Competency-Based Learning in Action: Middle School Science
By Dylan Howlett
1,099 words | 4-minute read
After five years of planning, piloting, curriculum planning, professional development and student/parent education, Durham Academy Middle School has officially adopted competency-based learning (CBL) as its model of teaching, assessment and communication of academic progress. The educational approach champions the mastery of specific, transferable skills — known as competencies — within each course and subject area. Teachers communicate progress toward proficiency in enduring habits and concepts rather than through traditional letter grades. The goal? Promoting real-world feedback that supports learners of all varieties and instills in Middle Schoolers the value of intrinsic motivation.
How it plays out in practice bears a striking resemblance to the Middle School of yore: stellar educators and inquisitive students confronting investigations, tackling open-ended questions and embracing rigor. What has changed, however, are the impediments of letter grades that CBL hoped to quash. Greater risk-taking. Less anxiety. More love of learning.
Come see for yourself. DA Marketing & Communications will take you inside Middle School classrooms this year to highlight CBL in Action across all subject areas. We begin in the sixth grade science classroom of Cliff Robbins, the CBL program leader and a Middle School science teacher.
If you’re still not clear on CBL, fear not: You’re about to have your lightbulb moment.
The sixth graders in Cliff Robbins’ class are not just students. They are, in the eyes of Robbins and each other, professionals. “Good morning, scientists!” Robbins says cheerily as 13 children file into his room on a Friday morning.
“We’ve got a great graph today,” Robbins says, and he motions to the “Graph of the Day.” He has dedicated the first 15 minutes of class to parsing a bar graph titled “Typical electrical power use by time of day in the United States.”
The graph, these sixth grade scientists determine, peaks shortly after 6 p.m. Together they probe the reasons behind this and conclude that electricity usage spikes when families return home from work and school. Robbins wonders aloud where students might observe the effect of temperature on this graph. “Air conditioning!” Conrad Fisher ’31 says, and his classmates agree that homeowners may crank up their HVAC in the afternoon during the warmest part of the day. They have already practiced and demonstrated “Data Skills,” one of the four competencies in DA Middle School Science. But Robbins challenges the group to meet their obligations as scientific communicators. “Communication,” after all, represents the fourth Middle School science competency. And it represents the focus of today’s lesson.
“If we really know the main point of a graph,” Robbins says, “we can summarize it in five words or less.”
They workshop the story together. “Electrical Power Used Over Time,” one student says. Robbins nods. “A good start,” he says. “But it doesn’t tell the story of the data.” Fisher volunteers “6 p.m. Uses Most Electricity,” and Sam Ray ’31 suggests changing “6 p.m.” to “Twilight.” The discussion culminates with a comprehensive title from Ishan Pagidipati ’31: Electricity Usage Peaks Before Dusk.
The electricity in the classroom, however, is nowhere near its peak. As part of their ongoing investigations into electrical systems, the sixth grade scientists must successfully build a circuit using three simple components: one AA battery, one paper clip and one small lightbulb. They also must make their thinking visible. Students retrieve oversized whiteboards from the back of the room to draw diagrams of circuit designs that lit their bulb, and circuit designs that did not. Such is the scientific method. “Run some tests!” Robbins says.
“It’s just science. What makes it different is we’re explicitly saying, ‘This is the skill that we’re working on now. Let’s focus on this.’”
Cliff Robbins
Competency-Based Learning Program Leader
Middle School Science Teacher
And they do, in groups of three and four, mangling their paperclips and clutching their batteries in hopes of bringing their bulbs to life. After 10 minutes of overseeing their explorations, Robbins debriefs. “I think every table has found an important idea that doesn’t work,” Robbins says with a smile, “but it does tell us something.” Multiple groups have unwittingly fashioned a short circuit by attaching the ends of the paperclip to the positive and negative terminals of the battery. An electrical system that works, Robbins reminds them, is one in which the design forces electrons to move in a way that humans find useful. They must, in simpler language, direct the electrons to the lightbulb. “Get to work, scientists!” Robbins says.
The groups find progress, and fast. A duo lights their bulb and walks across the room to show Robbins. The scientific work might be done; the scientific communication is not. “Draw a diagram!” he says. He pumps his fist once, then again. “Yes! Yes!” Robbins visits another group and urges them to devise a plan before they test. There’s magic afoot 10 feet away at another table, by way of a question from a curious scientist.
“How can we attach the lightbulb differently?” Arabella Tompkins ’31 asks her three partners. “I have an idea,” Katherine Cerwin ’31 says, and she places the lightbulb atop the battery. The bulb lights up. So does Cerwin’s face. “I got it!” Cerwin shouts. Robbins looks up. “Do we have a Eureka moment?!” He sees the glowing bulb and thrusts both arms in the air. “All right! You’ve got it!”
Soon the class discusses their findings, both productive and wayward. They each add the definition of “circuits” to their scientific notebooks. Claire Lunsford ’31 and Owen Hanks ’31 hold up their respective whiteboards to share their distinctive, yet equally effective, designs. Students scrutinize a scientific diagram of a lightbulb that Robbins projects on the screen.
Now it’s time to return to the skill of the day. They will carry this far longer than a solitary quiz score.
“Here’s your challenge as scientists,” Robbins says. “You know something now. It’s your job to communicate that clearly.”
“Instead of focusing on the gymnastics that can allow me to fit into this box [traditional gradebook], I get to focus with my colleagues on the gymnastics of making clear the underlying skills we’re working on and why we’re doing what we’re doing. It’s more fun for me, and it’s also visible to the students in a way that really sets them up to succeed.”
Cliff Robbins
Competency-Based Learning Program Leader
Middle School Science Teacher
The scientists turn to a new page in their notebooks, and they communicate. They draw one diagram of an idea that lit the bulb, and one diagram of an idea that didn’t. They explain why an idea succeeded or not, and they show how and where electrons traveled. Students can, at any point, refer to written instructions on Toddle, the learning management system that Middle School educators use to assign work and share feedback with students. Robbins does so in person during the final 11 minutes of class. “You throw some labels on there,” he says to one student, “and that is prime communication.” He pushes another student to draw a diagram that allows their audience to see the inside of the lightbulb. “Can you give me the X-ray vision here?” he asks. Communication means precision, and precision means a wider understanding of things unseen.
“GREAT work today, scientists!” Robbins says as the bell rings. “We did so much excellent experimenting and communicating.”
So much experimenting and communicating. Yet another five-word story worth sharing.