much time can be counterproductive.

Yesterday’s conference offered a superb space for reflection. Thought-provoking and challenging ideas, motivated and open-minded participants, an excellent venue and some of the best conference food ever – the gluten-free/vegetarian/vegan platters were amazing. Thanks to the Philosophy of Education Society of Great Britain for organising it.  Couldn’t have been more timely.

 

 

Improving reading from Clackmannanshire to West Dunbartonshire

In the 1990s, two different studies began tracking the outcomes of reading interventions in Scottish schools.   One, run by Joyce Watson and Rhona Johnston then from the University of St Andrews, started in 1992/3 in schools in Clackmannanshire, which hugs the River Forth, just to the east of Stirling. The other began in 1998 in West Dunbartonshire, with the Clyde on side and Loch Lomond on the other, west of Glasgow. It was led by Tommy MacKay, an educational psychologist with West Dunbartonshire Council, who also lectured in psychology at the University of Strathclyde.

I’ve blogged about the Clackmannanshire study in more detail here. It was an experiment involving 13 schools and 300 children divided into three groups, taught to read using synthetic phonics, analytic phonics or analytic phonics plus phonemic awareness. The researchers measured and compared the outcomes.

The West Dunbartonshire study had a more complex design involving five different studies and ten strands of intervention over ten years in all pre-schools and primary schools in the local authority area (48 schools and 60 000 children). As in Clackmannanshire, analytic phonics was used as a control for the synthetic phonics experimental group. The study also had an aim; to eradicate functional illiteracy in school leavers in West Dunbartonshire. It very nearly succeeded; Achieving the Vision, the final report, shows that by the time the study finished in 2007 only three children were deemed functionally illiterate. ( Thanks to @SaraJPeden on Twitter for the link.)

Five studies, ten strands of intervention

The main study was a multiple-component intervention using cross-lagged design. Four supporting studies were;

  • Synthetic phonics study (18 schools)
  • Attitudes study (24 children from earlier RCT)
  • Declaration study (12 nurseries & primaries in another education authority area
  • Individual support study (24 secondary pupils).

The West Dunbartonshire study was unusual in that it addressed multiple factors already known to impact on reading attainment, but that are often sidelined in interventions focusing on the mechanics of reading. The ten strands were (p.14);

Strand 1: Phonological awareness and the alphabet

Strand 2: A strong and structured phonics emphasis

Strand 3: Extra classroom help in the early years

Strand 4: Fostering a ‘literacy environment’ in school and community

Strand 5: Raising teacher awareness through focused assessment

Strand 6: Increased time spent on key aspects of reading

Strand 7: Identification of and support for children who are failing

Strand 8: Lessons from research in interactive learning

Strand 9: Home support for encouraging literacy

Strand 10: Changing attitudes, values and expectations

Another unusual feature was that the researchers were looking not only for statistically significant improvements in reading, but wider significant improvements;

statistical significance must be viewed in terms of wider questions that were primarily social, cultural and political rather than scientific – questions about whether lives were being changed as a result of the intervention; questions about whether children would leave school with the skills needed for a successful career in a knowledge society; questions about whether ‘significant’ results actually meant significant to the participants in the research or only to the researcher.” (p.16)

The researchers also recognized the importance of ownership of the project throughout the local community, everyone “from the leader of the Council to the parents and the children themselves identifying with it and owning it as their own project”. (p.7)

In addition they were aware that a project following students through their entire school career would need to survive inevitable organisational challenges. Despite the fact that West Dunbartonshire was the second poorest council in Scotland, the local authority committed to continue funding the project;

The intervention had to continue and to succeed through virtually every major change or turmoil taking place in its midst – including a total restructuring of the educational directorate, together with significant changes in the Council. (p.46)

Results

 The results won’t surprise anyone familiar with the impact of synthetic phonics; there were significant improvements in reading ability in children in the experimental group. What was remarkable was the impact of the programme on children who didn’t participate. Raw scores for pre-school assessments improved noticeably between 1997 and 2006 and there were many reports from parents that the intervention had stimulated interest in reading in older siblings.

One of the most striking results was that at the end of the study, there were only three pupils in secondary schools in the local authority area with reading ages below the level of functional literacy (p.31). That’s impressive when compared to the 17% of school leavers in England considered functionally illiterate. So why hasn’t the West Dunbartonshire programme been rolled out nationwide? Three factors need to be considered in order to answer that question.

1.What is functional literacy?

The 17% figure for functional illiteracy amongst school leavers is often presented as ‘shocking’ or a ‘failure’ on the part of the education system. These claims are valid only if those making them have evidence that higher levels of school-leaver literacy are attainable. The evidence cited often includes literacy levels in other countries or studies showing very high percentages of children being able to decode after following a systematic synthetic phonics (SSP) programme. Such evidence is akin to comparing apples and oranges because:

– Many languages are orthographically more transparent than English (there’s a higher direct correspondence between graphemes and phonemes). The functional illiteracy figure of 17% (or thereabouts) holds for the English-speaking world, not just England, and has done so since at least the end of WW2  – and probably earlier given literacy levels in older adults.  (See Rashid & Brooks (2010) and McGuinness (1998).)

