It’s (the end of) winter break, and I find myself feeling vaguely dissatisfied with my teaching this year. There’s nothing major, just- particularly in my chemistry classes- things aren’t quite right. Mostly, I’ve noticed issues with student participation that make me feel disgruntled- and make me feel like I’m not doing enough to promote equity and collaboration in my classroom. I could (and have) come up with all kinds of excuses- my chem classes are 1st period and 7th period; 1st period, they aren’t quite awake yet so they don’t always talk to each other. 7th period is so close to the end of the day that they’re either super distracted or just want to get the work done. But I still feel like I could and should be doing something more to facilitate student collaboration.

How do you help students see the value in working together? In mulling this over this recently, I think part of the problem is I haven’t been giving students enough conversation-worthy or group-worthy tasks in my chem classes. If a student can mostly complete a POGIL-style activity on their own, why wouldn’t they? It’s faster and easier. And if a group is at completely different points in the POGIL, should I not answer student A’s question about #10 while student B is still working on #7?

I struggle with inquiry in teaching chemistry more than I do in teaching physics. I’m pretty sure I’ve said it before, but it often feels like my chemistry curriculum map is a mile wide and an inch deep. My students have complained about frequent quizzing. On principal I actually agree with frequent quizzes (frequent quizzes are shown to improve student learning), but I understand the frustration on constantly being quizzed on new material. And then, with the sheer amount of content that I’m supposed to cover in the school year, it’s difficult to come up with inquiry-based activities that aren’t just a variation on a POGIL. Don’t get me wrong, I love POGILs and I think they’re way better than lecturing at my students. But recently, I’ve been wondering if I’m relying too much on these paper-based activities instead of changing things up. And are these POGIL-style activities actually giving students a reason to talk to each other?

The answer, at least right now, seems to be no. And I think there were some subtle changes I made this year that actually negatively impacted some of the group dynamics in my classroom. I stepped away from introducing group roles at the start of the year, because I’ve always dropped them by the end of the year (or more realistically, by the end of the first quarter). But now I wonder if having those artificial-feeling roles was a good way to train students to work together more, even if they only lasted a few weeks at the start of the year. (I also struggled with finding authentic roles where each student actually had a specific role to contribute to the group. So maybe I need to look into this more/again.) I also think I’ve let issues of status slide this year, so right now my high status students take over in a group while the lower status student(s) sit back, if they work together at all. How can I be more conscious about developing status of my students? I’ve been less conscientious about this, and I’m seeing the effects in the classroom.

And then there’s grouping. How do I group students to best facilitate their interactions? One of my classes this year is full of students who are already friends (about 1/2 the class, actually), and if I sit them with some students not in their friend group, I often end up with two mini-groups at one table. Where do I find the time to have students reflect on the effect of such interactions on their peers and even on their own learning? (Side note: I need to collate and organize the peer feedback that students have been submitting for the past semester.)

I’ve had this blog post by Ben Orlin in the back of my mind for a few weeks: The three barriers to deep thinking in schools. Do my assessments actually assess students on deep thinking, or just rote memorization? I feel like in chemistry, it’s particularly easy to fall into rote memorization, especially in a first year course. I would like students to think more deeply, and I love the questions that they can come up with in class. But sometimes (often) we have to move on. And I struggle with this on a pedagogical level as well as on a personal, I love chemistry and want them to understand how awesome it is level.

It’s basically the end of winter break; classes start again on Monday. A part of me feels like I should have taken more time to reflect on these issues, worked more on revamping the upcoming content so that I have more group-worthy and conversation-worthy pieces in my chem classes. I really want to incorporate goal-less problems in my physics classes (and it seems quite doable for both me and my students), and I would love to figure out a way to do this in chem as well. I want to revamp the escape room I tried last year for a semester final review. I want to incorporate some of the ideas I gleaned from reading “How We Learn: The surprising truth about when, where, and why it happens” by Benedict Carey. I want to better challenge my higher level students, and foster a deeper understanding of content in all of my students. There are so many goals, and so little time.

