What if we treated academics like athletics?

Hear me out.
As long as I’ve been teaching French, the rhetoric has always been that learning a language should be taught similarly to how we teach sports to children: You aren’t going to be Michael Jordan the first time you pick up a ball, utter a French sentence, play an instrument, or try to solve a difficult problem. 
These skills require honing through lots and lots of practice, dedication, repetition, encouragement, and passion from the instructor/coach. I’ve always tried to instill this mantra in the minds of my students, but it never hurts to keep coming back to it.
So when I opened my browser while lounging over a cup of coffee this morning, I was delighted to see an NPR interview with former-NFL player-turned mathematics Ph.D. candidate John Urschel (From The Gridiron To Multigrid Algorithms In ‘Mind And Matter’) touting his new book Mind and Matter. Then I fell into a rabbit hole, reading all I could about how Urschel is trying to change the way we talk about teaching and learning in American education. Then I stumbled upon his NY Times Opinion column “Math Teachers Should Be More Like Football Coaches,” and despite not teaching math, I greatly identified with much of what he’s saying. I ventured even further into the rabbit hole by perusing his Twitter account and had to share his story with some of my math teacher friends.
I feel so empowered to keep doing what we’re doing with role models like Urschel in both our and our students’ lives. He is giving students of all different walks of life access to an educational outlook they might not have otherwise held. And these lines really spoke to me, reaffirming my own goals as an educator of both young men and women from so many different backgrounds, social milieus, religions, family structures, political beliefs, mother tongues, home countries, you name it:

I recognize that because I’m a mathematician at MIT and I play professional football, I’m in the spotlight. And I have a responsibility to use this platform to show people the beauty of mathematics. To show people playing in the NFL, this isn’t your way out. You can do something mathematics. You can do something in STEM, even if you don’t necessarily look like what the majority of people in that field look like. 

And I have to say, okay, if you look at the field of mathematics, if you look at elite American mathematicians, there’s almost no African Americans. There aren’t many of us in PhD programs, there’s not many of us as undergrads, and what you’re sort of left with is the sad realization that there are brilliant young minds being born into this country that are somehow being lost — either because of the household they’re born into, or their socioeconomic situations, or sort of the social culture in their community. And this isn’t just a disservice to them, this is a disservice to us as a country.

Even at the end of the school year when I feel completely out of sorts, exhausted, and at times even ineffective as an educator, I needed this bit of reaffirmation to help me refocus and guide the students into the final stretch, the fourth quarter, the bottom of the ninth, or any other applicable sports metaphor you’d like to insert here:

A growing body of research shows that students are affected by more than just the quality of a lesson plan. They also respond to the passion of their teachers and the engagement of their peers, and they seek a sense of purpose. They benefit from specific instructions, constant feedback and a culture of learning that encourages resilience in the face of failure — not unlike a football practice. There are many ways to be an effective teacher, just as there are many ways to be an effective coach. But all good teachers, like good coaches, communicate that they care about your goals.

This speaks to what so many of us have been doing all year. And I wanted to end the year on a note of appreciation and gratitude for being part of such an innovative and supportive community of passionate educators!

Sometimes Things Go Better Than I Had Planned…

My Spanish 3 Honors students can conjugate 21 tenses in any given form on command. They can analyze and discuss the similarities and differences between Jorge Luis Borges’ short story and Salvador Dali’s surrealist paintings through the theme of duality of being and metafiction. My Spanish 3 Honors students can discuss the benefits and moral disadvantages of stem-cell research and technology in the medical field. They can recite the Beatitudes, discuss genocide in Guatemala, all in Spanish…HOWEVER: 
Many of them do it in an inauthentic accent that makes me weep bitterly at night…(okay that’s not true, but the accents definitely need some work…)
I have struggled for YEARS to find techniques to keep my brilliant students accountable for having an authentic accent. Their accent must match their genius minds. When I correct them in class, and they repeat after me, they are able to sound authentic and within a few minutes, they revert back to overcompensating with an “Americanized” accent (Imagine Dr. Phil speaking Spanish…)
You’re welcome.
While I understand that speaking Spanish with an authentic accent isn’t imperative to understanding the general gist of what a person is saying, and I also recognize and appreciate the fact that not everyone is capable of sounding like they jumped out of a Spanish telenovela, I do find it to be important to at least make an attempt to the best of one’s ability to produce a sound that is as similar as possible to the target language (in this case, Spanish). To make this blog not such a long read, I’ll get to the point…

I wanted to find a fun, out of the box tool that would help my Honors students become cognizant of their accents and to hold them accountable for trying to sound as authentic as possible. I wanted to provide them with a tool that they could use to practice at home. I introduce you to:
It’s a game where people try to pronounce certain words with a plastic barrier in their mouths. (Apparently it’s hilarious, I’ve never played…) Anyway, I came up with this idea because many English vowels require the speaker to close their mouths to pronounce. For example: “oh” or “u” (you). If you just tried saying these vowels, you find that your lips close together. My students are saying words like “dos” and “ocho” like “dose” and “ohchoh”. In Spanish, the mouth stays open. It’s hard to explain in writing, but the plastic tool prevents students from closing their mouths, thus forcing them to pronounce the vowels in a more authentic way. Here are some videos, first in English, then Spanish:

I asked my students what they thought about this new technique to help them with their accents, some said that they liked it and they could feel that the plastic piece was helping them be aware of the positioning of their lips when they spoke. Others said that it didn’t really help. Perhaps they won’t go home and practice with their own tools that I provided to them, but there was an even more valuable lesson that came up with using this ridiculous piece of plastic. It was ridiculous. I have found over the years that in order to be successful at speaking a language, one must take risks. The mental filter that tells you that you sound dumb, or are going to sound ridiculous impedes many language learners from actually attempting to speak. The biggest lesson for my students was to eliminate the filter, to both look and feel ridiculous, and attempt to speak anyway. Did this piece of plastic help them improve their accents dramatically? Perhaps not, but it certainly made them more cognizant of their accent, and it was a physical reminder to let go of the filter and just try to sound the best that they can. This is not what I had planned to happen with this activity. I was more focused on getting my students to sound more authentic, but an even better result came from the class: My students were having fun, they lost their obtrusive filters, and began to let go of the fear of speaking (and singing). 

I’d say that’s a win!