Riddle Me This
January 12, 2009
The books that I have read say that teaching to the smart kids is the most effective way to get the most out of student. On the plus side, 93% of parents believe that their child is THE smart kid of the class. 5% of parents have the child is in Special Education. The remaining 2% of parents aren’t grounded in reality at all. These facts can be validated both empirically and anecdotally by looking at surveys that I have created and by asking those that agrees with me. I got this idea of corroboration from the Bush administration.
The No Child Left Behind Legislation (2001) was geared toward helping those with linguistic and social barriers that prevent their success in school. A noble end, no doubt. When one looks at the new High-Stakes Tests developed for measuring NCLB initiatives, it is easy to see that NCLB is working at improving NCLB test scores. In the past six years, NCLB High-Stakes scores have gone up consistently, narrowing the gap between the knows and the know-nots.
By contrast, the National Assessment of Educational Progress–commissioned by the US Department of Education–has been gathering reading scores since 1971. Educational professionals started to see the gap between the knows and the know-nots. Educational methods started changing and the gap started to narrow. It continued to do so for decades. That is, until about 2002, when President Bush thought that he was the first one to ask the question “Is our children learning?” So, according to NCLB, NCLB is working (Click for Shameless Jab), but on the other hand, according to the NAEP, NCLB isn’t. This, I’m not sure that NCLB statistics are any more reliable than those I make up on my blog.
But, the law is the law, so educators have to be on guard that they are teaching to the lowest common denominator. While I believe that no child should be left behind, I also believe that no child should be held back (from reaching his/her potential). Because of my stay in Public Education Penitentiary, I know how frustrating is can be to be held back. I wanted someone to push me academically, not just give me more homework. This is why I liked Mrs. Walter’s Physics class, yet never took A.P. English.
So when I am teaching, I don’t mind using terms and concepts that are too complicated for most students. I have a handful of students that will find me in private times and ask me questions like, “What is a clause?” I had slipped that word into one of my spelling tests. Not as a spelling word, but as white noise. While most students are still trying to grasp subject and predicate, others figured that out in Kindergarten and are aroused when they hear that there is more to language than a is for apple.
One thing my father did for me was to teach me riddles. The trophy riddle was the albatross sandwich riddle. Memory fails me as to whether the answer was EARNED after rigorous Q&A over the course of Sunday or just CONCESSION after an intellectually fatiguing Sunday. Regardless, father taught me that my intellect could be used for something. I could find simple answers to complicated problems. This was an empowering feeling for a child.
So, ever now and again, I will give my students a very difficult riddle. After a few minutes of knee-jerk guessing, they give up. They say “we give up.” Then I say, “that’s too bad. If you give up you will never find the answer.” You see, in their experience, giving up was a way of getting the answer. I don’t play that game, but I will reward mental exertion. After posing a riddle I can go days without giving a solution. It drives them crazy at first, but then it drives them to thought. I like that.
Part of the fun of a riddle is it’s syntax. “What gets wetter the more it dries?” The phrasing alone is provocative. Even if the answer were obvious, I would still respect the question. The mystery of solvency is a secondary–albeit more potent–source of pleasure. Once the secret to a riddle is revealed to the Eyos, they smile quietly. There is a satisfaction in watching reason pour its way through every crevice of their former puzzlement.
During a bus trip with the Eyos, I gave a few riddles. They loved it, and thus, tried to produce their own riddles. Just like a 14-year-old’s first attempt at a standard transmission, it didn’t go well. Here are some of the early submissions:
What slithers? What is white and falls from the sky? What restaurant starts with r and ends with Tuesday?
At first, I let them get away with saying that I got the answers because I am so smart, but after “riddle” #3, I was morally bound to explain that riddling isn’t just another kind of guessing game. An effective riddle has only one answer, and that the descriptions are cryptic, making the answer difficult to find.
At this point, most students returned to their games of rock, paper, scissors. But not “Jacques.” He processed the instruction for a bit, then came out with “What’s bigger than a house?” I said the name of a dinosaur, and he was pleased to have finally “stumped” me. “Nope, it was an airplane.”
“No. A brontosaurus IS bigger than a house too. Your riddle did not require me to select ‘house’ as my answer.”
“Jacques” thought a little bit longer, then came back with “okay, what is smaller than a house but bigger than a piece of dust?” Rather than guess, I showed “Jacques” how that riddle also failed. He tried to impress me with his answer. I wasn’t impressed. This was disappointing to him. Sad, no doubt, but I didn’t want to reward shoddy work; “Jacques” was capable of better. I showed him a few elements of riddles and sent him on his way. We were both satisfied.
Jacques tell me riddles every now and then. They are good. Oh, did I mention that “Jacques” is pulled out of class every day for 30 minutes to get his English as a Second Language lessons? He gets pulled during our creative writing lessons because we don’t want to leave him behind.
