Like you, Maria is a teacher, making literally hundreds of important decisions every day, flowing from mind into action, fast and fluid as quicksilver. And if you are reading this book, we can probably infer you are wondering, âAm I making the right decisions?â
Malcolm Gladwell wrote the following description about improvisation in his best-selling book Blink: The Power of Thinking without Thinking, but when we read it, we were writing about being a teacher: âIt involves people making very sophisticated decisions on the spur of the moment, without the benefit of any kind of script or plot. Thatâs what makes it so compelling andâto be frankâterrifyingâ (Gladwell, 2005, p. 113). While Gladwell popularized the term, thin-slicing was first cited in 1993 by Nalini Ambady and Robert Rosenthal in the Journal of Personality and Social Psychology, so itâs a concept with some legs.
As teachers, we are asked to make sophisticated decisions in every moment of the day. Larry Ferlazzo (2014) cited researchers Hilda Borko and Richard Shavelsonâs (1990) findings that teachers make 0.7 decisions per minute during interactive teaching. Other research estimates as many as 2,000 decisions a day, a great number of them unplanned exchanges with students. The upshot for readers? We wrote this book because we want you to make those intuitive, improvisational exchanges count, and rooted in a foundation of what you think most supports readers. First, letâs turn to what Gladwell found in his research about these moment-to-moment choices and what we as teachers can learn from improvisers in the various fields he studied. Weâll learn more about how Maria was able to make such quick and powerful decisions about each of her students.
Acting without a Script: Embracing Our Role as Improvisers
Teaching isnât compared to Second City comedy very often, but think about itâitâs actually very similar. Improv comedy shows such as Whose Line Is It Anyway? on TV and numerous other live performances involve a group of actors working together without a script. There are no lines to memorize or stage directions to get your cues. It works like this: The first actor says a line, and then another actor has to decide who will go next and what to do and say. Since the parts are not preplanned, the actor has to react in the moment to what was just said and done, and help build the scene from there. Likewise, a student asks the teacher, âWhat does this word mean?â and she must decide what to say right there and then. Comedians are not the only improvisers, though; so are athletes. Many professions rely on a degree of improvisation: emergency room surgeons deciding what and how to treat a patient; fine artists, who are not given directions for how to create their pieces of art; and basketball players, who make split-second decisions. According to an article in Slate magazine, âImprovisational comedy workshops have become a staple at business schools, and in the corporate world in general,â and entrepreneurs are calling improvisation a âmust haveâ skill (Stevenson, 2014). As teachers, we are improvisers who act without a script, based on our moment-to-moment ideas about our students. We know you opened this book hungry to learn whether there is a good order to teach nonfiction structures and features, or how to plan the next dayâs lesson based on todayâsâbut hang in there with this side-door entrance of ours, because itâs a powerful way to rethink your teaching self so that you can more easily redirect your nonfiction teaching.
As teachers, we improvise based on our moment-to-moment ideas about our students.
© Daryl Getman, DAG Photography
How Spontaneity Is Born
What Gladwell found in his research about what makes improvisers so successful has to do with breaking down some of our common beliefs about our decision-making practices. One of his claims is that spontaneity is not random, like many of us believe, but instead involves training, rules, and rehearsal. Those basketball players who look so fluid and spontaneous on the court can only do so because âeveryone first engages in hours of highly repetitive and structured practiceâperfecting their shooting, dribbling, and passing and running of plays over and over againâ (Gladwell, 2005, p. 114). Jazz musicians share similar experiences about their process. While the actual performance is improvised, it only works when each musician has first spent time learning to play well, keep a consistent cadence, and listen attentively to others. Then the group of musicians can learn to predict and quickly react to what each other will play and create an entertaining musical experience. One foundation for improv seems to be time spent practicing so you can make the rapid decisions in the moment. When Maria was able to walk over to a student, sit down, and decide what to teach next, she made it look easy, but it was based on countless hours of looking at student work, studying her own reading practices, and listening closely to what and how students discussed their books.
Another element of becoming a successful improviser is to know the ârulesâ of your field. In improv comedy, there is one main ruleâalways say âyesâ and follow the lead of the person who came before you. In teaching students to read nonfiction, we have some rules or tenets we suggest you use when you are making instructional decisions, too; for example, only teach one skill at a time so students are not overwhelmed and have time to focus.
What all of these improvisers have in common is a focus on answering the question, âWhat next?â without the luxury of time to sit back and ponder the answer. âWhat chord should I play next?â âWhat move should I use to get around the opposing teamâs player next?â âWhat skill should I teach this reader next?â Luckily, we donât necessarily need as much time as we think we do when making our decisions.
How âThin-Slicingâ Helps Us Make Decisions
As we said, one of the most memorable parts of Gladwellâs book Blink (2005) is the concept of thin-slicing, which ârefers to the ability of our unconscious to find patterns in situations and behavior based on a very narrow slice of experienceâ (p. 23). Thin-slicing entails getting a very small amount of information and being able to use it to make a sound judgment and decision. This stems from what cognitive psychologist Gerd Gigerenzer calls being âfast and frugalâ with our decision making. The part of our brains that can use small amounts of information to draw a conclusion is called the adaptive unconscious. It involves not overthinking and using our conscious effort to analyze information, but also using our âgut instinctsâ and our intuition about something in those first few seconds of being presented with information. Gladwell explains that adaptive unconscious is not the same as Sigmund Freudâs view of the unconscious and instead is seen as âa kind of giant computer that quickly and quietly processes a lot of the data we need in order to keep functioning as human beingsâ (p. 11).
Some examples of thin-slicing include art experts being able to know a forgery in the first few seconds of examination, tennis coaches being able to know whether the player will fault on a serve in the half a second before it is even struck, and a salesman reading someoneâs emotions and future decisions based on three seconds of observation (Gladwell, 2005). It is knowing something in just a few secondsâin the blink of an eyeâwithout consciously stopping to consider all the facts. We are all able to use thin-slicing as a decision-making tool once we have sufficient experience in that area. Gladwell (2005) explains that âwhen we leap to a decision or have a hunch, our unconscious is . . . sifting through the situation in front of us, throwing out all that is irrelevant while we zero in on what really mattersâ (p. 34). We need lots of experiences to use thin-slicing, and we need to develop our filter to know what to sift out and what to zero in on.
Think about the last time a student came back from the library and you had only five seconds to observe him, and somehow you âjust knewâ he had trouble and was disappointed he did not get the book he really wanted. We often âjust knowâ something about our students based on thin slices of information. Renowned authors and researchers John Hattie and Gregory Yates (2014) explain thin-slicing as âthe system that enables you to look at complex situations, to perceive them as an expert, and to respond with speed, accuracy, and nuanced sensitivity. . . . As a professional teacher, you have the ability to look at a classroom situation and read it quickly, within microsecondsâ (p. 297). They go on to explain how this ability allows teachers to rely on feedback cues from students to inform what strategy they teach next.
There are many examples we likely have all experienced with thin-slicing as reading teachers. You graze a review on Goodreads.com of a new young adult novel; twenty-four hours later, you hand the book to the student you had in mind; and forty-eight hours later, he comes to you, literally with tears in his eyesâit was that good. Or you are in the midst of a whole class read aloud, and students seem quiet, and their comments are way off. You know to change gears, so you say to them, âYou know what? Letâs try something different,â and you start reading aloud another book, and the energy in the room comes alive. In each of these everyday teaching decisions, you are thin-slicing.
We often donât call it thin-slicing, but we do have other names for this skill in our society; for example, in basketball, we call it having â...