An exam is a little like stormy weather: It’s inevitable, its particulars are shrouded in mystery until the day it arrives, and the best way to deal with it is through preparation. However, while preparing for inclement weather requires little more than breaking out a rain jacket or unfurling an umbrella, preparing for an exam is a touch more complex.
If it weren’t for science, the world would look a great deal different. There would be no weather predictions telling us if it was going to rain today; no electric lights to illuminate our study room after hours; no doctors administering life-saving treatments in the hospital; no climate scientists urging us to consider our behaviours; no satellites orbiting the globe, sending back television signals to our living rooms; no computers; no phones; no one to explain the movement of the planets or the taxonomic system of animals; and there certainly wouldn’t be any online school.
In competitive cycling, they have what’s known as the “bike throw.” It is that final, forceful thrust across the finish line, when a cyclist fully extends their arms and legs and pushes their bike in front of them in a last-gasp effort to get ahead of the pack. Pulling off a proper bike throw is an art, something that takes training and practice.
To an outsider, math can appear cold and clinical – an exercise in reducing the world to numbers and figures. But ask a mathematician (or, really, anyone who cursorily enjoys the subject), and they will wax poetic about the beauty of math.
To an outsider, math can seem like a foreign and indistinguishable language, reserved for a few choice individuals predisposed to understand it. But, again, math-lovers have to disagree: Mathematics often follows consistent, systematic rules and patterns. Moreover, it isn’t something you’re born with; anyone can tap into it with enough curiosity and drive.
So, what gives? Is math clinical or beautiful? Is it a complex language or an accessible mode of seeing the world?
Philosophers generally agree that we perceive and understand the world via our senses. We form what they might refer to as an “epistemic relationship” with our surroundings (a fancy way of saying that we give and take information wherever we go by using our senses and faculties). If we see a bright light, we might shield our eyes. If we hear someone crying, we may feel a sense of sadness ourselves. And, as cartoons make clear, if we smell a pie resting on a window sill, we get hungry!
What does this have to do with learning? Well, if we are intimately influenced by our environments, that must mean our study spaces require forethought and consideration.
Have you ever walked out of a movie theatre with a friend, beaming from ear to ear at the film you just saw, only to turn to them and find an expressionless face? “It just wasn’t for me,” they might say. Or, “I found the whole subplot with the aliens to be distracting and confusing.” It can be alarming – jarring even – to discover that this person you know so well, who sat next to you in the dark theatre for 120-odd minutes, had a completely different experience than you.
But this illustrates a central truth about being human. We live our lives alongside one another, but in completely unique fashion. The ways in which one person processes, understands and formulates opinions upon an experience can be fundamentally different than the next person. You can best sum it up with that age-old, perhaps cliched, axiom: Everybody’s different.
Even the seasoned mathematicians at MIT carry calculators in their back pockets. Famous authors keep thesauruses on their writing desks. Professional project managers for multi-national corporations still defer to a humble time management tool from time to time. And – though there’s no way of knowing for sure – we’re reasonably certain some high-level chefs still consult YouTube cooking videos occasionally.
This is all to say, our brains can’t do everything. It’s okay to cede some computing power to an external tool, whether it’s an app, a machine, a book or a video. Not only can it help expedite the learning process, but it may also teach us a valuable lesson in education: namely, that it’s perfectly fine to reach out for help.
You may hear someone say “high school-aged” in reference to a teenager (the term even appears on this blog). But “high school-aged,” despite being a convenient shortcut for discussing young people, is ultimately a misnomer.
High school is not strictly a rite of passage for young people; it is the development of essential skills, knowledge and critical thinking tools. And that development has no age limit, no restrictions to entry. At Ontario eSecondary School, we believe that learning is an essential feature of everyone’s self-development, which is why we are happy to see mature students grace the digital hallways of our school.
Twenty years ago, five researchers published an influential book entitled Making the Most of Summer School: A Meta-Analytic and Narrative Review. While the title is quite the mouthful, the contents of the book are relatively straightforward. Through a meta-study of 93 different summer schools, the researchers concluded that “all students benefit from summer school,” particularly “when instruction is individualized.”
As in life, education always allows for second chances. So if your young learner wasn’t pleased with their grade the first time around, or didn’t feel they grasped the material as fully as they would have liked, they can take what’s called an “upgrade course.”