Fill the Stairs, Redux

     Last year we had an adventure in second grade with the game Fill the Stairs.

I stole it from the Georgia Frameworks.  It became one of the most popular games in the grade level.

   So when I saw that the second grade teachers had brought it back this year, I was delighted.  Turns out there are students who can compare numbers in traditional tasks like this:

...and correctly answer questions like this:

...who aren't always successful applying the skill in a different context:

Same student as above.  The game is another way to assess number sense.

     I knew the second grade teachers were working on having their students get better at constructing viable arguments and justifying their thinking, and had an idea about how to use the game to further that goal.  I ran the idea by Kristin, one of our second grade teachers, and she helped me come up with the following task:

We wondered if any students would choose to use 42.  None did.

Most kids had variations on similar answers.

Even our "strugglers" managed to get something down.

       My next thought was to have them actually play out a game, starting with the number 24 on the stair they selected, and then evaluate their choice.

We asked them to trace over their 24 with a marker to ensure it would not be moved before they completed the game...

...and write their reflection on the back of the paper.

 
   Next, a comment on the original post left by Joshua Greene inspired me to experiment with our first graders, some of whom are still working on counting and ordering numbers between 0 and 20:

I modified the staircase to run from 1 to 20, and decided to use an icosahedral die.

I tested it out with one of my basic skills students:

I gave her no hints or help of any kind.  I filled in my staircase first because she had limited her chances by placing 10 on the stair just below 20.

I was curious to know if she would learn from this experience, so I suggested we play another round:

This time I provided her with a number tape that ran from 0 to 20.  The first number she rolled was a 1, which she placed on the stair directly above 0.

     

She next rolled a 7, and then a 17.  Based on where she placed the numbers, I felt that she had learned from the previous game.

Next came 6, followed by 10.  And she had a nice spot between 1 and 6 to place the 4.  After the experience, I knew the game was ready to be rolled out to the grade level.

  Here are Joshua Greene's ideas:

A bunch of possible variations to play:
(1) each player has a different color to write their number and claim a stair. Player who claims more stairs is the winner.
(2) players have hands with more than 2 cards (5 is often a good number, reasonable amount of choice, but not too much) and get to choose which cards they play on their turn. Could be played head-to-head as in (1) or parallel
(3) different stairs have different point values and/or last stair claimed gets a bonus
(4) different stairs have multipliers that multiply the value entered (for kids who are ready to do some 2 digit by 1 digit multiplication)
(5) A 1-digit version with fewer than 10 steps with or without 0 and 9 already marked


And I'll add to his list: (6) a decimal version for the fourth and fifth graders.  Feel free to continue the list in the comments!
     
 

Scenes From the Revolution

   Here's a MTBoS story:
   At TMC '15 this past summer, Lisa Henry told me that her high school students had a field day with a Which One Doesn't Belong task I had submitted:

Credit also goes to my dad and his extensive collection of license plates.

 
     Knowing that something I had created for elementary school students here in New Jersey sparked a positive experience for a class of high school students in Ohio gave me feelings of pride and empowerment, feelings that up until a few years ago I would never have associated with math.
     Here's another MTBoS story: Mary Bourassa, a high school teacher in Ottawa, Ontario, once spent a winter break creating a website to house wonderful Which One Doesn't Belong tasks, tasks themselves inspired by the work of Christopher Danielson, a college teacher in Minnesota.  And no teacher has to pay any other teacher for the privilege of using the site or the tasks collected there.
     Yet another MTBoS story:
     Last week I brought one of Andrew Gael's Which One Doesn't Belong tasks to Nicole Rocha's first grade class:

     The task provoked a lively class discussion, and Nicole was so excited she stayed in school until after 6 PM that evening working on one of her own.  Later that night she e-mailed me this picture:

She used Andrew's as a template, and could hardly wait to use it with her class.  Now you can use it with yours.

   One final story:
   You all know our accomplished fifth grade teacher, Rich Whalen.  He created a 3-Act based on his own experience running last year's Chicago Marathon.  He regularly uses images from 101qs, another crowd-sourced MTBoS treasure trove, to spark interesting noticings and wonderings.  Several weeks ago, one of his students e-mailed him this picture:

The student was at the mall one Saturday, saw this display, and thought his teacher might want to use it in class.  Of course he did!

