Posts Tagged ‘ university ’

Playing Games to Learn – Ideas and Resources

LogicPuzzleMy 7th/8th grade math teacher, Ms. Whitney, always included logic puzzles at the end of every unit test given on each Friday. When reviewing the test answers on Monday morning, she always walked us through the solution of the puzzle. For all of us in her 7th and 8th grade math classes, those puzzles were the real reward for finishing the test, with the additional bonus of 10 extra credit points on the test if you completed a puzzle successfully. Sometimes I ran out of time and sometimes I finished them; I always loved to try. I still enjoy logic puzzles to this day, and I still feel very accomplished if I can finish one on the first try (very rare): they can be extremely hard, at times seem impossible to solve. These games were not frivolous or without real learning outcomes, despite the fact that we students didn’t know that. We had fun trying them and competing with each other to see who could finish one, and in the process, learned about strategy, elimination of facts, cross-referencing clues, referring back and anticipating forward: that is, how to think logically. The logic puzzles were contained within funny and appealing narratives (seven students tried out for the school play: figure out who got the lead role, who was understudy, who became a prop, etc. based on the clues provided).

Games are an integral part of learning. Ask any five-year old or, like me, a struggling 7th grade math student. When we play games, we fall down, get tagged out, get hit with the dodge ball, lose some/win some, take risks, try again, show up, work together, strategize, change tactics/approaches –we try. There is very little we won’t do or try  to succeed at a game – even if we don’t always win. Sometimes we walk away from a game out of frustration, disappointment, anger, boredom, hurt feelings, sour grapes; we quit, but the game stays with us, we usually come back and try again, or the sense of failing may follow us forever (despite being tall, I was never good at basketball; I’m still trying to land a layup).

Jane McGonigal believes that games can make a better world. Tom Chatfield connects gaming with brain rewards and intrinsic motivation. It’s worth your time to listen to these two TED Talks and consider how games may make your teaching and student learning explode with excitement, engagement, interactivity, and, most importantly, fun:

Jane McGonigal TED Talk: Gaming can make a better world

Tom Chatfield: 7 ways that games reward the brain

So now that we know how engaging gaming is (and this isn’t just about video games!), why aren’t we using more games in our classrooms? Or, why haven’t we found the game that will change the dynamic, light some fires, introduce fun, into our class? It’s not so easy to just think up a game that meets our content specifications, learning goals, and assessment/grading needs. Sometimes we just need to see what other people are doing out there, to be inspired and try something new for presenting or delivering conceptual material in our courses. So below you will find a whole list of examples from disciplines across the curriculum. Hopefully, you find something that appeals.

One of the foremost theorists on the connection between gaming and learning, employing what he calls “pedagogies that combine immersion with well-designed guidance” is James Paul Gee. His research article, “Game-Like Learning,” contains a wealth of examples on how to leverage video games for knowledge building, especially conceptual simulations that apply new knowledge and immerse students in environments that provide opportunities for making judgments and receiving formative feedback. Here –very condensed– are some of his examples (read the full article here: http://www.jamespaulgee.com/node/29):

  • Supercharged!

    “Kurt Squire and his colleagues (Squire et al. 2004; see also Jenkins, Squire, and Tan 2003; Squire 2003) have worked on a computer game called Supercharged! to help students learn physics. Supercharged! is an electro- magnetism simulation game developed in consultation with MIT physicist John Belcher by the Games-to-Teach project at MIT (run by Henry Jenkins; see http://www.educationarcade.org). Players use the game to explore electromag- netic mazes, placing charged particles and controlling a ship that navigates by altering its charge. The game play consists of two phases: planning and playing. Each time players encounter a new level, they are given a limited set of charges that they can place throughout the environment, enabling them to shape the trajectory of their ship.”

  • Augmented by reality: Madison 2020250px-SimCity_2013_Limited_Edition_cover

    “In their Madison 2020 project, David Shaffer and Kelly Beckett at the University of Wisconsin have developed, implemented, and assessed a game-like simulation that simulates some of the activities of professional urban planners (Beckett and Shaffer 2004; see also Shaffer et al. 2004). This game (and I will call it a game because it functions very much like a game in the learning environment in which it is used) and its learning environment incorporate many of the same deep learning principles that we have seen at play in Full Spectrum Warrior [a commercial video game Gee references earlier in the article –JD].

