Some other thoughts: perhaps you could give me some examples of specific teaching goals you have, and specific problems you often encounter?
Sure, I can see that would be helpful. Right now I have a bunch of SAT prep students, and I teach college kids calculus when there's a demand, but for the sake of argument let's consider Algebra II. One of the goals in Algebra II is to get the student comfortable with polynomials: factoring, multiplying and dividing them, and understanding the relationship between those processes and things like zeroes and asymptotes of functions. So maybe we should talk about factoring?
Nearly all my students get the hang of factoring polynomials once I can convince them to sit down and practice for a while (which presents its own set of difficulties), but I'm sure I'm not teaching it optimally. Problems I run into: confusion about which term in a quadratic comes from what ("It's supposed to multiply to this and add to this, right? Or is it the other way around?"); neglecting to look for common factors first; confusion/frustration when the leading coefficient isn't 1; not recognizing special cases like difference of squares (only sort of a special case), higher degree polynomials in quadratic form, or sum/difference of cubes; not knowing when to use factoring by grouping. I have my own ad hoc ways of dealing with these problems, but I have no reason to believe they're the best possible.
Maybe this is still too broad, or I'm assuming too much familiarity with the subject matter? I'm just tossing it out.
ETA: If the lowest hanging fruit in improving your own skills is to "stop doing stupid shit", then it follows that the lowest hanging fruit in improving your teaching is to figure out how to get your students to "stop doing stupid shit". :P
I like this idea. I do pretty much re-teach how to use fractions (and to a lesser extent exponents) whenever they come up, but much as I would like not having to do that, I'm not sure the problem is easily solved. Kids don't learn how to use fractions partly because they don't believe they need to; they decide in elementary or middle school that "decimals are way better and you can use a calculator," and once they're in high school they find out about "Ans=>Frac" on their graphing calculators. In my experience they really, really resent being drilled on fractions, and forget what they've learned very quickly because they refuse to use it for anything else. Maybe I'm being too cynical, though.
I do think it would be very useful to put together a "quit making stupid mistakes" program-- if I could get kids to stop making sign errors, or doing the wrong operation because they didn't think about it for half a second, their test scores would probably soar-- and indeed I've seen this happen with at least one student before, so I should probably try to implement it systematically.
Hmmm, there could be lots to reply to in that post, but I'll try to keep it brief...
Can you give me a few specific examples of actual tasks that your students have problems with most commonly? Like, show me exactly what the students are presented with.
With that, I might be able to do a transformed task analysis, and develop an example cognitive routine.
Actually, factoring is used as one illustration of a cognitive routine in Theory of Instruction. I'll scan that section when I get time.
A couple of days ago, prompted by several recent posts by Owen_Richardson, I checked out the book "Theory of Instruction" (Engelmann and Carnine, 1982) from my university library and promised to read it this weekend and write a post about Direct Instruction. This is that post.
Learning through examples
Direct Instruction is based on a theory of learning that assumes the learner capable of extracting a concept inductively through examples of that concept. I may not know what a blegg is, but after you show me several examples of bleggs and rubes, I will be able to figure it out. The principle of DI is to use the same basic procedure of giving examples to teach every concept imaginable. Naturally, in some cases, the process might be sped up by giving an explanation first; furthermore, there are some things in every subject you just have to memorize, and DI doesn't magically change that. However, it is assumed that the examples are where the real learning occurs.
The meat of the theory is using experimental data and cognitive science to establish rules for how examples ought to be given. Here are a few of the more basic ones:
I don't mean to imply that DI is restricted to dealing with yes-or-no identification questions. The examples and concepts can get more complicated, and there is a classification of concepts as comparative, multi-dimensional, joining, etc. This determines how the examples should be presented, but I won't get into the classification here. In practice, a lot of concepts are taught through several sequences of examples. For instance, teaching integration by substitution might first involve a simple sequence of examples about identifying when the method is appropriate, then a sequence about choosing the correct substitution, before actually teaching students to solve an integration problem using the method.
Faultless communication
"Faultless communication" isn't a misnomer exactly, but I think it lends itself to some easy misconceptions. The basic idea is that a sequence of examples is a faultless communication when there is only one possible rule describing all the examples; there is then the often-repeated statement that if a faultless communication fails, the problem is with the learner, not with the method.
When the book gets into details, however, the actual theory is much less dismissive. In fact, it is emphasized that in general, when a method fails, there's something wrong with the method. A well-designed sequence of examples is not (usually) a faultless communication. Rather, it is a sequence of examples calibrated in such a way that, if the learner arrives at an incorrect rule, the test examples will identify the incorrect rule, which can then be traced back to an ambiguity in the examples given. Alternatively, it can make it clear that the learner lacks sufficient background to identify the correct rule.
The actual issue that the concept of faultless communication is meant to address is the following. When you don't have a clear way to diagnose failure while teaching a concept, it leads to blind experimentation: you ask "Did everyone understand that?" and, upon a negative answer, say "Okay, let me try explaining it in some different way..." You might never stumble upon the reason that you are misunderstood, except by chance.
My own thoughts
A disclaimer: I have very little experience with teaching in general, and this is my first encounter with a complete theory of teaching. Parts of Direct Instruction feel overly restrictive to me; it seems that it doesn't have much of a place for things like lecturing, for instance. Then again, a theory must be somewhat restrictive to be effective; unless the intuitive way I would teach something is already magically the optimal way, the theory is no good unless it prevents me from doing something I would otherwise do.
An interesting aspect of Direct Instruction that I don't think has been pointed out yet (well, the book, written in 1982, might not be a likely place to find such a thought): this method of teaching seems ideally suited for teaching an Artificial Intelligence. Part of the gimmick of Direct Instruction is that it tries, as much as possible, not to make assumptions about what sort of things will be obvious to the learner. Granted, a lot of the internal structure still relies on experimental data gathered from human learners, but if we're creating an AI, it's a lot easier to program in a set of fundamental responses describing the way it should learn inductively, than to program in the concept of "red" or "faster than" by hand.
I still have the book and plan to hold on to it for a week or so; if there are any questions about what Direct Instruction is or is not, ask them in the comments and I will do my best to figure out what the theory says one way or the other.