“This is reallllly helpful.”
“This is an eye-opener.”
Just two comments from the tail end of this story.
Two weeks ago, on a Friday, I presented my students with what I thought was an awesome activity: a virtual fruit fly simulation that would allow them to explore a variety of inheritance modes. I had created a notes handout, complete with quick practice problems exploring dominant & recessive inheritance, codominance, and incomplete dominance. I had created a class account at the site to enable them to explore freely. I had also created a challenging task, with a greatly detailed rubric, describing how they could be successful. Yes, I had worked hard and they were going to learn a lot about inheritance through a fun and stimulating virtual lab ….
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| Sorted flies... no fuss, no muss |
Or so I thought.
Somewhere between my master plan and Friday’s lunch (both of my sections are morning classes), the air came out of my balloon. The problem? There was a gap between where my students were and where I wanted them to be. Specifically, my students seemed absolutely incapable of gathering the right data for their results.
But how could that be? My rubric specifically mentioned “using statistics and probabilities” to identify the inheritance pattern. The simulation provided a sorting mechanism for the various fruit fly traits, a virtual count of each sorted group, a button which sent the data to a virtual notebook, another button for analyzing the percentages, and a third button for crossing members of the current generation to create a second generation. How could they miss? There were buttons!!??
Furthermore, I was an active presence in the classroom. As students accessed the site, explored its features and began crossing flies, I was right there. I was reminding them to limit their crosses to explore a single trait. I was pointing out the numerical data. I flicked the lights to interrupt their work and make a general statement about the value of that data. And, yet, they were not conscious of the numbers. How is that possible? I flicked the lights!!??
Teachers will recognize this crossroads moment: Do I wring my hands and complain about my students …. Or do I recognize my own data; for whatever reason, they were not where I wanted them to be.
I’ll admit to some hand-wringing, for sure. But then I made a critical choice: instead of trying to figure out why they were unprepared for that moment (blaming them, their parents, all of their previous teachers, the standards, etc.), I decide to bridge the gap. I knew where they were (they could interpret the probabilities of Punnett squares) and where they needed to be (they weren't seeing the statistics of the offspring as a reflection of those probabilities) and designed the next lesson to get them there.
Yes, they needed to go back to the simulation, but not before a disruptive event, one that challenged the way they thought about fruit fly broods. And, yes, some were closer than others to where they neeeded to be; the disruption needed to be self-paced. Furthermore, some had skipped the introductory work in the last class, rushing with enthusiasm to the glitz of the simulation. So, to ensure proper re-entry, this disruption needed to have an element of immediate accountability. Finally, no matter how stymied I felt, the disruption needed to come across as “concerned” not “punitive.”
I needed a premise that was similar to fruit flies but distinct and I didn’t want (or need) to have it reflect reality. Could I make a fictional beastie that was prolific like fruit flies and had multiple traits that passed down via multiple mechanisms? My mind raced and I recalled “The Trouble with Tribbles!” Tribbles, as any Star Trek fan knows, were adorable, fuzzy little furballs that seemed to be harmless. But, as Dr. McCoy was to figure out, they seemed “to be born pregnant.” They soon overran the Starship Enterprise, filing up cabinets and crannies and bringing the ship to its knees. Prolific? Check!
Within minutes, I had drawn up my version of the tribles (single "b" as I couldn't remember the proper spelling), given them three traits, each inherited via a different mode, and began crafting questions for students to consider. The questions moved from simple Punnett square crosses with predictions about genotypes and phenotypes to more sophisticated and - more importantly - more targeted questions. By the end of the question set, students were faced with numerical outcomes of unknown crossings, being challenged to identify the parental genotypes from the actual data. THIS is where they needed to be and the tribles were going to get them there.
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| My Tribles... thank you, Gene Rodenberry! |
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| Some of the later questions about tribles |
Tuesday morning came (we meet every other day for 80 minutes) and it all worked! The warmup produced a good conversation … smiles all around as I introduced the goofy tribles … high engagement with the inheritance questions, with a recognizable increase in peer-to-peer tutoring … and, just as designed, individualized movement to the simulation as students took advantage of the self-paced nature of the lesson. When students returned to the simulation, they recognized the value of the numerical data … and began using it to craft responses!
This entire series of posts is based on the premise that, despite my rookie status as a Biology teacher, my veteran status as a teacher would be more than enough to keep me afloat. Yes, there were moments where I had to inform my work with Biology content but .... Tuesday’s success was built by formative observations on Friday, an assessment of the exact nature of the gap, and a willingness to get past “blaming” and get on with the real challenge of moving students from where they were to where they needed to be.
And, other than the simple act of recording their participation, there were no grades involved.