    Shaffer and Beckett’s game is not a stand-alone entity but is used as part of a larger learning system. Shaffer and Beckett call their approach to game- like learning “augmented by reality,” because a virtual reality – that is, the game simulation – is augmented or supplemented by real-world activities; in this case, further activities of the sort in which urban planners engage. Minority high school students in a summer enrichment program engaged with Shaffer and Beckett’s urban planning simulation game, and, as they did so, their problem-solving work in the game was guided by real-world tools and practices taken from the domain of professional urban planners.

    As in the game SimCity, in Shaffer and Beckett’s game, students make land- use decisions and consider the complex results of their decisions. However, unlike in SimCity, they use real-world data and authentic planning practices to inform those decisions.”

  • Assessing Learning Through Games

    “Why, then, would we need any assessment apart from the game itself? One reason – indeed, a reason Janie herself would – is that Janie might want to know, at a somewhat more abstract level than moment-by-moment play, how she is doing and how she can do better. She might want to know which features of her activities and strategies in the game are indicative of progress or success and which are not. Of course, the game is very complex, so this won’t be any particular score or grade. What Janie needs is a formative or developmental assessment that can let her theorize her play and change it for the better, and this is what the game gives her.

    At the end of any play session in Rise of Nations [a commercial real-time strategy game, discussed by Gee earlier in the article to provide an example of a complex, real-time, competitive game that is challenging and has built-in learning assessments –JD], the player does not just get the message “you win” or “you lose,” but rather a dozen charts and graphs detailing a myriad of aspects of her activities and strategies across the whole time span of her play (and her civilization’s life). This gives Janie a more abstract view of her play; it models her play session and gets her to see her play session as one “type” of game, one way to play the game against other ways. It gives her a meta-representation of the game and her game play in terms of which she can become a theoretician of her own play and learning. From this information, she does not learn just to be faster or “better”; she learns how to think strategically about the game in ways that allow her to transform old strategies and try out new ones. She comes to see the game as a system of interconnected relationships.”

madlibsThere are many other examples, some more or less sophisticated than the ones Gee describes, of educators using gaming to teach disciplinary concepts, or, more meta-cognitively, to teach higher-order thinking, strategy, creativity, and problem-solving using “real-life” situational simulations. In addition to my experience with logic puzzles, I know of English professors who use Mad Libs to teach linguistics, concepts of semiology, etc. I have read of professors who use the board game Clue to teach deductive vs. inductive reasoning. Here is a list of other higher education practices and programs who are successfully using games in their teaching:Clue Classic Boardgame $13.00

  • Stanford University Med School: EteRNA. Players arrange colored discs into two-dimensional chain-link shapes to create blueprints for RNA molecules. Link: http://med.stanford.edu/ism/2011/january/eterna.html
  • McGill University, Montreal, Canada: Phylo. An online game that anyone can play (try it out, it’s cool!), it is a simply puzzle format that has players shift genetic sequences to find the best possible matches for up to eight species at a time. Link: http://phylo.cs.mcgill.ca/
  • Magazine2CoverArtworkMassachusetts Institute of Technology (MIT): Education Arcade. Features The Radix Endeavor, designed to resemble World of Warcraft type game experience, a multi-player environment that is competitive, where knowledge is collected and hoarded, and problems solved using mathematical and scientific concepts.
  • CancerZap! Needs players! Opportunity for science educators to get students involved in research simulation. Read more: http://www.photonics.com/Article.aspx?AID=51398
  • RTTP Picture 2Barnard College, Dr. Mark Carnes: Reacting to the Past. Involves role playing, classic texts, historical settings, period costumes, and is currently used on over 300 campuses to teach and immerse students in history and literature. Link: http://reacting.barnard.edu/

For those of you who are already game-users or early classroom-game adopters, please share your practice or experience! I will publish each comment or email that comes in that details how to use game play (of any nature) to teach a concept or course material. I’d love to turn this post into a centralized resource to inspire educators to try out games in their course design.

References/Additional Reading:

“Games for Science” The Scientist, 1 Jan. 2013. Web <http://www.the-scientist.com/?articles.view/articleNo/33715/title/Games-for-Science/>

“Colleges Latest Thrust in Learning: Video Games,” USA Today, 29 Nov. 2011. Web. <http://usatoday30.usatoday.com/news/education/story/2011-11-29/video-games-college-learning/51478224/1>

“Where Does Gamification Fit in Higher Education?” EdTech, 30 Nov. 2012. Web. <http://www.edtechmagazine.com/higher/article/2012/11/where-does-gamification-fit-higher-education-infographic>

Virtual Video Platform Eases the Use of Debate in Teaching Critical Thinking and Perspective

Using structured debate in the classroom to teach perspective, critical thinking, review, editing, rhetoric, and application of theoretical concepts, is no new tactic, though it’s often dismissed as too difficult to implement, too time-consuming, or too intensive for students to appreciate and do well.