However, my friend and cohort member Alex Steinkamp wrote a piece for the most recent issue of Kaleidoscope, the journal published by the Knowles Teacher Initiative. His piece on Self-Talk and Sustainability is a good reminder that “I must give myself the grace to value the subtle work that I do towards the goals that underpin my work. This is not meant to be a call to complacency. Rather, this is meant to be a reminder that our real moral imperative is that we sustain our practice. Even when we fail to reach our targets, the value we add is from trying.” So, right now, I’m trying and I’m trying to see the value in trying. I’m taking the space to reflect, and hoping that in the next few weeks I can make some adjustments, no matter how small, to promote collaboration, to make the tasks I give my students more group-worthy or at least conversation-worthy. And I’m not going to beat myself up for taking more time during winter break than I have in the past to mentally and physically recharge. So hopefully, at the end of second semester, I won’t be feeling quite so disgruntled.

“chemistry is so hard”

“Chemistry is so hard.”

“Did you understand chemistry right away when you first learned it?”

“I don’t understand how you can teach chemistry.”

We just had our Unit 5 test, which was double replacement reactions/solubility, stoichiometry, and equilibrium. It was a long test. Most of my students didn’t finish it. And I heard (for the first time in my teaching career) that students cried after they left my classroom. I let my B day students see their exams yesterday and one student nearly broke into tears at the score. At least one other student refused to even open the exam.

It was admittedly a long exam. And I don’t really like teaching stoich at the end of the year (last year it came during Unit 3, which was the end of first semester). This year, our stoichiometry unit coincided with AP exams (particularly AP US History). My students who aren’t in APUSH had a huge project in their Honors US History class. Adding double replacement reactions and equilibrium to stoichiometry also just made the unit enormous and unwieldy; I’m honestly not sure why we decided to do it this way.

We met yesterday as a chemistry team to rework the curriculum map. I felt really strongly about cutting the units down a bit. A colleague very helpfully put the major topics on small strips of paper and we literally moved them around yesterday.

Overall, I think this sequence will work better. I think it will be better to break things up more. And another colleague yesterday suggested that for sophomore chemistry, maybe we don’t need to layer so many things with stoichiometry. Because the calculations are killer for some of my students. And I have to say, I agree. This unit test left me wondering- why should a student’s math ability dictate whether or not they can pass my class or whether they get a C or a D in my class? Does the ability to solve limiting reactant problems actually demonstrate a deeper understanding of chemistry?

I really liked last semester, because we spent so much time on the particle level and trying to connected it to the macroscale and symbolic (the vertices of Johnstone’s triangle). (I will admit though, I’m a bit ambivalent about teaching electron configuration and the quantum model of the atom. Do they really need that at an introductory level?)  I love Modeling Chemistry because of the emphasis it places on that conceptual understanding, and I’ve been able to convince coworkers to use aspects of it (without necessarily calling it Modeling) in their classrooms too, which is always a win.

I struggle with our curriculum map because it seems so broad. One colleague was advocating for teaching the actual ideal gas law (PV = nRT). In my opinion, that’s often just more math and conversions (convert between bars and atmospheres! Celcius and Kelvin! Torr and atmospheres!) We added in gas relationships this year, which I think was helpful in helping students understand the particle behaviors of gases, and I’m ok with leaving them at that. (We did agree that ideal gas law as the math wasn’t important enough to add back in. Kinetic molecular theory? I’m there, all the way.)

Another colleague really wants to teach electrochemistry because it’s so cool. And yes, it’s cool. It might be nice for students to know how a battery works, but do they really need to know how a battery works? And then, are we expecting them to write half reactions and work with the Nerst equation and all that? Electrochem remains at the end of the year, unless we decide (the following year) to bring it in with reaction types.

There is so much math in chemistry. And I love math, and I think math is beautiful and useful and awesome. But for high school sophomores, I wonder if it’s enough of a cognitive load to try to figure out what’s happening on the molecular/particle level. Trying to also connect that to math adds another layer that causes a lot of struggle for some students, and I don’t know that it’s fair to them.

So here’s the conflict as I see it – either teach less math in chemistry, or teach less content and give them more support to understand the connection between math/symbols, their observations, and what particles are doing that explain all that. I would vote for the latter, but I think the rest  of my course team would find that frustrating. So instead, our curriculum map remains about the same length as always, and we’re usually scrambling to cram everything in (or maybe that’s just me).

It’s a challenge and a struggle. The chemistry class I teach definitely moves at a slower pace than the accelerated course I took as a high school sophomore. And a part of me is sad that they don’t get to see “all” of chemistry, but the rest of me is realistic- when does the calculation of Gibbs Free Energy help in “real life”? I want them to learn how to think critically and learn a bit more about the world around them (we’re made of atoms! How atoms behave explain just about everything if you really want to get into it.), but do they really need the depth that I learned chemistry at in high school?

