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4 Proven Steps to Fade Support Across Lessons

Pedagogy · STEAM

4 Proven Steps to Fade Support Across Lessons

Fading isn’t just a single-lesson skill — you fade support across lessons too.

⏱ 6 min read · By Matt Faulkner · Pedagogy / STEAM

Part 2 of this series looked at fading inside a single lesson. It covered the signals that tell you when to pull back support moment to moment. Even so, some fading decisions don’t happen in a moment. They happen between lessons, and they’re easy to miss — this post is about how you fade support across lessons.

Once you’re teaching a sequence rather than one lesson, the question changes. It’s no longer just “should I help now?” Instead, it becomes “is this class ready for the next stage?” Or does it need another lesson at this level first? That’s how you fade support across lessons, not just within one.

Here’s what that looks like across four lessons of a real Science sequence.

Why You Fade Support Across Lessons, Not Just One

The gradual release of responsibility model — I do, we do, you do — was built for a single lesson. In practice, most worthwhile learning takes longer than one lesson to land. From there, the same three phases need to stretch across several.

Even so, the mechanics don’t change. You’re still watching for the same signals from Part 2. They show up as questions turning exploratory, errors turning careless instead of conceptual, and students finishing before you do. Put simply, the unit of decision changes. For example, instead of asking whether to fade in five minutes, you’re asking whether to fade in the next lesson.

This isn’t just intuition. It echoes Rosenshine’s principles of instruction, which found that reviewing previous learning before releasing new independence improves retention. That’s a bigger, slower-moving decision. It deserves its own checkpoint, planned in before the sequence starts.

A Four-Lesson Fade in Science

For example, take a Year 4 forces sequence — how push and pull forces change an object’s motion. Four lessons, each one releasing more responsibility than the last.

Lesson 1 (I do): You run a full guided friction test aloud — including the parts you’d get wrong first. In addition, students watch and record, not design.

Lesson 2 (we do): Second, the class runs a similar investigation together. At the same time, you still frame the method, but students choose the materials to test and predict the results.

Lesson 3 (you do, supported): Third, small groups design their own fair test using a partially worked checklist. The variables are named; the steps aren’t. You circulate, watching for the same signals from Part 2.

Lesson 4 (you do, independent): Finally, groups plan and run an investigation on a new but related question. No checklist. No template. Just the habits built across the first three lessons.

As a result, this is what it looks like to fade support across lessons. Each lesson releases one more piece of the method. By lesson four, nothing about the process is being handed to them anymore.

🪜 4 Signs Your Class Is Ready for the Next Lesson

Exit tickets show fluency, not just participation. Students can explain the “why,” not just complete the steps.
Independent work has few careless errors. Mistakes are about precision, not the underlying idea.
Questions shift toward planning, not procedure. “What if we tried…” replaces “What do I do next?”
Peer helpers start emerging on their own. Students you didn’t assign are already checking each other’s work.

When the Sequence Doesn’t Go to Plan

Sometimes a class isn’t ready to move on schedule. Even so, that’s useful information, not a failure. If lesson two’s exit tickets show shaky fluency, repeat lesson two’s shape with a new context before releasing further.

That said, some classes are ready to compress two stages into one. That’s especially true if the content connects to something they’ve already practised. As a result, the four-lesson shape is a starting plan, not a fixed script.

Beyond that, the decision to fade support across lessons stays visible and evidence-based. You’re not guessing whether to move on — you’re checking the signals against what the last lesson actually showed.

Planning the Whole Arc Before Lesson One

This is where backward design earns its keep again. If you know the independent task you want by lesson four, you can plan backward from there. Each earlier lesson needs to release one more piece to make that possible.

First, build your checkpoints into the plan itself. What evidence from lesson one tells you lesson two can begin? What would tell you to slow down instead? Answering those questions before teaching starts means the mid-sequence decision is already half made.

In other words, this is how you fade support across lessons. You design it, then confirm it against the evidence as you go.

A sequence doesn’t fade support by accident — it’s designed to, one checkpoint at a time.

💬 Over to You — How many lessons does your unit take to move from “I do” to independent? Tell us below — the shape of other teachers’ sequences is always worth comparing against your own.

