Sometimes I think that. I get ready to write a post and think, “But everyone already knows that.” I think, “But that is summarized in a bunch of places.” I think, “It must be summarized somewhere, right?”
I’m sure it is.
But maybe someone reading your posts, listening to your teaching, working in your office has never heard of what you are saying.
For example, everyone knows that there are seven different intelligences, right? Some people are word smart. Others are math (logic), or people, or body, or music smart. Others learn best by talking to themselves or by seeing diagrams.
And everyone knows that if you want to help people who are people smart learn, you won’t put them in a lecture, you’ll put them in a study group. Right? And if you want to help people who think visually, you will give them a picture, help them create a diagram, show them a photograph and given them silence to let them listen to it.
And everyone knows that you aren’t weird just because you have to take a walk after listening to three conference presentations in a row, just because walking helps you figure out what someone just said.
Everyone knows that stuff, right?
Which is why no one makes the primary way to deliver content in a conference the words anymore, right? Which is why no one ever says, “I know that I should have more interaction, more movement, more scent or music or poetry…but in the interest of time I’ll just talk.”
Which is why if you are teaching people about loving one another, you would always actually help people to sing together and work together and play together and listen together and talk together and see together and dance together.
Everyone knows that we shouldn’t do that, right?
So I suppose it shouldn’t trouble me that the measure of knowing is a change in behavior.
If you don’t know that, here’s Howard Gardner’s “theory of multiple intelligences”.
And for a previous post in this series on learning and teaching, see “so what, exactly, do you want them to learn?“