I don’t want to teach chemistry the way I was taught just because “that’s the way that worked for me, so it must continue to work.” Because it didn’t work for a lot of people. My students went slowly on the unit exam because so many of them were doing all the dimensional analysis as individual proportions. And I’m totally ok with that because it better demonstrates (to me) a conceptual understanding of why they’re doing each step that they’re doing. But those individual calculations are much slower than using a “mole map” or other foldable to figure out the calculations and powering through them. Often adults admit to me that they didn’t really understand why they were doing what they were doing with dimensional analysis until later in college chemistry (if at all). So why do we teach students to blindly follow algorithms that make no sense to them?

I want to challenge my students, I want to show them that the world around them, even things too small to see, are understandable, but I don’t want to set them up for failure (however I might joke with them that my job is to make them miserable). I’m feeling discouraged this weekend because I spent all last week dealing with stressed out students and trying to help them get a last minute understanding of what is happening, and I feel like I failed them on this unit test. Even though I spent the last 7 weeks holding weekly morning review sessions, I had an extra session on limiting reactants during our in-school tutoring time, I posted tons of extra practice, a screencast on how to solve these problems, and all the analogies I could think of with cooking, recipes, etc., on limiting reactant. It was limiting reactant that seemed to be the major stumbling block on this unit exam. Really, I’m just tired and worn out right now.

All of this just leads me to the question (which I’ve had before, but perhaps not articulated in this space) of why do we teach high school chemistry? A friend (who is not an educator) was genuinely wondering if it would be better to find out what students are really passionate about and then let their high school experience be more focused, rather than forcing students to sit through prescribed subjects that they don’t care about. He spoke from his own experience, where sitting through calculus was not really useful or productive for him. While I think there’s some problems with pushing kids to find a “passion” (as better articulated by this NYTimes blog post on passion in kids), I do wonder about the potential for real vocational education. I can see value in educating students with real life skills and for specialized professions that don’t need a liberal arts college degree, but I worry that it will result in more tracking and more segregation/stratification in society.

Some of my colleagues justify curricular and instructional decisions “because that’s what they need for college.” Why is that an appropriate reason to teach what we teach and the way that we teach it? Do my students really need to know the quantum mechanical model of the atom and how to write out an electron configuration? True, there are places where concepts I learned in chemistry are useful in every day life. Dimensional analysis and conversions are actually incredibly practically useful, but it’s the conceptual understanding that’s helped me more than memorizing how to set up a problem. So really, a deeper conceptual understanding is (in my opinion) better than just memorizing a bunch of algorithms and formulas, but the students want me to teach them THE method to solve the problem. It takes much longer to develop a deeper conceptual understanding of what’s happening, and I would love to take the time, instead of rushing through the content and feeling like I’ve failed my students because they tanked the unit exam.

I wish that I had time for some deeper conversations with colleagues abut why we teach what we teach, but most days there’s barely enough time to discuss what’s happening that day or what happened yesterday. So instead, I’ll just leave this braindump here. If anyone has suggestions, ideas, comments- please, let’s start a conversation.

Flashy science

We did a lab the past two days on reaction types. The students loved it- I did the whoosh bottle demo (combustion reaction), they got to light magnesium ribbon on fire (synthesis), they made lead (II) iodide (precipitation/double replacement- students today: “Is this banana juice?” Me: “When have you ever seen the inside of a banana that yellow?!?”). Lots of cell phones were out taking videos, and I’m just hoping that they edited me out of the videos they took of the whoosh bottle.

I do love it when my students get super excited about a lab, but sometimes I wonder if the content is getting lost in the flashiness of things. Although the advent of social media has decreased some of the surprise factor, it’s not a bad thing to have them come into class excited about what’s going to happen. And I love chemistry labs- chemistry is the class where I personally fell in love with science because not only did we get to find out why things happen the way that they do (long story short: electrons make the world go ’round), we got to do cool labs along with it. So I definitely don’t want to take away from the excitement and the wonder that is chemistry lab.

But, but, but. I want them to learn a little bit (or a lot) about what’s happening. Why it happens that way. What the macroscopic observations can tell us about what’s happening at the particle level (love Modeling Chemistry for this reason). I want them to be able to explain what they just saw, not just go “whoa, that was cool!” and have a neat video for their snapchat story. And I do my best, with the lab analysis questions and post-lab discussions (though I can do better with post-lab discussions, and I’m continually trying something new).

