So this year, I had the fabulous idea to review our matter unit by making Interactive Matter Lapbooks with my sixth grade science students. As the other sixth grade science teachers finished the unit with worksheets, vocab quizzes, and a review, my plan for lapbooks was a bit novel for a science class. I would be hailed as brilliant! The most creative science teacher ever! They would learn everything there was to learn about matter and they would love it! Kids would be switching their lifelong dreams of being NBA and NFL stars to that of being a chemist, a chemical researcher, or a developer of new products. This idea was simply genius.
Armed with manilla folders, construction paper, scissors, glue, markers, and a rubric of course, I launched into the explanation of the lapbook, with each group having a packet of templates and directions. As I hoped, the kids were thrilled to have a fun project, and to bolster their enthusiasm, I let them choose their own groups. "Choose carefully!" I cautioned. "You only have three days to finish this project, and everybody in your group will earn the same grade."
The students began the project by deciding who would do each element of the lapbook and filling out a timeline of what should be finished by when. They could not get their supplies and begin the actual work until I saw and approved this plan. (I patted myself on the back for this part!) I called Day One of the project a success...but things quickly went south.
On Day Two, I noticed that some groups, somehow, had supplies but I hadn't approved their plan. Some quick conferring fixed that. I had a constant line of kids at the front of the room, asking for help on one part or another. (Note to self: designate one person per group as the "asker.") I felt like I was constantly repeating myself, and referring them back to the packet. ("See the directions here on page 5?" "Remember that you have to write down the words and definitions before you cut out the puzzle pieces." "No, rusting is a chemical change, not physical. Go look at the list in your science notebook.") Two groups didn't know where to start...and I didn't find out until almost the end of class.
Day Three held more disaster. There was a field trip for the gifted kids. Timothy and Alex couldn't work because Mark took the project home with him and was absent. ("I thought I told everyone to store their project in the drawer designated for your hour!") My sample lapbook went missing. Rosie was still meticulously lettering and coloring the cover she had begun the first day. ("Rosie, you know the cover is worth only 5 points out of 100, right?" "Yes, I know.") Layla was refusing to work because her partner Stefanie said she didn't like her color choice. The pockets for the various parts of the lapbook were sized wrong and kept ripping when the kids tried to put pieces in them. The fortune teller/ cootie catcher for examples of elements, compounds, and mixtures was too confusing. Almost nobody was going to finish in three days.
So I extended the project to a fourth day. Then a fifth. The kids who were already finished were getting restless. The sixth day was to be the absolute last day, no exceptions. We had a summative assessment to take, the same one all the sixth graders in the building took.
I packed up the lapbooks that night, took them home to grade, pulled them out at home, and picked up the one on top. A cursory look told me it didn't have but three of the five elements. "That's not a good one to start on, let me pick another," I suggested to myself. The next one had a beautiful cover, but when I opened it, all the pieces fell out. It was not complete. The third and fourth lapbooks didn't fare much better. I rifled through the pile of lapbooks, desperately seeking one that matched my vision of what they were all supposed to look like. I found about four that were complete.
This project felt like an epic fail. I felt a flood of emotions. Anger- that the kids couldn't follow directions, or improvise when something didn't go right. Frustration- that my great idea had been a flop, and much of it was my fault. Exhausted- it had taken a lot of energy to get the supplies, confer with kids, and manage classroom behaviors. Disappointed- things just did not go the way I planned. I couldn't grade the lapbooks. I went to bed and mulled over the train wreck this project had been.
My nature is to find something positive in any situation. What positives could possibly come out of this? How could I turn this into a teachable moment for my students? After the dust settled, I could see that this "failure" had some successes too.
1. My students' average test score from the pre-test to the post-test increased from 44.5% to 85.28%. While they were working on their lapbooks, they were still learning. This learning was on par with my colleague who did not do lapbooks, whose average scores went from 49.44% to 86.54%. (Her final average was higher than mine, but so was her pre-test average. Her scores increased by 37.1%; my scores increased by 40.78%. We both did well!)
2. Sometimes learning is about the process, not the product.
I really did want beautiful lapbooks, and had intended for the kids to share them with other groups and look at the different examples they all came up with. That did not happen. As I handed back the sad lapbooks, we talked about my disappointment in them and what went wrong. Their final products were not usuable. We also talked about what they learned and how to do better on the next project. In the process of making thelapbooks, the students learned some other skills and lessons. Time management. Learning that it's better to chose people you work well with instead of friends that entertain you. Problem solving. The importance of following directions. These lessons aren't part of my curriculum, but they sure are important.
3. I learned to consider the developmental growth of my students.
I thought having step-by-step directions and going over them on the first day would be enough. I thought that offering them choice and opportunities to be creative was great. I forgot that sixth graders, while they might look mature on the outside, still have brains that are developing and not quite caught up to their bodies. The tween brain hasn't yet fully developed to notice errors in decision-making. The area of the brain that seeks pleasure and reward is highly developed by this time- no surprise, we've all seen how kids respond to winning and other rewards. But the tween prefrontal cortex is undeveloped, so tweens may not be able to control impulses and emotions, or to make sound judgements. This lapbook project's very nature set some of them up to fail- not for lack of effort, but for lack of brain maturity. I would need to take into account abilities I thought they should have, but through no fault of their own, they don't. (For more information, see the article "Are Teenage Brains Really Different From Adult Brains?")
4. Failure isn't forever.
For this project, the score was Lapbooks 0, Chaos 1. I want a re-match! I thought of ways to re-vamp the project to make it more middle-school friendly. Next time, I will introduce each element of the lapbook earlier in the year. We'll create puzzle pieces with vocabulary words. We'll make fans with examples of biotic and abiotic factors. We'll make a fortune teller- cootie catcher as a beginning-of-the-year ice breaker. By the time we do our matter lapbooks, they'll know better what to do. Plus, I will give a better time-line on finishing the project, instead of "you have three days." There will be a few kids who won't need my structure, and for them, I'll quietly let them know that they are free to work ahead and embellish as they see fit.
I am fortunate to have an administrator who has told me it's okay to take risks- and that if they don't work out, to learn from your mistakes and move on. Which is what I will do. I'm optimistic that the next time we make lapbooks in science, they will be works of art.
~C
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