– Both the Clackmannanshire and West Dunbartonshire studies resulted in high levels of decoding ability. Results were less stellar when it came to comprehension.

– It depends what you mean by functional literacy. This was a challenge faced by Rashid & Brooks in their review; measures of functional literacy have varied, making it difficult to identify trends across time.

In the West Dunbartonshire study, children identified as having significant reading difficulties followed an intensive 3-month individual support programme in early 2003. This involved 91 children in P7, 12 in P6 and 1 in P5. By 2007, 12 pupils at secondary level were identified as still having not reached functional literacy levels; reading ages ranged between 6y 9m and 8y 10m (p.31). By June 2007, only three children had scores below the level of functional literacy. (Two others missed the final assessment.)

The level of functional literacy used in the West Dunbartonshire study was a reading age of at least 9y 6m using the Neale Assessment of Reading Ability (NARA-II). I couldn’t find an example online, but there’s a summary here. The tasks are rather different to the level 1 tasks in National Adult Literacy survey carried out in the USA in 1992 (NCES p.86).

A reading/comprehension age of 9y 6m is sufficient for getting by in adult life; reading a tabloid newspaper or filling in simple forms. Whether it’s sufficient for doing well in GCSEs (reading age 15y 7m ), getting a decent job in later life, or having a good understanding of how the world works is another matter.

2. What were the costs and benefits?

Overall, the study cost £13 per student per year, or, 0.5% of the local authority’s education budget (p.46), which doesn’t sound very much. But for 60 000 students over a ten year period it adds up to almost £8m, a significant sum. I couldn’t find details of the overall reading abilities of secondary school students when the study finished in 2007, and haven’t yet tracked down any follow-up studies showing the impact of the interventions on the local community.

Also, we don’t know what difference the study would have made to adult literacy levels in the area. Adult literacy levels are usually presented as averages, and in the case of the US National Adult Literacy survey included those with disabilities. Many children with disabilities in West Dunbartonshire would have been attending special schools and the study appears to have involved only mainstream schools.  Whether the impact of the study is sufficient to persuade cash-strapped local authorities to invest in it is unclear.

3. Could the interventions be implemented nationwide?

One of the strengths of Achieving the Vision is that it explores the limitations of the study in some detail (p.38ff). One of the strengths of the study was that the researchers were well aware of the challenges that would have to be met in order for the intervention to achieve its aims. These included issues with funding; the local Council, although supportive, was working within a different funding framework to the Scottish Executive Education Department. The funding issues had a knock-on impact on staff seconded to the project – who had no guarantee of employment once the initial funding ran out. The study was further affected by industrial action and by local authority re-structuring. How many projects would have access to the foresight, tenacity and collaborative abilities of those leading the West Dunbartonshire initiative?

Conclusion

The aim of the West Dunbartonshire initiative was to eradicate functional illiteracy in an entire local authority area. The study effectively succeeded in doing so – in mainstream schools, and if a functional illiteracy level is considered to be below a reading/ comprehension age of 9y 6m. Synthetic phonics played a key role.  Synthetic phonics is frequently advocated as a remedy for functional illiteracy in school leavers and in the adult population. The West Dunbartonshire study shows, pretty conclusively, that synthetic phonics plus individual support plus a comprehensive local authority-backed focus on reading, can result in significant improvements in reading ability in secondary school students. Does it eradicate functional illiteracy in school leavers or in the adult population?  We don’t know.

References

MacKay, T (2007).  Achieving the Vision: The Final Research Report of the West Dunbartonshire Literacy Initiative.

McGuinness, D (1998). Why Children Can’t Read and What We Can Do About It. Penguin.

NCES (1993). Adult Literacy in America. National Center for Educational Statistics.

Rashid, S & Brooks, G (2010). The levels of attainment in literacy and numeracy of 13- to 19-year-olds in England, 1948–2009. National Research and Development Centre for adult literacy and numeracy.

Johnston, R & Watson, J (2005). The Effects of Synthetic Phonics teaching on reading and spelling attainment: A seven year longitudinal study, The Scottish Executive website. http://www.gov.scot/Resource/Doc/36496/0023582.pdf

 

 

 

 

Science, postmodernism and the real world

In a recent blogpost Postmodernism is killing the social sciences, Eoin Lenihan recommends that the social sciences rely on the scientific method “to produce useful and reliable evidence, or objective truths”.  Broadly, I agree with Eoin, but had reservations about the ‘objective truths’ he refers to. In response to a comment on Twitter I noted;postm quote 1

which was similar to a point made by Eoin, “postmodernism originally was a useful criticism of the Scientific Method or dominant narratives and a reminder of the importance of accounting for the subjective experiences of different people and groups.”