I find myself torn sometimes. The students who are genuinely interested in the why behind what’s happening will dig deeper and look for explanations and find it really satisfying to figure out what’s happening. And the students who don’t care about the why are still excited about class. But I wonder if there are ways to bring more students past the “cool ’cause it’s shiny” and into the “cool ’cause we can figure out what’s going on!” mentality.

So I’m still searching for ways to make the flashy go deeper. And I find myself having conversations (sometimes arguments) with coworkers about why we should or shouldn’t do a certain lab or activity. Usually, it’s a cool activity. Sometimes though, it’s only tangentially related to the content. I want my students to see the powerful, explanatory nature of science, and just doing fun labs doesn’t go deep enough. It’s a good way to start conversations with coworkers though (and I try my best not to be antagonistic)- how can we use this cool activity and make it more meaningful to what they’re actually assessed on? How can we help them make the connections to the content?

Hopefully my students learned or gained something about reaction types from the lab we did today. Hopefully they don’t find it too painful to write out and balance the equations from the word descriptions. And hopefully, as time goes on, I’ll find better ways to go beyond the flashy but retain the wow factor.

velocity, vectors, and vocabulary

Let me start off with this- I don’t think that vocabulary and conceptual understanding are mutually exclusive. But a friend’s facebook post asking why freshmen need to know velocity and vectors got me thinking about vocabulary vs conceptual understanding. When is the vocabulary essential and when is it, well, not?

A student can conceptually understand the difference between speed and velocity without ever knowing the term “vector”. When I’ve taught physics, it’s just been “velocity is speed and direction”, and we used designators such as “5 m/s north” or “10 m/s south”. We did also use positive vs. negative, but always specified (“left is the negative direction” or “south is the negative direction”). We did also talk about magnitude and direction with forces, but I rarely used the term “vector” with my freshman physics classes. (I might have mentioned “vector” in passing once or twice. And maybe a student even brought it up, because my students like to use science-y words to sound “smart” in class.)

In chemistry, we’ve recently been working on electron configuration and the quantum model of the atom. But I don’t think I’ve yet mentioned the term “quantum model” with my students (we did introduce “Bohr model” to have a handle on what that thing with the electrons in rings is called). This year, we also explicitly took out vocabulary such as “Aufbau principal”, “Hund’s rule”, and “Pauli exclusion principal”, because our team agreed that we didn’t care that students could use the correct names for the rules but rather wanted to focus on whether students could shown how an orbital diagram (Aufbau diagram, apparently) is filled correctly. I actually don’t know exactly what the Aufbau principal or Hund’s rule refer to specifically, but I can draw an orbital diagram and explain what it’s showing. Why would I expect my students to know exactly what these rules are? And does it tell me anything about their conceptual understanding if they can recite the rule? My experience from teaching physics was that students could often refer to Newton’s laws (from their middle school science classes) but still had some naive conceptions about how forces and motion work (e.g., that there must be a force on an object to keep it moving, despite being able to cite Newton’s first law).

So I’m wondering. What does the vocabulary add to the understanding? Am I doing my students a disservice by not using the “official” terms with them, when if they take a college chemistry course their professors will almost certainly refer to the Aufbau principal, Hund’s rule, and the Pauli exclusion principal? Often, principals, rules, and laws in particular are named after the men (almost always men) who are attributed with discovering them, but then what message does that convey about science and discovery? Science in particular is heavy with white male names, and I wonder what that tells my non-white, non-male students about whether they are welcome in science. (Also, I’m sure there are instances where non-white and/or non-male scientists made the same discoveries in parallel, but the discovery is attributed to the white, male scientist. I wish I knew more about these instances, because it would be nice to bring up in class sometime.) Is my class somehow less rigorous because I don’t often include names of rules? When we were working on gas relationships, I never used the terms Boyle’s Law, Charles’s Law, or Gay-Lussac’s Law (and apparently the P-T relationship shouldn’t be called Gay-Lussac’s law anyway, and is rather Amontons’ Law? ). And even now, I have to think a little carefully about which relationship goes with which name, even though I know that pressure/volume are inversely related and volume/temperature and pressure/temperature are directly related. (Of course, we didn’t ask them to do any calculations with the gas laws, so maybe that’s another reason why I never bothered giving the names to each of these laws.) So if I, as someone who is fairly well-versed in chemistry, don’t remember all the names of all of the laws, but I can figure out the relationships, do I need to teach my students the names of these things too?