There are some exciting new tools available for educators to re-think using debate in their classrooms, and the tools available at the link below, especially Vbates — a virtual video platform that allows students to record, edit, and upload their rhetorical speeches, as well as vote and give feedback on each others presentation — promises to ease the implementation, assessment, and access issues associated with setting up debate formats in your courses.

http://ltlatnd.wordpress.com/2013/02/09/idea-offers-video-debate-platform/

I am actively soliciting articles, essays, or just some anecdotal commentary on how people are using debate in their courses. Please comment here or send me an email. And, if anyone does try out Vbate, please please please let me know how it worked and your review of it as an educator.

In addition to surveying, a previous blog post of mine recommends sending out an introductory email a week or more prior to the beginning of class. Read more here: https://teachingandlearningatmsu.wordpress.com/2012/09/06/communicatingwithstudents/ …The importance of establishing a positive and comfortable communication climate cannot be overstated. Thanks for the list of tips!

Catching up with the Zeitgeist…finally! – by Neil Baldwin

Courtesy of Creative Commons.

Author Neil Baldwin publishes a roundup of articles, books, conferences, and websites that caught his eye this past year. Each selection bears upon current topics in teaching and learning, creativity, and general academic interests. Take a look!

https://blogs.montclair.edu/crdirector/2012/11/17/catching-up-with-the-zeitgeist-finally-by-neil-baldwin/

Teaching After a Natural Disaster – Challenges and Ideas

Gathering storm: This NOAA satellite image taken shows Hurricane Sandy off the Mid Atlantic coast. Combined with an unnamed nor’easter gaining strength as it moves from the West, the massive storm threatens to wreak havoc on the East Coast
Read more: http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-2224629/Hurricane-Sandy-path-2012-How-Frankenstorm-created.html#ixzz2C7Ycnxqv
Follow us: @MailOnline on Twitter | DailyMail on Facebook

Hurricane Sandy hit the New York/New Jersey East Coast region on Monday, October 29, 2012. In its wake, homes were destroyed, businesses ruined, miles and miles of coastline washed away, and lives disrupted, some tragically. Montclair State University closed for the full week, an unprecedented event in the University’s history. The following Wednesday, November 7, 2013, the already battered region was hit by Nor’Easter Athena. While not as devastating as Sandy, it complicated efforts to return people to their homes, to restore power and services to still struggling communities, and to allow people to get back to some semblance of normalcy.

As educators, it is always our job to promote a supportive, professional, calm demeanor in class – storm or no storm.In our Faculty Teaching Circles meeting held on November 12, we discussed concerns and ideas for returning to teaching and supporting students, while maintaining course expectations and curricular goals. As well, we acknowledged that educators in different disciplines will necessarily need to address this situation differently, according to what makes sense for their particular course goals. One of our attendees was able to fold the event into course assignments (a first-year writing course) and to have students analyze how events such as Sandy affect cultural and social behaviors in certain settings — not all educators can be that flexible or adaptive.

The following list poses some thoughts from our discussion, as well as some resources we identified as potentially helpful. Even though we can’t get back the last two weeks, or even the last three months, and anticipate the devastation we would be confronting now, if nothing else this experience teaches us that we need to think about how we can be ready for traumatic or catastrophic disruptions in the future.

Please weigh in with your ideas or stories related to this topic. Post here, on Facebook, or Twitter (#teachingthroughthestorm).

1. Being prepared: build in contingency plans into your syllabus and course design. The following advice is taken from the Santa Barbara City College on building a syllabus (adapted). It is simple in its recommendation: always plan your course expecting that somewhere, for some reason, you will miss a week (illness, bereavement, conferences, or natural disasters). Attendees yesterday confirmed that they have a “throwaway” week built into their course — this material is “what we’d love to cover, but can afford not to if we have to cancel class.” We also affirmed that, when we review our syllabi with students at the beginning of the semester, we should discuss with them the “plan” for emergencies or unanticipated course disruptions. Be sure students understand your commitment to continuing class — being understanding (and realistic) but consistent with your expectations — and that you provide clear lines of communication (see #4 below on forms of communication) for them.