References

Pearson, P. D., & Gallagher, M. C. (1983). The instruction of reading comprehension. Contemporary Educational Psychology, 8(3), 317–344.

Rosenshine, B. (2012). Principles of instruction: Research-based strategies that all teachers should know. American Educator, 36(1), 12–19, 39.

Vygotsky, L. S. (1978). Mind in society: The development of higher psychological processes. Harvard University Press.

5 Proven Signs It’s Time to Fade the Scaffold

Pedagogy · New Teachers

5 Proven Signs It’s Time to Fade the Scaffold

Fading isn’t a feeling you talk yourself into — it’s a decision you can plan for.

⏱ 6 min read · By Matt Faulkner · Pedagogy / New Teachers

A student finishes the worked example, tries the next one alone, and stalls. You’re three metres away, marking book in hand. The moment asks a genuine question: do you step in, or fade the scaffold and wait ten more seconds?

Most of us know the gradual release of responsibility model well: I do, we do, you do. What it doesn’t tell you is when, inside that “you do” moment, to actually let go. That judgement call happens dozens of times a lesson. In practice, it’s rarely taught explicitly.

This is where Vygotsky’s zone of proximal development (ZPD) earns its keep. It isn’t another framework to memorise. By contrast, it’s the diagnostic tool. It tells you whether a student is ready to work without you, or still needs the scaffold.

GRR Sets the Stage, ZPD Tells You When to Move

The gradual release of responsibility model comes from Pearson and Gallagher’s 1983 research on reading comprehension instruction. They found that comprehension improved when teachers deliberately shifted cognitive responsibility from themselves to students across a sequence. In other words, that sequence — I do, we do, you do — is the structure.

Fading is what happens inside that structure. It’s the technique of reducing support in increments: fewer prompts, shorter sentence stems, more open questions. As a result, a student moves from needing you to not needing you in stages, not all at once. In other words, GRR tells you the phases exist; fading is how you move through them.

That’s where ZPD tells you when to fade the scaffold. The zone of proximal development is the gap between what a student can do alone. It’s also what they can do with support close by. For example, fade too early and you’ve asked them to work outside that zone, unsupported. Fade too late, and they stay inside it long after they were ready to leave. That has its own cost, too.

The Two Ways Calibration Goes Wrong

We’ve covered the most common GRR misfire before. It’s an “I do” phase so thorough that “you do” becomes copying, not struggle. Put simply, that’s fading too slowly. The scaffold stays up well past the point a student could carry their own weight. As a result, the task stops asking anything of them.

By contrast, the opposite failure gets less attention. Fade too fast, and you haven’t created independence — you’ve created guesswork. That happens when the worked example, sentence stem, or check-in disappears before “we do” has landed. As a result, what looks like “productive struggle” up front is often just confusion with better posture.

Even so, both are calibration errors. Neither is solved by scrapping GRR — both come down to knowing when to fade the scaffold, not whether to.

🪜 5 Signals It’s Time to Fade the Scaffold

Their questions change shape. “How do I start?” becomes “What if I tried it this way?” — that shift from procedural to exploratory is a reliable ZPD marker.
Errors move from conceptual to careless. Getting the method right but rushing the last step means the concept has landed; only precision is missing.
They finish the “we do” example before you do. Hands go up, pencils move — students are already a step ahead of your modelling.
They start correcting each other. Peer correction only happens once a student trusts their own grasp enough to check someone else’s.
The room goes quiet in a different way. Not confused-quiet — working-quiet. That’s a felt cue, and it’s worth trusting alongside the others.

How to Fade the Scaffold, Move by Move

Fading rarely works as an all-or-nothing switch. In practice, it’s a series of small withdrawals, each testing whether a student can hold the next level of responsibility.

For example, a worked example becomes a partially worked example — the first two steps shown, the rest left blank. Beyond that, sentence stems shrink from full frames to a single connective word. At the same time, questions move from closed (“What’s the next step?”) to open (“What would you try next?”). Each version removes one layer of support while the task itself stays constant.

As a result, you’re never asking a student to jump from fully supported to fully independent in one move. You’re testing the edge of their ZPD in small enough steps. That way, you can pull back if the gap turns out to be wider than expected.