Ben Littlewood took issue with me;

quote 2

In the discussion that followed I said science couldn’t claim to know anything for sure. Ben took issue with that too. The test question he asked repeatedly was:

flat earth

simple question

For Ben,

facts

Twitter isn’t the best medium for a discussion of this kind, and I suspect Ben and I might have misunderstood each other. So here, I’m setting out what I think. I’d be interested in what he (and Eoin) has to say.

reason and observation

Something that has perplexed philosophers for millennia is what our senses can tell us about the world. Our senses tell us there’s a real world out there, that it’s knowable, and that we all experience it in more or less the same way. But our senses can deceive us, we can be mistaken in our reasoning, and different people can experience the same event in different ways. So how do we resolve the tension between figuring out what’s actually out there and what we perceive to be out there, between reason and observation, rationalism and empiricism?

Human beings (even philosophers) aren’t great at dealing with uncertainty, so philosophers have tended to favour one pole of the reason-observation axis over the other. As Karl Popper observes in his introduction to Conjectures and Refutations, some (e.g. Plato, Descartes, Spinoza, Leibnitz) have opted for the rationalist view, in contrast to, for example, Aristotle, Bacon, Locke, Berkeley, Hume and Mill’s empiricism.  (I refer to Popper throughout this post because of his focus on the context and outcomes of the scientific method.)

The difficulty with both perspectives, as Popper points out, is that philosophers have generally come down on one side or the other; either reason trumps observation or vice versa. But the real world isn’t like that; both our reason and our observations tend to be flawed, and both are needed to work out what’s actually out there, so there’s no point trying to decide which is superior. The scientific method developed largely to avoid the errors we tend to make in reasoning and observation.

hypotheses and observations

The scientific method tests hypotheses against observations. If the hypothesis doesn’t fit the observations, we can eliminate it from our enquiries.

It’s relatively easy to rule out a specific hypothesis – because we’re matching only one hypothesis at a time to observations.   It’s much more difficult to come up with an hypothesis that turns out to be a good fit with observations – because our existing knowledge is always incomplete; there might be observations about which we currently have no knowledge.

If  an hypothesis is a good fit with our observations, we can make a working assumption that the hypothesis is true – but it’s only a working assumption. So the conclusions science draws from hypotheses and observations have varying degrees of certainty. We have a high degree of certainty that the earth isn’t flat, we have very little certainty about what causes schizophrenia, and what will happen as a consequence of climate change falls somewhere between the two.

Given the high degree of certainty we have that the earth isn’t flat, why not just say, as Ben does, that we’re certain about it and call it an objective fact? Because doing so in a discussion about the scientific method and postmodernism, opens a can of pointless worms. Here are some of them.

-What level of certainty would make a conclusion ‘certain’? 100%, 75%, 51%?

-How would we determine the level of certainty? It would be feasible to put a number on an evaluation of the evidence (for and against) but that would get us into the kind of arguments about methodology that have surrounded p values. And would an hypothesis with 80% support be considered certain, whereas a competing hypothesis with only 75% support might be prematurely eliminated?

-Who would decide whether a conclusion was certain or not? You could bet your bottom dollar it wouldn’t be the people at the receiving end of a morally suspect idea that had nonetheless reached an arbitrary certainty threshold.  The same questions apply to deciding whether something is a ‘fact’ or not.

-Then there’s ‘objectivity’. Ironically, there’s a high degree of certainty that objectivity, in reasoning and observation, is challenging for us even when armed with the scientific method.

life in the real world

All these problematic worms can be avoided by not making claims about ‘100% certainty’ and ‘objective facts’ in the first place.  Because it’s so complex, and because our knowledge about it is incomplete, the real world isn’t a 100%-certain-objective-fact kind of a place. Scientists are accustomed to working with margins of error and probabilities that would likely give philosophers and pure mathematicians sleepless nights. As Popper implies in The Open Society and its Enemies the human craving for certainty has led to a great deal of knowledge of what’s actually out there, but also to a preoccupation with precise definitions and the worst excesses of scholasticism – “treating what is vague as if it were precise“.*

I declined to answer Ben’s ‘simple question’ because in the context of the discussion it’s the wrong kind of question. It begs further questions about what is meant by certainty, objectivity and facts, to which a yes/no answer can’t do justice. I suspect that if I’d said ‘yes, it is certain that the earth isn’t flat’, Ben would have said ‘there you are, science can be certain about things’ and the can of pointless worms would have been opened. Which brings me on to my comment about postmodernism, that the root cause of postmodernism was the belief that science can produce objective truth.

postmodernism, science and objective truth

The 19th and 20th centuries were characterised by movements in thinking that were in large part reactions against previous movements. The urbanisation and mechanisation of the industrial revolution prompted Romanticism. Positivism (belief in verification using the scientific method) was in part a reaction to Romanticism, as was Modernism (questioning and rejecting traditional assumptions). Postmodernism, with its emphasis on scepticism and relativism was, in turn, a reaction to Modernism and Positivism, which is why I think claims about objective truth (as distinct from the scientific method per se) are a root cause of postmodernism.

