I recently had the opportunity to volunteer in my daughter’s classroom to help with a Lego Robotics project. Now, first of all, let me just say that I can’t recall ever doing any projects this cool in middle school. It’s a two part project where the first day involves small groups building and programming a Lego robot named Pullman. The second day the students perform several experiments on their robot. They measure how far he can go on different surfaces carrying different amounts of mass. Afterwards, they have to re-design Pullman using only the Lego pieces available to them to try to get him to go farther, all while carefully documenting the specific changes they made, the reason they made them, and the results. They redo this process as many times as time allows.
Some of the groups went right to work and tried to get through as many of the tests as fast as possible. Others worked more slowly and deliberately. One of the groups abruptly stopped when they ran their second test. They measured a longer distance on the rough surface compared with the smooth one and immediately questioned their results. They thought they had made a mistake and measured incorrectly, so they decided to redo the test. Once again, their measurements confirmed that their robot traveled farther on the rough carpet than on the smooth table. I will fully admit that despite my thirteen years of higher education, I, too, initially thought they must have measured it wrong. They did not. What they did do, however, after several minutes of confusion, was discover the concept of friction and how it impacted their results. Watching a child think is a fascinating process because you can literally watch them think. Everything in their head comes out through their mouth with little filter and you can know exactly where their thoughts are going. You can watch them go from confusion to understanding and see exactly how they got there. Once these kids realized the power of friction, they learned to use it to their advantage when they re-designed their robot. On their second revision, little Pullman went three times farther than on his initial voyage.
Watching all of this happen in the space of less than two hours was an incredible experience for me. Not only did I create a mental image of some very talented future male and female engineers who I’m certain will change our world as we know it, but I learned something valuable from these bright students and their teachers. Data is just data, but what you make that data mean is everything. If you don’t get the result you want or expect, then you have to ask yourself some important questions. How did I obtain this data? Is it reproducible? Is it accurate? Is my hypothesis correct? If not, why?
The last month I’ve been working on some weight loss goals. I’ve been choosing my meals ahead of time and measuring my weight each day. When several weeks went by and the number either stayed the same or went up, I drew some conclusions. Several thoughts went through my mind. Thoughts like, this plan isn’t working. Maybe I should try something else. This is frustrating. I want to stop. And on it went. What I learned over the following week, with the help of some excellent coaching, was that the number on the paper was just a number. What I made that number mean was up to me. I could choose a thought that served me or ones that didn’t. I could analyze the data from a neutral place and honestly evaluate my plan or I could argue with the data. The first thing I noticed when I did this, was that I wasn’t actually following my plan exactly. Of course I already knew this intellectually, but it was easy to ignore when I was drawing false conclusions. How could the plan work when I wasn’t even following it properly? Or what if I was following it properly and it still wasn’t working. Then maybe I needed to make an adjustment to the plan, a re-design like with Pullman. When I treated my data the way the students treated their data, I could escape from a place of confusion and disbelief and simply analyze the numbers and make the necessary adjustments. Kids, unlike adults, don’t argue with reality. They question reality and try to make sense of it, but they don’t argue with it the way us adults are inclined to do. And thus it’s easier for them to move on instead of getting stuck. So like a kid, I stopped arguing with reality. I looked at the numbers with interest and curiosity. I thought about the choices I made each day and what I was willing and not willing to feel to get the result I wanted. And just like that, the weight started to come off. All without changing my plan. I just had to change my thoughts.
Do you argue with reality? If so, how?