Planning the Fade, Not Just Reacting to It

In-the-moment judgement matters, but it’s easier to trust when it’s backed by planning. If you’ve already set up your lesson using our backward design approach, the same thinking applies to fading. For this reason, decide your checkpoints before the lesson starts, not during it.

First, mark two or three points before the lesson where you’ll deliberately step back and watch rather than help. For example, good checkpoints include after the first worked example, halfway through practice, or at a new question type. Second, at each checkpoint, look for the signals above rather than the clock. That way, the decision to fade isn’t a feeling you’re second-guessing mid-lesson — it’s a checkpoint you already built in.

This matters even more once lessons stop being single, standalone events. From there, planning shifts from one lesson to a sequence built around learner variability. When it does, the question of when to fade the scaffold travels with it too. Part 3 of this series answers that next.

Fading isn’t a feeling you talk yourself into — it’s a decision you can plan for, checkpoint by checkpoint.

💬 Over to You — Which signal do you already watch for without realising it? Which one are you going to add this week? Tell us below — the best classroom cues on this site always come from teachers who’ve already tested them.

References

Pearson, P. D., & Gallagher, M. C. (1983). The instruction of reading comprehension. Contemporary Educational Psychology, 8(3), 317–344.

Vygotsky, L. S. (1978). Mind in society: The development of higher psychological processes. Harvard University Press.

5 Easy Ways to Plan for Every Learner With UDL

Differentiation isn’t something you bolt on after the lesson is built. It’s a decision you make before you write a single activity.

⏱ 6 min read · By Matt Faulkner · Pedagogy / Planning

Picture the lesson plan taking shape on your screen. Content descriptor pasted in. Learning intention written. Main activity mapped out for the class. Then, right at the end, you add a line: “adjustment for Sarah,” or “extension for the early finishers.”

It feels like good practice. In practice, it’s also the wrong order. To illustrate, you built the lesson for an imagined average student, then patched it for everyone who didn’t fit. The patch usually works, for a while. As a result, you solve the same problem lesson after lesson — instead of solving it once at the planning stage.

Universal Design for Learning (UDL) flips that order. Instead of building one pathway and adjusting it afterwards, you plan multiple ways in from the very first decision. Beyond that, it sits neatly alongside the backward design framework we’ve covered before. Same starting point — one extra lens over every choice that follows.

Why “Adjustments Later” Never Quite Works

The trouble with retrofitting isn’t the intent. It’s the timing. Every adjustment gets made under pressure, at the end of a planning session. In practice, that’s when your energy for creative problem-solving is lowest and the deadline is closest. Consequently, the graphic organiser gets left out — or the extension task becomes “read on quietly.”

At the same time, there’s a quieter cost. When adjustments arrive last, they read as exceptions to the “real” lesson. In other words, they’re not part of the plan — just a patch on it. Even so, students notice that framing, whether anyone says it aloud or not.

For example, we’ve covered low-prep differentiation moves elsewhere — the kind you reach for once a task is already built. UDL asks an earlier question instead. What if the task already worked for the widest range of learners, before any adjustment was needed?

What UDL Actually Asks You to Plan For

UDL, developed by CAST, organises planning around three questions rather than one. First, multiple means of engagement. Why would this student care — and does that reason hold for more than one kind of student? Second, multiple means of representation. Is the content available through more than one channel — text, image, spoken explanation? Third, multiple means of action and expression. Can students show what they know in more than one way, while still being judged against the same success criterion?

Put simply, none of those questions ask you to lower the learning intention. Instead, they ask you to widen the road leading to it.

UDL is not about lowering the bar. It’s about building more doors into the same room.

Where UDL Fits Inside Backward Design

If you already plan backwards from the learning intention, UDL doesn’t replace that process. In practice, it sharpens it. At Stage 1, ask whether the intention can be reached — and cared about — through more than one entry point. At Stage 2, ask whether your formative evidence has to look identical for every student. Even so, a spoken explanation can count as evidence too — just as validly as a written one. At Stage 3, build the variety in before you teach the lesson, not after you notice it’s needed.

