Perhaps one of the greatest challenges in bringing maker culture to classes, especially those that are not typically hands-on classes by nature (such as English language classes), is fear. Teachers are afraid to try something unfamiliar or outside of their regular skill set. What if it doesn't go smoothly? Or ends up being a complete disaster? A maker challenge doesn't usually have step-by-step instructions, and if it does, the ways of going about it and the final result are not predictable and formulaic.
Fear is not limited to teachers, though. Students, especially teenagers, are often afraid to try out a new technique or material, risking embarrassment in front of their peers. Younger students tend to get frustrated if the first attempt doesn't work they way they had hoped, and they may be wary of trying again if not prepared for setbacks.
And, of course, not every school supports and encourages maker culture. Sometimes there are just too many things to teach in a short amount of time, or test scores are valued over soft skills. School administrations can be reluctant to invest money in materials. And then there are parents who don't understand why their kids are playing with craft sticks and play dough when they are paying for them to learn English (because it never occurred to them that the kids are building essential skills in English while constructing something physical).
Assuming we agree that it's a worthwhile endeavor to develop makers, even in subjects like English language (and if you don't think so, check out two posts where I try to answer the question, "Why Make?" or this podcast from a skeptical language arts teacher.), how do we get past this fear of failure that stops us before we even try?
Perhaps the most essential thing is for teachers to stop thinking that they have to be the expert. There are so many topics connected to maker culture--for starters, science, technology, engineering, arts, and math, to name the ones in the famous STEAM acronym. And there are many skills in these fields that an average English teacher doesn't have a background in, and, trust me, that's OK!
I'm sure many teachers remember times when a student asked a question and they drew a blank on how to respond. I've learned not to be ashamed in those moments, but to simply say, "That's a good question. Let me get back to you on that." Rather than being horrified that the teacher didn't know the answer, students are more often impressed that the teacher remembered the question and took the effort to search for the answer. Other times, it´s been more appropriate to encourage the student to seek out the answer to their question--using their book, a dictionary, the internet, or even their peers. As a teacher, I am not the sole source of information for my students--I need to prepare them for the real world where they ask questions, set their own goals, and solve unexpected problems for which there aren't simple answers. That starts in the classroom and in the maker space.
One of the most important things I learned from the Learning Creative Learning course by Lifelong Kindergarten Group and MIT Media Lab is that the teacher's role is not to be "a sage on the stage," but rather, "a guide on the side." Mitchel Resnik takes this old quote and encourages teachers and mentors to take on the role of consultant, but not of expert. This often means providing learners with emotional support as they face a challenge. In my context, it also means providing them with language support. I may make suggestions and ask guiding questions, but, ultimately, it is up to the student to solve the task at hand. The support I give on the sidelines helps them get there.
And that brings us to the power of peers. In my classes, making is rarely an individual endeavor, but almost always a group activity, where everyone plays a role, supporting each other and working toward a common goal. In doing this, students develop collaborative and communicative skills, as some offer ideas, and others find the best ways to carry them out, and everyone deals with the problems that arise. In a language classroom setting, it's often helpful to prepare students beforehand with some useful language for collaborating. In any setting, it's important to remind people that they are not competing against each other, but working together. This is where the magic happens.
Things won't always go smoothly. There have been times when a maker activity I thought would be awesome just didn't fly with my students. But the same thing has happened with a song, or a game, or a different approach to teaching a lesson, or even from just following the lesson straight from the book. That doesn't mean I'm a bad teacher, but that I might have to occasionally rethink some things and make adjustments. Teachers are learners, too, and we learn from experience what works best for each group. If something new doesn't fit right, it doesn't necessarily mean that it should never be done, but rather, perhaps it should be approached differently. Maybe the lead-in or driving question could be re-framed, or the challenge adjusted to be more appropriate for the level. Maybe different materials are needed, or maybe makers can find out new things to do with those same materials (perhaps by tapping into the vast resources on the Internet.) Time management is my biggest challenge, and I constantly have to make adjustments. But the rewards that come with getting my students to make far outweigh the risks involved.
Making is never a neat-and-clean, predictable process from start to finish. Failures happen along the way. But we need to rethink our views on failure and eliminate the stigma. In many maker communities, participants celebrate failures--the more spectacular, the better! This involves learning to laugh at ourselves and take things lightly. It's a culture that has to be cultivated. We need to provide students with a safe space to fail. One way we can do this is by giving students low-stakes challenges. But when the stakes are higher, failure should be seen as an opportunity for learning, a turning point along the road to discovery. This is what guided all the great inventors, and this can guide our endeavors, big and small.
Making involves taking risks. So does teaching. And life. While some risks we minimize or eliminate (think safety precautions), others we should learn to embrace. If people didn't take risks, we would never see progress. Speaking in a foreign language is an incredibly scary thing, full of risks, and yet language teachers provide a safe space for students to make mistakes, confront their fears and move past them. Why not do the same thing with making, with the goal of developing individuals who are ready to take on challenges and come up with creative solutions?
If you are thinking of trying out something with making, but not sure where to start, I suggest having your group build a tower. It can be done with any kind of material, it involves collaboration, and, if teaching English, it can be connected to almost any language point (comparatives and superlatives--ours is the biggest, but theirs is stronger; the verb BE--it is big, it is red, there are 24 cups; simple past--first we made a foundation, then we built, then it fell...passive voice--it is made of straws...the list goes on...). Afterward, evaluate, ask questions, get feedback, and be ready to make adjustments and perhaps try a different approach next time.
