Sunday, October 26, 2014

Egg Roulette

I find probability to be one of the most difficult topics for students to grasp. Beyond the simple experiments of spinners, coins, and dice, students have issues operating on uncertainty. This issue is compounded when multiple events each involve such a calculation as well as the relationship between them. Soon they find themselves neck-deep in notation and lose all rationality--they forget what they are solving to begin with. 

This past week we found ourselves mired in another battle with conditional probability. The initial questions were completed at a high level:

Sally draws two cards from a standard deck without replacement. What is the probability that she draws two spades?

Yawn... yet something is nice about the sharpness of the problem's boundaries. There is something objective--mathematical--about the task at hand. The students can count the sample space and favourable outcomes. 

The question then becomes:

Sally draws two cards from a standard deck without replacement. What is the probability that the second one is a spade?

Breaking down the question proved difficult for the class (as it always seems to do). I gave a narrative proof, we ran experiments, developed notation, and tethered to set theory. Still, at the end of the class, the exit slip data was not good. We were a mess. I needed a way to make the problem real again. 

That night I happened upon a YouTube video in a random playlist. The next morning I picked up a dozen eggs before school and spent the noon hour in the home economics lab. I had found the hook. 

When class came, I began with the video and then asked the class:

Sally draws two eggs from this carton of eggs. What is the probability that the second egg is raw?

I then asked if anyone wanted to play. When I had my volunteers, I asked one of them if they wanted to go first or second. His response--after a lengthly pause to think--was:

First, because then I know my chances of being hit. He won't know until I'm done

When I asked the other player if he was okay with that, he replied:

Sure. Because if he gets hit, my chances go way down. But if he doesn't get hit, mine aren't that much worse. 

This couldn't have gone more to plan. We quickly drew up the notation and explained the conditional probability involved in the two cases explained by the volunteers. 

We played the game. Eggs were smashed, videos were recorded, and snapchat stories went viral around the school. At the heart of it all was my hook--I had found the anchor problem.

NatBanting

For those of you interested, there is no advantage to going first or second. I don't do this often, but I've worked through the problem below. 

H1 - Hit on the First Egg
H2 - Hit on the Second Egg
M1 - Miss on the First Egg
M2 - Miss on the Second Egg

P(H2) = P(H1 AND H2) + P(M1 AND H2)
(These are the two cases, each of which is conditional. I spent quite a bit of time discussing this)

P(H1) = 4/12
P(M1) = 8/12
P(H2 | H1) = 3/11
P(H2 | M1) = 4/11

P(H2 | H1) = P(H1 AND H2) / P(H1)
P(H2 | H1)*P(H1) = P(H1 AND H2)
(3/11)*(4/12) = P(H1 AND H2)
1/11 = P(H1 AND H2)

P(H2 | M1) = P(M1 AND H2) / P(M1)
P(H2 | M1)*P(M1) = P(M1 AND H2)
(4/11)*(8/12) = P(M1 AND H2)
8/33 = P(M1 AND H2)

P(H2) = P(H1 AND H2) + P(M1 AND H2)
P(H2) = 1/11 + 8/33
P(H2) = 3/33 + 8/33
P(H2) = 11/33
P(H2) = 1/3

A simple calculation shows that P(H1) = 1/3 as well. 

Tuesday, August 26, 2014

Math Class Starters

I am very distractible. Students know this; I know this. For this and multiple other reasons (including insipid tardiness on the part of my students) the first few minutes of class is often filled with retrieving forgotten textbooks, quieting down the pockets of flirtation, and acknowledging the students who show up two minutes late with a coffee. 

Numerous factors have led me to the institution of class starters for grade 9s. I will do my best to summarize them here and introduce my framework, theory, and pedagogy behind them. 

