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A student might analyze how the two eyes emoji can indicate confusion about the message (“Wait, what are you saying?”), an impatience with a slow response (“Hurry up and reply!”), or a signal that the information is something they haven’t heard before.

The big questions on today’s blackboard is how to make math relevant for tomorrow,

“At the beginning of the 20th century, Latin was a required subject – it was seen as fundamental,” he says, to show how, as society changes, so does what it values. “By the end of century, Latin was gone. What will mathematics be by the end of this century?”

Dr. Small is showing a third option for two-number multiplication when a father raises his hand and asks: “But what’s the most efficient way?”“What’s your definition of efficient?” Dr. Small responds. “I think it’s probably the calculator.”

ust as advances in technology enabled the growth of science, the extremely rapid growth of technology we’re experiencing today is impacting our perspectives, tools, and priorities now. But beyond some mild clamor for a focus on “STEM,” there have been only minor changes in how we think of content–this is spite of extraordinary changes in how students connect, access data, and function on a daily basis.

What kind of changes might we expect in a perfect-but-still-classroom-and-content-based world? What might students learn in the future? Of course any response at all is pure speculation, but if we draw an arc from classical approaches to the Dewey approach to what might be next–factoring in technology change, social values, and criticisms of the current model–we may get a pretty decent answer. This assumes, of course a few things (all of which may be untrue): 1. We’ll still teach content 2. That content will be a mix of skills and knowledge 3. Said skills and knowledge will be thematically arranged into “content areas”

The Content Of The Future: 8 Content Areas For Tomorrow’s Students 1. Literacy Big Idea: Reading and writing in physical & digital spaces Examples of traditional ideas and academic content areas included: Grammar, Word Parts, Greek & Latin Roots, The Writing Process, Fluency; all traditional content areas 2. Patterns Big Idea: How and why patterns emerge everywhere under careful study Examples of traditional ideas and academic content areas include: Grammar, Literature, Math, Geometry, Music, Art, Social Studies, Astronomy 3. Systems Big Idea: The universe—and every single thing in it–is made of systems, and systems are made of parts. Examples of traditional ideas and academic content areas include: Grammar, Law, Medicine, Science, Math, Music, Art, Social Studies, History, Anthropology, Engineering, Biology; all traditional content areas by definition (they’re systems, yes?) 4. Design Big Idea: Marrying creative and analytical thought Examples of traditional ideas and academic content areas include: Literature, Creativity, Art, Music, Engineering, Geometry 5. Citizenship Big Idea: Responding to interdependence Examples of traditional ideas and academic content areas include: Literature, Social Studies, History; Civics, Government, Theology 6. Data Big Idea: Recognizing & using information in traditional & non-traditional forms Examples of traditional ideas and academic content areas include: Math, Geometry, Science, Engineering, Biology; 7. Research Big Idea: Identifying, evaluating, and synthesizing diverse ideas Examples of traditional ideas and academic content areas include: English, Math, Science; Humanities 8. Philosophy Big Idea: The nuance of thought Examples of traditional ideas and academic content areas include: Ethics, Literature/Poetry, Art, Music; Humanities

Let’s look more closely at what is happening, conceptually, when we make an analogy. “The essential requirement for analogical thinking,” Holyoak and Thagard write, “is the ability to look at specific situations and [] pull out abstract patterns that may also be found in superficially different situations.” That’s important, so I’ll say it again in a slightly different way: A useful analogy reveals the deep commonalities beneath superficial differences.

What does this allow us to do? The scientists Kevin Dunbar studied used analogies, first, to formulate hypotheses that they could then test. Their thought process went something like this: If we know that X does Y when Z, is it possible that A does Y when Z, too? Let’s find out. That’s often how innovations get their start, in the lab and elsewhere: by taking a familiar starting point and using it as a launch pad to explore new territory.

The appearance in the transcript of words indicating uncertainty, such as “maybe,” “I don’t know,” and “I don’t understand,” was often followed by an attempt to draw an analogy—to compare the ambiguous situation to a situation with which the scientists were familiar.

If I could go back and change my classes now, I would immediately: Offer brief, blitzkrieg-like mini-lessons with engaging, assessment-for-learning-type activities following directly on their heels (e.g. a ten-minute lecture on Whitman’s life and poetry, followed by small-group work in which teams scour new poems of his for the very themes and notions expressed in the lecture, and then share out or perform some of them to the whole group while everyone takes notes on the findings.) set an egg timer every time I get up to talk and all eyes are on me. When the timer goes off, I am done. End of story. I can go on and on. I love to hear myself talk. I often cannot shut up. This is not really conducive to my students’ learning, however much I might enjoy it. Ask every class to start with students’ Essential Questions or just general questions born of confusion from the previous night’s reading or the previous class’s discussion. I would ask them to come in to class and write them all on the board, and then, as a group, ask them to choose which one we start with and which ones need to be addressed. This is my biggest regret right now – not starting every class this way. I am imagining all the misunderstandings, the engagement, the enthusiasm, the collaborative skills, and the autonomy we missed out on because I didn’t begin every class with fifteen or twenty minutes of this.

made me realize how little autonomy students have, how little of their learning they are directing or choosing

I would structure every test or formal activity like the IB exams do – a five-minute reading period in which students can ask all their questions but no one can write until the reading period is finished. This is a simple solution I probably should have tried years ago that would head off a lot (thought, admittedly, not all) of the frustration I felt with constant, repetitive questions.