Growth Mindset--A Primer for Beginners

How you say things to kids matters. A lot. I've been working on re-framing the challenges we experience in our classroom. There are always obstacles, but looking through second-grade lenses, they can seem much more intimidating and unconquerable.

Almost every day, I hear kids classify work as "easy" or "hard." They want to know ahead of time that the assignment I'm giving isn't too hard, that they can manage it without breaking a sweat. Other times, they take one look at the work and write it off as simple busy work. Either situation breaks my heart. 

You see, there is value in everything we do. 

No matter the task, my second graders have an opportunity to learn. All the time. Not occasionally. All. The. Time. 

For some students, writing paragraphs comes easily. The words flow from their pencils and they are eager to share their thoughts. For them, the challenge is clear--take the concepts and make it your own. For others, the real task lies in commanding their letters, words, and sentences to stay within the tiny confines of the dreaded blue lines on the page. 

Everyone has a challenge, and one is no better or worse than another. 

They need to hear me say this. A lot. Like I said before, second-grade brains think assignments are either easy or hard. One or the other. You either know it or you don't. Sometimes their peeky little eyes can't help but glance sideways at another's work. Am I doing this right? Am I smart? Am I the best? I can only imagine the worries they encounter with such a fixed mindset.

That's why a core group of my teacher-friends from college are sharing and posting like crazy about something called a growth mindset. Seriously, I can't enjoy one night of mindless social media without being inundated with the "growth mindset" posts. Finally, I caved and started reading and watching. Here are a few of my favorite:

Carol Dweck's research is presented as a whole here:

Professor Carol Dweck 'Teaching a growth mindset' at Young Minds 2013

My class watched the Sesame Street video and we refer back to it anytime a student faces a "setback" in our room. They really like it.

I think the growth mindset works easily with the kids that are working hard to build confidence, both academically and socially. We can quickly identify which tasks are difficult for them and use the growth mindset to praise and guide their development.

For the kiddos who excel in one--or all--subjects, the growth mindset still applies, although it is sometimes more difficult to explain and demonstrate. Rather than constantly moving them "vertically" through curriculum, we can encourage, provide, and praise "horizontal" movement using the growth mindset. I like to think of this concept as a ladder versus a rock climbing wall.

With the vertical "ladder" approach, concepts are presented as "rungs," designed for constant acceleration to the next grade level. Students move quickly through material using traditional learning methods, formulas, and algorithms.  

With a horizontal "rock climbing" approach, students stretch their understanding of a concept through different learning modalities. While they do not reach "the top" quite as fast as a ladder climber, they become stronger with lateral movements--demonstrating the same concept with visual, auditory, 

and kinesthetic methods. We can praise their growth as a well-rounded student. 

So here's the bottom line: A Growth Mindset is good for everyone. We can stretch every student, create resiliency, and foster authentic confidence. If you're wanting to learn more, the following book really sealed the deal for me: 

Opening Minds: Using Language to Change Lives

Any Questions?

Second graders are full of questions. FULL OF THEM. 

My first few years, I thought that "nice" teachers were patient enough to answer any question from any student. Let me tell you, I wore my poor little 22 year old self out trying to field 120+ questions a day (24 students * 5 questions each). I wanted to be helpful, knowledgeable, and seem like I had it all together. In truth, answering every question was more about my "teacher ego" than doing what was right for kids. It built ME up to know that I had all the answers--not the students. It made them very dependent on me for everything. And isn't that the opposite of what we want for our children? Don't we want them to be independent and confident about their own answers?

One reason we might want to give our children all the answers is guilt. We don't like seeing them struggle, cry, or feel uncomfortable. It's downright painful to watch sometimes. We blame ourselves, shame ourselves into thinking that as adults, we have to rescue our charges by swooping down and saving the day. Now, I know this is heavy, and you could be thinking "What's the big deal about answering a few questions here and there during the day?" Trust me, I answer plenty. But I've been thinking about the bigger picture, here.

For instance, take one of those "interruption questions," when you're talking--or teaching--about something important and a child blurts out "CAN I GO TO THE BATHROOM?" or "GUESS  WHAT I DID LAST NIGHT?" and your train of thought runs right off the tracks. My kids get so distracted by those types of questions. I used to think I was mean if I didn't stop and answer. But I've learned that if you start to honor those blurt-outs you will pay for it all year long. Taking a more proactive approach by using silent signals seems to help quell some of the interruptions. Other times, simply ignoring the question until a more appropriate time does the trick, though that's easier said than done.

So what about the tougher questions? The ones that are more academic in nature or stressful for students? I can't tell you how many times a problem arises during the day. Broken pencils, misunderstood directions, a difficult task, you name it. Sure, I do answer a ton of those questions during the day. I know when my kids are pushed to the limit and need a boost from me. But there are so many moments that kids can figure out on their own if I step away and breathe through the guilt.

It's not that I want them to fail. Children are resilient. They learn and grow in spite of us, sometimes. So when the time is right, I look back at them and ask, "What do you think we should do?" I say we to imply that I'm on their team, but they have to take the lead. When they answer back "I don't know," I will nod and show some empathy, as if I'm saying I know the feeling, buddy. I've been there too. Keep trying. I'll turn the questions back on to the student until they find their own answers. Sometimes it's not even the same answer I'd come up with! Usually I'll end with, "Did you solve it on your own?" or "How much thinking did Miss Boyd really have to do for you?" Sometimes they'll smile and say "Oh! None!" Other times, it's an eye-roll and stomp back to their desks. Either way, they've proved themselves capable. They haven't given in to their fears of inadequacy. And I haven't validated my "teacher ego."

Seven years in, I'm breaking away from the know-it-all mentality of teaching. I am not the gate-keeper to knowledge. I don't hold the keys; I only have a faint idea where they are hidden. It's my responsibility to guide my students toward the answers, not deliver them on a silver platter with a side of pride.