His classmates came up with some great questions, including:

• How many cans did they use?
• Is it hollow or does it have volume?
• How heavy is it?
• How long did it take to make?
• How many bags are on the floor?

   I'm not sure who was more excited: the student whose picture inspired his classmates, or Rich, who used his influence as a teacher to inspire one of his students.

    Stories like these are being written every day.  They exemplify what Jo Boaler has called, "the mindset revolution", and what I like to think of as, "the MTBoS revolution."  It's a revolution against an order that believes some people are math people and others are not, an order that has sat by while generations of kids are made to feel humiliation and shame while their classmates look on in helpless silence.  I'm proud to be a foot soldier in that revolution, and it's less about arithmetic than it is about attitude and agency, less about rigor than it is about wonder, less about college and career than it is about collaboration and curiosity.    And in case you're wondering, it's personal.

This One's For Robert

        Robert Kaplinsky is one of my MTBoS role models.  He is the creative force behind the wonderful collection of problem-based lessons found at Glenrock Consulting, a thoughtful and provocative blogger, and the co-founder, along with Nanette Johnson, of one of the quintessential MTBoS sites: Open Middle.  His lessons have inspired some of our most successful projects, including highway signs and movie theater, among others.
     So it was a thrill for me to finally get to meet him at TMC '15.  I was excited to tell him about another one of his ideas that had sparked a lesson so successful it had even our most math-averse students plugging away for days.
    "Thanks for blogging about it," he said.  I was confused.  This was one that had escaped a blog post.
    "But I didn't..." I started, and stopped when I saw his face and realized he was being sarcastic.  I admit I'm a little slow on the uptake.
     Well, we did the project again last week, and it's not going to get away this time.

     What became known to us as "The McDonald's Project" started with this tweet last September:

Hey #MTBoS, I need your feedback. Skim this vid https://t.co/BGhr3obhtG. I'm thinking about turning it into a lesson on equations. Thoughts?

— Robert Kaplinsky (@robertkaplinsky) September 9, 2014

     I loved the video, and Theresa and I immediately started thinking about how we could use the idea.  After some false starts, here's what we came up with:

• A list of foods would be provided, and the kids would be challenged to put together combinations to equal 1,500 calories (2,000 being the adult requirement.)
• Since we knew most kids liked to eat at McDonald's, we decided to limit the food selection to items on the McDonald's menu.
• We'd use the project in fourth grade, where the kids were working on multi-digit addition.

     Our first hurdle came when we printed out the list of nutrition facts for McDonald's menu items:

The PDF ran 27 pages and contained well over 400 items, with information ranging from the % daily value of vitamin A to total grams of fat.  It was overwhelming.

      The list would need to be whittled down.  Our first idea was to pick out the most familiar items.  But that's not very Danielson, is it?  Why not survey the kids, and see what they like to eat at McDonald's?

Here's the final list.  We added in a few items for balance.  And I know Coca-Cola is misspelled.  That one slipped by the editors.

  What happened next may have been the most important part of the lesson.  Before even explaining the directions, the teacher distributed this sheet...

...and asked the kids to do some noticing and wondering.

    During the discussion that followed, the wondering overwhelmed the noticing because the teacher did something very smart: she left out any units or labels.  So the kids were left with a very pressing question:  What did those numbers mean?
     The first volunteer offered price.  But there was no decimal point or dollar sign!  The class agreed it was unreasonable for a Big Mac to cost $540.00, but certainly $5.40 seemed about right.  Did the teacher leave out the decimal point on purpose?  One student thought the numbers might stand for the amount sold in a year or a month.  Another thought the numbers could stand for the amount left over at the end of a day.  Many students offered their opinion that the numbers stood for calories.  And although they weren't quite sure exactly what a calorie was, they did know that healthier foods, like apple slices and side salads, would have less of them than vanilla shakes and french fries, a wonderful application of inferencing skills that would have made their reading teachers very proud.  Listening to their thoughts as they tried to puzzle this out was fascinating.  It reminded me of this wonderful Graham Fletcher activity, and I made a mental note to try to do more of what Graham calls "undressing tables".
     The class agreed that calories did make the most sense, and after a very brief detour into the world of nutrition, they were asked this question: How many calories does a fourth grader need every day?  We got answers ranging from 1 to 30,000.  We didn't wait long to tell them the recommended daily amount and get them working on the project.

We put them in pairs and gave each a different colored pencil.

There was a lot of trial and error...

   

...along with a lot of addition.