That’s the shift in one sentence. Instead of asking who will struggle with this activity after it’s built, ask which students the design already leaves out.

A Year 4 Worked Example

For example, here’s what that looks like against a real content descriptor, rather than in the abstract.

🎯 UDL in Action — Year 4 Persuasive Writing

Curriculum anchor: AC9E4LY06 — Plan, create and revise written and multimodal texts, including persuasive texts.
Learning intention: “We are learning to persuade a reader using reasons and evidence.”
Engagement: Students choose their topic from a short, locally relevant list — not one topic assigned to everyone.
Representation: The teacher models the structure through a think-aloud, a labelled example, and a simple graphic organiser.
Action and expression: Students meet the same success criterion by writing a paragraph, recording a spoken pitch, or building an annotated poster.

In other words, notice what stayed constant — the content descriptor, the learning intention, and the success criterion. Only the entry points changed.

This Isn’t Differentiation Downward

For this reason, it’s worth being explicit here, because the two ideas get confused constantly. Differentiating downward means changing what a student is expected to learn — a simpler text, a lower target, a smaller ask. By contrast, UDL keeps the expectation identical for everyone and changes how students reach it.

Beyond that, this distinction matters for AITSL Standard 1.5 — and for the students in front of you. Planning for variability is not the same as planning for less.

Finally, once a lesson is built this way, a second question follows naturally. How do you adjust support in the moment, as students actually work through the task? That’s where frameworks like the Gradual Release of Responsibility come in — and it’s exactly where this series goes next.

💬 Your Turn! Think about your last unit plan. Where did the “adjustments” get added last — and what would it look like to build them in first instead? Share your experience below.

References

Australian Curriculum, Assessment and Reporting Authority (ACARA). (2023). Australian Curriculum v9.0. https://v9.australiancurriculum.edu.au

Australian Institute for Teaching and School Leadership (AITSL). (2018). Australian Professional Standards for Teachers (Standard 1.5). https://www.aitsl.edu.au/teach/standards

CAST. (2024). Universal Design for Learning Guidelines (version 2.2). https://udlguidelines.cast.org

Novak, K. (2022). UDL now! A teacher’s guide to applying universal design for learning (2nd ed.). CAST Professional Publishing.

Rose, D. H., & Meyer, A. (2002). Teaching every student in the digital age: Universal design for learning. ASCD.

Wiggins, G., & McTighe, J. (2005). Understanding by design (2nd ed.). ASCD.

5 Moves That Stop Students Taking the Easy Way Out

Pedagogy · Cognitive Engagement

Why Your Classroom Might Be Teaching Students to Switch Off

The problem isn’t that students resist thinking. It’s that we’ve made not thinking the easier option.

⏱ 6 min read · By Matt Faulkner · Pedagogy / Cognitive Engagement

The average time a person spends on any single screen before switching has dropped from two and a half minutes in 2004 to around 47 seconds today. That is not a phone problem. That is a habit problem — and schools have been quietly building it for decades.

Last week’s post on productive struggle made the case that genuine learning requires cognitive effort — and that effort is often uncomfortable. That said, naming productive struggle as a goal is the easy part. The harder question is: what force is working against it? Why do students so reliably reach for the path of least cognitive resistance, even when they are sitting in a room designed for learning?

The answer isn’t laziness. In most cases, it isn’t even a lack of motivation. It’s something more structural — and more fixable.

What Is the Path of Least Cognitive Resistance?

The brain is an energy-conservation machine. Left to its own devices, it defaults to the lowest-cost route available. Psychologists call this System 1 thinking — fast, automatic, low-effort. System 2, the slower and more deliberate mode, is what we need for analysis, problem-solving, and genuine learning. The catch is that System 2 is expensive. The brain only commits to it when it has to.

This is not a design flaw. In most areas of life, conserving cognitive energy is sensible. The problem arises when classroom environments are structured in ways that make System 1 sufficient. In other words, when students can get through a lesson — answer the questions, fill the worksheet, satisfy the teacher — without ever really thinking.