I would agree with Eoin that postmodernism, taken to its logical conclusion, has had a hugely detrimental impact on the social sciences. At the heart of the problem however, is not postmodernism as such, but the logical conclusion bit. That’s because the real world isn’t a logical-conclusion kind of a place either.   I can’t locate where he says it, but at one point Popper points out that the world of philosophy and mathematicians (and, I would add, many postmodernists) isn’t like the real world. Philosophy and mathematics are highly abstracted fields. Philosophers and mathematicians explore principles abstracted from the real world. That’s OK as far as it goes. Clearing away messy real-world complications and looking at abstracted principles has resulted in some very useful outcomes.

It’s when philosophers and mathematicians start inappropriately imposing on the real world ideas such as precise definitions, objective truths, facts, logical conclusions and pervasive scepticism and relativism that things go awry, because the real world isn’t a place where you can always define things precisely, be objective, discover true truths, follow things to their logical conclusion, nor be thoroughly sceptical and relativistic. Philosophy and mathematics have made some major contributions to the scientific method obviously, but they are not the scientific method. The job of the scientific method is to reduce the risk of errors, not to reveal objective truths about the world. It might do that, but if we can’t be sure whether it has or not, it’s pointless to make such claims. It’s equally pointless to conclude that if we can’t know anything for certain, everything must be equally uncertain, or that if everything is relative, everything has equal weight. It isn’t and it doesn’t.

My understanding of the scientific method is that it has to be fit for purpose; good enough to do its job. Not being able to define everything exactly, or arrive at conclusively objective truths, facts and logical conclusions doesn’t mean that we can be sure of nothing. Nor does it mean that anything goes. Nor that some sort of ‘balance’ between positivism and postmodernism is required.

We can instead, evaluate the evidence, work with what conclusions appear reasonably certain, and correct errors as they become apparent. The simple expedient of acknowledging that the real world is complex and messy but not intractably complex and messy, and the scientific method can, at best, produce a best guess at what’s actually out there, bypasses pointless arguments about exact definitions, objectivity, truth and logicality. I’d be interested to know what Ben thinks.

Note

* Popper is quoting FP Ramsay, a close friend of Wittgenstein (The Open Society and its Enemies, vol II, p. 11)

References

Popper K. (2003).  The Open Society and its Enemies vol. II: Hegel and Marx, Routledge (first published 1945).

Popper, K. (2002).  Conjectures and Refutations, Routledge (first published 1963).

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

genes, environment and behaviour

There was considerable kerfuffle on Twitter last week following a blog post by David Didau entitled ‘What causes behaviour?’  The ensuing discussion resulted in a series of five further posts from David culminating in an explanation of why his views weren’t racist. I think David created problems for himself through lack of clarity about gene-environment interactions and through ambiguous wording. Here’s my two-pennyworth.

genes

Genes are regions of DNA that hold information about (mainly) protein production. As far as we know, that’s all they do. The process of using this information to produce proteins is referred to as genetic expression.

environment

The context in which genes are expressed. Before birth, the immediate environment in which human genes are expressed is limited, and is largely a chemical and biological one. After birth, the environment gets more complex as Urie Bronfenbrenner demonstrated.  Remote environmental effects can have a significant impact on immediate ones. Whether a mother smokes or drinks is influenced by genetic and social factors, and the health of both parents is often affected by factors beyond their control.

epigenetics

Epigenetic factors are environmental factors that can directly change the expression of genes; in some cases they can be effectively ‘switched’ on or off.   Some epigenetic changes can be inherited.

behaviour

Behaviour is a term that’s been the subject of much discussion by psychologists. There’s a useful review by Levitis et al here. A definition of behaviour the authors decided reflected consensus is:

Behaviour is: the internally coordinated responses (actions or inactions) of whole living organisms (individuals or groups) to internal and/or external stimuli, excluding responses more easily understood as developmental changes.

traits and states

Trait is a term used to describe a consistent pattern in behaviour, personality etc. State is used to describe transient behaviours or feelings.

David Didau’s argument

David begins with the point that behavioural traits in adulthood are influenced far more by genes than by shared environments during childhood. He says: “Contrary to much popular wishing thinking, shared environmental effects like parenting have (almost) no effect on adult’s behaviour, characteristics, values or beliefs.* The reason we are like our parents and siblings is because we share their genes. *Footnote: There are some obvious exceptions to this. Extreme neglect or abuse before the age of 5 will likely cause permanent developmental damage as will hitting someone in the head with a hammer at any age.”