Is it ok to not hold students accountable for vocabulary terms as long as they can demonstrate understanding of the concepts? When is vocabulary important and when is it not? I still make sure my students can use terms like protons, neutrons, electrons, and ionization energy, electronegativity, atomic radius correctly (can you tell we’re working on periodic trends soon?). I don’t necessarily care if they know the terms “Coulombic attraction” or “effective nuclear charge” as long as they can explain the reason for the trend accurately.

Vocabulary is something that I find myself conflicted about as a relatively new teacher. I had to learn all these terms, so they must be important! But do they tell me anything about student understanding? Does it help the student communicate their understanding? Or is it just “one more thing” that students have to wrap their brains around and spit back at me? And if they just cram in all the vocabulary, does that mean they know what’s happening?

I realize that my blog posts tend to have a lot of unanswered questions. But that’s just because these are the things that I’m wondering about as I go through my planning, teaching, reflecting. And I have a lot of wonderings and very few answers, but I think that’s ok. It took me a long time to be ok with unanswered questions (graduate level research did not agree with me when I could not find the answer to the research question), but I think this is a stance I need to be able to process the world of teaching.

Teaching vs. learning

When I started this blog, I intended to post semi-regularly about my experiences as I learned how to teach science. That never really happened, because (surprise, surprise) teaching takes up a lot of time. Lesson planning, modifying/developing activities, grading (oh, the grading), making copies, setting up the classroom, ad infinitum. But here I am, near the end of my second year teaching, and thinking more about what it means to teach vs. what it means to learn, and what those differences mean to me as a teacher as I try to help my students learn. Lately, I’ve been wondering about what teachers really see as their role in the classroom, particularly in a science classroom (I honestly cannot speak for the other disciplines, which is, I think, a flaw in the structure of the American high school).

I see my role as a facilitator of learning. I have a fair amount of science knowledge in my head, and I am fortunate to have a good memory and can recall random facts as needed. My students like to ask me random science questions, and I give them my best answer (always being sure to say “I don’t actually know the answer to that question” if that’s the case, rather than making stuff up). However, I cannot sustain my teaching on this repository of knowledge. Yes, some of it’s cool and some of it’s even relevant, but just telling them the information does nothing for my students. And, quite honestly, I’m not the most engaging lecturer. I’m actually a severe introvert, and lecturing for even 10-15 min in each of my classes leaves me drained for the rest of the day. There are tons of engaging people on YouTube with great science education channels, and I do direct students to some of the more interesting videos for more in depth explanation of topics (those people also have the benefit of some really nice video editing and animations, which I don’t have at my fingertips).

I want my students to do as much as possible. To do the labs, to observe the data, to try to make sense out of it. And it’s messy, and sometimes I have to fudge things because at the introductory high school level, we simplify the science and sometimes the labs or the data don’t come out as neatly as they should when those simplifying assumptions are in place. At the beginning of the school year, my students were extremely frustrated and wanted me to just tell them what to do. (I think, for the most part, that they’ve adjusted to my method of countering questions with more questions.) And I continuously struggle with how much to give them vs. how much to let them struggle. What do you do if you have this lovely, hands-on, inquiry activity planned and the data is so scattered that they can’t see the pattern? Or worse, they come up with an entirely different pattern that is almost the opposite of what the goal of the activity was? And how do you deal with the amount of curriculum that is supposed to be covered in a given school year while still giving students time to really process the information? I’m still trying to figure this out. But there’s a lot of education research that says doing is a much more effective way of learning than listening or reading. My teacher prep program was all about inquiry (and the 5E cycle, which I don’t actually use explicitly anymore), and I bought into that way of teaching and learning hook, line, and sinker. Most science teachers, particularly recently trained teachers, will agree that inquiry is the way to go. But do we really understand what inquiry is or how to implement it?