Why Starters? (The multiple influences)

  • Success with my Enriched 9 class last semester
    • I used starters to establish a culture of curiosity and conjecturing with my set of "gifted" grade 9 students last year. The tone was beautiful. It taught me valuable lessons about how I need to approach and ameliorate the process into the class time, as well as important logistical tweaks that need to be made. 
  • Colleague suggestion
    • A teacher at my school uses quick start-up questions to encourage punctuality. His are graded, and essentially consist of textbook problems from the previous day. While his motives for using the system are different, the hope of greater efficiency does appeal to me.
  • Graduate studies
    • My interest in classrooms as complex systems (see Davis & Simmt, 2003 for a good summary) is growing as my studies continue. I believe that teachers need to base their practice in theory--a deep personalization of theory. This doesn't mean a citation justifies my actions, but my daily enactment of the theory with my students does. It takes a being open to reflection and reflexivity. 
    • I have found that providing students with a stage to enter into a topic best facilitates the climate of complexity. This means my starter questions are often roundabout ways at deriving the curricular content. They roughly align with the chapters in the textbook, but provide multiple avenues for interpretation and pockets of organization. 
    • In this way, starters are not meant to assess the students on whether they did their homework, but provide the spark for organized chaos. Some repeat to provide a chance for deeper analysis, and others lend themselves nicely to a "one-and-done" philosophy. It is important for me to root my classroom practice in theory; it enables me to make justifiable decisions on the fly. 
How are they used?

Class begins with a question projected on the board. Students get into the routine of having their starter portfolio out when the class starts. (I will explain this detail later). As I take attendance, students work on their own problem, but are encouraged to compare with others after they have prepared an argument for their own. This way, the class slowly gets noisier as the multiple strategies are discussed. I generally sit and allow students' ideas to make the rounds. I do not circulate (like I normally do during an open task). I want them to own the work. 

I simply ask for responses and give them autonomy over the room. Some grab the marker and go to the board. Others use the IWB controls. Some prefer to give a verbal explanation, and I scribe it for them. For the first few days/weeks I ask networking questions suck as, "Who else saw this the same way?" or "How is Suzy's answer like Donny's?"

It doesn't take long before students share, "That's what I did" as the question is being explained. After the student volunteers are exhausted, I usually do one of two things: 1) I highlight a particular student that never shared but I happened to overhear some genius thinking or 2) I ask a leading question about an interpretation that was missed or a connection to something previously encountered. 

In this way, the starters do not only serve as an efficiency piece, but a crucial way to start the process of community networking and establish the organizations of complexity. 

Just a side note: If you are wondering where to begin to amass these types of problems, visual patterns.org and estimation180.com are great places to start. From there, be imaginative. Find connections to your units of study, anticipate student responses, or scour your existing sources for problems. 

What do students use to answer the problems?

Last year I had them bring in a three-ringed folder to put sheets into. This offered a couple problems. 1) those folders become disorganized quickly. 2) full-size sheets were daunting for many students. This year I decided to have them purchase a small exercise book with 1/2 blank and 1/2 ruled pages. In Canada, they are made by Hilroy; I do not know where you Americans can get them. Maybe someone can help me out in the comments section. You can buy these exercise books in Canada almost anywhere. (Walmart or Staples for example). 










The blank space allows them to copy down the problems which are often given in the form of a graphic. The ruled space provides space for their calculations and written explanation. Some students also use the blank space for solution. The two spaces facilitate many conceptualizations. The book is smaller than normal. This sets it aside as important to students and also provides a manageable response section. 

On the cover of each notebook, I have the students put a label that I print for them. My personal tech guru/genius @evandcole provided me with this great video on how to do a mail merge from a class list in Excel. I be sure to include the QR code for their class digital exit slip. When they are finished, they look something like:
This way, the exercise book becomes more valuable than their textbook. I like the feeling it creates when their own thinking is valued above everything else. 

I'm expecting to expand this practice to other classes once a) I can establish a set of good problems and b) become better at facilitating them. The point is to take a common practice, steep it in educational theory, and produce a dual edged sword of efficiency and complexity. 

As always, I'm open to failure. It is the best way for me to learn. 

NatBanting

Reference: 
Davis, B., & Simmt, E. (2003) Understanding learning systems: Mathematics education and complexity science. Journal for Research in Mathematics Education, 34(2), 137-167.

Wednesday, July 23, 2014

"__BL" : Education's Obsession With Labels


Last week there was an interesting twitter discussion on the nature of projects versus the nature of problems.
It occurred with specific reference between the differences of PBL (project-based learning) and PrBL (problem-based learning). If you follow this blog or scan the provided tags you will find PBL does occupy some space here. There is also a large amount of posts detailing "tasks". This is a rather artificial term I use to refer to a piece of mathematical work to be done or undertaken.

