For an upcoming workshop for ASCD on feedback I spent a few days re-reading various books and articles, and looking at some online resources. Alas, yet again I encountered basic confusion on the meaning of feedback, and sloppiness in the use of the term.
Loosely speaking, of course, feedback means anything we say back to a person who has said or done something. So, it is not uncommon to hear educators say that “Good job!” and “Try harder next time!” are examples of feedback. Yet, strictly speaking, neither is feedback: the first phrase is praise and the second phrase is advice. Feedback is information about what happened, in light of a goal; there is no praise, blame, or advice, just actionable data from some result.
There is a performance goal; we act on it; there is a result of some kind. That result, strictly speaking is the feedback. What teachers say, therefore, is only a secondary kind of feedback. What teacher-coaches do in giving feedback is point out what happened that may not have been noticed by the performer. Think of clinical supervision: I report as an observer, based on your goal for the day and your general desire to engage, the facts of what I saw in light of the goals, no more. You ask me at the end of the lesson what I saw. I say: “For the first 12 minutes all eyes were on you and body language suggested engagement. But by 20 minutes in, I counted 4 kids doodling, 2 with their heads on the table, and 2 in the back having a side conversation. I think you lost them at the discussion of dramatic irony.” “Hm, I didn’t see that; I knew by the end, though, that I had lost them…”  No value judgment, no advice, just data ‘fed back’ to you in light of your goal; data that you likely missed because you were busy teaching – that’s feedback. (That’s why even pro’s need coaches!).
Key point, though: as suggested, you often don’t need people to get good feedback; you just need to be more observant and/or record your performance for later review. If you had set up a Flip camera on a tripod and faced the camera at the class you would have seen the feedback yourself! Too many people believe that all feedback needs to be one-on-one from a trusted other. Not true: you just need actionable data about what did or didn’t happen in light of your goal.
You tell a joke about slow learners in your class that you think is a riot; none of your teacher-friends laugh. Their lack of laugh is the feedback. Then, you tell a joke about the Principal; everyone laughs hard. Their laughter is feedback. No one praised you, criticized you or gave you advice on joke-telling. All you need as the performer is to pay attention to what worked and what didn’t to make considerable progress (which is often what comedians do).
That’s what computer games give us so well: useful, timely, ongoing results. We get immediate feedback as to whether we knocked over the pillars and mashed the pig with the angry bird or not. No talk of any kind; no praise, no advice – just “it worked” or “it didn’t”.  And we learn from this something valuable for the long term: the more we pay close attention to results, the better we will become; we will also slowly but surely learn to stop confusing good-faith-effort with achievement.
When do you need advice? When you don’t know what the feedback is (as in the supervision example), when you don’t know what it means, or you don’t know how to act on it.  “Jokes about your superiors are always funny while jokes about children seem cruel; tell more jokes about your superiors or elders” is advice a comedian might give to a fledgling teacher-comic. Or, the advice might be more about audience: “don’t tell jokes about kids to groups of teachers or parents of young children; tell it to older parents – they will laugh hard!” (Whether or not you like or take the advice is not the point here; what the veteran comic did was give you advice, based on the feedback).
