Essential Question: How can you use higher level questioning to make your classroom more rigorous?
Socrates is considered by many to be one of the greatest thinkers in history. He wrestled with philosophical topics such as morality, virtue, knowledge, and politics. He is well-known for the Socratic method, a form of cooperative dialogue that is based on asking questions until participants arrive at the truth. In order to arrive at the truth, you have to ask the right questions, building upon the answers to formulate additional questions. This is what it looks like if I were having a conversation with my youngest daughter:
My daughter: “I just love dogs.”
Me: “What is it about dogs that you love so much?”
My daughter: “They’re so cute.”
Me: “What, specifically, is so cute about them?”
My daughter: “They’re so soft.”
Me: “So you like the soft coat of a dog. What about dogs with coarser coats, such as a poodle or a bulldog?”
My daughter: “No, I love them, too.”
Me: “Maybe it’s not their softness that makes you love dogs so much. Maybe it’s something else?”
My daughter: “I suppose it could be.”
Me: “What is the first thing you notice when you see a dog?”
My daughter: “Its tongue.”
Me: “What about its tongue?”
My daughter: “How it hangs out of its mouth like it’s smiling.”
Me: “So you like dogs’ tongues?”
My daughter: “I like when they lick me with them. It shows me they love me.”
Me: “Are you saying that what you enjoy is that dogs show love so much?”
My daughter: “Yes, that is what I love about dogs.”
This conversation took a little while, but with some persistent questioning, we arrived at a much deeper response than simply that my daughter loves dogs. In the examination, she discovered why she loves dogs so much. At first she thought it was their softness, but with further questioning, she realized that was not accurate. She really just loves that dogs are extremely loving, and she was able to associate that with their tongues.
This method can be used with much weightier issues. Take this conversation, for instance, between a mother and son:
Son: “I’m afraid of death.”
Mother: “What about death is so frightening?”
Son: “That you’re no longer here, that you’re somewhere else.”
Mother: “And you don’t think that somewhere else is going to be a good place?”
Son: “I would like to hope it is.”
Mother: “But you’re not sure?”
Son: “No, I’m not sure.”
Mother: “What if you knew that it was a good place?”
Son: “Then it probably wouldn’t seem so bad.”
Mother: “And you wouldn’t be as afraid?”
Son: “Probably not.”
Mother: “What I’m hearing you say is that you aren’t afraid of actual death; you’re afraid because you don’t know what happens after death. Is that correct?
Son: “Yes, I suppose that is.”
Mother: “So your fear is more about the unknown?”
Son: “Yes, that is my fear.”
This conversation involves a much heftier topic than the conversation I had with my daughter, but the takeaway is similar. Someone states something, and through a series of questions designed to explore the topic further, you arrive at something much deeper. You understand not only the “what,” but also, more importantly, the “why.”
This type of questioning can be applied to more than philosophical issues. Consider this conversation in an elementary math classroom, in which a student has not yet learned subtraction:
Student: “The answer is 14.”
Teacher: “And how did you arrive at that answer?”
Student: “I don’t know.”
Teacher: “But you do know because you got the answer correct. How did you do that?”
Student: “I added the two numbers, 8 and 6, together, and they equal 14.”
Teacher: “How did you know to add the numbers?”
Student: “There was the plus sign between the numbers.”
Teacher: “What if there had been a minus sign in its place?”
Student: “Then I would have gotten a different answer.”
Teacher: “Why is that?”
Student: “Because in addition you add the numbers together, and when there is a minus you subtract one from the other.”
Teacher: “Why does that make the answers different?”
Student: “Because in addition the answer is always greater than the numbers used in the problem.”
Teacher: “And how is this different with subtraction? Is the number not bigger when you subtract?”
Student: “No.”
Teacher: “What is it?”
Student: “It’s smaller.”
Teacher: “Why does it become smaller?”
Student: “Because you are taking one number away from the other.”
Teacher: “Which makes it smaller?”
Student: “Yes.”
Teacher: “What would the smaller number be if the problem was 8 – 6?”
Student: “I don’t know.”
Teacher: “But you do. You said you take the number away from the other. When you take 6 away from 8, what is left?”
Student: “2.”
Teacher: “Great. Is it smaller than both numbers?”
Student: “Yes.”
Teacher: “Does it always have to be smaller than both of the numbers?”
Student: “I think so.”
Teacher: “What if we took 8 and subtracted 2? What would be left?”
Student: “6.”
Teacher: “Is that smaller than both numbers?”
Student: “No, just the first one.”
Teacher: “So we can assume that in subtraction, the answer is always smaller than the first number.”
Student: “We can.”
Simply by answering some follow-up questions, this student is learning the basic concepts of subtraction, using his prior knowledge of addition to grasp a new concept. These conversations all display the power of higher level questions.
BUILD UNDERSTANDING AND RETENTION
Higher level questioning helps students gain understanding. If you ask lower level questions, you essentially require them to access the part of their brain that has memorized a term or concept and to duplicate it in the form of an answer. Knowing something and understanding something are completely different. Knowing a concept does not mean students can create with it, adapt it to apply to another concept, or break it down and look at its various components. These are all acts of thinking.
For example, when learning about airplane flight, you might come across the following information:
When air rushes over the curved upper wing surface, it has to travel further than the air that passes underneath, so it has to go faster (to cover more distance in the same time). According to a principle of aerodynamics called Bernoulli’s law, fast-moving air is at lower pressure than slow-moving air, so the pressure above the wing is lower than the pressure below, and this creates the lift that powers the plane upward. (Woodford, 2019, para. 7)
A student might read this information or watch a video on the principles of flight. When the student is asked “How are airplanes able to fly?”, he could recite this definition and be correct. That does not mean that the student understands how flying works. The student may not be able to explain how the lift on a stunt plane flying upside now does not have the opposite effect and instantly send the plane downward. If, however, a student has an understanding of how lift works, he would be able to determine possible solutions to this dilemma.
If the teacher asked, “How are paper airplanes able to fly even though they typically have flat wings that would not be able to produce lift?”, a student who only “knows” the definition would have difficulty making sense of this. The student who understands it might be able to discern that:
paper airplanes are really gliders, converting altitude to forward motion. Lift comes when the air below the airplane wing is pushing up harder than the air above it is pushing down. It is this difference in pressure that enables the plane to fly. Pressure can be reduced on a wing’s surface by making the air move over it more quickly. The wings...
