By Jade Solomon, CSTA Equity Fellow 2024–25
I walked into my classroom one recent morning, running on half a cup of coffee and a fraction of a lesson plan. The Wi-Fi had gone down the night before, erasing my half-finished slides for the day’s coding activity. Rather than scramble, I glanced at the closet, spotted a neglected box of Strawbees, and thought, We’ll improvise.
If you haven’t heard of Strawbees, they’re those small plastic connectors paired with colorful straws—a deceptively simple tool that can transform a group of restless middle schoolers into budding engineers. In my San Francisco public school, many of my students are newcomers who are learning English alongside programming concepts. For them, the shift from purely abstract lessons to something tactile and immediate can be a game-changer.
I dragged the box onto a table at the front of the room just as the bell rang. When students filed in, I announced, “We’re building stuff today—no screens.” At first, they looked skeptical. Without my usual slides or step-by-step coding instructions, they wondered if this was even real class. But within minutes, the mood changed. Conversation and laughter bubbled up as they rummaged through the box, connecting straws in lopsided shapes.
A Spark of Curiosity
Little by little, curiosity took over. One student started making a tall, precarious tower with interlocking triangles. Another insisted on seeing how long a “bridge” could stretch across two desks without collapsing. The classroom became a small workshop, full of half-formed prototypes, scattered straws, and excited chatter.
I soon realized that these unplanned, hands-on moments were hitting more of my teaching goals than I’d anticipated. Students were negotiating group roles, testing physics concepts, and picking up new English vocabulary as they searched for words like “stability” and “connection.” Some even talked about coding possibilities—wondering how they could integrate sensors or servo motors if we paired these structures with a microcontroller later on.
No Perfect Blueprint
I always pride myself on being prepared—especially in a school where learning needs vary widely. It can feel like a risk to ditch the slides and rely on spontaneity. But I’ve learned that not every day requires a perfect blueprint. The most memorable moments often involve pivoting when the plan falls through. In many ways, it parallels debugging code: you spot an unexpected error, experiment with possible fixes, and discover new insights in the process.
That day, I offered minimal direction. The only requirement was to build something that stood on its own and served a clear function—like a bridge, a crane, or a contraption that opened and closed. By stepping back, I saw my students step up. They naturally fell into the roles of architects, engineers, and problem-solvers, discussing stability, load-bearing solutions, and angles.
Embracing Productive Struggle
One student, who usually hesitates to ask for help, proudly showed me a pyramidal structure braced by multiple straw supports. “It’s like a truss bridge,” she said, glowing with excitement. Another group struggled to figure out why their suspension design kept falling. They tried taping on extra straws, adjusting angles, and eventually realized they needed a wider base. With every iteration, they grew more comfortable with the idea that mistakes aren’t an endpoint—they’re part of the process.
That acceptance of “productive struggle” is something I aim to nurture in my coding units. I often worry newcomers or less confident students might feel overwhelmed by debugging. Yet watching them tackle a purely physical challenge with Strawbees reminded me that resilience can be developed in many forms. When they return to coding, I’ll remind them how they persevered through straw-bridge collapses, and that debugging code is just another version of the same creative problem-solving.
A Community of Makers
By the end of the period, the classroom was a chaotic masterpiece. Straws and connectors littered the floor; half-finished towers and catapults lined the desks. But the buzz of discovery was palpable. Even students who rarely spoke up were showing off their creations or offering to help others stabilize a sagging structure.
I couldn’t help but imagine how we might expand on this new energy. Perhaps next time, we’ll hook a BBC micro:bit to a Strawbees-based vehicle that can navigate across the classroom floor. Or we’ll attach sensors that trigger lights or sounds when a straw contraption moves. The possibilities are endless, and so is my students’ appetite for these hands-on experiences.
Looking Ahead
That day reminded me of a simple truth: sometimes the best lessons aren’t the ones we meticulously plan but the ones that arise from necessity—and from trusting our students’ innate creativity. After all, computer science is as much about mindset as it is about syntax. We teach them how to code loops and conditionals, sure—but we also teach them to be curious, persist, and embrace experimentation.
If you ever find yourself short on time or a fully fleshed-out lesson, don’t panic. Maybe all you need is a dusty box of connectors, a willingness to improvise, and the faith that your students will find a spark of genius when given room to explore. Whether you’re setting up a formal unit or chasing an unplanned moment of inspiration, keep an eye out for those open-ended opportunities. You might be surprised by how high your students can build—both literally and in their own self-confidence.
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About the Author
Jade Solomon is a Computer Science and Math teacher at Everett Middle School in San Francisco, CA, where she teaches 6th, 7th, and 8th-grade Computer Science and co-teaches Math 7 with the Resource Specialist Program (RSP). With a Master of Arts in Teaching Mathematics from Stanford’s Graduate School of Education (GSE), Jade is committed to making STEM education inclusive and engaging. She uses Complex Instruction to promote collaboration through group work and structured roles, creating a dynamic and supportive learning environment.
Outside the classroom, Jade’s approach to teaching is shaped by her experience with positive reinforcement training for her energetic puppy, Rutabaga. She also cares for seven pet snakes, each in its own bio-active terrarium. With a background in Psychology and Computer Science, Jade spent a decade as an active member of Noisebridge Hackerspace, a nonprofit dedicated to community-driven education and innovation.