I actually learned most of what I know about teaching during the couple of years when my son was in intensive early intervention for autism spectrum disorder.

I had done a lot of teaching before that, too, mostly at the college level, with mixed results. I really wish I'd known then what I know now. And here's the most important thing I think I've learned:

To get a kid turned around in math or in anything else, you make every experience a successful one. You put that ahead of everything else, including what most of us would think of as 'making progress'.

Here's some specific directions to go with the overall theory:

1. Don't give a kid a problem unless you are sure that he can do it if he tries (if he's just starting out and help is necessary for him to succeed, that's okay: the point is that you don't let him flounder and fail).

The dog-training equivalent to this is the idea that if you don't think a dog will come when you call him -- if he is too interested in another dog, or chasing a squirrel, or whatever -- you don't call the dog at all; instead, you silently go over and get him. The reasoning behind this is that every time you call him and he fails to come, you are doing actual damage to his training. Same thing with a kid trying to learn math; you don't set him to do something at which you suspect he will fail. His memory has to be dominated by successful experiences (this, by the way, is what will create a kid who likes math).

2. Here's a weird one, but a good one: if you want to give him something challenging, first give him something easy, even though it will mean more work for him. If you want to give him a tough long division, give him three or four easy ones first.

The best example of this that I can give is from Ben's early training. He was doing sequencing problems -- the sort in which you give a kid three pictures from a story, and have him put them in order. He was quite awful at them, and he had gotten to the point where he would sit and stare into space, utterly unresponsive, if I asked him to do one. It became a battle of wills, with him staring into space, and me demanding his attention.

I finally came up with the following idea for getting him to try harder ones; first, I would give him three problems he had done before. He had a fantastic memory, so he could just knock those off without thinking, and then he'd get praise.

Then I'd give him three more that he hadn't seen before, but that were incredibly easy. I did this so he'd know he wasn't being given anything for free.

Then I'd stick in the tough one, the really hard one, that I really wanted him to do. He'd tuck into that one just like he had the others. Ha!

It took less time to do these seven problems, ending with the last tough one, than just the single tough one.

It's paradoxical and unintuitive, but it works like a charm. If you have a kid struggling with long division and you'd be thrilled if he tried two tough ones a night, give him six easy ones first.

Actually, it goes against the parental grain; it feels as though you're letting him get away with something. And you are: you're letting him get away with doing six extra problems.

Try it. It's one of the best tricks I know.

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Comments

Boy that takes me back--

I used the don't-call-the-dog rule with Jimmy all the time, and I managed to teach one of my neighbors, whose typical child never, ever came when called, to use the rule, too.

Our behaviorist said, 'Parents stand in the kitchen yelling for their kids to come get breakfast. All that teaches them is they've got a grace period.'

With Jimmy, I learned to walk over to him, take hold of his hand or his arm, and say 'Come on, Jimmy' in almost the exact same moment I was physically motoring him across the floor with me.

While I was marching across the floor I would shower him with praise.

GOOD WALKING, JIMMY!

NICE 'COMING,' JIMMY!

I was trying for a Pavlov's dogs reaction.

At the sound of my voice, I wanted his legs to start moving whether his brain said 'Move' or not.

My voice was the bell, moving feet were the conditioned response.

I realize we're talking operant conditioning here, not classical conditioning, but the point holds. I wanted Walking At The Sound Of Mom's Voice to be automatic.

I did the same thing one time with my neighbor's 3-year old. The neighbor couldn't believe it, and neither could the 3-year old.

All of a sudden she was motoring down the street while being praised to the skies for her brilliant compliance.

She had a little puzzled look on her face, like, 'I'm walking ... Am I walking? ... Yes. I'm walking ... And I'm good.'

I used to feel that this process triggered a William James psychology in small children.

James said the emotion of fear happens after the action of fear.

If you see a bear and you run up a tree, the fear comes because you've seen yourself run up a tree.

That's how it was with the walking.

The kids started out not wanting to walk.

But after they noticed they were walking, they concluded they must want to walk after all.

Especially since they were getting all that loud, delirious praise.

-- CatherineJohnson - 21 Jun 2005

Your post also brings up the issue of 'Challenge' problems.

Which I had been planning to write about.

-- CatherineJohnson - 21 Jun 2005

I wanted to reassure people reading this thread that in spite of my and Catherine's unique experiences with teaching, the tips I posted here (tips #1 and #2) are valid for use with typical kids also.

-- CarolynJohnston - 21 Jun 2005

Absolutely.

I'll go ahead and say that I, too, taught for many years -- AND I HAVE A TEACHING AWARD FROM THE UNIVERSITY OF IOWA, DA**IT! (family weg site)

AND ... I majored in psychology at Wellesley and Dartmouth (let's just let it all hang out here, shall we) and I've spent my entire adult life writing about psychology.

So I know a Thing or two about teaching.

Every single word Carolyn wrote above is t-r-u-e.

-- CatherineJohnson - 21 Jun 2005