Discovering new words is exciting. I remember the sense of empowerment the very first time I heard words like ‘philtrum’, ‘mastication’, ‘hyperlink’, and in more recent times ‘selfie’, ‘hangry’ and ‘covidiot’.
Often I discover a new word only to discover that others have been using it for years, sometimes decades. My joy is understandably shortlived. I fear that for our education system, the word ‘mastery’ is just such a word.
Seductive and powerful, it hints at perfection, effortless success, and across-the-board top grades. What’s not to love?
The reality, however, is that mastery is an ideal, not a destination. If you like metaphors, I like to describe mastery as less about the station the train is heading to, and more about the track it is running on.
A dangerous myth is that it is a new idea – it ISN’T from recent developments in modern Singapore or Shanghai education, despite what you might have been told. It dates back much, much further than that. There is a traceable line back through such thinkers as Bloom, Dienes, Stern, Washburne, and arguably right back to Aristotle who noted: “We are what we repeatedly do. Excellence, therefore, is a habit not an act.” You could go a long way before finding a better definition.
What does this mean for the classroom? It is probably easier to start with what it DOESN’T mean.
For example, it DOESN’T mean slavishly following a textbook scheme just because it claims to be a ‘mastery curriculum’ or similar. This feels like a hijacking of the word for marketing purposes.
It DOESN’T mean keeping the students who have got it mindlessly doing stuff they can already do while everyone else catches up. It DOESN’T mean that every student will learn every new skill, concept or idea at the same time.
It DOES mean starting with the expectation that every child should be capable of grasping every aspect of mathematics. There is no maths gene, though a very small percentage of children (perhaps 1-3%) will have neurological conditions such as dyscalculia that mean that they will not be able to grasp as much as others.
If this is the case, then the first step of mastery learning must surely be pre-teaching. I often observe children working with small groups of children who have not understood a concept. Far better is a pre-emptive strike to equip those children with key vocabulary, number facts and reminders of previous foundational skills upon which that day’s maths depends.
Even now, as someone who has been involved in education for 30 years, I still try to refine my thinking about the learning process, and what it means to master something. I have come to the paradoxical conclusion that we should aim for the impossible – I will NEVER master anything. I may be able to do something brilliantly, without conscious thought, and even frequently, but that does not mean I have completely mastered it.
If that were the case, why do experts bother to practise? Because they know that they can ALWAYS improve. I remember learning that David Beckham and Eric Cantona, both masters of the free-kick, used to stay behind after training to practise a bit more. Not because they were behind, but because they knew that mastery was a worthy but unattainable goal.
Lewis Hamilton practises. Yoyo Ma practises. Jimmie Anderson practises. Serena Williams practises. ALl arguably ‘masters’ of their own fields, yet still they know there is room to improve.
Last Sunday I had my first-ever watersports lesson. We learned paddle-boarding, then wind-surfing, and finally sailing. I had a number of thoughts about mastery both during and after the session.
- Learning new things is tiring for everyone, but more so for neourdiverse people. I have ADHD and after 30 minutes I could feel my brain say ‘no more information please, I am full’. Everyone needs regular breaks.
- The language of instruction is crucial for mastery, and one of the most vital things for any teacher to consider. Here are two examples, one of good and one of bad practice: The first thing our instructor did was point to various parts of the board and name them for us. That way, when he shouted out ‘Hold the mast, not the boom”, we all knew what he meant. But at one point during the sailing session our instructor told my ten-year old son and me to “turn the boat across the wind”, without considering that we as novice sailors had no idea what that meant and so were unable to either understand or comply. Fortunately, I had sufficient confidence to say “I’m sorry, I don’t know what you mean by that”, and he explained more simply, but I see this happen in classrooms where children simply decide it’s all too tricky and give up asking for clarification.
- Progress is not the same as progression. During the paddle-boarding session, all of us eventually managed to progress from kneeling to standing, albeit at different rates. This was pleasing, and our progression was easy to see. I could only measure my progress, on the other hand, by how confident I felt standing on the board, and how willing I was to make more dramatic and sharper turns. Anyone walking by would have seen six people standing on paddleboards, but would not have known which of us had made the most progress. (Spoiler – it wasn’t me).