The challenge for me is that inquiry was not the way that I was taught, for the most part. I sat through lecture and did confirmation labs and lots and lots of practice problems. And I was able to do all this and see the connections and figure it out. But I remember how my high school classmates struggled with chemistry. One topic that sticks out for some random reason is orbital shapes, and I remember telling my friends “well, you just have to visualize it in 3D!” As if it were that easy. As a teacher, I realize that some of my students are indeed able to see all the connections with only a quick explanation. And most of my students are able to follow an algorithm to figure out the problems without really understanding what they’re doing. (Even if I don’t give them an algorithm, they look for an algorithm, which is sometimes frustrating.) But I want them to know what they’re doing, and I want them to think about what they’re doing. As I write this, I can think of all of the many, many places this past year where I could have pushed more for understanding and deeper thinking on their part, and where I took the easy way out and just told them how to solve the problem instead. (And then, there are the students who continuously struggle- what do I do for those students?)

So then, how do we as teachers help students learn if the best ways for them to learn are not necessarily the ways that we have been taught? It’s so easy to fall back on what we know and what’s comfortable. I think I was extremely fortunate to have a student teaching experience where my mentor teacher valued and used inquiry regularly in her classes, and to have a collaborative team in my first year teaching that helped me figure some of this out. But that’s not the case for everyone and even with all those supports I’m still figuring out how to teach in a way that best allows my students to learn, and I wonder how, as a profession, we can help each other grow in this regard.

I appreciated the WSJ blog post by KSTF Fellow Helen Snodgrass about struggle and failure in her classroom. This is what I would like my classroom to look like, both for my students and for myself. And yes, I’ve failed in my first two years of teaching. There are things that could have gone so much better and there are things that I just dropped the ball on. But I’m learning from this experience. I suppose this is the hands-on, inquiry way of learning how to teach.

Chemistry modeling: a recap

I just finished a two-week workshop on Chemistry Modeling. For those of you who aren’t familiar with the modeling methodology, I highly suggest checking out the American Modeling Teachers Association (AMTA). These are some of my thoughts and reflections on this workshop and the chemistry modeling curriculum as a whole.

This workshop was a good introduction to both the modeling methodology and the chemistry modeling curriculum. The chemistry modeling curriculum is fairly recent compared to the physics modeling curriculum, so most of the teachers who are currently using this curriculum haven’t been using it long, but it was great to hear from different teachers who are using this methodology in their different classrooms.

The modeling chemistry curriculum focuses heavily on the particulate nature of matter and introduces kinetic molecular theory in Unit 2. I am still contemplating how this curriculum compares to a more ‘traditional’ chemistry curriculum. Primarily, the amount of content covered is significantly less, but that is true of the physics modeling curriculum as well as any curriculum that is heavily student-centered and based in student inquiry. Additionally, because the chemistry modeling curriculum considers chemistry from a historical view, students are presented with models that must be refined and rethought throughout the year. This results in students using the Thompson model of the atom (‘plum pudding’) for most of the year, as the Bohr model is not necessary to understand and explain the observed phenomena until periodic trends are discussed (also at the end of the year). I’m still considering whether I’m ok with students holding a ‘wrong’ model of the atom for the majority of the year. However, I do like the sequencing of the curriculum because it follows a more logical progression and the topics do build upon each other. The consistent use of particle diagrams would also allow students to connect the macroscale phenomena and symbolic representations with what is occurring on the microscale. After many discussions with fellow chemistry teachers on the ‘triangle’ of chemistry (first proposed by A.H. Johnstone, I believe), I feel like the modeling curriculum will allow students to gain better conceptual understandings of chemistry.

For me, a key take away from this workshop may not be directly tied to the modeling curriculum. The presenters emphasized the use of ‘for every’ language vs. ‘per’ when discussing slopes and ratios. (This idea was from Gary Abud’s presentation at ChemEd in 2011; he has a nice recap on his own blog.) They also pointed out the value of allowing students to use proportional reasoning rather than dimensional analysis in solving problems. Students in high school are often still concrete thinkers, so proportional reasoning makes sense to them whereas dimensional analysis and t-charts may simply be algorithms they use without understanding the concepts. The modeling curriculum uses IFE (Initial/Final/Effect) and BCA (Before/Change/After) tables for gas laws and stoichiometry, respectively, to promote students’ conceptual understanding rather than giving them equations and algorithms that they can use without ever understanding the chemistry. Students can solve gas law and stoichiometry problems without ever being given the ‘official’ gas laws (Boyles’, Charles’, Gay-Lussac’s) or t-charts for gram-gram conversions. These are all aspects of the modeling curriculum that could be used without fully implementing this curriculum. And of course, I see no reason to limit the use of ‘for every’ language to chemistry.

