The semester is over. Almost. Well, enough to open the mental space that allows me to begin the process of self-evaluation of my classes. Here are some preliminary musings.
As a teacher, one of my central goals has always been to develop in my students “critical thinking skills,” and this semester was no exception. I have always also had a vague idea of what that meant: to think more like me. Or, as one colleague eloquently expressed it recently, to jam a crowbar between a person and his or her beliefs, not to separate them but just to let in a little light. Recently, though, I’ve been growing uncomfortable with simply reiterating that I want to teach “critical thinking.” What, exactly, is that supposed to mean?
In many of my classes, such as the ones in which I use Creating Judaism, I teach a kind of “conceptual map,” a way of thinking about a topic or time period. Students frequently have a difficult time grasping these mental maps, if only because they frequently differ from those with which they entered the class. It’s hard to change the way you think about something! So the first hurdle is to get students to understand a new way of thinking, not necessarily to replace what they had but rather to give them a different perspective that they can then choose to integrate into their intellectual toolbox, or not.
But this is only the first step. What I now realize that I am really after is not just knowledge of this map, but knowledge to the point of being able to use it. One aspect of critical thought, then - and this is the hypothesis - is the ability to take a conceptual model and apply, expand, and critique it, more or less in this order.
- Application: The ability to take new data or problems and analyze them according to the model;
- Expansion: The ability to build on or modify a model in order to develop new or unanticipated applications;
- Critique: The ability to find the model’s weaknesses.
A student’s true understanding of the model, then, should be judged not by his or her ability to simply recite it, but the ability to use it in these three ways. A final exam, for example, should test the student’s ability to apply, expand, and critique the class model.
This is really, really hard on all counts: to design appropriate assessment techniques, for the student in answering the questions, and then again on the teacher to assess the answers fairly and helpfully. This is why, I suspect (and here is my second hypothesis), grading in the natural and social sciences tend to be lower than in the humanities. The former disciplines (as I remember well from my pitiful experience as an organic chemistry students) test application, and the answer is as objective as one can get in this world. In a science course, the answer might really just be “7″, whereas academics in the humanities often give far more leeway. The grade curves are relatively low not because the science is inherently hard, but because the mental process of application is.
I do not mean to suggest that the humanities must necessarily be “softer” than the sciences, but that if I am right that I at least can do a better, and tougher, job of helping students to apply, expand, and critique the models they learn in class.