In support he cites a paper by Thomas Bouchard, a survey of research (mainly twin studies) about genetic influence on psychological traits; personality, intelligence, psychological interests, psychiatric illnesses and social attitudes. David rightly concludes that it’s futile for schools to try to teach ‘character’ because character (whatever you take it to mean) is a stable trait.

traits, states and outcomes

But he also refers to children’s behaviour in school, and behaviour encompasses traits and states; stable patterns of behaviour and one-off specific behaviours. For David, school expectations can “mediate these genetic forces”, but only within school; “an individual’s behaviour will be, for the most part, unaffected by this experience when outside the school environment”.

He also refers to “how we turn out”, and how we turn out can be affected by one-off, even uncharacteristic behaviours (on the part of children, parents and teachers and/or government).   One-off actions can have a hugely beneficial or detrimental impact on long-term outcomes for children.

genes, environment and interactions

It’s easy to get the impression from the post that genetic influences (David calls them genetic ‘forces’ – I don’t know what that means) and environmental influences are distinct and act in parallel. He refers, for example, to “genetic causes for behaviour as opposed to environmental ones” (my emphasis), but concedes “there’s definitely some sort of interaction between the two”.

Obviously, genes and environment influence behaviour. What’s emerged from research is that the interactions between genetic expression and environmental factors are pretty complex. From conception, gene expression produces proteins; cells form, divide and differentiate, the child’s body develops and grows. Genetic expression obviously plays a major role in pre-natal development, but the proteins expressed by the genes very quickly form a complex biochemical, physiological and anatomical environment that impacts on the products of later genetic expression. This environment is internal to the mother’s body, but external environmental factors are also involved in the form of nutrients, toxins, activities, stressors etc. After birth, genes continue to be expressed, but the influence of the external environment on the child’s development increases.

Three points to bear in mind: 1) A person’s genome remains pretty stable throughout their lifetime. 2) The external environment doesn’t remain stable – for most people it changes constantly.  Some of the changes will counteract others; rest and good nutrition can overcome the effects of illness, beneficial events can mitigate the impact of adverse ones. So it’s hardly surprising that shared childhood environments have comparatively little, if any, effect on adult traits.   3) Genetic and environmental influences are difficult to untangle due to their complex interactions from the get-go. Annette Karmiloff-Smith* highlights the importance of gene-environment-behaviour interactions here.

Clearly, if you’re a kid with drive, enthusiasm and aspirations, but grow up on a sink estate in an area of high social and economic deprivation where the only wealthy people with high social status are drug dealers, you’re far more likely to end up with rather dodgy career prospects than a child with similar character traits who lives in a leafy suburb and attends Eton. (I’ve blogged elsewhere about the impact of life events on child development and long-term outcomes, in a series of posts starting here.)

In other words, parents and teachers might have little influence over behavioural traits, but they can make a huge difference to the outcomes for a child, by equipping them (or not) with the knowledge and strategies they need to make the most of what they’ve got. From other things that David has written, I don’t think he’d disagree.  I think what he is trying to do in this post is to put paid to the popular idea that parents (and teachers) have a significant long-term influence on children’s behavioural traits.  They clearly don’t.  But in this post he doesn’t make a clear distinction between behavioural traits and outcomes. I suggest that’s one reason his post resulted in so much heated discussion.

genes, environment and the scientific method

I’m not sure where his argument goes after he makes the point about character education. He goes on to suggest that anyone who queries his conclusions about the twin studies is dismissing the scientific method, which seems a bit of a stretch, and finishes the post with a series of ‘empirical questions’ that appear to reflect some pet peeves about current educational practices, rather than testing hypotheses about behaviour per se.

So it’s not surprising that some people got hold of the wrong end of the stick. The behavioural framework including traits, states and outcomes is an important one and I wish, instead of going off at tangents, he’d explored it in more detail.

*If you’re interested,  Neuroconstructivism by Mareschal et al and Rethinking Innateness by Elman et al. are well worth reading on gene-environment interactions during children’s development.  Not exactly easy reads, but both reward effort.

references

Bouchard, T. (2004).  Genetic influence on human psychological traits.  Current Directions in Psychological Science, 13, 148-151.

Elman, J. L., Bates, E.A., Johnson, M., Karmiloff-Smith, A., Parisi, D., & Plunkett, K. (1996). Rethinking Innateness: A Connectionist Perspective on Development.  Cambridge, MA: MIT Press.

Karmiloff-Smith A (1998). Development itself is the key to understanding developmental disorders. Trends in Cognitive Sciences, 2, 389-398.