However, several presenters and teachers who have implemented the modeling curriculum piece-meal highly recommended going “all in” if possible. They suggested this simply because it can take the entire year to build the classroom community that is necessary for successful modeling, as so much depends on the Socratic discussions and whiteboard presentations. I would agree that if whiteboarding is going to be a part of the class, it must be interwoven throughout the year. However, some of the activities and strategies could still be used in a more traditional sequence of chemistry. Additionally, many of the labs and activities in the ASU curriculum are currently used by chemistry teachers regardless of their curriculum and/or could be swapped for activities that are currently used. The presenters pointed out specific units that were more conducive to using whatever materials teachers were currently using (e.g., the mole and stoichiometry were two units where they suggested that current materials could be easily modified for a modeling classroom).

During the workshop, we were able to talk to a panel of students who had gone through a year of modeling (either chemistry or physics). This gave me a good idea of how students view modeling, and overall the feedback was very positive. However, most of the panelists were students who enjoyed science and were A-B students. One student who does not consider herself as ‘good’ in science stated that while she didn’t feel like she fully understood chemistry (as in being able to do all the calculations), she felt like she got the concepts. I think she felt like this was a detriment to the modeling curriculum (as she wasn’t able to fully understand the quantitative side of chemistry), but as teachers, we felt like we would be very successful if all of our students were able to get at least a qualitative, conceptual understanding of chemistry. I would have appreciated hearing from students who were in the ‘regular’ track (all of the students were from the ‘advanced’ courses), but these students gave me an idea of how students view modeling compared to their previous science classes. In particular, students in chemistry stated that they enjoyed modeling compared to their biology classes because it was less memorization.

The modeling curriculum also tries to connect energy throughout the chemistry curriculum rather than treating phase change and enthalpy as disparate occurrences. They also encouraged changing the wording used with students to emphasize that energy is the same, it is simply stored in different ‘accounts’. This workshop clarified the modeling worksheet that we analyzed as a data source for our CI in the spring. The modeling curriculum, as a first-year chemistry curriculum, does not consider phase changes when considering energy in chemical reactions to simplify the picture for students. As chemistry teachers, we had many interesting discussions on how to represent energy in the chemical systems using the LOL charts in the modeling curriculum. It was difficult to explain reactions that are rather complex because entropy and enthalpy must both be considered in the energy discussion, and we discussed whether it would be best to leave these reactions out of the curriculum altogether to avoid confusion. I really enjoyed these discussions because they forced us to consider the rationale behind the decisions to include or exclude certain topics in the modeling curriculum. However, the idea of conservation of energy is introduced early (at the point of phase changes) and used in all energy discussions, and I absolutely loved that.

I would love to use this curriculum and see first-hand how students respond to it; however, I won’t be teaching chemistry next year (I signed up for this PD before I started interviewing for jobs). Nevertheless, I will be teaching physics using the modeling curriculum, and the experience with working with this curriculum both as a student and as a teacher will be valuable for my first year of teaching. Additionally, I was able to sit in on the physics workshop for one day, and see some of the similarities and differences between the physics curriculum and the chemistry curriculum. (One major difference was that the physics units all appear to be structured similarly- paradigm lab, model development, model deployment, lab practicum- whereas all of the chemistry units do not involve developing a mathematical model and therefore are structured differently). I also think that the discussions about the use of algorithms vs. promoting student understanding of the content will be important to keep in mind as I teach freshmen who are used to high levels of academic success. I am very excited about trying to use ‘for every’ language rather than ‘per’ for slopes and other proportional relationships (e.g., ‘for every 1 cm3 of water, there is 1 g of water’ rather than ‘water has a density of 1 g/cm3), and I am sure that this has a place in physics as well as in chemistry. The different whiteboarding techniques that were discussed will also be something that I can draw upon in my teaching for next year (groups, individuals, choosing who presents, gallery walks, etc.).

However, a major lingering question that I had after this workshop was how/when to incorporate ‘real life’ into modeling. The chemistry modeling curriculum did not seem to really tie the chemistry back to what students encounter on a day-to-day basis, and therefore I think it would be difficult to get buy-in from students who are typically disengaged from school in general. I wonder if the physics curriculum is similarly distanced. Science is applicable to our students’ everyday lives in a myriad of different ways, but many students see science as something that is ‘other’ from them. The lack of student buy-in could kill implementation of this curriculum. The modeling curriculum presents chemistry in a way that I can really appreciate as a teacher, but how would students who are disengaged from school see this approach?