So it’s Week 3 of classes, which means it’s the first week we actually do an experiment in lab. Week 1 is just check-in/safety, Week 2 is a short week because of Labor Day. So this week, we are doing one of the experiments that requires my students to “design their own procedure.”
Let’s be honest, it tells them what to do, but it does not tell them WHY.
And not everyone teaches this lab the way I do.
There are very valid, scientific reasons behind the method the lab manual demands. So I make my students brainstorm (with my help) what those reasons are. Then, when we’re ready to “design” the procedure….I tell them to talk to me like I am eight years old. And explain what they need me to do. I am a SMART eight-year-old, but I need clear directions.
So I ACT like an eight-year-old. My students don’t know it, but they are now part of an improv exercise.
I love watching how students respond to precocious, eight-year-old me. Some of them…just do NOT know how to talk to me. Others…roll with it. They go into Camp Counselor mode, and play along. There is always some nervous giggling, and some quizzical glances are always exchanged.
What they don’t know, is why I do it.
Some of my students are downright afraid to ask me questions. They might be introverts, they might be quiet, they might not know what to ask, they might be intimidated by my professorialness. (and that is totally a word. I should know, I have a Ph.D.) Others…take themselves too Goddamned seriously. Both of these groups need to just be shaken up. To let go of whatever preconceived notions they have, and just let themselves learn something.
The first rule of improv, after all, is “Yes! And…”