2. Keep on Truckin’: Know how to emotionally and socially support your students when returning after a catastrophic event: the Huffington Post published a blog post by Professor Lori Ungemah, who helpfully parsed a government document (available as a .pdf download here) and adapted its recommendations for university/college educators. Her advice:

  • Step 1: Listen
    Teachers or adult school staff should provide students with an opportunity to share their experiences and express feelings of worry, anxiety, fear or other concerns about their safety.
  • Step 2: Protect
    Adults should try to reestablish students’ feelings of both physical and emotional safety. They can honestly inform students about events surrounding the crisis, such as sharing with them information about what is being done in the community and school to keep everyone safe.
  • Step 3: Connect Help students reestablish their normal social relationships and stay connected to others in order to experience social support. Restoring and building connections promotes stability, recovery and predictability in students’ lives. A student’s classroom and school is a safe place to begin restoring normalcy during a crisis or disaster.
  • Step 4: Model Calm and Optimistic Behavior
    In times of crisis or disaster, children and adolescents [all students, of any age! JD] watch adult reactions and receive cues on how to confront adversity. This step reminds adult staff in schools that they are role models. While teachers and other school personnel might also be affected and may not know exactly how they will navigate recovery, adults can acknowledge their distress but demonstrate a positive and optimistic approach and show students that constructive actions provide hope for the future.
  • Step 5: Teach
    During the coping process, it is important to help students understand the range of normal stress reactions. School counselors, nurses, psychologists or social workers can take on this task [for university students: point them to support services, recovery teams, and articulate your adminstration’s communiques that provide resources – JD]. These professionals can teach students, staff, parents or guardians, and volunteers about common reactions to the specific event or disaster, such as the fact that children and youths may have more difficulty with learning after the specific event.

3. (Not so) Wild ideas: Adapted from epidemic or post-9/11 sources: one syllabus I found had a built in plan in the case of an undefined “Epidemic” [it was posted in January 2011 – Swine Flu? Zombie Apocalypse?] . The professor advised that all assignments would still be due, but moved online (Blackboard). Indeed, most of our group had in some way provided digital/virtual ways to submit assignments via Blackboard or by email. Some instructors  simply crunched together assignments after missing the week, without an attempt to skip the material or try and squeeze it in later in the semester.

Another resource I tried when searching for tips on how to return to teaching after a catastrophe was to search for teaching tips that addressed the immediate aftermath of 9/11. I didn’t find much, but this sentence from a course on how to teach student-veterans returning from duty in Iraq or Afghanistan seemed to offer some helpful advice: “Not only are some student-veterans [students after a disaster]  struggling with financial pressures and dealing with physical and mental health [emotional and physical responses to the event] disabilities (including the “signature wounds” of TBI and PTSD), they also share the challenges many nontraditional students face, such as childcare, “relearning” study skills and understanding (often unspoken) academic expectations. Only a well-informed faculty can understand and address such challenges to ensure retention and degree-completion (italics mine).” From this, we can extrapolate some clear guidelines: provide clear guidelines! How have assignments, schedules, course expectations changed? How are you addressing absences, or the continued impact on students’ lives outside class? Communicate your response and any administrative guidelines clearly and as soon as you can.

Soem faculty had uploaded video lectures and/or live-streamed their classes via outlets like Ustream (free) for students who still had transportation issues or could not otherwise make it to class.

4. Communication: obviously, most of us already do this. We clearly state (in class and on our syllabus) the methods available to students for contacting us. Most faculty in our group rely strictly on email or Blackboard, with little or no preference for phone (cell or office) or social media outlets. This may be adequate, though some educators provide their cell numbers for texting purposes, or create a class Twitter (which most students will receive as a notification on their smart phones) for creating lines of communication. Some may create course pages on Facebook, or ask that students post to Blackboard. Really confident and trusting faculty could even set up a study buddy system that maintains a communication chain for all students in a particular course. Not many of us felt this was viable at the university level, but if any of our readers know of or use this method, please tell us your experience.

The point is, be sure students know how to communicate with you, in any situation.

Finally…it must be said…

One of the most frustrating aspects of events like these is balancing the very real predicament students (or you!) may be experiencing: transportation issues, lack of power, cable, Internet access, homelessness, or other effects. But we acknowledged that we also suspect that several of our students have taken advantage of this disaster to avoid work, exploit the missed time to skip class, put off turning in assignments, or otherwise excuse themselves from participating in class. “Of course, we can’t be insensitive to their experience,” said one of our group members, “but…”…But often we intuitively know when a student is BS-ing us. We didn’t have any real advice for this situation, other than to express that we all know it’s happening, and it is just another (minor) effect this storm has left in its wake.