A second key point, then, is that advice – if it comes – only comes AFTER feedback has been obtained and pondered. In other words, the giving of advice is not always needed, and should only be given if the person asks for it or is in clear need of help. Why does this matter? Because far too many teachers give too much advice and not enough feedback. And they say Good Job! a hundred times a day without helping the student know what the feedback is that gave rise to the praise. By quickly giving advice every time – a teacher weakness – you end up sounding bossy and (ironically) somewhat insensitive to that particular performance.
When do you need praise? You don’t need nearly as much as most teachers believe, especially teachers of young children. Praise is ok; but praise doesn’t get you better. And too much praise without feedback will have two undesirable effects: make the learner think the job is to earn praise (instead of learn to do the task well for its own sake), and confuse the learner about what the task and its purpose are. Worse, as Carol Dweck has pointed out, praising ability instead of the specific features of effort and result over time causes students to plateau and even regress as learners when the going gets difficult.
Practically speaking what you should do is always think of the phrase “Good job!” as not a complete sentence. It should be the introduction to a piece of feedback. “Good job: in this introduction to your paper, you hooked me as a reader far more than in the last one. It was very effective to begin your essay with a provocative question.” Learners often do not know what they did to warrant the praise! That’s why in technical terms a feedback system is a “confirmation/disconfirmation” system: I need results/data/comments that help me better understand when i did something right when the performance is complex. More generally, think of rubrics as the source of your sentence-finisher. Get in the habit of following “good job” or “Gee that didn’t go so well” with the descriptive language from your rubrics.
The greatest example of this message I have ever personally witnessed was at a Little League practice. By good fortune one of our coaches was related by marriage to the hitting instructor for the Trenton Thunder, a former major-leaguer named Steve Braun. His method was simple and powerful. Each kid hit off a batting tee while Steve put a ball from the bucket on the tee. He didn’t engage in pleasantries or even ask all the kids their names. He watched intently as they swung and hit the ball into the net. After each kid had hit a bucket he described the highlights of what he saw in their swing, an area of weakness, and one piece of useful advice. He then set up another bucket so they could try out acting on the feedback and the advice. He would sometimes on the second round call attention to when they were getting it or falling back into their error. Every kid made extraordinary progress and walked away as proud and excited as could be. No praise, no blame, limited advice, lots of feedback.
I know from personal experience what happens when you give more feedback and less advice and praise: you become MORE respected by learners, and you become a better observer of learning. You gain the learner’s respect because you are taking the time and trouble to see things in their performance that they did not; they respect both your attention to their work and your insight. You don’t disingenuously praise (which they recognize quickly as learners and dislike). And you gain greater insight into learning (or its absence) as you pay deliberately closer attention to the effects of your teaching instead of just assuming that if you taught it they got it.
In addition, it is often the case that when the learner really gets the feedback they can can give themselves advice. That of course is key to developing both confidence and competence over the long haul. The goal should be to wean students from always asking “Is this what you wanted?” and “What should I do, then?” over time.
So, try to give less praise and more feedback, less advice and more feedback. Try to explain in detail the source of any praise. And try to set up non-human feedback systems so that students get used to looking at and learning from results instead of Authority figures (and so you are freed up to work with more kids).
PS: A brand new report on the importance of feedback in writing came out today from the Carnegie corporation.
I look forward to your feedback.

