Don't Teach Me How To Think

So, I was reading the following short story tonight...

Angels on a Pin A Modern Parable
by Alexander Callandra
Saturday Review, Dec 21, 1968.

Some time ago I received a call from a colleague who asked if I would be the referee on the grading of an examination question. He was about to give a student a zero for his answer to a physics question, while the student claimed he should receive a perfect score and would if the system were not set up against the student: The instructor and the student agreed to submit this to an impartial arbiter, and I was selected.

I went to my colleague's office and read the examination question: "Show how it is possible to determine the height of a tall building with the aid of a barometer."

The student had answered: "Take a barometer to the top of the building, attach a long rope to it, lower the barometer to the street and then bring it up, measuring the length of the rope. The length of the rope is the height of the building."

I pointed out that the student really had a strong case for full credit since he had answered the question completely and correctly. On the other hand, if full credit was given, it could well contribute to a high grade for the student in his physics course. A high grade is supposed to certify competence in physics, but the answer did not confirm this. I suggested that the student have another try at answering the question I was not surprised that my colleague agreed, but I was surprised that the student did.

I gave the student six minutes to answer the question with the warning that the answer should show some knowledge of physics. At the end of five minutes, he had not written anything. I asked if he wished to give up, but he said no. He had many answers to this problem; he was just thinking of the best one. I excused myself for interrupting him and asked him to please go on. In the next minute he dashed off his answer which read:

"Take the barometer to the top of the building and lean over the edge of the roof. Drop that barometer, timing its fall with a stopwatch. Then using the formula S = ½at², calculate the height of the building.

At this point I asked my colleague if he would give up. He conceded, and I gave the student almost full credit.

In leaving my colleague's office, I recalled that the student had said he had many other answers to the problem, so I asked him what they were. "Oh yes," said the student. "There are a great many ways of getting the height of a tall building with a barometer. For example, you could take the barometer out on a sunny day and measure the height of the barometer and the length of its shadow, and the length of the shadow of the building and by the use of a simple proportion, determine the height of the building."

"Fine," I asked. "And the others?"

"Yes," said the student. "There is a very basic measurement method that you will like. In this method you take the barometer and begin to walk up the stairs. As you climb the stairs, you mark off the length of the barometer along the wall. You then count the number of marks, and this will give you the height of the building in barometer units. A very direct method."

"Of course, if you want a more sophisticated method, you can tie the barometer to the end of a string, swing it as a pendulum, and determine the value of 'g' at the street level and at the top of the building. From the difference of the two values of `g' the height of the building can be calculated."

Finally, he concluded, there are many other ways of solving the problem. "Probably the best," he said, "is to take the barometer to the basement and knock on the superintendent's door. When the superintendent answers, you speak to him as follows: "Mr. Superintendent, here I have a fine barometer. If you tell me the height of this building, I will give you this barometer."

At this point I asked the student if he really did know the conventional answer to this question. He admitted that he did, said that he was fed up with high school and college instructors trying to teach him how to think rather than teaching him the structure of the subject. With this in mind, he decided to revive scholasticism as an academic lark to challenge the Sputnik-panicked classrooms of America.

Okay, so the moral of the story is obvious, but it really hit home for me. I can't even begin to count the number of times I seriously considered (or went through with) answering test questions in this way just to prove that I don't have to conform to a poorly written question or an expected answer. I'm not going to lie and say that I got full credit every time I did this, but quite often the argument itself was worth it, especially if the professor was reasonable and willing to admit defeat (when called for.)

I've formed a few ideas around this, which may at first seem to be conflicting:

• Educational institutions should not attempt to teach anyone how to think
• Educational institutions should teach everyone how to learn

Now, it will be argued that teaching someone how to learn and how to think are one and the same, but I don't think this is a fair assessment at all. They're not equivalent ("apples to oranges"), and even if they were, they're certainly not correlated. I know several people that are much greater thinkers than I am, but possess much less learning ability, as well as the converse. I personally don't believe it's possible to teach someone how to think, at least not on such a large scale as an overall education. I have nothing concrete to this point, but the complexity of even understanding how another person thinks makes teaching them a new way of thinking quite daunting. Just ask any husband and wife that have been married for any considerable time.

Teaching someone how to learn is not a cake walk either, but I believe it can be done, if as nothing more than a guiding sense. I'm not talking about "study skills", "reading habits", or "note-taking shortcuts." I'm talking about the general philosophy of learning. I'm by no means an expert on learning, but I've done a little of it in my lifetime, and I expect I'll do a little more before I'm done.

So, how does one go about teaching someone how to learn. Well, if I were the professor, I'd offer this little gem of wisdom:

"No one is going to teach you anything, so you must become able and willing to learn anything."

Yes... I'd teach them that they can't be taught, but they most certainly can learn. Think about this until it makes sense. When it does, you'll find learning things becomes much easier.