I truly hope you missed the brief internet celebrity of "Bean Dad." Brief, tragic summary: a less-than-empathetic parent tried to teach his hungry six-year-old daughter to use a manual can opener by denying her food until she, without help, figured out how to open a can of beans.
Well, true to the spirit of Twitter, it took no time at all for the no-context sweeping generalizations to be pronounced. I tend to ignore ridiculous Twitter debates that don't involve football, but an author whom I greatly respect jumped in with a barb that hurt:
"The Bean Dad approach is STEM pedagogy in a nutshell," @jonnysun said. (He's since deleted the tweet, I think - I found a reference to it, but I cannot find the tweet itself.)
I know other teachers heard similar not-so-flattering remarks about how science is taught. Folks got defensive about their methodology. And that way madness lies.
I mean, any good science teacher teaches by inquiry, by modeling, by discovery, or by whatever buzzword means "don't just talk about science, do science". And none of these buzzword approaches, done correctly, bears any serious resemblance to Bean Dad.
Yet, before we turn our shoulders in a huff... please consider why so many intelligent people think that STEM pedagogy is like Bean Dad. Fact is, this is a general perception of our craft. Why? That's an uncomfortable question.
I know that my very own students have this perception early in every school year. And in my first few years of teaching, I didn't know how to help students and parents and colleagues understand the difference between Bean Dad and "I can't help you with a blank page, I need to see your serious written attempt." Insisting that students engage authentically with the material rather than demand that I solve their problems for them means that I will always, forever, deal with the charge that I "refuse to help."
And, well... a lot of our peers try to teach via inquiry or the like, but don't really understand what they're doing. They don't lecture, but in good faith they don't know what guidance to give, just that they're not supposed to lecture. Or in not-so-good faith they don't care what guidance to give. Or they assume that since they figured things out on their own, so should their students. These folks are, in fact, the school version of Bean Dad.
We're deluding ourselves if we don't acknowledge the existence - maybe even prevalence! - of Bean Dad science teachers. Their well-poisoning means that everyone else has to work ten times as hard to establish a positive class culture that gives appropriate guidance, but also allows students appropriate freedom to make mistakes.
We can't avoid complaints. Yet, we can help students, parents, and colleagues understand our methods. We can be transparent about our pedagogy. We can de-emphasize the value of right answers and over-emphasize the value of correct approaches. We can publicly prioritize progress over performance, long-term goals over short-term goals. We can stand up for colleagues who share our values.
And we should, must, keep on going in the face of pressure each fall. When alumni of your course are the ones shutting down the complaints that "Mr. Lipshutz doesn't help us learn," then you know you've done well.
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