The OECD defines cognitive engagement as the mental state where learners exert sufficient, sustained effort to persist with a complex idea or unstructured problem. That definition is worth holding onto. It is specifically about effort and persistence. Not compliance, not busyness, and not the appearance of working. By that definition, a class full of students who are on task may still not be cognitively engaged at all.

A student checking Instagram to survive a pointless lesson is different from a student checking Instagram during a lesson they find meaningful. We tend to treat these as the same problem. They are not.

How Classrooms Create the Problem

Here is the uncomfortable part. Distraction is not just something that happens to learners from the outside. It is also something that learning environments create from the inside.

Compliance-based classrooms — built around predictable tasks, scripted routines, and curricula disconnected from students’ questions — don’t simply fail to engage learners. Over time, they train students to zone out. To wait for class to end. To treat thinking as optional. The path of least cognitive resistance becomes the default setting. Not because students chose it, but because the environment made it easy.

That said, this is different from the phone debate. Removing distractions from the outside — banning devices, adjusting seating — addresses one half of the problem. The other half is internal: the structure of the learning experience itself. A student who finds a lesson genuinely purposeful will resist external distraction far better than one simply going through the motions in a phone-free room.

In practice, this means the question isn’t only “how do I keep students on task?” It is “what is the task asking of them, cognitively?” Those are different questions. Only the second one changes the default.

The Environment Angle: Make Thinking the Easier Choice

Research from UCL suggests that human decisions are shaped not just by deliberate reasoning but by the friction profile of available choices — how easy or effortful each option feels. The implication for classrooms is direct. If passive compliance is frictionless and active thinking requires effort, most students will choose compliance. As a result, the fix isn’t only to motivate students to think harder. It is to reduce the friction on thinking and raise the friction on switching off.

In other words, that’s a design problem — and it has design solutions.

Reducing Friction on Thinking

🏗️ Environment Moves That Shift the Default

Change the seating expectation. Rows facing the front make passive reception easy. Clusters or paired arrangements make conversation the default. Neither is always right, but consider what behaviour each layout makes effortless.
Build in talk as a structural requirement, not a reward. When discussion is positioned as “time to chat before we get back to work,” students read it as a break. When it is built into the task — “you need a partner’s view to complete this” — thinking becomes the easier path.
Use visible thinking tools. Mini whiteboards, sticky notes, and shared documents make thinking visible and public. That slight social pressure — knowing others can see your ideas — raises the cost of switching off.
Vary the routine intentionally. Around 45% of everyday behaviours are repeated in the same location without deliberate thought. When every lesson follows the exact same structure, the brain learns to run on autopilot. Small, deliberate variation — a different entry task, a different question format — keeps System 2 online a little longer.

The Planning Angle: Build Demand Into the Task

Environment changes help, but they are only scaffolding. The more powerful lever is the task itself. Even so, a thoughtfully designed environment cannot compensate for a task that requires no thinking.

For that reason, the key question at the planning stage — before you write the lesson, not after — is: at what point in this task does a student have to think? If the answer is “never, really,” the task needs redesigning, not better classroom management. This is exactly the territory that backward design addresses. Start from the learning intention and work backwards to a task that genuinely demands it.

Beyond that, the type of thinking matters. Tasks that ask students to recall, copy, or follow a procedure leave System 2 largely unused. By contrast, tasks that require students to evaluate, connect, justify, or construct something novel pull System 2 into the work. That is the core of what we covered in our post on higher-order questioning — and it applies equally to tasks, not just questions.

Task Design Checks Before You Teach

✏️ Four Planning Questions to Raise Cognitive Demand

Can a student complete this without thinking? If the answer is yes — if recall, copying, or pattern-matching is sufficient — redesign the endpoint. Add a “why” or “how do you know” requirement.
Does the task have a low floor and a high ceiling? Every student should be able to begin. Not every student should be able to finish quickly. Open-ended tasks with multiple entry points make switching off less tempting because there is always somewhere to go.
Where is the decision point? The moment a student must choose — between interpretations, approaches, or ideas — is the moment cognitive effort is unavoidable. Plan at least one genuine decision into every task.
Does the task connect to something students actually care about? Relevance reduces the pull of least resistance. Students will do more cognitive work on a problem they find worth solving.

