Brain, brain, go away; come again another day

Why the Brain Matters. A teacher explores neuroscience by John Tibke ISBN 978-1-4739-9291-7 (pbk), Corwin, 204 pp., 2019.

Reviewed by Andrys Onsman

I have no idea whether Jon Tibke has finished his doctoral studies yet but judging by the conceptual clarity of his writing in Why the Brain Matters I’d say he’s got it in the bag. He has produced a short, excellent and timely book, and although it is aimed at secondary school teachers, its readership should be far wider than that because in my opinion it is one of the best books on introductory neuro-cognition on the market. Its strength includes the author’s willingness to say what is known, what remains unknown and what our best guess is (so far) on the bits in between. Given that he is talking from his (often stated) perspective as a teacher, it is an excellent snap shot of where we are at in neuroscience now, and how both what we know and what we don’t know might be used to improve learning and teaching in secondary schools (and elsewhere).

There is a pleasing logic to the sequence of the chapters, based on answering four simple questions: Why should teachers be interested in neuroscience? What should we know and what can we ignore? How can we use it in our practice? What does the future hold? His answers are clear, coherent and grounded in actual research, and are also kernels of ideas that serve as solid bases for further reading and consideration. The first chapter outlines the reasons why teachers ought to keep an eye on developments in the field. His consideration of the term ‘brain-based learning’, based on asking ‘what learning does not involve the brain?’ won me over immediately. His advice is to not accept the reductionist jargon without examination because a lot of it is wankery (my term, not his). I agree that the promulgation of vague, incomplete ideas tarted up with glib terminology that carelessly assume universality has done too much damage in the past. A reasonable understanding of what happens in the brain of a learner helps teachers realise that idiosyncracy is the norm and treating students equally isn’t the same as treating them equitably.

Foregoing a general description of the brain and its elemental functions, Tibke outlines what he believes teachers and students should know and points to a few sites and books for further detail. All the examples and references are secondary school-related but they also exemplify the broader context. There were a few sites that I was not familiar with, mainly the English ones, but they seemed to be helpful and well researched when I looked at them. I’m sure there are sites of the same quality in Australia, Europe and even the USA if you look judiciously enough. Both the first two chapters include a synthesis of the ideas presented: Tibke is very good at putting his analytical comments into a useful context. Unlike other books on the subject, his is a ‘big picture’ approach that doesn’t get bogged down in detail but also doesn’t skimp on evidence.

The chapter dispelling the neuromyths should be compulsory reading for every parent and teacher as a barricade against the host of pseudoscience charlatans scamming the gullible public. Smart drugs, AI interfaces, sleep, brain scans and more are discussed and placed in one of 3 baskets: true, not true or possible-but-we-need-to-know-more. Tibke picks a few of the more currently controversial ones to exemplify his strategy of assessing whether they are true, and it seems to me to be a relatively easy way to do your own fact-checking.

The chapter on schools being involved in research is the most problematic: not conceptually, the idea is fine but in practice. Tibke uses the BrainCanDo project at Queen Anne School in England as the basis for his argument that getting real research into schools is beneficial to students. I know a bit about the cited study on music and I’m not entirely convinced that the outcomes are as readily generally interpretable as Müllensiefen implies. Tibke does acknowledge that although there are correlational links between learning music and general learning, there is no causal relationship. The Queen Anne study is ongoing and results won’t be in for a few years, but my money is on more correlation and exactly the same causality. Nonetheless, Müllensiefen’s work is definitely worth reading if you are interested in music (but bear in mind his output is prodigious).