Additional resource (not directly related to teaching, but this discussion imparts important concepts of leadership through difficult situations or conditions):

Ernest Shackleton’s Lesson’s for Leaders in Harsh Climates (NPR Interview with biographer Nancy Keohn): http://blogs.hbr.org/ideacast/2012/11/ernest-shackletons-lessons-for.html

Hey, Academic Writers, You Can Have Style and Substance

Stylish Academic Writing

Stylish Academic Writing, Helen Sword. Harvard U. Press

 

Hey, Academic Writers, You Can Have Style and Substance

Sword, Helen. Stylish Academic Writing. Cambridge, MA: Harvard U. Press, 2012.

Available from Harvard University Press; April 2, 2012; $21.95

A Book Review, by Julie Dalley

I have always been interested in the ways in which scholarly writing seems to tangle meaning with a flurry of important-sounding words. I’ve done it often in my own writing, partly because I thought it was required to establish authority and credibility, and partly because I didn’t have the training to be more creative in my academic writing. So when I came upon Maria Popova’s blog piece on the blog Brain Pickings, titled, “The Power of Simple Words,” I was intrigued. Accompanying the brief essay – composed to remind writers to keep it simple – was a two-minute TED Ed video also called, “The Power of Simple Words.” The message concerns simplifying your prose, and knowing your audience, illustrated through the comic re-arrangement of pop culture sound bites: “”No coordinates exist like one’s domicile” for “there’s no place like home” or “ambulate this direction”, for “walk this way.” Its message is important for all writers, professional or academic, student or teacher.

Students and practitioners like myself confuse big words with good writing or sound argument. The brevity of the video imparts its message forcefully: we don’t always have to “sound smart” in order to leave a huge impression. Sometimes the simplest of words or phrases, a subtle and delicate metaphor, or a brief but powerful story, can capture a broader audience.

Likewise, in Stylish Academic Writing, Helen Sword argues that academic writers don’t need to write in jargonistic hieroglyphics that require readers to decode their meaning. Instead, they should be open and willing to soften their writing to make meaning more concrete and knowledge more accessible. Sword’s central argument is that, by falling into the habit of writing rigid academic texts without concern for style, we are failing to connect to our own agency and voice. We alienate readers beyond our disciplines, and sometimes even within our field of study.

Dense academic writing – with few exceptions – is by definition that which takes a meandering path to come to a simple point. It is often exclusionary with its complex disciplinary jargon, muddling clear ideas and inhibiting authentic meaning-making. And yet, there are academic writers whose work echoes far beyond their disciplinary domains, whose writing reaches beyond their fields, beyond academia, and into the larger audience of the public, while contributing to our body of knowledge in significant ways.

Sword structures her book with a series of case-studies of these breakout authors, using “Spotlight on Style” portraits of those who have broken the mold without threat to their disciplinary expertise or authority – and who infuse their writing with style and voice that engages the reader and delivers thoughtful, insightful, authoritative, but most of all, accessible, knowledge. Examples include Nathaniel Mermin, physicist (38); Ruth Behar, anthropologist (45); Stephen Greenblatt, literary critic, author, and scholar (p. 83); and Robert J. Connors and Andrea Lunsford, English scholars and researchers, writing as “Ma and Pa Kettle” (128). Alongside these exemplars of stylish writing, Sword presents a guide to crafting stylish prose in a book that is short, concise, and replete with tips and tricks (Things to Try found at the end of each chapter – extremely useful for writing instructors). The author demonstrates with concrete examples and suggestions that “…the most engaging writers are almost invariably those who pay the closest attention to the real people – specialists and non-specialists, colleagues and strangers – in whose ears their own words will echo” (44).  We forget that our audience needn’t be limited to a select few academics; we should write as though our ideas have resonance beyond our disciplines, and as far as the layperson with a curious mind.

Stylish Academic Writing contains a list of specific and transferable skills for improving anyone’s writing and this guide will become a well-thumbed resource every time you begin crafting your own stylish writing piece. The list includes some basic advice: create catchy titles, use anecdotes and stories, begin with a strong opening sentence or paragraph, provide lots of examples (concrete over the abstract), and more. This is practical advice for those who believe they must compose to achieve membership in their disciplinary field: fling the lingo, obscure the simple, flaunt your mental prowess through the anguished manipulation of language and the doors to academia will swing open. There’s a better way.  Scholars have long been making the case for better academic writing, going back to the classic article (which Sword references on pages 6-7) by Patricia Nelson Limerick, “Dancing with Professors: the trouble with academic prose,” (New York Times Book Review, 1993). Limerick famously critiqued the academic snobbery that favors impenetrable, jargonistic papers that few understand, and that even fewer still will admit they cannot understand.