Levitis, D.A., Lidicker, W.Z., & Freund, G. (2009).  Behavioural biologists don’t agree on what constitutes behaviour.  Animal Behaviour, 78 (1) 103-110.

Mareschal, D., Johnson, M., Sirois, S., Spratling, M.W., Thomas, M.S.C. & Westermann, G. (2007). Neuroconstructivism: How the brain constructs cognition, Vol. I. Oxford University Press.

 

 

 

 

 

All snowflakes are unique: comments on ‘What every teacher needs to know about psychology’ (David Didau & Nick Rose)

This book and I didn’t get off to a good start. The first sentence of Part 1 (Learning and Thinking) raised a couple of red flags: “Learning and thinking are terms that are used carelessly in education.” The second sentence raised another one: “If we are to discuss the psychology of learning then it makes sense to begin with precise definitions.”   I’ll get back to the red flags later.

Undeterred, I pressed on, and I’m glad I did. Apart from the red flags and a few quibbles, I thought the rest of the book was great.  The scope is wide and the research is up-to-date but set in historical context. The three parts – Learning and Thinking, Motivation and Behaviour, and Controversies – provide a comprehensive introduction to psychology for teachers or, for that matter, anyone else. Each of the 26 chapters is short, clearly focussed, has a summary “what every teacher needs to know about…”, and is well-referenced.   The voice is right too; David Didau and Nick Rose have provided a psychology-for-beginners, written for grown-ups.

The quibbles? References that were in the text but not in the references section, or vice versa. A rather basic index. And I couldn’t make sense of the example on p.193 about energy conservation, until it dawned on me that a ‘re’ was missing from ‘reuse’. All easily addressed in a second edition, which this book deserves. A bigger quibble was the underlying conceptual framework adopted by the authors. This is where the red flags come in.

The authors are clear about why they’ve written the book and what they hope it will achieve. What they are less clear about is the implicit assumptions they make as a result of their underlying conceptual framework. I want to look at three implicit assumptions about; precise definitions, the school population and psychological theory.

precise definitions

The first two sentences of Part 1 are;

Learning and thinking are terms that are used carelessly in education. If we are to discuss the psychology of learning then it makes sense to begin with precise definitions.” (p.14)

What the authors imply (or at least what I inferred) is that there are precise definitions of learning and thinking. They reinforce their point by providing some. Now, ‘carelessly’ is a somewhat pejorative term. It might be fair to use it if there is a precise definition of learning and there is a precise definition of thinking, but people just can’t be bothered to use them. But if there isn’t a single precise definition of either…

I’d say terms such as ‘learning’, ‘thinking’, ‘teaching’, ‘education’ etc. (the list is a long one) are used loosely rather than carelessly. ‘Learning’ and ‘thinking’ are constructs that are more complex and fuzzier than say, metres or molar solutions. In marked contrast to the way ‘metre’ and ‘molar solution’ are used, people use ‘learning’ and ‘thinking’ to refer to different things in different contexts.   What they’re referring to is usually made clear by the context. For example, most people would consider it reasonable to talk about “what children learn in schools” even if much of the material taught in schools doesn’t meet Didau and Rose’s criterion of retention, transfer and change (p.14). Similarly, it would be considered fair use of the word ‘thinking’ for someone to say “I was thinking about swimming”, if what they were referring to was pleasant mental images of them floating in the Med, rather than the authors’ definition of a conscious, active, deliberative, cognitive “struggle to get from A to B”.

Clearly, there are situations where context isn’t enough, and a precise definition of terms such as ‘learning’ and ‘thinking’ are required; empirical research is a case in point. And researchers in most knowledge domains (maybe education is an exception) usually address this requirement by stating explicitly how they have used particular terms; “by learning we mean…” or “we use thinking to refer to…”.  Or they avoid the use of umbrella terms entirely. In short, for many terms there isn’t one precise definition. The authors acknowledge this when they refer to “two common usages of the term ‘thinking’”, but still try to come up with one precise definition (p.15).

Why does this matter? It matters because if it’s assumed there is a precise definition for labels representing multi-faceted, multi-component processes, that people use in different ways in different circumstances, a great deal of time can be wasted arguing about what that precise definition is. It would make far more sense simply to be explicit how we’re using the term for a particular purpose, or exactly which facet or component we’re referring to.

Exactly this problem arises in the discussion about restorative justice programmes (p.181). The authors complain that restorative justice programmes are “difficult to define and frequently implemented under a variety of different names…” Those challenges could be avoided by not trying to define restorative justice at all, but by people being explicit about how they use the term – or by using different terms for different programmes.