To me, the potency of all of these ideas is lost on many teachers. Not just my work, but the work of math educators worldwide. (and yes... even some textbook writers. Shock). Teachers love to label different approaches and then subsequently develop (or collect) resources that carry that specific label. Some labels just repackage old ideas while others aim to describe a pedagogy as much as their content. I think such is the aim of both PBL and PrBL. The only problem is that the label shifts the focus away from what is important: the pedagogy.


It is probably easiest to lay out the harmful effects of labels in a bulleted fashion.

  • Labels create commercialization.
Once there is an established "type" of resource, the entire educational machine revs up to churn out books, memberships, sample materials, presentations, and professional development. It isn't long until the original inputs for the label is diluted to suit mass production.
  • Labels attract connotations.
It doesn't take long for the rich understanding (and well meaning) behind a label to become simplified and vilified by those (as ignorant as they may be) opposed to the idea. Just today a chart was tweeted that labeled PBL mathematics as "fuzzy" and opposed to memorization. Ignorant over-generalizations take on lives of their own, and labels create easy targets. 
  • Labels put the focus on one stakeholder.
Whether it is PBL, PrBL, student-centered, or teacher-centered (to name a few), labels highlight but one piece of the educative puzzle. You can't honestly say that a certain type of room is teacher-centered? Or student-centered? An isolation of one of these players renders the entire process null. It never begins. All the players (including the content and culture) are co-implicated in an educational setting. Lecturing is not teacher-centered, if anything the teacher is just a passive mouthpiece void of any initiative. Their role is then to pass on pre-conceived knowledge. That doesn't sound teacher-centered, it sounds more like teacher-proof. 

People sit in the middle and say that their classrooms are "learning-centered". Well... duh. What well-meaning teacher doesn't want (and even think) this to be the case. A "deceit-centered" or "ignorance-centered" classroom is either non-existent or pathological. Why even label that?

Finally, and most importantly:
  • Labels often highlight the resources at the expense of pedagogy.

In the specific case of PBL and PrBL, we are debating what attributes make a educational artefact a problem rather than a project (or vice versa). What that does is pull the focus away from the pedagogy behind the label (the spirit in which they are to be encountered by the students), and place it on the specific instance of content. This means that teachers attempt to collect these artefacts, and once their repertoire is robust enough, they can then execute the "type" of classroom under that label. (i.e. If I can only find enough good problems, I could run PrBL).


This generates a mindset of attainment in teachers. We see it during curriculum renewal; we see it during internships. Teachers scrambling to attain the "stuff" needed to keep up. Labels pull us away from an attunement to the pedagogy behind the resources. Some do a better job at embedding the two mindsets. Recently, the phenomenon of 3Acts has generated a whole new label. The inherently great thing about these problems is the pedagogy was built within the content. It created a potent mix that could take relatively humdrum things like stacking cups and printing paper and create engaging classrooms. It wasn't the content (like the label might insinuate), it was the pedagogy behind it. 



I continue attempt to throw off labels; I try and describe to others how I teach and run my classroom (or at least attempt to). Maybe "Occasion-based learning" (OBL) or "Discourse-based learning" (DBL). Something that resists definition and implies that learning happens in the places where content, pedagogy, and curiosity meet. 



NatBanting

Wednesday, June 25, 2014

Problem Posing with Pills

My class always welcomes conjectures. This is made explicit on the very first day of the semester. This goes for everything from grade nine to grade twelve. As the grades advance, the topics have us venturing into increasingly abstract concepts, but conjectures are always honoured. 

Certain class structures promote conjecturing more than others. Students offer questions during lectures, but they are often of a surface variety. They notice a pattern that has occurred in three straight examples, or think they have discovered a short-cut. I don't like using tricks, but if they are "discovered" or "re-invented" (to borrow a term from Piaget and genetic epistemology), then we use them. 

Several posts on this blog have been born out of conjectures offered in class. Many task ideas come from shifts in tasks that we were working on. By far the most profitable, conjecture-rich structure has been that of large whiteboards. There is something about the organization mixed with the rich problems and communication obligations that opens student minds. Regardless of class structure for that day, if a conjecture arises, I get everyone's attention:


"I need your attention please. [Insert name here] has a conjecture to make."

After the conjecture is made, we have a conversation around its feasibility and even vote on its validity. Some groups (or individuals) devote themselves to refutation, while others remain in whole-hearted affirmation. It creates an interesting (yet non-competitive) dynamic. Some students even like having their conjectures disproven and get right back to modifying them to make them stand. 