Making Thinking the Low-Resistance Option

The goal is not to make classrooms cognitively exhausting. Students need to build capacity gradually — and they need to feel the success of thinking hard and getting somewhere. That is exactly the territory covered in the productive struggle post: challenge needs to sit within reach.

Even so, the framing shift matters. For most of us, the instinct is to fight the path of least resistance. To push students to try harder, engage more, focus better. That framing puts all the responsibility on the student. A more productive question is: which path are we making easy? In a well-designed classroom, the low-resistance option and the thinking option are, as often as possible, the same thing.

That doesn’t happen by accident. It happens in the planning stage and in the physical arrangement of the room. It happens in the habits we build — deliberately — from the first weeks of the year. Which is, conveniently, what the next series of posts is going to look at.

What does the path of least resistance look like in your classroom? Is it a particular task type, a time of day, or a room setup that makes switching off too easy? Share what you’ve noticed — and what you’ve tried — in the comments below.

References and Further Reading

Juliani, A. J. (2025). We have a distraction problem. But we’ve been solving the wrong half of it. ajjuliani.com. ajjuliani.com

OECD. (2025). Ensuring cognitive engagement: Unlocking high-quality teaching. OECD Publishing. oecd.org

University College London. (2017, February 21). Humans are hard-wired to follow the path of least resistance. ScienceDaily. sciencedaily.com

Kahneman, D. (2011). Thinking, fast and slow. Farrar, Straus and Giroux.

How Smart Teachers Plan Backwards — and Get Better Results

Here is a question worth sitting with: when you plan a lesson, what do you plan first? If the answer is “the activity” — the game, the worksheet, the group task — you are in good company. Most new teachers start there. In practice, that instinct is also the source of one of the most common planning problems in Australian classrooms: lessons that are busy but not particularly purposeful.

The shift that separates competent planning from genuinely effective planning is deceptively simple. Expert teachers start at the end. They ask: what do students need to know or be able to do by the close of this lesson? From there, everything else flows backwards from that answer — the activities, the questions, the formative checks.

That approach has a name: backward design. Put simply, it means designing for learning rather than for activity. This post explains how it works, why the research supports it, and what it looks like in two real Australian classrooms — one in HASS, one in Maths.

Why “Covering the Content” Isn’t Planning

Grant Wiggins and Jay McTighe introduced backward design in Understanding by Design (2005) — and it remains one of the most cited frameworks in curriculum planning. Their core argument is straightforward: if you design a lesson around an activity, the activity becomes the goal. If you design it around a learning outcome, the activity becomes the vehicle.

The difference matters more than it sounds. An activity-first lesson might be engaging and enjoyed by students. By contrast, a learning-first lesson does all of that and moves students measurably closer to a specific understanding. One fills time well. The other changes what students can do.

John Hattie’s research reinforces this. In Visible Learning for Teachers (2012), he identifies clear learning intentions and success criteria as among the highest-leverage moves a teacher can make — with an effect size of 0.75 on student achievement. That said, intentions only work when they are genuinely specific. “Students will learn about fractions” is not a learning intention. “Students will be able to add fractions with the same denominator and explain why the denominator stays the same” is.

The Three-Stage Planning Framework

Wiggins and McTighe describe backward design in three stages. In the Australian context, each maps directly onto the AITSL Professional Standards that preservice and early-career teachers are assessed against. For that reason, understanding the framework is not just good pedagogy — it is also good professional preparation.

🪜 Backward Design: Three Stages

Stage 1 — Identify desired results. What should students know, understand, and be able to do? This comes directly from the Australian Curriculum content descriptor and achievement standard for your year level. This is where AITSL Standard 2 (Know the content and how to teach it) does its work — you cannot write a learning intention for content you don’t understand deeply yourself.
Stage 2 — Determine acceptable evidence. How will you know students have learned it? This is your assessment — not just the end-of-unit test, but the formative check you build into the lesson itself. Exit tickets, questioning, observation, mini whiteboards. AITSL Standard 5 (Assess, provide feedback and report) lives here.
Stage 3 — Plan learning experiences. Only now do you choose activities — the ones that most efficiently move students from where they are to where Stage 1 says they need to be. This is AITSL Standard 3 (Plan for and implement effective teaching and learning) in action.

