Owning our Work



John Robert in his "uniform"--
sweat pants, sweatshirt, and
swim team t-shirt.



When I was in graduate school earning a master's degree in teaching, there was a lot of talk about getting kids to take ownership of their work. When a student takes ownership of his work, I was told, the student is motivated to see a project through to completion, make his best possible effort, and learn far more than other students.



Nearly 20 years after graduate school, several teaching positions, and three children to homeschool, I agree that taking ownership of one's learning is key. However, convincing a child to take ownership and pride in work that he did not choose and has no choice to reject is a hard sell.

This fall, after a brief comment from John Robert about how he would like to learn some physics, I organized an entire year's worth of physics assignments and projects. Two weeks into the school year, I gently set the textbooks aside. They were not fun-- for anyone. Four months into the school year, we occasionally play with some of the project material, but no one has touched the textbooks. The curriculum was my idea, not the boys' idea. There was no ownership.

Last week, however, I downloaded an app called Simple Physics for the boys' Kindles. I didn't say anything about it or suggest that anyone had to play. But they did play. All three of them. My husband even spent a half hour with it. I gave it a try, too! The idea is to design structures-- bridges, roofs, treehouses-- that will withstand the pressure and weight of cars, snow, or the weight of six children playing on it. In the process of playing, we all discovered things we didn't know about engineering, pressure, weight, and design.



Simple Physics-- Build a Roof within a given budget
that will withstand heavy snowfall.



Last night, John Robert called excitedly to me. He had been trying to build a roof that would withstand a heavy snowfall. "Look at this," he shouted. "It says my design is one of the strongest possible!" Sure enough, his design ranked 16th in strength. He was extraordinarily proud of this unexpected accomplishment, and began explaining to me in great detail how he had decided to build this design.

I tried to listen, but mostly I noted the glittering eyes, the focused expression, and the excitement emanating from him. Ownership of his work? Yes. This was work (or was it play?) that he had chosen. No one told him he had to do this. He could just as easily have been watching cartoons or eating ice cream. But he chose this challenging game; it was his work, his learning, and his success.