But what is good writing? And what does bad writing look like?  In addition to spotlighting accomplished academic writers, Sword peppers her chapters with snippets of badly written prose plucked from numerous (one thousand, to be precise) articles and essays from a broad swath of disciplines: science, math, history medicine, law, psychology, anthropology, philosophy, education, literary studies and more. She also takes aim at style guides, and their conflicting messages that can lead a writer to constrain or even limit personal voice at the expense of their scholarship. Sword isn’t alone is arguing for better writing. She pays tribute to authors and scholars such as Peter Elbow, William Zinsser, Strunk and White, and Howard S. Becker, who have championed the stylish writing cause (6).

Sword consulted seventy academics from across the disciplines who gave her a list of ideal characteristics of good academic writing: elegant, carefully crafted sentences, energy, intellectual commitment, passion, engaging prose, a compelling story, avoids jargon, aesthetic and intellectual pleasure, and originality, imagination, and creative flair (8).  She dismisses the mythological tenet that individual voice and personal agency should be eliminated from academic writing. Rather, she insists, it is through the use of personal pronouns that we connect more intimately with our audience and attach our expertise more closely to our work and immersion in our discipline: “Academic writers strive to convey a completely neutral perspective; as merchants of truth rather than fiction, we see it as our job to inform our readers, not to play with their expectations or their minds. Yet that neutrality, when closely examined, turns out to be something of a myth” (94).  Why do we research and write if not to establish our own authority in the field?

Sword’s strongest argument comes in Chapter 10: Jargonitis, a term often used as a pejorative to describe text that is “obscure and often pretentious language marked by circumlocutions and long words” (112). Here she sways the reader by pointing out the exclusionary nature of jargon in academic text (i.e., “I belong, you don’t”), how academese has reduced the writer to ostentation, obfuscation, and obscurity, and how jargon can become a substitute for legitimate thought, a placeholder for fully developed and creative ideas.

Struggling with meaning and difficult and complex ideas has long been considered an integral part of academic training; our style and authority is formed and informed by the literature we review and the research we build upon in our own work. Is it necessary? Mostly not, Sword says, “Sometimes, however, the line between technical precision and intellectual pretension becomes a fine one.” (117). Sword points to the invocation of Michel Foucault by numerous scholars, many who appear to never have engaged directly with his body of work.  “Foucauldian” references in humanities and social sciences scholarship are a straw man of academic writing, according to Sword: in most of the cases she reviewed for her study, the authors engaged with Foucault through the work of others. This twice-to-three-times removed jargon diminishes the scholarship, becomes exclusionary for the general public, and contributes nothing to a dialogue on Foucault. Ironically, Foucault’s work, per Sword, was “rhythmically compelling, relentlessly concrete, and almost entirely jargon-free” (119).

Sword concludes her book with two chapters that deal with the more intangible elements of good writing: passion, persuasion, playfulness, making the abstract concrete, challenging the reader, engaging the reader’s imagination, abiding in elegance; in other words, “paint a big picture on a small canvas” (Chapter 13: “The Big Picture” and Chapter 14: “The Creative Touch.” 147-172).  She shares the following advice from evolutionary biologist Richard Dawkins, which neatly packages her argument:

Do not talk down. Try to inspire everybody with the poetry of science and make your explanations as easy as honesty allows, but at the same time do not neglect the difficult. Put extra effort into explaining to those readers prepared to put matching effort into understanding. (qtd. on 157).

Noticeably lacking in this otherwise comprehensive book is any reference to the emerging trend of digital writing and the new literacies that govern those writing forms.  Some literature exists that suggests that writing online offers us a more relaxed platform, even an agency and space where voice and self become prominent, while still reflecting academic rigor (cf. Elbow, P (Nov. 2007). “Voice in Writing Again: Embracing Contraries.” College English, Vol. 70, No. 2, pp. 168-188). As our writing worlds collide with digital worlds, any guide or work on academic writing should include some discussion on this movement and where academic writers stand when confronting style and format online. Sword does discuss augmenting text with images (108), however, that is as close as she comes to addressing multimodal academic writing.