Remember, there is no set way to make. Students are the protagonists; teachers are the guides. Let that take some of the pressure off. We can set students up for success in how we lead them into the activity, and where we lead them with the questions we ask afterward. We are all makers. We make what we can out of what's been given to us. Let's embrace the challenge and learn to get past our fears, together. Let's make makers and risk takers, and equip them to rise to the occasion.
What risks have you taken, and what has been the result? What scares you the most about making? What barriers do we need to get past to develop makers and risk takers?
Fear is not limited to teachers, though. Students, especially teenagers, are often afraid to try out a new technique or material, risking embarrassment in front of their peers. Younger students tend to get frustrated if the first attempt doesn't work they way they had hoped, and they may be wary of trying again if not prepared for setbacks.
And, of course, not every school supports and encourages maker culture. Sometimes there are just too many things to teach in a short amount of time, or test scores are valued over soft skills. School administrations can be reluctant to invest money in materials. And then there are parents who don't understand why their kids are playing with craft sticks and play dough when they are paying for them to learn English (because it never occurred to them that the kids are building essential skills in English while constructing something physical).
Assuming we agree that it's a worthwhile endeavor to develop makers, even in subjects like English language (and if you don't think so, check out two posts where I try to answer the question, "Why Make?" or this podcast from a skeptical language arts teacher.), how do we get past this fear of failure that stops us before we even try?
Perhaps the most essential thing is for teachers to stop thinking that they have to be the expert. There are so many topics connected to maker culture--for starters, science, technology, engineering, arts, and math, to name the ones in the famous STEAM acronym. And there are many skills in these fields that an average English teacher doesn't have a background in, and, trust me, that's OK!
I'm sure many teachers remember times when a student asked a question and they drew a blank on how to respond. I've learned not to be ashamed in those moments, but to simply say, "That's a good question. Let me get back to you on that." Rather than being horrified that the teacher didn't know the answer, students are more often impressed that the teacher remembered the question and took the effort to search for the answer. Other times, it´s been more appropriate to encourage the student to seek out the answer to their question--using their book, a dictionary, the internet, or even their peers. As a teacher, I am not the sole source of information for my students--I need to prepare them for the real world where they ask questions, set their own goals, and solve unexpected problems for which there aren't simple answers. That starts in the classroom and in the maker space.
One of the most important things I learned from the Learning Creative Learning course by Lifelong Kindergarten Group and MIT Media Lab is that the teacher's role is not to be "a sage on the stage," but rather, "a guide on the side." Mitchel Resnik takes this old quote and encourages teachers and mentors to take on the role of consultant, but not of expert. This often means providing learners with emotional support as they face a challenge. In my context, it also means providing them with language support. I may make suggestions and ask guiding questions, but, ultimately, it is up to the student to solve the task at hand. The support I give on the sidelines helps them get there.
And that brings us to the power of peers. In my classes, making is rarely an individual endeavor, but almost always a group activity, where everyone plays a role, supporting each other and working toward a common goal. In doing this, students develop collaborative and communicative skills, as some offer ideas, and others find the best ways to carry them out, and everyone deals with the problems that arise. In a language classroom setting, it's often helpful to prepare students beforehand with some useful language for collaborating. In any setting, it's important to remind people that they are not competing against each other, but working together. This is where the magic happens.
Things won't always go smoothly. There have been times when a maker activity I thought would be awesome just didn't fly with my students. But the same thing has happened with a song, or a game, or a different approach to teaching a lesson, or even from just following the lesson straight from the book. That doesn't mean I'm a bad teacher, but that I might have to occasionally rethink some things and make adjustments. Teachers are learners, too, and we learn from experience what works best for each group. If something new doesn't fit right, it doesn't necessarily mean that it should never be done, but rather, perhaps it should be approached differently. Maybe the lead-in or driving question could be re-framed, or the challenge adjusted to be more appropriate for the level. Maybe different materials are needed, or maybe makers can find out new things to do with those same materials (perhaps by tapping into the vast resources on the Internet.) Time management is my biggest challenge, and I constantly have to make adjustments. But the rewards that come with getting my students to make far outweigh the risks involved.
Making is never a neat-and-clean, predictable process from start to finish. Failures happen along the way. But we need to rethink our views on failure and eliminate the stigma. In many maker communities, participants celebrate failures--the more spectacular, the better! This involves learning to laugh at ourselves and take things lightly. It's a culture that has to be cultivated. We need to provide students with a safe space to fail. One way we can do this is by giving students low-stakes challenges. But when the stakes are higher, failure should be seen as an opportunity for learning, a turning point along the road to discovery. This is what guided all the great inventors, and this can guide our endeavors, big and small.
Remember, there is no set way to make. Students are the protagonists; teachers are the guides. Let that take some of the pressure off. We can set students up for success in how we lead them into the activity, and where we lead them with the questions we ask afterward. We are all makers. We make what we can out of what's been given to us. Let's embrace the challenge and learn to get past our fears, together. Let's make makers and risk takers, and equip them to rise to the occasion.
What risks have you taken, and what has been the result? What scares you the most about making? What barriers do we need to get past to develop makers and risk takers?
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