When I feel like I have loosened the curricular pressure, I take my students through explicit problem posing (conjecturing) exercises. We use the process documented explicitly in Brown and Walter's book. I complete this exercise with a task that is solvable in 5-10 minutes and has many discrete attributes that can be changed. That leaves plenty of time to pose new problems, exchange, attempt solutions, and discuss. 

Side note: The Art of Problem Posing is a must read for any teacher of mathematics at any level. It's algorithmic encapsulation of the fluid process of posing problems jives well with beginners and is extended easily for experts. Like seriously, stop reading this post and get that book. L-I-F-E C-H-A-N-G-E-R.

On this particular day, I gave my grade 9s the "Poison Pills" problem from Stella's Stunners. (The initial solution offers avenues into factors and multiples)
The problem has nice places for students to create conjectures. For example, students quickly realize that two poison pills can ever be adjacent. They can use these certainties to build on their solution. 

After we solved the problem and discussed, I asked them to change attributes and exchange new problems. These are the new problems they created:

  • We split pills in half and put in two containers. Take pill from #1, place in top of #2 and then eat from bottom of #2.
  • Two players. We used three containers. Take one pill from bottom of all three. Ingest one and place the other two back in whichever column you like. Goal is to be last one alive.
  • Switch the bottom and top pill. Then take two from the bottom and put them on top. Eat the next pill.
  • Instead of taking two pills, you take three. Eat the third and place the first two back. 
  • Take three pills and eat the second. Return the other pills if you are alive to do so. Don't take third pill if you die when you eat second. 
  • Split the poison pills into six half-pills of poison. You need to eat two of them to die. 
  • Have 16 pills (12 good, 4 poison) and 12 prisoners. Look if pattern still exists.
  • Odd prisoners eat first pill and pass the second one back to the top. Even prisoners pass the first pill and eat the second. 
  • Add one antedate pill that can make one prisoner invincible to poison.
We managed to solve a few of them, but had to leave some for them to work on in their problem journals. 

There are three large benefits to encouraging problem posing in class:

Mathematical Intuition
Students were able to recognize and reason why new problems were too easy to even spend time on them. This is a great thing to see as a teacher. Four months ago, these same kids would have happily accepted work that resulted in no cognitive struggle, now they ditch their new problems because they see quick solutions. 

Mathematical Complexity
Students quickly discover that some of the hardest problems come from a simple switch. Their instinct was to change almost everything about the problem until the original was a distant cousin and fleeting memory. Some groups found that shifting one small attribute can create a difficult problem. The beauty and intricacy of mathematics shows itself. 

Mathematical Ownership
Students would much rather work on problems they authored. It makes me think of a quote from a recent presentation: "You know what students are interested in? Their own thinking". Students took these problems home and created new ones from them. I even had one student bring back an idea for a card game based on his problem. This ownership can be authored into problems in subtle or extreme ways. 

I remind my students that a good mathematician will try and keep problems alive. We are so used to math being about killing the problem--problem solving. While this is a noble pursuit, I am more interested in resuscitating problems and extending their mathematical lives--problem posing. What can we do to revive or extend this curiosity. A good class, in my books, leaves with more problems than it started. 

NatBanting

Sunday, June 15, 2014

Garbage Can Task

The following task happened by accident:

I was about to introduce a problem to my Math 9 Enriched class that we were going to complete with group whiteboards. Before I could introduce, life got in the way. Students wanted to know about their most recent examination. As I launched into a speech on their performance, a student got up to sharpen their pencil. She walked right in front of me. I made a comment, and she replied that the garbage can should be in the back corner where it would be more convenient. 

I told her that having it by my desk was most convenient for me. Then another student said:

"Why don't we put it in the middle of the room? Wouldn't that be the most convenient?"

In this class, we call this "breaking the math". Students are always welcome to stop our class and make a conjecture. When this leads us into further problems, we joke that the conjecturer broke the math. 

I then flipped the question (to many groans from students) and asked where we would place the can so that if every student had to travel directly to it, we would travel the least amount of distance collectively. 

After setting some parameters about the room, we whipped up an idealized model on the board (pictured below). We decided that the can should be on a grid intersection and the distance between each student is one meter. Also, the students travel as the crow flies. I placed dots where the students were sitting around the room. 


