The Gospel of Student-Centered Learning: A Critique

Philosophies of education, like philosophies in other fields, must sooner or later confront the inconvenient divergence of theory and practice. The student-centered classroom is no exception. The Glossary of Education Reform describes student-centered learning in this way:

The term student-centered learning refers to a wide variety of educational programs, learning experiences, instructional approaches, and academic-support strategies that are intended to address the distinct learning needs, interests, aspirations, or cultural backgrounds of individual students and groups of students....educational specialists may employ a wide variety of educational methods, from modifying assignments and instructional strategies in the classroom to entirely redesigning the ways in which students are grouped and taught in a school. (http://edglossary.org/student-centered-learning/)

As with many concepts, student-centered instruction has been defined by its proponents, so student-centered instruction is certain to seem reasonable on its face. But what does student-centered mean when it becomes standard practice in the classroom? As a rule, student-centered learning reduces the role of the teacher from a "sage on a stage" to a "guide on the side", so there is less (or no) lecture, more discussion (but not necessarily teacher-led and -directed), less explicit instruction and more opportunity for students to learn on their own, less (or no) "skill and drill" and more work meant to show deeper thinking and problem solving, less large-group instruction, more small-group learning. Predictably by the logic of this style, rote memorization is completely out, so there is no committing poems to memory or anything of the kind.

Several years ago I worked with a teacher who did something called the "Nifty Fifty", in which students learned to identify each of the 50 states on a map. They did so gradually, methodically, region by region, so that all students, at different rates, became able to point to a map of the United States and identify every state by memory. This teacher retired, and so, apparently, have most of the teachers who did things of this kind. When my fellow younger teachers express disgust about students' lack of knowledge of such content, I am inclined to tell them about the Nifty Fifty. But teachers who attempt to do anything of the kind are going against the grain of educational culture, and they are under considerable pressure not to do such things, or, at least, to do so many other tasks that no time is left for Nifty Fifty-type exercises. This is what happens when elements of traditional instruction are not just modified but abandoned and replaced with a kind student-centered learning, which in almost religious-like fashion is placed (unnecessarily, in my view) in opposition to traditional instructional methods.

Confronted with signs of the pitfalls of excessive (or misplaced) student-centeredness, proponents of the philosophy might attempt to escape responsibility by reiterating their ideals and disowning the flawed implementation. But with any philosophy, the practice will not perfectly align with the theory, so we will always be erring on the side of something. In the student-centered classroom, there is a risk that students will have so much leeway that they will be passed from grade to grade without acquiring knowledge and skill that virtually everyone agrees they should have. This is how we get students who do not know their multiplication facts even after doing multiplication for three years. It is how we get students who do not know the difference between a country and a state, cannot identify the seven continents, or any continents, or say what a continent is. They can always Google the information, we are told. Even if such lack of knowledge is not what the student-centered learning proponents intended, it seems a natural result of the proponents' assumptions.

Which is not to deny that education should focus on the students and be delivered in a way that will be most conducive to all students' learning (rather than, say, easy or convenient for the teacher, or conducive only to the learning of the most gifted students). Good teachers were always student-centered. They were student-centered in the sense that everything they did was for the benefit of the students. They did not just print out a bunch of busy work so that they could sit at their desks and grade papers during class. They planned lessons so that students would learn the subject. They did not just lecture; they called on students to check that they were paying attention and knew the material. They re-explained things as many times as necessary, using language and examples to which the students could relate. Once their students mastered the basic concepts, teachers had students think critically and solve problems using the concepts.

These teachers also had students copy notes, do drills, and things like that, and this, too, was for the students’ benefit. For these teachers, “skill and drill” was not an epithet; it was part of how students achieved mastery of the subject. And yes, they spent time lecturing, and they expected students to listen, take notes, and remember what was taught—that is, they expected students to take responsibility for paying attention and being conscientious about their work. If the student failed to do what he or she was supposed to do, it was the student who was held responsible.

So when the term “student-centered” is used with a religious-like conviction, and especially when it becomes the end of education rather than just the means, we must ask what exactly is meant by the term. This is because the people who use it also disparage “skill and drill”, lecturing, and other methods that generations of teachers used to nurture children into knowledgeable and well-educated adults. So if those “old school” teachers were not student-centered, then who is? And what is student-centered?

An ideal, modern student-centered classroom is often pitted against the image of a very poorly run classroom from a bygone era. It is easy to recall examples of indifferent teachers who lectured to hear themselves talk and made no effort to engage the students, teachers who handed out busy work and sat at their desks throughout class, teachers who might have yelled, “Pay attention” but made no effort to ensure that attention was paid, or that understanding was achieved even if attention were paid—teachers who, to be sure, were not student-centered. But the main problem with these teachers was not that they were not student-centered; the problem was that they were bad teachers. Hand them a student-centered curriculum along the lines we have today, and they probably would make a hash of it. You cannot be a good teacher just by being student-centered. Yet if we take student-centeredness as an indicator of good teaching, we make it difficult to tell a truly good teacher from one who knows how to create the appearance of student engagement but with little evidence of enduring learning.

