When do we Really Know Something?
It’s not always easy being a child of mine. Especially when it comes to homework and learning.
Last week, Charlie (my 13-year-old) was working on a report on Benjamin Franklin. He was creating a poster board with paragraphs of text and images.
His computer wasn’t communicating well with the printer, so he asked me to print out a couple of photos; one of a hundred-dollar bill, and one of a lightning rod.
At this point I’ll confess to knowing next-to-nothing about Benjamin Franklin. I know he had something to do with kites, and electricity, and was likely wicked smart and innovative. But I don’t know much else. I’ll chalk that up to my British education, during which we would not have known America even existed if it wasn’t for the mention of Eli Whitney and his “cotton gin”.
I asked Charlie about the lightning rod. Specifically, what it had to do with Benjamin Franklin. He muttered something about electricity and protecting houses and then trailed off.
I told him if he was going to paste a photograph of a lightning rod onto his project board, he’d better have a reason for doing so, and more importantly, be able to explain why he had included it when he made his presentation. Because the odds were high that someone would ask about the rod, and what it had to do with Benjamin Franklin.
He showed me what he and his partner had written so far:
I read the text, and gently told him that it didn’t help me understand much about lightning rods, or how they worked, or what Franklin had discovered. Sure, the word lightning rod is mentioned a few times, but what inspired Franklin? What was his idea? What was he trying to prove? How does a lightning rod work? How was he protecting people from lightning?
I reminded him of a similar project from a few years earlier. That one was about Leonardo da Vinci, and Charlie had cut out an image of the famous Vitruvian man and stuck it in the middle. When his teacher asked him about the image, and its significance, Charlie was stumped. He had put the image on the board, but not taken the steps to learn its relevance or significance vis-à-vis da Vinci.
And history was repeating itself, although at least this time he had mentioned the lightning rod in the text. So that’s a step forward!
And so, the two of us sat down to learn all about Benjamin Franklin’s theories about electricity and how he suspected lightning was electricity but needed a way to prove it. We read how he made observations that lightning struck church steeples and other tall structures and in some cases damage was severe, and in other cases not. And how he devised an experiment, using a kite, a metal key, some hemp string, and some silk string to try and prove that lightning was electricity. Along the way, we had to talk about conductivity, and how wet things conduct energy more than dry things, because water has charged particles in it. We’ve actually talked about this before when I explained why you can’t take a tray of cookies out of the oven with a wet towel.
We talked and read and talked and read until Charlie could confidently explain, in simple terms, the general gist of what Franklin was doing, how he did it, and what his results showed him.
We pushed right up to that crucial tipping point that all parents know. The point where tiredness prevails and even the simplest task or request can end in tears. I’ve learned over the years, I need to stop before I get to that point, but it sometimes sneaks up on you!
And he came up with this revision (which reading it now, I see has a typo—that’s string, not strong!):
There’s a huge difference between recognizing or reciting key words, or knowing that one thing is associated with another, and true understanding of ideas and relationships. Only when you can correctly explain something to someone else, in simple language, and help them understand it too, do you have true understanding.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying that either Charlie or I are experts on the life and times of Benjamin Franklin, or the ins and out of electricity. What I do know is, that by reinforcing to my kids, over and over…and over, that reciting or recognizing key words or ideas does not mean you really understand something, or have conveyed the importance of an idea, they will start to take this important step on their own. Start to think about the rationale for doing something, the how and the why and whether or not they are clearly answering questions a reader will have, or explaining things.
I hope they learn the lesson Richard Feynman did when he was young: “I learned very early the difference between knowing the name of something and knowing something.”
