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The Joy of Inquiry-Based Teaching


These two diary entries by Ellen Berg, a St. Louis language arts teacher, first appeared in MiddleWeb's diary section. We combine and reproduce them here as an excellent demonstration of the power of inquiry-based learning that is both challenging and highly engaging.

"I have never been quite
so excited in my classroom."


A loud argument broke out across the room.

"You're wrong!"

"No I'm not! Besides, we all voted against you."

"Mrs. Berg!"

I summoned the two students to a more private area of the room, and the two little faces of Tina and Rod, obviously distraught, appeared in front of me. Tears began trickling down Rod's face.

I went through the routine of asking each student to tell his and her own side of the story. When I found out what they were arguing about, I broke out into a huge grin, hugged them, and congratulated them both.

It might be one of the proudest moments of my teaching career.

The Great Fairy Tale Debate

Last week my students were split into five jigsaw groups to read one of five common fairy tales. In their groups they were required to create story maps, to decide what if any lesson there was to be learned from the story, and to see if any magic was involved. Once each group completed their task, I broke them into five new jigsaw groups. Each jigsaw group had one member from each of the previous groups so that all five stories were represented.

The jigsaw groups shared their stories and the information they collected in the previous task. They were required to find five things that the five stories had in common and to use that information to create their own definition of a fairy tale. At the end of it all, they had to create a visual aid and give a presentation to the class. I was more interested in their critical thinking rather than a textbook definition or a specific set of five common elements.

Back to the arguing students. Usually when arguments or disagreements break out in my classroom, they are about Johnny talking about Sue, or Sue tripping Johnny, or Johnny refusing to participate. I was ready to give the usual talk about personal space, staying on task, or respect for others, but this time I was faced with something new.

They disagreed about the definition of a fairy tale.

Tina explained that the group had settled on a definition that Rod agreed with, except for the last part. They believed that a fairy tale always had a happy ending, while Rod believed that wasn't necessarily so. Both sides offered evidence to support their positions. It was apparent that both sides had put a lot of thought into it, and they definitely understood what they had read. They were debating something related to their work even though they knew I wasn't going to take off for imperfect definitions.

THEY CARED ABOUT THEIR LEARNING!

I have never been quite so excited in my classroom. Somehow, after years of practice developing high-interest lessons, I had succeeded. My students were looking past the grade to a higher level, a need to know and to understand. They were moving beyond the trite answers that we sometimes get when we ask probing questions. They were thinking!

Some of what I saw

I had done this particular activity earlier in the year when we studied myths. I was pleased with the results then, so I decided to use the same structure with fairy tales. The results this time were even better.

I observed groups who systematically went through their stories, looking for commonalities. Some found that the specifics of each story were different, and commented, "We've got to look for bigger things. Like in the myths, they had different gods in them, but they usually had gods." Other groups debated what "magical" meant; some thought that talking animals were magical, while others believed that magic had to be performed by a wizard, witch, or other supernatural being. When they asked me what I thought, I told them it was up to them to think it through and come to a consensus. They did.

I saw group members chastising other members for being unprepared. "We need your information to do this," they said. "You shouldn't have been playing around when you were supposed to be working." The offending party looked properly humbled and came to me to ask for a copy of the story he was supposed to have read. "I'm sorry Mrs. Berg. It won't happen again."

As groups prepared their posters and presentations, I watched as they ran through the requirements, checking and double-checking to see if they were at a 4 level (on our scoring guide). More debates erupted around this topic. Many groups included more information than I asked for to ensure their preparedness.

As the groups presented, they touched on many of the textbook elements of a fairy tale. Among them were, all fairy tales have a good guy and a bad guy; the good guy always wins; men are usually the heroes; they are make-believe worlds; they often start with, "Once upon a time..."; there's something supernatural happening in them. I could go on. The depth of their understanding never ceases to amaze me.

What can I learn from this?

So, that is one lesson that has been successful for me. I could put that in my files to use again next year, believing that it was the topic, the group of kids, or just a fluke that it worked so well. However, this is where the real reflection needs to take place so that I can learn a lesson about why and how this particular activity was such a success. What can I learn from this that will help me apply it to future lessons?

I don't have all the answers. I do know that every time I use jigsaw groups, it is successful. Not only do students have the opportunity to collaborate, but they are also held accountable for their knowledge with their peers. Their peers can put more real pressure on them to perform than I ever can.

I also think it worked because it hooked into their prior knowledge. To my low readers, fairy tales are very non-threatening. Except for my Bosnian kids, most of them have read them, heard them, or seen the cartoon version. Even though the stories I used are written on a higher level, not one of my students expressed a difficulty or unwillingness to read. They were familiar with the subject, so they were more comfortable with it. I must remember to hook into their prior knowledge with all future assignments.

I think that requiring my students to problem-solve open-ended tasks is a motivator as well. The first time I did this activity with the myths, my students expressed a lot of anxiety, constantly asking me if they had the "right" answers. Once they finally understood that I was looking for their understanding of myths and later fairy tales, they relaxed. The only requirement was that they had to explain their thought process if I didn't understand. I learned a lot from their creative interpretations of what they read. They were more than valid. They reflected their own lives and experiences.

