The Science of Reading Versus the Art of Teaching Reading

Teacher question

With all the emphasis on “science of reading,” what about the art of teaching? Do you think there is a place for that?

Shanahan’s response

Indeed.

Teaching is an act of practical reasoning, persuasiveness, problem solving, and communication. It needs to be shaped by science but much of it is improvisation rooted in experience.

Science may contribute to that, but it will never be sufficient. Art must have a place.

It might help to examine the experience of other fields. Medicine, for instance, has had a much longer and more obsessive relationship with science than has education. Where are they on this art–science continuum?

My medical colleagues are grappling to preserve the humanity in their practice while inundated with technologies, tests, and data. For a long time, art vs. science in medicine was much akin to the undercard at a boxing match, with the touts arguing over the under-over. No one could be sure who would win. These days it is still usually posed as a duality, though physicians seem to be growing more comfortable with the idea that wisdom and knowledge deserve a seat at the table. A doctor can prescribe all the right meds and administer all the approved regimens, and still show empathy for patients, smiling, making eye contact, listening, developing rapport, laying on hands, and sometimes even going off protocol when it makes sense.

Maybe we educators start from a better spot. Witness Artfully Teaching the Science of Reading (opens in a new window) by Chase Young, David Paige, and Tim Rasinski. That title certainly argues for a unity in this regard.

I suspect the tension comes from trying to transform education from an enterprise that was full-tilt boogie on the arts end to one that now must accommodate science. Art — the older colleague — believes it deserves respect for its years of service and the wisdom it has gained from that experience. Science — the brash upstart — is sure it has all the answers and possesses the seemingly limitless energy of youth.

When I entered teaching, it was mostly a field of art. There wasn’t much research, and few decisions were based upon it. Likewise, there was little data to go on. States were just starting to evaluate reading and math.

Without data or research, teachers had a great deal of latitude. I picked the textbooks I wanted to teach from and organized my classroom as I chose. Occasionally, I’d receive advice from senior colleagues (“teacher lore”). This tended to be of the “don’t smile until after Christmas” variety, and often was contradicted by other counsel. (In some schools, a principal or a clique of older teachers might exercise authority over these choices — sources based more on opinion than knowledge).

That may sound idyllic to many of you these days, and it was — in a way. It was also pretty self-satisfied. We were certain that we were terrific and that the kids were doing as well as possible. Without tests, there could be no contradiction.

Principals evaluated teacher performance with a heavy emphasis on classroom order and parent satisfaction – learning wasn’t usually central to those reviews. Teachers stayed out of each other’s lanes — we were equally effective (if someone stood out it was due to a unique personality, not more effective practice). Parents didn’t always surrender to this fiction. They figured out which teachers were best and pressured principals to assign their kids there. “Best” may have been due to better spelling lessons or to having just the right personality to appeal to mom and dad (both “sweet” and “demanding” were likely seen as positive, with “crabby” always a negative indicator).

The idea of requiring standardized assessments and scientific research to the mix had to do with a growing realization that students weren’t learning as much as we assumed. The tools of science could allow us a more reliable evaluation and more potent learning opportunities. At least that’s the theory.

How does this play in practice?

I would not want individual teachers deciding which reading skills should be taught. A teacher might be satisfied with her lessons that routinely omitted phonics (or some other key element) and her kids performed to her satisfaction. Perhaps she was successful, though that is hard to determine without actual data (and a lack of past complaint isn’t evidence). 

Perhaps her students were taught the missing skills at home in the past so the value of that content would not be evident. The determination of what needs to be taught in reading is better left to the science — comparative studies with lots of kids can do a better job of distinguishing the necessary from the optional.   

Determining the best approaches to teaching has proved somewhat more daunting. It is not that studies can’t identify practices that seem effective, both generally (e.g., lessons with clear purposes, lots of teacher-student interaction, clear explanations, sufficient repetition, informative feedback) and more specifically for some reading components (e.g., PA lessons that include the ABCs, phonics lessons that include encoding practice, comprehension lessons that connect with prior knowledge).

Yes, with research we can identify potentially positive practices. What we can’t do is tell teachers how best to implement these insights in real classrooms. Having everyone mindlessly read a purpose-setting script at the start of a lesson may be a no-brainer. Noticing that some kids are neglecting that purpose, seems more in the realm of art.

For instance… in a dictionary assignment, students are to read a passage and copy the correct definition of some highlighted words. We can quibble about that assignment in a moment, but the purpose is to make kids aware of the multiplicity of definitions for many words, of the need to identify the correct ones, and to gain some practice in doing that.

What of the kids who decide the fastest way to the finish line (their purpose) is to copy each word’s shortest definition? Completing the task but ignoring the purpose.

(Yes, this lesson would be better if the students just recorded the number of the correct definition or were to translate the definition into their own words rather copying).  

Science says that clarity of purpose matters and that good teachers start lessons with an explanation of purpose. Art says that students may ignore the stated purpose and replace it with something superficial and less supportive of learning. Artful teachers must be vigilant of kids who are only completing tasks.

I work hard on the science part — not because I’m anti-art — but because that has been a missing piece, a piece that I can add. The idea of teaching those things that have led to greater learning appeals to me. The same can be said for teaching in ways that have been found more successful.

Maybe I’m all in on that approach because I understand that research-based approaches don’t work … they are made to work.

In the studies, teachers worked hard — using certain tools — to confer a learning advantage. Positive results say that they succeeded. Multiple studies say several teachers were able to succeed this way. I can’t be sure that I can teach this well but knowing that others have done so and how they went about that is a good start.

The science of reading isn’t one of blind compliance or high-fidelity implementation.

Science reveals what can work. The art of teaching suggests what I might do to make the science work.

That means I’m going to try to build rapport with my students … looking them in the eye, smiling frequently, bumping fists to reward success.

I’m going to try to be patient, too. “Yes, I did just explain this, and little Jimmy is proceeding as if I hadn’t. I’d love to hide the rascal, but it would be better to explain it again.” Some kids just need more repetitions and practice than others. Some scientists claim that kids need 8 repetitions of something before it sticks and they may be right. “However, I’ve got a group of kids who are on repetition number 11, and I want to pull my hair out. Probably better to go for repetition 12 than to do a Dwayne Johnson imitation.”

Science and art are both about trying to maximize student learning.

Science powerfully identifies what has been proven to be workable. I believe only foolish educators would ignore the valuable insights it offers. But those educators must recognize that these findings cannot be implemented successfully without a lot of effort aimed at making them work.

Art, on the other hand, includes everything else that teachers do to increase success. For me, William Faulkner’s definition of art is best: “Art means anything consciously well done.” That’s where patience, careful listening, empathy, rapport, clarity, and persistence come in. Knowing when to double down and when to back off. Implementing a science of reading successfully requires a thoughtful dose of such ingredients — items that may not have shown up in the research study, but which certainly were in the classrooms with the greatest learning.

Remember the old commercial?: “Peanut butter and chocolate, chocolate and peanut butter, two great flavors that taste great together.”

Perhaps we need to hire an advertising exec to come up with something like, “Art and science, science and art … two great sources of success that work great together.” I doubt that will sell anything, but its heart is in the right place.

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