A few really cool ideas began to emerge. It should be mentioned that I foresaw the close parallels to the Road Building task. I anticipated that the Pythagorean theorem would need to be used. I didn't let them know this until one group unearthed the massive amount of calculation that was necessary. 

Once this was common knowledge, groups turned their attention to symmetry. They tried to place the can in a spot that created as many congruent triangles as possible. This enabled them to cut down on their calculations. I over heard the verbiage of 2-3 triangle and 4-5 triangle. They began to name the triangles based on the length of the legs. 

One group noticed that any seat in the same row or column with the can didn't require a calculation. They then decided to set their sights on finding the placement that was collinear with the maximum number of students. 

We had a conversation about the meaning of "center". The geometric center of this rectangle may not be acting as the center of the people placed within it. I saw parallels to measures of central tendency, but decided that it was not in the class' best interest to switch to statistics at this point. 

After answers filtered in, students started posing their own problems. Many started to pose problems around designing seating arrangements to meet certain criteria:

Design a classroom that only needs one calculation.
Design a classroom where every student needs their own calculation.
Design a classroom where the center of the room is the best place for the can.
Design a classroom where the corner of the room is the best place. 

I have a lot of curricular freedom with these students, but this problem would be a good one to practice the Pythagorean theorem. I introduce the idea with the simpler Road Building task, and then solidify knowledge with this one. 

One student asked what would happen if the can didn't have to be on the floor. You should have heard the groans as we pursued this latest instance of "broken math". 

NatBanting

Sunday, June 8, 2014

Basketball Golf Task

The other day, a future teacher asked what one piece of advice I would give to a soon-to-be mathematics teacher. I immediately had several. I settled on one that I felt encapsulated my belief both in and out of class:


Honour curiosity

In class, this finds me wandering through student suggestions and constantly posing new problems that create relevant challenges. Curiosity (both student and teacher) keeps a vibrant ecology going, and I would argue that the intellectual tension so often provided through curiosity is necessary for a positive ecology to thrive.

Outside of class, this has me interacting with my curios online and with others. The purpose of this blog was to document and elaborate on my educational (specifically mathematical) creativity. This is such an instance where a simple problem popped into my head and I forced myself to see it through. Who knows, it may become an important piece of a student's learning someday.

For no apparent reason I became curious whether it was easier (mathematically speaking) for a basketball to go through a hoop or a golf ball to fall into the cup. It was an innocent enough question--a starting point.

I shared it with a couple colleagues and we began to discuss strategy. We immediately placed it within our neat boxes of curricular units. I said that it would be a great example of scale. I would find the diameters of the large items (basketball), the diameters of the small item (golf), and then find the scale factors between the balls and holes respectively.

She said it would be a great idea for area and percent. She wanted to find all four areas and then find the percentage of the hole that each respective ball would cover. We both thought this was a great start and took to Google.

My strategy
Basketball - 9.07" diameter
Hoop - 18" diameter

Golf Ball - 1.680" diameter
Hole - 4.25" diameter

SF = Basketball / Hoop = 9.07 / 18 = .50 (two significant digits)
SF = Golf Ball / Hole = 1.680 / 4.25 = .40 (two significant digits)

This told me that the basketball diameter was approximately a one-half scale model of the basketball hoop while the golf ball was approximately a four-tenths scale model. Thus, it is easier to sink a golf ball.

Her strategy
Area Basketball = 64.61 (units omitted)
Area Hoop = 254.47 (units omitted)

Area Golf Ball = 2.22 (units omitted)
Area Hole - 14.19 (units omitted)

Ball / Hoop = 64.61 / 254.47 = .25 = 25%
Ball / Hole = 2.22 / 14.19 = .16 = 16%

This told her that the golf ball took up less of the hole than the basketball did of the hoop.

Regardless of strategy, this question poses some interesting extensions if you are willing to search for them. Enabling this curiosity is the critical piece to effective mathematics teaching. I'm curious about a men's basketball. The stats above are for a female ball, the men's ball is an additional inch in diameter. How much harder is it to sink a guy's ball? 

What if we combined the strategies and took the scale factors of the areas or percentages of the diameters? Would our answers be any different?