Will this book, and other movements to redefine “writing” and literacy instruction, become influential in loosening the rigid disciplinary confines of academic writing and make academic text more appealing and available to a broader public? It’s not as though ponderous academic writing is a secret or hasn’t long been thought unnecessary; academia itself suffers from a deep-seated tradition of exclusive and territorial scholarship, and there is an intrinsic fear of diminished intellectual perception or agency that comes with making academia more accessible and less lofty. In addition, academic writing, and the research that feeds it, is the merit badge of belonging to the academy.

This is the core of the resistance to change in American education. If we do move to more stylish academic writing, Sword’s work is a informative and useful place to start: it provides foundational instruction on how to write clearly, the license to write freely, and the motivation to make the leap.

Sword’s lesson comes down to courage on the part of the scholar: you must choose if you want your writing to stand out from the crowd or conform to the disciplinary academese that both confounds and confirms you. This book gives you license to take some risks with your academic writing, and provides solid evidence of other scholars who have gained world-wide acclaim, in some cases became household names, for daring to step outside the writing box and be stylish.

Helen Sword is Associate Professor in the Centre for Academic Development at the University of Auckland.

To find out how stylish your own writing is, take Sword’s WritersDiet Test: http://writersdiet.com/WT.phph

 

Action Research for Professional Development: Concise Advice for New Action Researchers (excerpted)

Action Research for Professional Development: Concise Advice for New Action Researchers (excerpted)

Copyright Jean McNiff, 2002. Reprinted by permission.

by Jean McNiff, Professor of Educational Research, York St. John University (UK)

What is Action Research?

Action research is a term that refers to a practical way of looking at your own work to check that it is as you would like it to be. Because action research is done by you, the practitioner, it is often referred to as practitioner based research; and because it involves you thinking about and reflecting on your work, it can also be called a form of self-reflective practice.

The idea of self-reflection is central. In traditional forms of research – empirical research – researchers do research on other people. In action research, researchers do research on themselves. Empirical researchers enquire into other people’s lives. Action researchers enquire into their own. Action research is an enquiry conducted by the self into the self. You, a practitioner, think about your own life and work, and this involves you asking yourself why you do the things that you do, and why you are the way that you are. When you produce your research report, it shows how you have carried out a systematic investigation into your own behaviour, and the reasons for that behaviour. The report shows the process you have gone through in order to achieve a better understanding of yourself, so that you can continue developing yourself and your work.

Action research is open ended. It does not begin with a fixed hypothesis. It begins with an idea that you develop. The research process is the developmental process of following through the idea, seeing how it goes, and continually checking whether it is in line with what you wish to happen. Seen in this way, action research is a form of self-evaluation. It is used widely in professional contexts such as appraisal, mentoring and self-assessment.

How do I do action research?

The basic steps of an action research process constitute an action plan:

  • We review our current practice,
  • identify an aspect that we want to investigate,
  • imagine a way forward,
  • try it out, and
  • take stock of what happens.
  • We modify what we are doing in the light of what we have found, and continue working in this new way (try another option if the new way of working is not right)
  • monitor what we do,
  • review and evaluate the modified action,
  • and so on …

(see also McNiff, Lomax and Whitehead, 1996, and forthcoming)

Two processes are at work: your systematic actions as you work your way through these steps, and your learning. Your actions embody your learning, and your learning is informed by your reflections on your actions. Therefore, when you come to write your report or make your research public in other ways, you should aim to show not only the actions of your research, but also the learning involved. Some researchers focus only on the actions and procedures, and this can weaken the authenticity of the research.

A number of models are available in the literature. Most of them regard practice as non-linear, appreciating that people are unpredictable, and that their actions often do not follow a straightforward trajectory. The action plan above shows action reflection as a cycle of

identify an area of practice to be investigated;

imagine a solution;

implement the solution;

evaluate the solution;

change practice in light of the evaluation …

This action research cycle can now turn into new action research cycles, as new areas of investigation emerge. It is possible to imagine a series of cycles to show the processes of developing practice. The processes can be shown as a spiral of cycles, where one issue forms the basis of another and, as one question is addressed, the answer to it generates new questions.

Remember that things do not often proceed in a neat, linear fashion. Most people experience research as a zig-zag process of continual review and re-adjustment. Research reports should communicate the seeming incoherence of the process in a coherent way.

Action planning

A number of action plans are available in the literature. The action plan that has grown in popularity around the world is the one developed by Jack Whitehead. The aim is to encourage you, a practitioner, to ask critical questions about your own practice, and find the answers for yourself. No one else can give you answers. Other people can comment and advise, but only you can say what is right for you and your situation. It could be that there are no answers to your particular issue, but the process of asking questions is as important as finding answers.