The chapter on Temple Grandin and Barbara Arrowsmith Young will be interesting for anyone who hasn’t come across them yet because both are remarkable and inspiring women. Grandin is the reluctant superstar of Autism, an American academic whose life has been documented in an eponymous TV movie starring Clare Danes. There is also a lot of interest in Arrowsmith Young’s approach to helping learners develop conceptual structures even though there is also a great deal of contestation about it and not everyone links it to neuroplasticity in such a direct fashion. Even Norman Doidge himself doesn’t fully endorse her program. It is good to see that Tibke doesn’t shy away from the controversy. He even quotes Tim Hannan from Charles Sturt who points out that none of her claims have ever been subjected to clinical rigour. Tibke seems unperturbed by the anecdotal nature of her writing but as someone who has trod a reasonably similar path in early education, I am far from convinced about the universality of her claims. That’s not to say I would counsel against using her approach but rather to be careful about where, when and with whom.

The chapter on ‘Skills, Learning Needs and the Brain’ is for me the centrepiece of the book. But I acknowledge that I am interested in pretty much the same things that Tibke is, so in the interests of fairness I happily acknowledge a possible bias. Overall, the chapter is a pretty decent summary of the state of play at the moment, at least from a teacher perspective. It doesn’t claim to be a compendium of everything in the field – imagine how big a tome that would be! It focusses on literacy and to a lesser degree on numeracy, then serves up a pretty good summary of creativity that morphs into the skills required to maximise learning. At 20 pages, it is the chapter I would distribute among teachers – having paid the appropriate amount of money therefore, of course – to start discussions and excite interest. Although a couple of small questions remain about the literacy part (Did Gardner really say that??) the section on creativity is the best thumb-nail overview I’ve ever read. The parts on habit formation, attention formation and retention are brief but accurate and easy to read.

I am less enamoured with the section on Autism. It is solid in terms of its accuracy, but I get concerned that in summarising the issue a deal of the nuance and individual variation gets lost and even the slightest whiff of uncertainty allows the profit and/or fame-seeking scammers in. Regardless of the incontrovertibility of the evidence and data about Autism, ASC and ADHD, a disproportionate number of people (i.e. parents and teachers) prefer the balderdash and faux psychobabble of the tabloids. If Elle and Andrew say inoculation causes Autism, it must be true. It isn’t. Macpherson’s claim to being a wellness advocate has lost all credibility, and Wakefield is a self-serving fraud. Ironically, neuroscience can explain why facts don’t change people’s minds. In the last chapter Tibke flies a few kites trying to predict What Lies Ahead. He points out that bringing research into the classroom still has some ethical issues to resolve – who owns the data, what safeguards are in place, the unevenness of adoption and so on – but he argues that, for him, all that can be overcome, and the benefits far outweigh the risks. His enthusiasm is infectious. There is a long list of trails that research and development in neuroscience might choose to follow, always qualified by the understanding that any one of them might lead nowhere while some others might turn into superhighways.

And to finish, Tibke re-iterates (after several earlier iterations) that this is his take on neuroscience in the school, based on the research and reading he has done, and his enthusiasm for particular aspects. I guess it’s meant as an apologia of sorts, but it has an air of apology about it. I don’t think it is necessary because the book stands up very well on its own merits and as everyone working on research in any science or art knows, every book like this is subjective. We all (should) know that no one these days is entirely objective and omniscient. What he puts forward as (propositional) knowledge is sound and his interpretations are valid. For that no apology is necessary.

The references are selective but excellent – every issue in the book can be followed by anyone whose interest is piqued. Why the Brain Matters is an outstanding book from a skilled communicator and an experienced and enthusiastic educator. I recommend it as an accessible entry point for everyone who has an interest in neuroscience, especially secondary school teachers. It isn’t condescending in its reductionism and it is illuminating in its synthesising of ideas into a context. And where it needs to be it is provocative. In short, it is exactly what a mainstream book on neuroscience ought to be.

And I hope he does well in his doctoral studies. Should he still be engaged in them.

Andrys Onsman is Adjunct Associate Professor at the Sir Zelman Cowen School of Music, Monash University, Australia. He is author of Experimentation in improvised jazz – Chasing ideas. (Routledge, 2019) with Rob Burke. Contact: onsman@hotmail.com