On a recent Sunday, I spent six and a half hours in a
“class” to prepare for my amateur radio operator’s licensing exam. I expected to attend a high quality
class. I assumed it would be a learning
experience that would uplift and enrich and enlighten me; prepare me to become
an amateur radio operator; and inspire me to join with my husband in one of his
beloved hobbies. Yes, I had high
expectations. I willingly gave up a
valuable Sunday to do this because I like spending my weekends taking
classes. I thought this class would be
something different to stimulate me in a new way.
What I experienced was something quite different than what I
had expected. The objective given at 9:30 am when the session started was to
prepare the 38 people in the room to pass the technician’s license exam which
would be given at 3:00 pm. Preparing for
the test was the order of the day. For
those who passed, classes on subsequent weekends would cover hands-on radio
operation, but first we had to get at least 26 answers correct on the 35 item
standardized test.
It was barely a class.
More like a study hall cram session.
One fifteen minute segment of every hour was a lecturette. A couple of the lecturettes covered useful
information and mnemonic devices. Those
moments were the high points of the day.
The other 45 minutes of every hour were a reading period where we
independently studied, and attempted to memorize, the correct answers to the pool
of 400 questions from which 35 would randomly appear on each test. I could have done the memorization on an airplane
trip, or while reading before bedtime, or in my dentist’s waiting room, and
then shown up at 3:00 pm to take the test.
I would have preferred that.
I’m left wondering if perhaps the reason so many people
despise attending training is that too many training events are similar to what
I experienced that Sunday? There were no
faculty introductions beyond names written on a board, so we didn't know who
they were or their credentials to be at the front of the room, and that robbed
the audience of forming a connection with them (even, me, and I had previously
met the instructors). There were no
icebreakers, so there was no lessening of the social tension that we human
beings experience when we walk into a room of strangers, knowing there is a
test at the end of the day. Tension
interferes with learning. Five minutes
spent shedding some of the tension early in the day would have made it easier
to absorb and retain information.
Learning is social. We learn from
each other. This class had almost no
interaction among the participants, except for whatever lunchtime chit chat we
initiated ourselves. In fact, we were
told to keep the room silent.
Despite these complaints, I did get some value from this experience. Number one, I gained compassion and empathy
for people who dislike formal learning events.
I am a glutton for learning, and sometimes I forget that other people
don’t appreciate learning events the way that I do. Today’s experience reminds me why that might be
the case, and makes me appreciate the exceptional quality of the learning
experiences that I usually attend.
Number two, I gained perspective on why it might be inefficient to
invest the time to create a great class.
Yes, it would be feasible to apply adult learning principles to create a
class with sound instructional design, but it would take a good bit of time to
create it and prepare instructors to deliver it. If the pass rate based on the study hall
method is nearly 100%, and the only point of this introductory class is to pass
the test, there would be no return on the investment. Number three, I gained (yet again) a reminder
of the importance of asking questions about what I’m committing to. I went along with the class because my
husband wanted me to become licensed, and I wanted to make him happy. I didn't ask if there was more than one way
to reach this goal. I learned late in
the day that I could have skipped the class and just taken the test. I passed the test with a perfect score, and I
could have achieved that by cramming on my own.
There are people who can’t or won’t ever getting around to memorizing
information for a test and need the structure of a class/study hall to do so,
but I know that I’m exceptionally self-directed, and if I’d made it my goal, I
would have accomplished it.
I have already forgotten many of the facts that I crammed
into my short term memory on that Sunday.
The more lasting effect of the class is a deepening concern about what
my children may be enduring at school.
As our society has become more focused on standardized testing, I wonder
how much of my kids’ school day feels similar to my amateur radio study
hall? I asked my three kids (entering
grades 4, 6, and 8 this fall) whether they ever spend time in school just
memorizing information. The two older
ones said yes, and their biggest complaint was vocabulary lists. I actually favor learning vocabulary, but
when I consider why, the first thing that comes to mind is doing better on the
SAT (a sure sign, much as I cringe to admit it, that I've been infected by the
test-prep mindset).
What if our society’s concerns with school accountability
and common core standards are turning schools into test-preparation centers? I want my kids to be critical thinkers with
the intellectual curiosity to pursue questions that intrigue them and the
desire to be lifelong learners. I want
my kids’ teachers to be passionate about their profession and creative in the
ways they adapt their instruction to students’ varying needs. Reading textbooks and taking quizzes on what
they have memorized sounds a lot like my radio “class,” and I fear that’s what my
kids are being asked to do too often.
When teachers and principals are being held accountable for raising test
scores, higher test scores is what we’ll get.
But testing gains aren't learning gains; I got a perfect score, but I
couldn't tell you today about amateur radio frequencies and wavelengths or the
proper length of an antenna.
Having the opportunity to think and explore and discuss topics
that fascinate me is a primary source of joy in my life. I wanted the radio class to add to my
joy. Instead, it created a kind of
dread. Sitting in a classroom and
memorizing facts to pass a test is not good enough for me, and it’s not good
enough for my kids. What the heck am I
going to do about it?
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