Why classroom questioning often fails (and what to do about it)

Let me introduce you to the reasons for why classroom questioning often fails. This post is an excerpt from chapter 5 of Difference Maker.

To increase clarity avoid asking about a single thing, instead, ask about a difference

Key idea:

A requisite of good conversation is shared attention on the same aspect. To get that, ask questions about differences.

Think about these questions:

• What is selection?

• What is a cell?

• What is adaptation?

• Does anyone know what xylem is?

• Does selection reduce variation?

• Why do plants transport water?

• Why don't bacteria have mitochondria?

The expectation is unclear – are they closed questions or open questions? All these questions are about single concepts, but with little indication to which aspect, and in relation to what. There is confusion and lack of clarity when we ask about single things.

To counter this confusion we need to establish, what Tsui calls, common ground (2004). And there is an elegant method that solves this problem.

Previously I discussed variation, and difference, as what catches our attention. In variation theory, they'd say that there are countless aspects that we could potentially perceive, but at any one moment, we can focus on just a few. In variation theory, this would be called our focal awareness (Marton et al. 2004). But there is a distinction here that we can exploit:

1. We can employ variation to have students discern something new.

2. We can also employ variation so that students focus on the same aspect as us – to share our focal awareness, so we're all on the same page.

   
   

When a teacher asks open questions about a single concept, there is no variation within the question (like the examples above). The variation – perceived by students – is the scope of possible (but hidden) aspects their teacher expects (Tsui 2004).

So this is what the students think about. They puzzle over the possible aspects on their teacher's mind, instead of thinking deeply about the intended concept. What likely occurs to many students in these questions is a sort of mental paralysis at the prospect of so many possible answers. They likely weigh the odds and assume their best bet is not to participate. Others have a go regardless and you get something seemingly random. The teacher only perceives it as random because they have a specific aspect in mind. For the student, it wasn't random.

Yet more trouble lurks when this occurs. Teachers may respond by narrowing their subsequent questions to those that only require recall or simple deductions (Tsui et al. 2004). This is likely because the teacher is eager to help their students come to an answer. But by doing so, the focus is changed from a question that requires conceptual reasoning, to one that doesn't.

This might involve gap-fill questions where the teacher expects students to add keywords to a partially complete sentence. Or a series of closed questions with only one possible answer. The result is for the students to shift their awareness away from variation within the concept itself, to the variation of words that could fit the teacher's question. What can we do instead?

The key is to ask questions about differences, which clarify the aspect we're referring to. This will align expectations in the classroom, as students think, the teacher expects us to offer a variety of answers about this aspect. From here you can proceed into a conversation.

Only recently was I abruptly reminded of this. I had slipped into the error of asking students why a farmer might not want to use seeds to populate a field. Just one thing was mentioned – no variation, no difference. I saw their blank faces and realised they had no idea what my expectation was. I then reformulated the question: “What difference would it make if a farmer populated a field using seeds, or cloned cuttings?” Participation increased immediately.

Many times, my questions have this format. I propose a difference and ask what difference it makes. I may point to the left ventricle and right of the heart and ask what the difference is, and then what difference it makes (see Example Box 13 in Difference Maker). Or I may show different digestive system structures – such as with and without an anus – and ask what difference it makes.

The interesting bit comes with the question: what difference does it make? But to get there together, I ensure everyone focuses on the same aspect by first asking: what's the difference?

This was our key idea:

A requisite of good conversation is shared attention on the same aspect. To get that, ask questions about differences.

The examples above are tied to particular content. Next, I'll show you two question types that can be asked at any point during a lesson and are easily formulated. They can also provide a wide array of feedback from the class about their learning.

This is because I have students vote on the possible answers before I have students discuss their choices. This gives me two types of information about learning. Firstly patterns from the whole class, and then elaborated answers from individuals in the subsequent conversation.

I'll tell you how I do this in the next section. Before we get there, I want to show you examples of the questions. I've categorised the questions I find most useful – the most easily formulated in the moment – into two types:

1. Stability or change – If X happens, asking if something will stay the same or change (in specified way). E.g. If humans abandoned a farm, would the species of plants there stay the same or change over time?

2. Negative explanation – Rather than asking why something is the way it is, asking why it is not like a possible alternative. E.g. Why aren't blood capillaries wider than they are?

... This is an excerpt from Difference Maker. See examples of real lessons in the book.