Another example is ‘zero tolerance’ (p.157). This term is usually used to refer to strict, inflexible sanctions applied in response to even the most minor infringements of rules; the authors cite as examples schools using ‘no excuses’ policies. However, zero tolerance is also associated with the broken windows theory of crime (Wilson & Kelling, 1982); that if minor misdemeanours are overlooked, antisocial behaviour will escalate. The broken windows theory does not advocate strict, inflexible sanctions for minor infringements, but rather a range of preventative measures and proportionate sanctions to avoid escalation. Historically, evidence for the effectiveness of both approaches is mixed, so the authors are right to be cautious in their conclusions.

What I want to emphasise is that there isn’t a single precise definition of learning, thinking, restorative justice, zero tolerance, or many other terms used in the education system, so trying to develop one is like trying define apples-and-oranges. To avoid going down that path, we simply need to be explicit about what we’re actually talking about. As Didau and Rose themselves point out “simply lumping things together and giving them the same name doesn’t actually make them the same” (p.266).

all snowflakes are unique

Another implicit assumption emerges in chapter 25, about individual differences;

Although it’s true that all snowflakes are unique, this tells us nothing about how to build a snowman or design a better snowplough. For all their individuality, useful applications depend on the underlying physical and chemical similarities of snowflakes. The same applies to teaching children. Of course all children are unique…however, for all their individuality and any application of psychology to teaching is typically best informed by understanding the underlying similarities in the way children learn and develop, rather than trying to apply ill-fitting labels to define their differences. (p. 254)

For me, this analogy begged the question of what the authors see as the purpose of education, and completely ignores the nomothetic/idiographic (tendency to generalise vs tendency to specify) tension that’s been a challenge for psychology since its inception. It’s true that education contributes to building communities of individuals who have many similarities, but our evolution as a species, and our success at colonising such a wide range of environments hinges on our differences. And the purpose of education doesn’t stop at the community level. It’s also about the education of individuals; this is recognised in the 1996 Education Act (borrowing from the 1944 Education Act), which expects a child’s education to be suitable to them as an individual.  For the simple reason that if it isn’t suitable, it won’t be effective.  Children are people who are part of communities, not units to be built into an edifice of their teachers’ making, or to be shovelled aside if they get in the way of the education system’s progress.

what’s the big idea?

Another major niggle for me was how the authors evaluate theory. I don’t mean the specific theories tested by the psychological research they cite; that would be beyond the scope of the book. Also, if research has been peer-reviewed and there’s no huge controversy over it, there’s no reason why teachers shouldn’t go ahead and apply the findings. My concern is about the broader psychological theories that frame psychologists’ thinking and influence what research is carried out (or not) and how. Didau and Rose demonstrate they’re capable of evaluating theoretical frameworks, but their evaluation looked a bit uneven to me.

For example, they note “there are many questions” relating to Jean Piaget’s theory of cognitive development (pp.221-223), but BF Skinner’s behaviourist model (pp.152-155) has been “much misunderstood, and often unfairly maligned”. Both observations are true, but because there are pros and cons to each of the theories, I felt the authors’ biases were showing. And David Geary’s somewhat speculative model of biologically primary and secondary knowledge and ability, is cited uncritically at least a dozen times, overlooking the controversy surrounding two of its major assumptions –  modularity and intelligence. The authors are up-front about their “admittedly biased view” Continue reading

educating the evolved mind: education

The previous two posts have been about David Geary’s concepts of primary and secondary knowledge and abilities; evolved minds and intelligence.  This post is about how Geary applies his model to education in Educating the Evolved Mind.

There’s something of a mismatch between the cognitive and educational components of Geary’s model.  The cognitive component is a range of biologically determined functions that have evolved over several millennia.  The educational component is a culturally determined education system cobbled together in a somewhat piecemeal and haphazard fashion over the past century or so.

The education system Geary refers to is typical of the schooling systems in developed industrialised nations, and according to his model, focuses on providing students with biologically secondary knowledge and abilities. Geary points out that many students prefer to focus on biologically primary knowledge and abilities such as sports and hanging out with their mates (p.52).   He recognises they might not see the point of what they are expected to learn and might need its importance explained to them in terms of social value (p.56). He suggests ‘low achieving’ students especially might need explicit, teacher driven instruction (p.43).

You’d think, if cognitive functions have been biologically determined through thousands of years of evolution, that it would make sense to adapt the education system to the cognitive functions, rather then the other way round. But Geary doesn’t appear to question the structure of the current US education system at all; he accepts it as a given. I suggest that in the light of how human cognition works, it might be worth taking a step back and re-thinking the education system itself in the light of the following principles:

1.communities need access to expertise

Human beings have been ‘successful’, in evolutionary terms, mainly due to our use of language. Language means it isn’t necessary for each of us to learn everything for ourselves from scratch; we can pass on information to each other verbally. Reading and writing allow knowledge to be transmitted across time and space. The more knowledge we have as individuals and communities, the better our chances of survival and a decent quality of life.