Two basketballs will squeeze into a hoop simultaneously How small would the golf hole need to be to create this exact phenomenon? How wide would the hoop have to be to create the same ratio that exists in golf? The PGA is wondering about expanding the golf hole, is this a good idea? why or why not? How wide would a basketball hoop need to be to  match the new 15 inch golf hole? 

I could see this task fitting nicely into a unit on area in the middle years. (I like how the relationship between 1/2 diameter and 1/4 area can be explored). That is beside the point of this post. The goal is to encourage teachers to view themselves as creative beings. Follow your queries and develop them. Don't be embarrassed to share; this blog is filled with posts I am sheepish about.

My favourite teacher once told me that he was having trouble with curricular reform because he wasn't creative. This was coming from one of the most creative men I had ever learned from. I think this is more common than we think. Share, collaborate, critique, and honour your curiosities. They just might make the difference.

NatBanting

Saturday, April 19, 2014

Conceptualizing Drills

I have students in an enriched class that demand for me to give them more practice. I tell them that we practice mathematics with daily class activities. They don't want practice, they want repeated practice. They are accustomed to receiving repeatable drills to cement understandings. 

I have learned to compromise with this demand. I do believe there is a place for basic skills training in mathematics, and would raise an eyebrow at anyone who claims these unnecessary. I do, however, also believe that the heart of mathematics is problem posing, problem framing, and problem solving. 

Here is how I've infused an ounce of conceptualization into regular drills. (I use this for both practice in a large group discussion, small group rotation format, take home work, as well as unit exams.)

The work begins like many math classrooms with a set of problems to do. In this post, the topic at hand is solving equations (at the Grade 9 level).

I'll give ten or so to show the possible variety in structures, and then begin to ask questions that allow students to think deeper about the rules they just employed. Most of these questions focus on flexible use and mathematical communication. 

Here's a question from my most recent unit exam on solving equations:
The question then reads:

Fill in the blank with the number that makes this equation as simple as possible. Explain your choice.
Once you've explained your choice, go ahead and solve the equation. Show all work. 

The results were fantastic. It was excellent for me, as a teacher worried in skill development as well as deep, conceptual growth, to see that these students were grappling on a deep level with the content when probed to do so. I was assuming that many students might choose "3" to match the denominators on the left-hand side. This scared me, because I felt that I was baiting my students into mistakes. Turns out, not a single student responded with "3". The most popular responses were "2" (foreseeing the first inverse operation), "6" (choosing a LCM of all denominators present), "5" (fully simplifying the fifths), and "1" (assuming that eliminating fractions is always easiest).

Great insight. 

The exam questions are a nice break from traditional assessment while still affording the convenience and balance of a pencil and paper test. My favourite format for these conceptual drills is a small group jigsaw where each group answers, explains, and rationalizes their actions to the larger group. It sparks great discussion. 

Here's a question used in the unit on solving equations:
The question then reads:

Change a single digit from the equation above to make the problem as simple as possible. Explain why you made the choice, and then proceed to solve the equation. Show all work.

Popular choices include changing the "2" to a "1" and shifting the "5" to a "6". These moves both have ample justification and spark great conversations. Eventually the topic of fractions came up, and students said that they would like to avoid them altogether. That led me to the natural extension:

Is there a number that we can replace "2" with to avoid fractions altogether? How many of these numbers exist? How can we find them?

The discussion skyrocketed from there. 

It causes me pause to think about why discussions like these don't happen more often. Is it a time issue? Do teachers see them as wastes of time? Do teachers struggle with the dimensions of problem posing necessary to see beautiful math staring them right in the face? Is it downright confusion of the purpose of mathematics?

**TANGENT: I think teachers don't practice looking for mathematics. We waste our time trying to appear mathematical by partaking in various stereotypical mathematical whimsies such as an undue infatuation with Pi day and the obligatory kudos to binary clocks. There is more to mathematics than surface niceties. 

It is one thing to preach balance but to continually teach at the poles. One day we work on a task and "construct" mathematical knowledge, and the next we "lecture" and "practice". Learning doesn't operate on this notion of average--flip-flopping will only confuse students. We need to develop a curriculum and supporting pedagogy that lives between the two worlds at the same time. Procedural and conceptual are not nearly as mutually exclusive as they are mutually dependent. 

NatBanting

PS. For another foray into this conceptualizing of drills see David Coffey's worksheet adaptation