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8 Responses

  1. Thanks for such a clear, concise description of what does and does not constitute feedback. I look forward to implementing this with my students. To give you some feedback, the part I found most beneficial was the description of the hitting coach – a very concrete example. Thanks!

  2. Thanks for sharing your thinking about this – it’s always an adventure to explore the various definitions for what, in theory, seem like simple words.
    To that end, I’m wrestling with your use of “feedback” and “data” as synonymous. You said: “For the first 12 minutes all eyes were on you and body language suggested engagement. But by 20 minutes in, I counted 4 kids doodling, 2 with their heads on the table, and 2 in the back having a side conversation.” To me, these are examples of data, not feedback. Your last sentence, though, seemed like feedback. “I think you lost them at the discussion of dramatic irony.” In your example, the speaker acted upon the data he collected when sharing that last observation, making it fundamentally different from the other items in the list.
    In each of your examples, the person giving feedback is acting upon data they’ve collected. For example, Mr. Braun didn’t describe what he saw. If he had given feedback as I interpreted your definition, he would have said: You stood at a 90 degree angle to the ground. You held the bat three inches from the end. You rested the bat on your shoulder for 3 seconds. Your knees were soft and your elbows close to your sides. When you explained his feedback, you said he “described the highlights of what he saw in their swing, an area of weakness, and one piece of useful advice”. That, to me, is feedback; fundamentally different than data as each statement implies reflection on and synthesis of what he observed.
    I’m not sure if this is a semantics thing or me over-thinking the issue but as someone who works with schools around data, I often seen educators equate their judgement with data. For example, an administrator observes 4 kids doodling. When I ask about his observation, or data, he tells me, “the students were bored.” Many educators leapfrog over data to judgement, making it difficult to have a shared conversation about our observations, or to be neutral about what we’re analyzing.
    Additionally, I’m wondering about your schema of praise/advice and the absence of the flip side of the feedback coin – criticism. I think people struggle just as much with criticism as they do with praise. Even when hedging by calling it “constructive criticism”, I think adults and students struggle with how to frame their thoughts in a way that is meaningful to the learner as you described it. To that end, I’m wondering about your thoughts on the Tuning Protocol framework of “Warm and Cool feedback”?
    So to put all that in action using the framework I’m most familiar with, my data and feedback on this post.
    Data:
    * You provided background knowledge about your reason for writing
    * You explained your understanding of what feedback
    * You gave the reader an example of how feedback changes in different conditions
    * You presented the concept of praise (as separate from advice) and gave an example
    Warm:
    By presenting a definition and then providing a series of examples, I was able to clearly follow your thinking and get a better understanding of where you’re coming from.
    Your specific quotes and examples when explaining praise and advice helped me to think differently about two concepts that I’d never really thought about in conjunction.
    When you returned to self-assessment at the end of your piece, I was able to strengthen the connection between work that I do with rubrics and the feedback process.
    Cool:
    I’m wondering about the multiple meanings of “feedback”. For example, we have feedback from a speaker, feedback from Angry Birds, and feedback we give ourselves or receive from others. If that’s the case, I’m wondering if some of the different definitions you saw were because the authors were focusing on the 3rd meaning, not the 1st or 2nd which are closer to the “official definition: The return of a portion of the output of a process or system to the input, especially when used to maintain performance or to control a system or process.
    I was confused by this sentence: “Not true: you just need actionable data about what did or didn’t happen in light of your goal.” in the light of a previous statement: “data that you likely missed because you were busy teaching – that’s feedback”. If you need actionable data in order to generate feedback, how can the second sentence be true?
    … and my praise: Thanks so much for sharing that new Carnegie study! As an advocate for Quality Rubrics, I was thrilled to see so many references to rubrics in the study.

  3. I greatly appreciate your attention language and argument here. However, I don’t think I defined feedback as data. I define feedback as what did or did not happen in light of a goal. The judgment as to what it means is something else; and a value judgment about how ‘good’ or ‘bad’ this is is a third thing. I agree with you wholeheartedly that people jump over data to judgment – my example could have been a bit cleaner in that regard. The key takeaway for all educators in this is: learn to observe, listen, and describe; delay judgment as to meaning and evaluation until you have enough neutral information.
    What makes the ‘data’ feedback in my supervision story is that the goal is known and hovering over the conversation: I am giving you goal-related data, and that is what feedback is. What I saw and heard, given the lens of your goal. Without a clear performance goal, feedback is random and typically unhelpful, in my experience.
    I know the warm/cool protocol well: Joe McDonald (who originally developed it) was my colleague at Brown when we worked for Ted Sizer. if you look at our protocol in the Understanding by Design peer review materials you’ll see it is similar. I personally find the words warm and cool unhelpful. I think the challenge is not to fall all over oneself to say just the right thing mindful of fragile egos. The challenge is to give useful descriptive information freed up from value-laden feelings and language. As my baseball example suggests – and as American Idol’s Simon Cowell showed – the words can sitting but be more helpful than if everything is sugar coated.
    As for the confusing sentence: When teaching most of us have blind spots. We cannot see and hear all that is happening while we are busy teaching. So student behavior related to my goal that I none the less don’t see or hear is still feedback. That’s no different than a coach who tells the kid in Little League: you keep watching the pitcher’s face instead of tracking the ball, so you swing and miss. The kid swears they were watching the ball! So, it takes more practice, tips, advice and feedback before they realize that indeed the feedback is accurate.

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