“Science of reading.” “Science of learning.” “Science of math. There appear to be more “science ofs” than you can shake a stick at.

Here’s one educator’s cautions about a “science of math.”

‘Science Cannot by Itself Prescribe Every Instructional Decision’

Rene Grimes, Ph.D., is a special education teacher-preparation instructor with
graduate degrees in neuroeducation, learning disabilities, and behavior disorders; and whose teaching experience spans general education, special education, and English as a second language classrooms:

Teachers are increasingly being asked to implement instructional practices because “the science says ...” Learning, reading, mathematics, writing—all increasingly invoke the “science of ...” as justification for instructional decisions. That trend matters because the phrase carries rhetorical weight. It can suggest not only that evidence exists but that questions have largely been answered.

Sara Schwartz recently summed up the current status of how well-intentioned calls for change that have evolved around the science of reading and asked if math is next. A group of math researchers think so.

During the pandemic, a few researchers established the Science of Math, in part hoping to build on the attention generated by the science of reading movement. In addition to papers and interviews, the researchers created a website outlining some research, possible misconceptions, and offered recommendations: Some claims on the website do not have citations, and others only list minimal research. Although Science of Math is not a formal organization, it is a group of individuals who care deeply about math education: researchers, administrators, educators, and families.

Unfortunately, the findings from math-related research to date do not provide evidence that can translate broad principles of learning into step-by-step prescriptions for every classroom. As Ken Koediner and colleagues (2013) argued, if we looked at just 15 principles of learning, (e.g., interleaved practice, feedback, scaffolding), three different dosage levels, and two choices of when to include these during instruction, we’d come up with 205 trillion options. No teacher has time for that.

By the time research reaches the classroom, much of its uncertainty around exact instructional decisions has disappeared—not because any uncertainty was resolved, but because uncertainty was translated into definitive recommendations. Teachers ultimately inherit the burden of applying the science while working within adopted curricula, district policies, and the needs of students sitting in their classrooms. We have a large body of research about how humans learn, but science cannot by itself prescribe every instructional decision. The responsibility of translating science is not to eliminate uncertainty but to communicate it honestly.

A clear threat to translating science into practice is going beyond what the data show. In response to Sarah Schwartz’s question of whether the science of math needs to evolve, consider one example, a cautionary tale. The Science of Math website states that “timed activities are necessary to promote math mastery when students have established a high level of accuracy and conceptual understanding.” When is that, exactly?

The literature cited to support this claim comes from the Institute of Education Sciences practice guide for “Assisting Students Struggling with Mathematics: Intervention in the Elementary Grades,” which assigned strong evidence to timed activities. That conclusion rests on 27 studies evaluating multicomponent interventions, making it difficult to isolate whether timing itself produced the observed gains. Three studies examined the fluency-building components separately; only one measured timed vs. untimed activities, and the activities were not identical. Because the fluency conditions did not use identical activities, the findings cannot establish timing as the essential ingredient.

I highlight this example not as a claim for or against timed activities; far from it. Instead, I urge everyone who translates research to responsibly distinguish evidence from interpretation. Invoking science extends beyond conducting rigorous research. It includes communicating the limits of what that research can—and cannot—support.

Acknowledging uncertainty does not mean classrooms should become a free-for-all. That is chaos. Rather, it calls for humility from everyone involved and requires recognizing both what the evidence supports and its limits. This can feel uncomfortable in professions driven by the urgency and desire to improve students’ lives. Yet, failing to acknowledge uncertainty may itself become the barrier to improvement. When science is treated primarily as a body of settled knowledge rather than as an ongoing process of inquiry, we risk communicating a certainty that science itself does not claim.

Honoring science requires examining how evidence changes as it moves through the system. Every implementation and interpretation raises new questions. The question is not whether we should use the phrase “the science of ...” The question is whether we are willing to accept the responsibilities that accompany invoking it.

If we invoke science to justify instructional decisions, then we must also adopt the habits that make science trustworthy: asking careful questions, distinguishing evidence from interpretation, and remaining open to revision. The authority we borrow from science should never exceed the authority the evidence provides. It requires that each of us commits to ensuring that science remains what it has always been: a continuous process of learning. Science is never settled because its greatest strength is its willingness to continue asking questions.

Should the science of math evolve? Yes—if evolution means bringing greater attention to mathematics while demanding stronger evidence for instructional recommendations. As the “science of ...” any topic continues to evolve, we should proceed with precision, humility, and curiosity—not by treating inquiry as settled but by continually asking what the evidence supports, what it does not, and what we still need to learn.
Five Questions to Ask:

• What question did the original research actually investigate?
• Which students, settings, and outcomes were studied?
• Does the evidence directly support this recommendation, or is the recommendation partly an interpretation?
• What limitations or unanswered questions should shape its use?
• What evidence will show whether this approach is working for our students?

Thanks to Rene for contributing her thoughts.

Consider contributing a question to be answered in a future post. You can send one to me at lferlazzo@epe.org. When you send it in, let me know if I can use your real name if it’s selected or if you’d prefer remaining anonymous and have a pseudonym in mind.

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