The engagement level was high.

   We wrapped up the lesson by gathering the kids together and asking for strategies.  Many had started with the largest calorie items like the Big Mac and milk shakes, gotten as close to 1,500 calories, and tried to fill in from there.  It was again interesting to listen to their observations about the foods and their calories; for example they were intrigued by the 30 calorie difference between the chocolate and vanilla shakes.
   The kids revisited the project in the following days, which gave me time to prepare an extension:

Some found this difficult, and needed more direct help from the teacher.  But they plowed ahead with gusto:

 

     And this work left me with material to work out a problem set:

Here are some of the problems I was able to generate by removing an item from each equation.  I also added the name of the child who had created the original problem in the margin. 

   I'm sure there's a lot more gold we get out of this task, and Robert has great ideas for using the calorie lesson with middle school students over at his site.

     So thanks, Robert, for your inspiration, encouragement and polite but firm way of pushing me to think and work outside my comfort zone.  Looking forward to more collaboration, and to connecting with you again at TMC '16!

At Play in a Mathematical Sandbox

     One of the highlights of this past summer's Twitter Math Camp was the chance to attend a session led by Federico Chialvo.

Friday afternoon from 4:00-5:00.  It was a tough call because Fawn Nguyen and Matt Vaudrey were presenting Barbie Bungee at the same time.  An example of the difficult decisions one had to make at TMC 15.

     Federico is the Director of Mathematics at the Synapse School in California.  He also plays professional ultimate frisbee for the San Francisco Flame Throwers.  (Who knew there was such a thing?  He even had to leave TMC early because he had a play-off game!)  I had read some of his blog posts, and we tweeted back and forth a few times last year.  I knew we shared an interest in the potential that games and game-like activities have to engage kids in learning.  So I was excited to meet him in person and learn something new to bring back to my school.
     One of the activities that caught my attention was called Subtraction Reversal Mysteries:

 
     Federico gave us time to experiment with the game, and led us through some guided discovery.  He showed us student work samples he had collected from a post he wrote describing his experience using the game with his class.  I was attracted to this activity for several reasons:

• The directions were simple and easy to understand.  Everyone in the class could participate.
• There were some important content standards embedded within.  I saw subtraction with regrouping and place value at work.  
• The data collected from playing the game would lead to some very interesting mathematical discoveries.

      I felt it would be perfect to use with a third grade class at the beginning of the year, both to review multi-digit subtraction and introduce the idea of looking at data and making conjectures.
     Back in school I approached Shannon, whose third grade class I'm working in this year.  She agreed to let me try it out, and armed with some 10-sided dice I gave it a go.

The kids picked it up quickly.

They got about 15 minutes to play.  I collected their sheets, looked them over, and brought them back the following week.  I wanted them to play for at least another 15 minutes in order to collect more data.

One pattern I saw in their mistakes involved regrouping when there was a 1 in the ones place:

Kids who, under other circumstances, could regroup correctly would make this mistake.

Here it is again.  

    
     So we were able to gather some good formative assessment information on their abilities to subtract, and jump in with some direct instruction.  Several days later I brought their papers back and let them continue to collect subtraction problems.
     During the third session, I asked some kids if they noticed anything interesting happening with their subtraction problems.  One girl explained that when she rolled two numbers that were right next to each other, the resulting subtraction problem had a difference of 9. I asked her for an example:

I put this up on the board, and asked the kids to pair up.  I wanted them to collaborate, looking through their data to see if they could come up with any more interesting observations.

I asked them to write a statement and back it up with evidence.

I explained that they should not limit themselves to the combinations they had collected during the investigation.

For their first time, I thought they did well.

This student worked alone.  He didn't want to collaborate and I didn't force the issue.

The same student came up with this: "The difference of the difference added together equals a round number."  Can you see what he means?

At the end of class, one girl proudly showed me this.

   
     During the session, Federico spoke about the importance of providing students with a "Mathematical Sandbox" in which to explore, play, and create:

     I like everything about this, and an activity like Subtraction Reversal Mysteries is a wonderful example.  Everyone in class is playing in the same sandbox.  Some are playing together, some alone.  Some are building very intricate castles, others are simply filling pails and digging holes.  But they're all in there together.  It exemplifies the MTBoS ideal of an activity with a low barrier to entry that scales up high.
     Federico had lots more examples of sandbox activities that he had us try out during his presentation.  I look forward to experimenting with more of them as the year unfolds.