Notice the order. Assessment comes before activities. For most new teachers, that sequence feels backwards — even counterintuitive. In practice, it is the sequence that makes every other planning decision easier. Each activity can then be evaluated against one clear question: does this move students toward the learning intention, or does it just fill time nicely?

Stage 1 in Practice: Writing a Learning Intention That Works

A learning intention describes what students will learn — not what they will do. “Students will complete a fact file about ancient Egypt” is a task description. By contrast, “Students will identify two ways ancient Egyptians adapted their way of life to the Nile River” is a learning intention. The distinction is worth practising until it becomes automatic.

Hattie suggests sharing the learning intention with students at the start of the lesson — not as a compliance exercise, but because students who know where they are going are better placed to monitor their own progress. That self-monitoring is itself a high-leverage learning behaviour. For this reason, the learning intention pairs naturally with a success criterion: a student-facing description of what meeting the intention looks like in practice. The Australian Curriculum v9.0 achievement standards are the most reliable anchor for writing success criteria at the right level.

✏️ Learning Intention vs Success Criterion — The Difference

Learning intention: “We are learning to identify how the features of a place influence the way people live.” (The what of learning — teacher-language, curriculum-anchored.)
Success criterion: “I can name two features of the Nile River and explain how each one shaped life for ancient Egyptians.” (The how will I know — student-language, observable, specific.)
Not this: “We are learning about ancient Egypt.” (Too broad — students cannot self-assess against it, and neither can you.)

AITSL Standard 1 (Know students and how they learn) shapes how you write these. A success criterion pitched at the wrong level — too abstract for Year 3, too simple for Year 6 — will not function as a genuine reference point for students. In other words, knowing your cohort is not separate from writing good intentions. It is part of the same act.

Worked Example 1: Year 5 HASS

The following example applies backward design to a Year 5 HASS lesson on colonial Australia, anchored to the Australian Curriculum.

📋 Backward Design in Action — Year 5 HASS

Curriculum anchor: AC9HS5K03 — The impact of colonial settlement on the lives of Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Peoples.
Stage 1 — Learning intention: “We are learning to explain how colonial settlement affected the lives of Aboriginal Peoples, using specific evidence.”
Success criterion: “I can describe at least two impacts of colonial settlement on Aboriginal Peoples and support each with a piece of evidence from a source.”
Stage 2 — Formative evidence: An exit ticket — students write two sentence starters: “One impact was… because the evidence shows…” and “Another impact was… For example…” This is collected before students leave and informs the next lesson’s starting point. For more on making exit tickets work, see our post on formative assessment strategies.
Stage 3 — Learning activities: (a) Paired analysis of two short primary sources — a settler diary entry and an account from an Aboriginal perspective. (b) Structured discussion: what do these sources agree on? What do they show differently? (c) Individual written response using the exit ticket stems. The Venn diagram activity — which we’ve discussed before as an alternative to the overused KWL chart — works well at step (b) to surface the contrast between sources.
AITSL connection: Standard 1.4 (Strategies for teaching Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander students) and Standard 2.4 (Understand and respect Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander people) are both directly relevant here. Source selection and discussion framing must be handled with cultural care and, where possible, informed by community consultation.

Worked Example 2: Year 3 Maths

The same framework applies equally to Maths — where the temptation to jump straight to a worksheet or manipulative activity is especially strong. Even so, the three-stage sequence holds. Start with what students need to understand; build the assessment check; then choose activities that close the gap.

