Why children ‘love’ textbooks

This blog post looks at the much maligned textbook from the child’s perspective. Rightly, we tend to analyse the benefits or disadvantages of x, y or z educational practice or resource in terms of its effect on learning and we will look for those added months of progression or increased retention of knowledge, but how often do we put ourselves in the shoes of your typical child and imagine what they’re thinking and feeling? I’m not saying we should concede all ground to ‘pupil voice’ otherwise we’d end up with every lesson being some kind of content-less disco party from hell, but it does seem to me that we place far too much emphasis on what and how the teacher teaches and tend to ignore what I think of as bonus learning that happens because of certain systems, practices and resources. The textbook is one such resource that I believe offers up extra learning that goes beyond the provision of worked examples, curriculum progression and saving of the teacher’s time and energy – I’m talking about the textbook being a kind of psychological anchor for the child, much like a family album that triggers all sorts of memories and feelings. Have we, in our drive to improve the quality of teaching and curriculum content, forgotten about how the humble textbook adds to learning because of how it makes children feel and how the extra layers of emotion (both good and bad) actually help with retention of knowledge? Let me give you a few cheeky examples.

I grew up with textbooks and I remember enjoying the feeling of progress as each lesson moved through the textbook in a systematic way, even though I may not have liked the subject at the time. In fact, even negative emotion seemed to help with the retention knowledge as I flicked through the history textbook to find the page the teacher was referring too. I would be inadvertently treated to reminders of both enjoyable and (what I thought were) horrible lessons. For example, as a typically obstreperous, tired, grumpy and opinionated teenager I particularly detested the entire Victorian era. This was because I felt the teacher seemed to be preaching to us all about how terrible life was for poor children when, at the time, I really objected to being forced to get all emotional about kids scrambling up chimneys or having their arms ripped off by cotton mill machinery. I would have much rather learned about ships named ‘Devastation’ and ‘Invincible’. Even so, the anchoring effect of the textbook kept me working hard, attempting all the questions and the sense of ‘thank god we’ve finished that chapter’ was both motivational and helped me to remember a lot of the content. Upon finishing all those questions before others had, I’d then treat myself to some surreptitious retrieval practice and extra learning/reading by trying to find some part of the textbook the teacher had glossed over because she hadn’t deemed it politically correct enough, fond memories of groans and rollings-of-eyeballs flooding back as I’d happen upon those pictures of workhouses and orphanages. Good times. Of course, I’d also look ahead at what was coming up – today’s pupils have been denied all this extra learning in the name of ‘personalisation’ when in fact flappy bits of paper provided by harassed teachers are anything but ‘personal’ because there is no extra layer of feelings about progression or content.

Further, there is also that anxiety-reducing effect of always having a trusty textbook about your person to quickly refer to before a lesson, test or exam, particularly if you struggled with a subject like I did with French and were worried about getting told off by a nun (I was taught by them) for not remembering the translation of ‘Chips with mayonnaise, please!’ Oh yes, you would say that today’s pupils can simply look at their notes, but it’s not the same, is it? Their notes don’t come with an index, contents page or some pictures to laugh at. And where are the opportunities for a good old swot-fest with friends in the common room when all anyone has is a random collection of dog-eared worksheets and spider diagrams?

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Although there are probably plenty of other points around the subject of curiosity and happiness that comes from looking ahead at ‘illegal’ learning, I’d like to finish this blog by saying that when you are a tired, grumpy and obstreperous child, nothing quite beats the sense of accomplishment that comes from working towards and then moving up to a textbook with the word ‘advanced’ on it (or even just the next year group number), then looking back at old textbooks and laughing about how ‘easy’ they were/are. Currently, my own teenage sons don’t have that and that is a real shame.

Perhaps we could work towards bringing back proper textbooks?

Who’s with me?

 

 

 

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9 thoughts on “Why children ‘love’ textbooks

  1. I loved textbooks. They, and all books, were a source of knowledge. I could skip pages to see what was coming up even if I couldn’t necessarily understand it right at the time.
    I’d get books on subject that weren’t actually set for the class but they helped with the lessons.
    Photocopied or printed handouts were never the same. They felt like I was been given not quite enough information for the topic in question.

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  2. After too many wowsy lesson plans with lots of hands-on stuff (Grade 11 Biology) a student asked if we could do textbook work for a change. You’ll get true self-paced, discovery learning if you do.

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    • The self-pacing thing is subtle, but important. I trained around the time that schools all got IWBs, and paper books and worksheets were frankly frowned upon. I had real problems for a long time pacing lessons; it took me ages to realise that the problem was the IWB format; the whole class had to use the same paragraph at once, and could never refer back. Even now, when tablet technology is better, paper and ink is still the simplest and most robust way to give access to words and pictures.
      Incidentally, I’ve heard Tim Oates speak convincingly about the value of books as artefacts; something about their size, permanence and book-ness works better than electronic formats of the same text for learning.

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  3. Completely with you on this one. I liked most of my text books. I can think of several memorable things I gained from each one, upwards from the age of 8. Current colleagues are surprised, for example, that I understood fractions at an early age. They were very well explained, step by step in the textbook I had when I was 9. Later, I learned the veneration certain textbooks received in the field of zoology. My A level teacher was most impressed that I already had an earlier version of the book she gave us in class. I wish I had them all now. They were written by the actual experts and not by a bunch of authors pandering to the market and the national curriculum. They allowed me to look back at what we were learning about and not retain it all in my head. They forced us to read.

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    • Yes you do. I bought it a while back & return not just on an ad hoc coffee table basis but on a Dylan (only) says this what does the expert say front. It’s flavour is good too, not too salty like some textbooks become. And finally, like all good things, there is an element of comfort about the design/shape/.. I am sure like a well made bed it warms me from head to toe.

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  4. And make them print, NOT some dodgy ebook thing in the name of “innovation”. When we’ve surveyed our own students and nationwide surveys in the US, students prefer the physical page to the digital for their schoolwork…

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  5. I’m a piano/class instrumental teacher. We ALL use ‘method’ books for 1-1 and group/class teaching, supplementing with extra sheets etc as and when. Why? Other teachers have done the slog of preparing attractively presented graded material; why reinvent a wheel? I spend time choosing the best fit book for me and the pupil, and away we go.
    Compared to hours of typing and writing and photocopying it has to be more cost effective too. My time is worth upwards of £30 per hour; a book which lasts a year costs less than £10 new, less than that second hand.

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