Meatball Surgery

     This summer our district renewed its commitment to Everyday Mathematics, purchasing the 2015 EDM4 for all grade levels K-6.  Theresa and I have spent the past weeks helping teachers navigate their way through many of its improved features, which include: a different online platform, a revised order of units, and new manuals, assessments, games, differentiation options, and manipulatives.  So far so good.
      One morning last week I stopped by to check in on one of our grade 4 math teachers. She was busy at her back table, writing out a bunch of posters:

         She explained that she was copying over problems from the student journal:

Read these problems.  When your eyes glaze over, raise your hand.

And you thought you were done!

    It was her intention to put the kids in groups and have them spread out all over the classroom floor, an idea I supported fully.  But I had seen these problems over the summer, and didn't like them.  Wordy, dense, unengaging, and contrived were four adjectives that came to mind.  Time for some meatball surgery.

I suggested separating the question from the scenario.  Put out some post-its and ask the kids what they notice and what they wonder.  Or tell them it's a number story with the question removed and see if they can guess the question.  Just give them time to process all that information without the anxiety of having something to figure out.  

 
      For an opening math message, I suggested she find a picture of one of the tall buildings and do a simple notice and wonder.  Perhaps a visual and a small discussion might help set the table for some of the comprehension work that would follow.
     When I got to class later that morning, I saw this up on the SMARTBoard:

Trump Tower.  The kids had some interesting observations about its shape and composition, and were very curious about its height.

     She divided them into groups and gave them the surgically altered problems:

They noticed and wondered...

...and came up with their own questions.

When they finally received the actual assignment, most of them were ready to give it a go.

Each student in the group got a different colored pencil.  A way to make sure everyone participates.

   
     We stopped the kids several minutes before the end of class and gathered everyone together to take a look at some of their addition strategies under the document camera.
 
     Later, I went back to take a look at the manual.  This was Lesson 1-6: Guide to Solving Number Stories.  The heart of the lesson, which was slated to take 30-40 minutes, was composed of three parts...

1.  Math Message.  Instead of the Trump Tower notice and wonder, here's what the kids were asked to do:

   Read the Math Message problem on journal page 13.  Be ready to explain what you already know from the problem and what the problem wants you to find out.

(I've voiced my criticism about math messages like this.  I'll just say that many kids in the class would not even make it past the first few sentences before completely shutting down.)  After an unspecified amount of time, the teacher is instructed to move on.

2.  Using the Guide to Solving Number Stories.  Instead of giving the kids the scenarios with the questions removed and asking them to notice, wonder, and/or come up with their own questions, the teacher was to refer the students to this guide...

     ...and use these questions...

• What do you know from reading the story?  
• What do you want to find out?  
• How can you find the number of stories Terrell needs to climb?  
• What will you do first?  
• What strategy or tool can you use?  
• What is the unknown quantity?  
• What number model might we write, using a letter to stand for the unknown, to represent what we want to find out?  
• Are you finished?  Why or why not?

...to guide a whole class discussion on the problem solving process.
     After helping the class come to a consensus regarding the correct solution to this problem, and reviewing some of the different addition strategies employed by students, the teacher is to move on to the next step.
     

3. Solving Multistep Number Stories.  The teacher is instructed to put the students in partnerships to complete journal pages 13 and 14.  Remember them?

page 13

page 14

     Back together as a whole class, the teacher is instructed to ask volunteers to share solutions to the problems.
     This is pretty standard stuff.  And kids need strategies to solve number stories. But it's unimaginative.  There's too much whole class, teacher-directed discussion, which means more opportunity for kids to tune out. My quick meatball surgery was intended to lower the barrier to entry to these difficult-to-access word problems, and to get the kids more involved in their own learning. It's nothing amazing or revolutionary, only the best I could do given the time that I had. The classroom teacher had good instincts.  It's only her second year teaching, and I'm confident that given a little time and some good PD she will be able to make those changes and decisions on her own.
     But it's really not a sustainable model.  Teachers, especially elementary school teachers who are responsible for teaching multiple subjects, do not always have the time to perform the kind of surgery lessons like this require.  They may not even be aware that other types of strategies, activities, and instructional practices exist.  A lesson from a curriculum interested in making math meaningful, accessible, and engaging should deliver them right to their classroom door.  Is that an unrealistic expectation?