But, although it’s desirable for everyone to be proficient reader and writer and to have an excellent grasp of collective human knowledge, that’s not necessary in order for each of us to have a decent quality of life. What each community needs is a critical mass of people with good knowledge and skills.

Also, human knowledge is now so vast that no one can be an expert on everything; what’s important is that everyone has access to the expertise they need, when and where they need it.  For centuries, communities have facilitated access to expertise by educating and training experts (from carpenters and builders to doctors and lawyers) who can then share their expertise with their communities.

2.education and training is not just for school

Prior to the development of mass education systems, most children’s and young people’s education and training would have been integrated into the communities in which they lived. They would understand where their new knowledge and skills fitted into the grand scheme of things and how it would benefit them, their families and others. But schools in mass education systems aren’t integrated into communities. The education system has become its own specialism. Children and young people are withdrawn from their community for many hours to be taught whatever knowledge and skills the education system thinks fit. The idea that good exam results will lead to good jobs is expected to provide sufficient motivation for students to work hard at mastering the school curriculum.  Geary recognises that it doesn’t.

For most of the millennia during which cognitive functions have been developing, children and young people have been actively involved in producing food or making goods, and their education and training was directly related to those tasks. Now it isn’t.  I’m not advocating a return to child labour; what I am advocating is ensuring that what children and young people learn in school is directly and explicitly related to life outside school.

Here’s an example: A highlight of the Chemistry O level course I took many years ago was a visit to the nearby Avon (make-up) factory. Not only did we each get a bag of free samples, but in the course of an afternoon the relevance of all that rote learning of industrial applications, all that dry information about emulsions, fat-soluble dyes, anti-fungal additives etc. suddenly came into sharp focus. In addition, the factory was a major local employer and the Avon distribution network was very familiar to us, so the whole end-to-end process made sense.

What’s commonly referred to as ‘academic’ education – fundamental knowledge about how the world works – is vital for our survival and wellbeing as a species. But knowledge about how the world works is also immensely practical. We need to get children and young people out, into the community, to see how their communities apply knowledge about how the world works, and why it’s important. The increasing emphasis in education in the developed world on paper-and-pencil tests, examination results and college attendance is moving the education system in the opposite direction, away from the practical importance of extensive, robust knowledge to our everyday lives.  And Geary appears to go along with that.

3.(not) evaluating the evidence

Broadly speaking, Geary’s model has obvious uses for teachers.   There’s considerable supporting evidence for a two-phase model of cognition ranging from Fodor’s specialised, stable/general, unstable distinction, to the System 1/System 2 model Daniel Kahnemann describes in Thinking, Fast and Slow. Whether the difference between Geary’s biologically primary and secondary knowledge and abilities is as clear-cut as he claims, is a different matter.

It’s also well established that in order to successfully acquire the knowledge usually taught in schools, children need the specific abilities that are measured by intelligence tests; that’s why the tests were invented in the first place. And there’s considerable supporting evidence for the reliability and predictive validity of intelligence tests. They clearly have useful applications in schools. But it doesn’t follow that what we call intelligence or g (never mind gF or gC) is anything other than a construct created by the intelligence test.

In addition, the fact that there is evidence that supports Geary’s claims doesn’t mean all his claims are true. There might also be considerable contradictory evidence; in the case of Geary’s two-phase model the evidence suggests the divide isn’t as clear-cut as he suggests, and the reification of intelligence has been widely critiqued. Geary mentions the existence of ‘vigorous debate’ but doesn’t go into details and doesn’t evaluate the evidence by actually weighing up the pros and cons.

Geary’s unquestioning acceptance of the concepts of modularity, intelligence and education systems in the developed world, increases the likelihood that teachers will follow suit and simply accept Geary’s model as a given. I’ve seen the concepts of biologically primary and secondary knowledge and abilities, crystallised intelligence (gC) and fluid intelligence (gF), and the idea that students with low gF who struggle with biologically secondary knowledge just need explicit direct instruction, all asserted as if they must be true – presumably because an academic has claimed they are and cited evidence in support.

This absence of evaluation of the evidence is especially disconcerting in anyone who emphasises the importance of teachers becoming research-savvy and developing evidence-based practice, or who posits models like Geary’s in opposition to the status quo. The absence of evaluation is also at odds with the oft cited requirement for students to acquire robust, extensive knowledge about a subject before they can understand, apply, analyse, evaluate or use it creatively. That requirement applies only to school children, it seems.

references

Fodor, J (1983).  The modularity of mind.  MIT Press.

Geary, D (2007).  Educating the evolved mind: Conceptual foundations for an evolutionary educational psychology, in Educating the evolved mind: Conceptual foundations for an evolutionary educational psychology, JS Carlson & JR Levin (Eds). Information Age Publishing.

Kahneman, D (2012).  Thinking, fast and slow.   Penguin.