In the realm of teaching, we often explore various pedagogical approaches, yet one that often raises questions is behaviorism. My recent reflections have led me to question whether behaviorism, a method that shapes behaviour through controlled environmental changes, is used more negatively than positively in education today.
Behaviorism, for the purpose of this discussion, refers to how teachers manipulate the learning environment through rewards and punishments to encourage certain behavior’s. But is this really the right approach? As someone who has unknowingly used behaviorism in my own teaching, I’ve discovered it’s not simply about what you use, but how you use it. In this post, I’ll reflect on two distinct ways I’ve applied behaviorism and the outcomes I’ve observed.
Behaviorism in Mandatory Examinations
One clear example of behaviorism in my teaching was the implementation of mandatory examinations. In this system, students were required to achieve a pass on pre-exam assessments to qualify for the final exam. On reflection, this system was driven purely by external motivators—students completed tasks not for learning, but out of fear that they would be barred from the exam.
This is a classic example of behaviorism: students were not motivated by a desire to learn but by a fear of exclusion. And while this method ensured compliance, it did little to nurture genuine learning. In hindsight, this approach fostered an atmosphere of pressure and fear, where students aimed to “survive” the course rather than thrive. I now see that this use of behaviorism was counterproductive—it engaged students through fear, not curiosity or interest.
Behaviorism in Rewarding Bug Badges
On the flip side, I found a more positive application of behaviorism when I introduced “bug badges” in my teaching. If students found mistakes in the course materials, they were rewarded with a badge—turning what could have been a negative experience into a positive one.
In this instance, behaviorism worked to encourage students to engage with the material more critically. They no longer feared mistakes but saw them as opportunities to learn and improve. And, interestingly, this positive reinforcement not only impacted the students—it changed my perspective as a lecturer. No longer did I feel the need to be perfect. Instead, mistakes became part of the process for both myself and my students.
This shift was significant. By reframing how we approached mistakes, behaviorism became a tool for growth rather than a mechanism for control.
In education, behaviorism can be both a tool and a weapon. Used negatively, as with mandatory examinations, it can foster fear and compliance. But when applied positively, as in the case of bug badges, it can nurture critical thinking, collaboration, and growth.
Ultimately, it’s not just what we use in teaching that matters, but how we use it. While behaviorism has its critics, I believe it can be a powerful method for cultivating positive behavior’s—when applied thoughtfully and with care.