So even if we agree that education should be student-centered, we should also agree that good teaching takes much more than student-centeredness. Good teaching takes teachers who demand the best from students and will not accept anything less, teachers who will not accept poor excuses, and yes, teachers who make their students practice, practice, practice, even when the students do not find the practice amusing. We need teachers who understand that teachers know best. Yes, a teacher can even, in some ways, be a sage. Without this understanding, student-centered can turn into student-led. Note how easily students are misled by misbehaving peers, with the result that for some students, student-centered small-groups can become an opportunity for a good time unencumbered by school work.

What does a good teacher do, a teacher who is student-centered as properly understood? This teacher might notice the lack of focus in small groups and decide that small groups don’t work well for this class. Mr. Smith might decide that this class needs more large-group teacher-led instruction. Ms. Miller might assign seat work that will demonstrate understanding of the material or alert her to lack of understanding. Mr. Green might lecture in order to provide important information, understanding that there are some things students are not likely to learn on their own, nor to learn by reading a book independently, since their reading ability is basic and their stamina limited, nor to learn by Googling, since Googling something presupposes an interest in the subject, which lack of background knowledge of the subject does little to promote. This teacher would, of course, stop frequently to take and ask questions and engage in discussion with students, but by lecturing instead of hoping they acquire the information from a book or Google, the teacher can observe them in real-time and see signs of attention (or inattention) and modify his instruction accordingly. The teacher can teach better than Google. But yes, the students will have to listen to the teacher and acquire some content from him; the teacher might not be student-centered as some proselytizers define it, but he is a good teacher doing what’s best for his students.

I have discussed a lot about what the teacher does, but what about the student? It is ironic that in the more student-centered classroom, it is the teacher who is mainly held responsible for whether or not the student pays attention. One would think that an emphasis on the student would imply greater responsibility on the student’s part for his or her own learning. This responsibility is not well acknowledged if the teacher is marked down for the student’s choice to sit and not participate in a lesson that has been painstakingly designed to pique her curiosity and interest. Teachers can and should be responsive and sensitive to students’ individual needs, but when the teachers reach out their hands, the students must reach out their own and take them. Students also have to learn to adapt themselves to the demands of the classrooms; of course, this expectation will be fairly low in kindergarten and increase gradually, with the goal being that the high school will graduate students into the higher-learning and/or work world prepared to function according to the demands of the new environment, rather than the environment having to be tailored to meet the new entrants' individual styles and preferences. (Of course, exceptions will always be made for disabilities.)

I doubt that the proponents of student-centered learning meant to have classrooms in which off-task behavior is common and skill mastery and content knowledge lacking. But the desire to cater to students’ individual styles and preferences (as distinguished from accommodating disabilities) can have unintended consequences. We give students a false impression if we teach them (on purpose or not) that everything they have to do in life will or should be highly engaging and amenable to their particular interests and inclinations. Sometimes, we have to not only do things we do not like, but do them in a way that is not ideal for our strengths. So instead of expecting someone to communicate with me solely through email, I must work to overcome my aversion to phone conversation, especially if that is what the boss (or client, or whoever I am answerable to) expects. The time to develop such coping and overcoming strategies is in school.

When we reject the role of the teacher as expert (“sage on the stage”) and portray a good teacher as a “guide on the side”, we do not necessarily provide students, particularly poorly motivated or struggling ones, the strong teacher direction and direct instruction that they need. Students do need guidance, but they also need information, and I don’t think I’m alone in preferring that it come from a live “sage” than an impersonal Internet source. Plus, they need to retain that information in their minds from day to day and year to year rather than relying entirely on Google. This means we need to make them commit some things to memory. The process of memorizing a poem actually facilitates comprehension of the poem, but, indeed, memorization is not fun, and may be harder for some than others, yet we had better make students do it for their own benefit. We are doing less and less of this kind of teaching; we are lauding accountability but more for the teachers than the students. 

The teacher-centered ship, if there ever was such a ship, has sailed. The student-centered classroom is here to stay. But as we lead student-centered classrooms, we must remember that some instructional methods became traditional for good reason and should not be glibly dismissed. Sometimes we will have to move from the side to the stage in order to give some direction in today's more chaotic classroom environment. Of course, we do have to make a number of accommodations and adaptations to students. We do have to meet students where they are, or else they will never find their way to us and achieve the learning that we all agree they should. But we still need to make kids learn things and show that they have learned them, even if doing so sometimes means telling them, telling them again, and then having them tell us what we told them. That is not the entire learning process, but it is part of the learning process, and it is a part of the learning process that we cannot skip if we hope to achieve what the proponents of student-centered learning desire. So when we hear the term student-centered used to identify the be-all-end-all of education, we should at the very least remember what we are sacrificing amid this dramatic change.