When I was a toddler, my parents began feeding me a narrative that I had unusually strong reading comprehension and writing skills, and that I was terrible at math, science, and sports. My parents are both strong readers, so I don’t think it came as a surprise to anyone when I followed in their footsteps, and nearly abandoned math altogether. From an early age, there were things I told myself I “could not” do, and things I “could” do, and excel at. In spite of being a bright and ambitious student, I barely squeaked through high school math, mostly because I told myself that it wasn’t for me, I was not good at it, and I was incapable of taking my math skills further.
It was with this lovely paradigm firmly entrenched in my thinking that I experienced my first foray into university math. The year was 2004, and I wanted to be an English Language Arts teacher; a math university credit was a requirement. Because of my closed mindset to math, I lasted two days in my math classroom before deciding I was incapable of learning, dropping my math class, and dropping my plans of becoming a teacher.
Fast forward 12 years and a whole lot of personal growth through my 20s, and I found myself sitting in VIU’s Math 135. It was the last required course of an undergraduate degree that had taught me more about grit, passion, perseverance, and determination than I had ever dreamed. Each day I showed up to my ‘impossible’ math class with the best attitude I had. I sat in the front row; I took notes; I asked for help; I accessed the homework lab. I spent hours each week pouring over the material and practicing for quizzes. The truth of the matter is that I know very little about upper level math, but my 30th birthday was rapidly approaching, and I wanted to prove to myself that I could accomplish just about anything with some gumption. Convincing myself to show up every day for my math class, and knowing I had the capability to learn the material has been one of my defining moments as a learner. I emerged with a grade I was proud of, and a better sense of who I was as a leader and a learner.
This same growth mindset can be applied in any classroom. In the attached video, Dr. Angela Lee Duckworth states that for both students and adults, passion and perseverance (having that “I can learn” attitude) is a far greater indicator of long term success than standard IQ scores. Essentially, being conventionally intelligent is a moot point if one is convinced that they cannot or will not learn. The brain is not an organ in stasis, but is brilliant, complex, and has the opportunity to grow as a result of learning.
In my opinion, growth mindset can be practiced in the classroom in a number of different ways. For example, if the teacher established a pattern of creating micro-goals for students, these same students will learn to stick through a project, gain confidence in their achievements, and create a strong foundation for larger goals in their learning and in life. Teachers can invite students to try new strategies when they struggle with material, rather than simply giving up, or buying in to a narrative that they do not have what it takes to succeed. Students can also be affirmed for their efforts, rather than for their intelligence or test scores. Students can be encouraged with a modest points or reward system for motivating their peers through the school year. The teacher can stay educated on the science behind growth mindset, and can be transparent about their knowledge and intentions with their students. Finally, it is the responsibility of the teacher to create a vibrant learning culture where risk is encouraged, and mistakes are seen as an opportunity for growth and review; in this sense, they are not mistakes at all, but building blocks for growth.