To every brain (turn, turn, turn)
There is a season (turn, turn, turn)
And a time to every purpose, in the lesson
A time to start, a time to end
A time to learn new things, a time for practice
A time to study, a time to rest
A time to laugh, a time to weep (and other emotions)
To every brain (turn, turn, turn)
There is a season (turn, turn, turn)
And a time to every purpose, in the lesson
A time to build up (understanding), a time to break down (analysis)
A time to dance and move around
A time to work on your own, a time to gather together
To every brain (turn, turn, turn)
There is a season (turn, turn, turn)
And a time to every purpose, in the classroom
(with apologies to Pete Seeger, the Byrds, and King Solomon)
Time and timing are key elements in the learning process. “Don’t smile before Christmas,” was the advice to a friend training to be a teacher in the UK, where the school year begins in September. “A good Friday-afternoon activity,” runs the tag on a fun classroom game in Penny Ur and Andrew Wright’s classic Five-Minute Activities. Twenty minutes sitting, according to the physiological research, is how long it takes for our students’ blood flow to the brain to decrease and pool in the buttocks and lower extremities, so they need to get up and move to keep thinking clearly.
When to learn something, how long to focus on it, and how frequently to return to it are all issues that have an effect on the quality and durability of the learning. As a teacher, your gut tells you this. As we understand more and more about the brain, we have access to research that supports our intuitive understanding of when to move the lesson on, when to stop and do something else, and when to return to the main teaching point.
Timing, then, is not only the secret of good comedy but also of good learning, and we are beginning to have the answer to questions like the following:
When Is the Right Time to Learn?
If you are a teenager, certainly not 8:30 on a Monday morning. The teenage tendency to go to bed late and attempt to sleep in each morning is not just a product of laziness and/or rebellion, but a result of natural shifts in circadian rhythms for most chronotypes. Carrell et al. (2011) found that delaying the start of school by 50 minutes has a significant impact on academic achievement. Wahlstrom et al. (2014) found similar results with an 80-minute delay and extended their study beyond learning to student-involved traffic accidents, which decreased by 70% when the delay was introduced. This suggests that the battle with adolescent sleepiness is real and that trying to teach out of sync with our students’ circadian rhythms is a losing battle.
The ongoing debate about the best age for a child to start pre-school and then transition to formal learning is also instructive here. Although school systems have specific age requirements, educational researchers talk in terms of school readiness rather than chronological age. Readiness includes independence, social-emotional stamina, the ability to communicate, and brain structures developed enough to deal with the learning (Stipek, 2002). This brings to prominence the variability in the pace at which children develop these skills. This variability does not end with pre-school and it seems clear from this that not all brains are best served by the lockstep, age-based progression imposed by formal education.
As any teacher asked to teach a heavy dollop of grammar after lunch on the last day of the school week knows, time of day can also have a strong influence on students’ readiness to learn. Circadian rhythms have their influence here, too, with most people experiencing a daily peak of energy and attentiveness in the morning, followed by a trough around the middle of the day and a partial recovery in late afternoon (Pink, 2018). Day of the week also makes a difference with attention peaking on a Monday and heading downhill as the week progresses (Burger et al., 2018). No great surprise there.
Looking specifically at language learning, there is strong evidence both from L1 and L2 research that aspects of a language are acquired in a particular order, which is largely impervious to the order in which we try to teach them. In English, plural -s tends to be acquired before third person singular -s, and progressive -ing before past tense -ed. This finding is of most use to curriculum planners and textbook writers, but it does lend weight to the argument that at least part of our teaching should focus on the communication of meaning rather than the production of specific language forms at a certain time.
There is a lot of folk wisdom, and a certain amount of research, behind the idea of “a critical period” for language learning, a time when it is relatively easy to learn a language, followed by a cut-off after which it becomes much more difficult. Lennenberg’s Critical Period Hypothesis (1967) suggested that, for L1 acquisition, the brain is genetically programmed to acquire language only within a specific, biologically-determined time window (from around age 2 to puberty). Lennenberg drew on evidence from children deprived of exposure to language until their mid-teens who never managed to master syntax or grammar. More recent research into brain plasticity across the lifespan has shown that one is never “too old” to learn a language, but that adults use different neural pathways than children when learning a language and benefit from a different approach to learning.
Nowadays, we speak in terms of sensitive, rather than critical, periods for different aspects of language learning: birth to 12 months for phonology, birth to 17 or 18 years for morphosyntax, and throughout the lifespan for semantics (Friederici & Chomsky, 2017). The emphasis here is less on “learn it now or never,” than it is on the ease with which each aspect of a language can be learnt.
When Should We Take a Break from Learning?