They owned the learning

My students also had to take the responsibility for their own learning. I was the facilitator, not the giver of knowledge. As they asked me questions, I questioned them back, trying to help them clarify their own thinking. It wasn't until every group had given their presentations that I finally gave them the textbook definition of a fairy tale, and by then, I had their undivided attention. Many took pride in the knowledge that they had created a definition that was very close to the official one with nothing more than their own mind power. How powerful is that?

I'm watching my children gain more and more confidence in themselves as learners. Isn't it sad that so many teachers chase that out of them so early in life with their endless lectures, knowledge level right and wrong answer tasks? Yes, I agree that there are many facts that children (and adults) need to know. However, can't we achieve that goal while striving to not only make that information important to children while also teaching them how to use that information to solve problems? We can be stuffed full of knowledge, yet be perfectly helpless because we do not know how to use any of it.

I choose to let my children help themselves become lifelong learners.


PART II

Creating a
"need-to-know" environment

"I love this project!"

This, overheard, as Tina left my classroom Thursday morning. I am thankful to know that I'm on the right track.

We have moved on to the Cinderella project this week. On Monday and Tuesday, my students worked alone, in pairs, or at the listening center to read the Walt Disney version of Cinderella and complete a story map. As students conferenced with me about their story maps, I learned a lot about their thinking. I saw that many of them did not see the events in the story sequentially, and they did not understand what "main events" as related to the story were.

I had the opportunity to dialogue with them one-on-one to correct misconceptions and explain parts of the story map in as many ways as necessary until I saw the "A-ha" in their eyes. I have to make time to conference more often. I learned a lot from those interactions.

On Wednesday, we charted our results from the story map on a class chart that includes spaces for the five other versions of Cinderella they began reading on Thursday. My students engaged in a lively discussion as they debated about whether the mice were "important" characters or not -- or if they should include the clock striking midnight as a major event in the story. Eventually we reached a consensus, and we moved on to the current phase of our project.

My students have chosen new groups to join, and each one of them is responsible for reading one of five different versions of the Cinderella story: The Egyptian Cinderella, The Korean Cinderella, The Persian Cinderella, The Irish Cinderlad, and "Sootface," an Ojibwa Cinderella story. Each group is charged with reading the story, creating a story map, and then presenting their information to the class.

The requirements of the presentation are that the information from the story map is shared, all group members have a part, information is correct, and students use correct grammar. One group came to me to ask if they could present their information as a play; another asked if they could create a diorama; still another wants to make a poster. As I looked around the room, I saw all students engaged in learning, helping their group members out with unknown words or explanations of parts of the story they didn't understand. The group that has decided to put on a play has made a list of props that each member must bring.

It was after this part of the project that Tina left my room with such an enthusiastic comment.

I have enjoyed this project immensely, and I am looking forward to the next phase.

After my students give their presentations, we will fill in the empty spaces on our class story map. I will give them all miniature versions of the class map, then I'll jigsaw the groups again. This time they will have to decide what all six of the Cinderella stories have in common so they can accurately define what a "Cinderella story" is. We will use that information to create the scoring guide for their final project; they will be writing their own Cinderella stories or plays set in more modern times.

The benefits of delving deeper

I am seeing the great benefits of delving deeper and deeper into one topic or area of study. I know teachers who fear they will not be able to cover their curriculum if they spend too much time on one topic, and I must confess that when I first began learning about inquiry I had some of the same concerns. However, as I have actually become involved in inquiry and constructivism, I have found that belief to be untrue.

I think the more time we spend on a topic, the better our students really understand it. More connections to prior knowledge are made as our students ask questions and explore. What our students learn becomes more a part of them as they take ownership and responsibility for their own learning. I think their learning becomes more permanent as all of our content is set into meaningful frameworks.

It has just occurred to me that much of learning is affective. We certainly have many cognitive opportunities on a daily basis, but how many of them do we honestly pursue? Only the ones that have meaning or purpose to us. Today my husband learned how to fix a toilet because ours was broken. I can say with all truth that had our toilet not been broken, he would have never investigated the fine art of toilet repair.

Creating a "need-to-know" environment

It is not enough for us to tell children, "Because you will need this when you grow up," or "Because it is good for you," in response to their question, "Why do I have to learn this?" In fact, perhaps our true goal as educators is to create a need-to-know environment where that question is never even asked.

Since I've started this project, I have not had one child ask me why we were doing any of the activities we have done. I think I have successfully tapped into that affective domain by honoring their interests, allowing them choices, and creating challenging tasks.

Some may say, "But you will have spent a month on fairy tales by the end of this project. When will you have time to cover everything else?" In this month I am covering a large portion of my curriculum including essay writing, speaking and listening skills, research skills, reading comprehension, elements of a story, and using the text to defend an argument. Best of all, my students are working at the higher end of Bloom's Taxonomy where real meaning-making takes place.

Not too shabby, eh? Score one for the teacher. However, I cannot rest on my laurels for too long. The challenge of creating another unit around what I have learned from this one awaits.


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