Mr. Potato Head Lessons
Since the broad return to in-person schooling across the country this fall, a common refrain among teachers and school leaders is that the pandemic had an enormous negative impact on student achievement. That is, students are behind where they might usually be had there been no pandemic. This isn’t surprising.
Some educators dispute aspects of these claims—or at least what they believe to be the premise of such claims, as if commenting on the fact that students academically behind for being away from the classroom for a year and a half is some sort of negative commentary on a student and their life at home. Such educators don’t argue against the reality that student achievement has plummeted (some don’t say anything at all about it). Instead, they convey the idea that it’s a morally suspect position to criticize what may have contributed to this drop in achievement. These individuals put a positive spin on what many kids faced for 18 months—lockdowns and remote learning—and they argue that kids learned a LOT during that time. In part, I admire educators who make these defenses, and I certainly agree with an attempt to see the silver lining in a once-in-a-century catastrophe.
However, I do take issue with those who make it seem as though kids sitting at home in front of a screen for a year and a half was somehow as equally good or important as kids learning in school. I also reject any suggestion that kids staying at home learning other things somehow made up for time lost due to lockdowns and remote learning. To see the good in a bad situation does not mean to ignore reality. Lockdowns and remote learning were not and are not good for kids, and responsible, thoughtful teachers and school leaders know this.
The teachers and school leaders I see every day communicate to me that students in 2021 are markedly behind—and that isn’t surprising. However, remarking on the fact that students are much further behind than we would expect them to be is less interesting to me than what we are to do about it. Perhaps this mindset comes from my experience serving in underserved communities in Ruleville, Mississippi, northeast D.C., and the South Bronx. I’ve always held the view that the children we teach are the children we have, not the children we wished they were. It’s less important to me to talk about the obvious than it is to think and act on what’s practical. The kids are behind: so be it. What are we to do about it?
There are many ways to differentiate and provide access to students of all abilities. When a teacher is using a curriculum and deem the work to be very rigorous or ‘too high’ for the average student, one option is to add everything plus the kitchen sink in one’s teaching as a way to provide the content students may need to address the grade-level curriculum. I name this adding-in teaching here and there to one’s lessons a Mr. Potato Head lesson, something we would all do best to avoid.
What is a Mr. Potato Head lesson? It’s when we take basic grade-level content or curriculum, and, realizing that it may be too difficult for the average current student to understand, we add little things to it. Little bits of content dump here to provide context—stick on an ear here. A few vocabulary words there because kids probably don’t know them—wrench in a mustache there. Pausing to explain every bit of detail in the lesson because students probably don’t know what it means—slap some lips on it. An attempt to engage students with a long analogy—stuff a hat on here. An anecdote about our personal life that may or may not connect to the relevance of the lesson nor capture the interest of students—shove on a bright red nose there. Several detours during the lesson to expound on ‘teachable moments’, digressions that we think are useful at the time—wedge some glasses on here.
By themselves, none of these teaching moves are bad. In fact, they are good, and we want them in lessons, in small doses. But these additions don’t seem to have any intention other than as a justification for helping the kids, who ‘are behind’ and who ‘don’t know this stuff’ and for whom ‘this stuff is too hard.’ Lessons turn into giant Mr. Potato Heads, with all these parts slapped onto a lesson—which goes far too long for children to sit with engagement and attention.
Why do we teach Mr. Potato Head lessons? Well, because the kids are behind, and we’re trying to meet them where they’re at—and catch them up at the same time. It comes from a place of empathy and care for student learning.
The core issue isn’t that students are behind per se. The issue also isn’t in the spirit of the solution—”we must catch them up!” The issue stems from what I perceive to be a common pitfall in teaching and education. That is, when teaching, we sometimes conduct ourselves in ways that are antithetical to our intentions. That is, we intend and we want children to learn, succeed and achieve. However, we often do things that undermine our own goals. And this we must address.
How does a Mr. Potato Head lesson undermine our belief that we want to meet children where they are at and catch them up? First, a lesson that has so many parts to it that runs 20+ minutes is not reaching children where they are at. There is a content-overload that produces a cognitive load in children—it’s too much information for most children to take in and remember or apply in a meaningful way. Second, a Mr. Potato Head lesson almost by definition takes too long. Kids can give their best attention to new, challenging material for about 10 minutes before needing a bit of a brain break. Expounding on a long lesson simply disengages kids, and they aren’t interacting with any of the material in any meaningful way, either. So a Mr. Potato Head lesson doesn’t really meet kids where they are at, and it will very likely not catch them up.
So what’s the solution? We’ve established that the answer isn’t to slap bits of content and teaching and digressions and expounding into every part of our lesson. The answer is the opposite: to streamline our instruction by prioritizing what is essential.
Instead of adding stuff, take it away. Strip lessons of all extraneous content that isn’t essential. Ask yourself when teaching any lesson: what is the one thing I want students to be able to know or do after this lesson? Anything else is superfluous or can be taught to kids in conferences or small groups after the lesson.
To prioritize what is essential is by definition one way to differentiate and give access to the content of what you teach. That is, we cannot realistically expect all students to master all things we teach at all times across the year. But what we can do is expect that all students will make significant growth in a few things that we prioritize.
As you’re planning your lessons, ask yourself: is this bit of content that I know kids don’t yet know essential to the core of the lesson—is it essential to understand what it is I hope kids are able to understand or do? Is it important that I quiz kids on the meaning of this vocabulary word and talk about its meaning for several minutes, or can I give a brief definition as an aside? Is this bit of hook material that I want to use to engage kids actually going to engage them into the content of the lesson, or will it distract them from what I am teaching? Might it be better referenced at the end of the day’s session, to drive my point home? When I go into an aside that is related to my lesson—is it crucial that it is referenced at that moment? Is there material that can wait for individuals or small groups after the lesson? That is, can I help students who ‘didn’t get’ the lesson after I teach it? Conversely, can I enrich the learning and challenge students who may have taken to the content quickly and need an extra challenge, and can this also be done after the lesson is taught?
When it comes to teaching children, oftentimes the simple adage remains true as it ever did: less is more—and more is less.