📋 Backward Design in Action — Year 3 Maths

Curriculum anchor: AC9M3N04 — Multiply and divide using a range of mental and informal written strategies.
Stage 1 — Learning intention: “We are learning to use an array to show how multiplication works and explain what the rows and columns represent.”
Success criterion: “I can draw an array for a multiplication fact, label the rows and columns, and write the matching number sentence.”
Stage 2 — Formative evidence: Mini whiteboard check — teacher calls a multiplication fact (e.g. 3 × 4), students draw the array and hold it up simultaneously. Teacher scans for: correct dimensions, correct orientation, students who have drawn repeated addition rather than an array. That pattern in the errors pinpoints exactly where re-teaching is needed. See our post on reading the room mid-lesson for more on using student responses as real-time data.
Stage 3 — Learning activities: (a) Hook: teacher places 12 counters on a document camera and asks — “how many ways can I arrange these into equal rows?” Students explore with their own counters. (b) Explicit teaching: name the array, define rows and columns, connect to the number sentence. (c) Guided practice: three teacher-led examples with student input. (d) Independent practice: students draw and label three arrays of their choice, then write the matching number sentence. (e) Mini whiteboard exit check as described above.
AITSL connection: Standard 2.1 (Content and teaching strategies of the teaching area) — understanding why arrays work (not just how to draw them) is essential before teaching this lesson. Standard 3.3 (Use teaching strategies) — the move from concrete (counters) to representational (drawn array) to abstract (number sentence) is the CRA sequence, and it should be deliberate, not accidental.

The Teaching-Learning Cycle: Beyond a Single Lesson

Backward design works for a single lesson. It works even better when it organises a whole unit. The teaching-learning cycle used across Australian curriculum areas — building the field, deconstruction, joint construction, independent construction — is itself a backward-designed structure. You begin with the end text or performance in mind and work back through the scaffolding students need to get there.

For new teachers, the most practical application is this: before you plan any lesson in a unit, write the end-of-unit assessment task first. Not after you’ve taught everything — before. That task becomes your compass. Consequently, every lesson can be evaluated against one question: does this move students closer to being able to do that?

Beyond that, this approach connects directly to what we’ve explored in our posts on designing a performance of worth and feedback that feeds forward — both of which assume a clear destination that students are working toward. Without a backward-designed starting point, those strategies lose their anchor.

A Note on Using AI in This Process

If you are using AI to support your planning — and there are good reasons to — backward design gives you a much stronger prompt structure. Instead of asking AI to “write a lesson plan on fractions,” give it your learning intention, your success criterion, and your formative check. From there, ask it to suggest activities that bridge the gap. That sequence produces something genuinely useful. By contrast, starting with “write me a lesson” produces something generic.

In other words, the quality of your AI output is a direct reflection of how clearly you have done Stage 1 yourself first. The framework does not become less relevant when AI is involved. If anything, it becomes more important.

The One-Page Planning Habit

For preservice teachers on prac, and for first-year teachers building confidence, a full backward-design unit plan for every lesson is not realistic. That said, the thinking behind backward design can be applied in under five minutes per lesson with a simple habit. Before you open any planning document, write three things on a sticky note.

🎯 The Three-Question Planning Check

What will students be able to do by the end that they couldn’t do at the start? (Your learning intention — one specific, observable thing.)
How will I know if they’ve got there? (Your formative check — exit ticket, whiteboard, observation, question.)
What is the most direct path from here to there? (Your activity sequence — chosen because it serves the intention, not because it fills the time.)

Those three questions, answered honestly before you start planning the rest, will improve your lessons more reliably than any template, resource pack, or planning app. They are the essence of what AITSL Standard 3 asks of you. Put simply, they are the difference between a lesson that covers content and a lesson that builds learning.

“Don’t ask ‘what will I teach today?’ Ask ‘what will students be able to do at the end that they couldn’t do at the start?’ The answer to the second question is your lesson.” — TeacherTalk

💬 Your Turn! Do you plan backwards from the learning intention — or do you start with the activity and work forward? And if you’ve made the switch to backward design, what changed for you? Share below — your experience is exactly what another new teacher needs to read this week.

References

Australian Curriculum, Assessment and Reporting Authority (ACARA). (2023). Australian Curriculum v9.0. https://v9.australiancurriculum.edu.au

Australian Institute for Teaching and School Leadership (AITSL). (2018). Australian Professional Standards for Teachers (Standards 1, 2, 3 & 5). https://www.aitsl.edu.au/teach/standards

Hattie, J. (2012). Visible learning for teachers: Maximising impact on learning. Routledge.

Hattie, J. (2009). Visible learning: A synthesis of over 800 meta-analyses relating to achievement. Routledge.

Wiggins, G., & McTighe, J. (2005). Understanding by design (2nd ed.). ASCD.