Students need breaks in order to process, both consciously and unconsciously, what has been learnt. Teachers, as I’m sure you will agree, also need breaks from the classroom to preserve their mental well-being. But when should they be taken?
Breaks in the school year are notoriously based on socio-cultural, rather than pedagogical, exigencies. Time off to help with the harvest, to observe religious traditions, and (one from my own part of the world) to coincide with down-time at local factories are among the customs that have shaped specific school years.
What would the school year look like if it was based solely on pedagogical concerns? I asked Google’s resident AI to answer this question. Here’s what it came up with:
- Students would attend school for 9 to 12 weeks, followed by a 3- to 4-week multi-purpose break before the pattern repeats.
- Total days in school would expand from around 180 days to 200–220 days, because the time is distributed better.
- The 3–4 week breaks between study blocks wouldn’t just be “vacation.” The first two weeks would be true rest. The remaining weeks would be used for voluntary, low-stakes experiential learning, passion projects, camp-style socialization, or intensive targeted remediation for struggling students.
Sounds ideal? Maybe so (if you are not a parent or a factory-owner). The plan is certainly based on a sound understanding of how learning works best if it is spaced (see below) and supported both inside the classroom and out. One could then go on to re-structure the school week and the school day accordingly.
On a more micro-level, we need breaks within a lesson, too. The information about blood in the buttocks rather than the brain in my first paragraph points nicely to the need to get students out of their seats every 20-30 minutes. Sousa (2011) reports that standing up and moving for just 60 seconds increases the flow of blood to the brain by 15%. Why is blood flow to the brain so important? Because it brings with it oxygen, an essential fuel for brain operations. Perhaps counterintuitively, these short, non-cognitive breaks actually enhance learning, since the brain goes back to the recently delivered content and tries to integrate it into memory
These statistics led Marc Helgesen to develop a series of “Energy Breaks,” brief activities, some language-based, some not, that can be used to get students out of their seats and moving. I use them every 20 minutes or so to break up long university language lessons. Students return to their seats refreshed and more ready to learn.
Of course, a break doesn’t just mean getting up and moving. It can simply be a change from one activity type to another. Attention spans around the world are shrinking. While this is not a trend that teachers would want to encourage, it is a reality we are having to learn to live with. Fortunately, the need to change activities in order to keep students’ attention fits in with one of the most widely researched keys to more effective learning: interleaving. Instead of teaching/learning one topic at a time, we are encouraged to alternate between topics within a single study session. The cognitive effort involved in jumping from one topic to the other and back again enhances learning and increases retention. Interleaving certainly increases the cognitive challenge for the learner but this is considered to be a desirable difficulty because of the benefits it brings to learning. So, maybe short attention spans are not entirely bad news.
When Should We Return to a Topic?
Repetition (drilling, re-reading, reviewing) is one of the preferred study strategies of students the world over. They seem to need no convincing of that. When, though, should they (or we) repeat a lesson or return to a topic? “Just before the test,” is likely to be the first answer that comes to students’ minds, but we know that this approach is not conducive to long-term learning.
A meta-analysis of 242 studies showed that spaced repetition is the most effective among commonly used learning strategies. I find that, left to their own devices, students will just repeat and repeat and then give up, without understanding that spacing their repetitions systematically will lead them most efficiently to their goal of remembering. The exact recommended spacing (1st – 3rd – 7th – 14th day v. 2nd – 3rd – 5th – 7th day, and several others) can vary but the principle is the same: as time goes on the spaces between repetitions get longer and longer, until there is almost no forgetting. A number of vocabulary learning apps (eg., Anki) take the math out of the system and repeat items from the user’s list at an interval based on the speed and accuracy of the user’s recall.
For teachers, spaced repetition can be combined with retrieval practice, another effective, research-backed study practice. Regular, low-stakes vocabulary tests give students a chance to review new vocabulary (before the test) and retrieve it from memory (during the test). The research shows that retrieval is a much more powerful aid to memory than simple review. As a result, regularly including in the tests not only new words but words studied some time ago gives students both a reason to review them and a chance to retrieve them. Letting time elapse between “retrieval chances” (i.e., tests of specific words) is a form of spaced repetition and can only improve the chances of students making the word part of their repertoire.
Of course, time doesn’t really exist. It is a construct, a heuristic that helps us make sense of the disparate experiences that life brings us. Nevertheless, it has many and varied impacts on our work as language learners and teachers. Some of those impacts are explored in this Think Tank. Take some time to savour what our authors have provided.
Stephen M. Ryan is enjoying the time afforded by his recent retirement from Sanyo Gakuen University to pursue his interest in language learning and the brain.