Here is a modified version of Jack’s action plan. On the next page, the plan is explained in greater detail.

  • What issue am I interested in researching?
  • Why do I want to research this issue?
  • What kind of evidence can I gather to show why I am interested in this issue?
  • What can I do? What will I do?
  • What kind of evidence can I gather to show that I am having an influence?
  • How can I explain that influence?
  • How can I ensure that any judgements I might make are reasonably fair and accurate?
  • How will I change my practice in the light of my evaluation?

There is always a dilemma between suggesting action plans and avoiding making them appear as prescriptive. In action research, everyone takes responsibility for their own practice and for asking their own questions. You do need to ensure, however, that your research is reasonably systematic and rigorous. In doing your research you are aiming to make a claim that you have improved practice, so you do need to produce validated evidence to support that claim.

The action plan in detail

In deciding to do action research, you are showing your intent to learn more about a particular issue within a particular situation. Your research is a conduit for your learning. It can take the following form:

What issue are you interested in researching?

Some researchers present the idea of a research issue as a problem. Action research is not only problem solving, though it contains elements of problem solving. It does mean problematising issues and engaging with them; questioning what is happening, and asking how it might be improved. This then involves asking questions about the conditions that are allowing the situation to be as it is, and finding ways of changing the conditions. The main point is to identify an area you wish to investigate, and be reasonably clear about why you wish to get involved.

It is important, in your first action enquiries, to be reasonably sure that you can do something about the issue you have identified. You should be practical and ask, ‘Can I actually do something about this issue? Can I influence the situation, or is it outside my scope?’ If it really is outside your scope you should be realistic and leave it. Having said that, do not give up altogether. Aim to address one small aspect of your work. While it might be true that you cannot change the world, you can certainly change your bit of it; and if everyone changed a small bit at a time, a lot of change could happen quickly.

Once you have identified a research issue, you should formulate a research question. This can be stated in terms o

How do I …?

The main ideas are:

  • I am asking a real question about something that is important to me, and I am hoping to find ways of engaging with it;
  • I am a real person;
  • I am trying to improve something; this might be my own understanding, or it might be an aspect of the social situation I am in (remember: improvement does not mean perfection. Any improvement is still improvement, no matter how small).

Why are you interested?

You need to be reasonably clear why you want to get involved. The reasons for our actions are often rooted in our values base, that is, the things we believe in and that drive our lives. If you believe that all people have equal rights, you will try to ensure that your workplace is a place in which everyone does have equal rights, and you will organise your own work so that everyone has the opportunity to exercise their rights. The trouble is, we often work in situations where it is not possible to live in a way that is congruent with what we believe in. You might believe in equal rights for all, but your workplace could well be a place where the rights of some people are denied. As your research progresses you might find that you are the one who is denying equal rights to others. You should expect surprises like this.

Action research is a way of working that helps us to identify the values that are important for our lives and to live in the direction of those values, that is, take them as the organising principles of our lives. It is unlikely that we will ever get to a situation where our work and situations are entirely congruent with our values. But we are not aiming for ‘end products’; we are aiming to find right ways of living.

What kind of evidence can you gather to show why you are interested?

If you are in a situation where things are not as you would wish them to be, how can you show that situation so that other people can relate to what you are experiencing? How can you show what the situation was like, which made you resolve to do something about it?

You need to gather data about the situation, and you can use a variety of methods for this – journals, diaries, notes, audio and videotape recordings, surveys, attitude scales, pictures, and so on. You can use different data gathering methods at different times if you wish. You will compare this first set of data with later sets of data, to see whether there is any change and whether you can say that you have influenced the situation. Aim to gather as much data as you feel is right; most people gather too much to begin with.

You need to begin identifying working criteria to help you make judgements about whether the situation might be improving. These criteria would be linked with your values. If you believe that all people should be treated fairly, a criterion will be whether you can show that people are being treated fairly. The criteria you identify might change as the research project develops. Your data will turn into evidence when you can show that it meets your nominated criteria.

What can you do about the situation? How do you act in order to influence it in an educative way?

You need to imagine ways in which you might begin taking action. You might want at this stage to consult with others about how you could move forward. These others could be your critical friend or your validation group. A validation group is a group of people you invite to look at your research from time to time, and offer critical feedback. The decisions you come to about what action to take will be your own decisions; you take responsibility for what you do. You need to consider your options carefully and decide what you can reasonably expect to achieve, given the time, energy and other resources you have.

Having decided on a possible strategy, you now need to try it out. It might work and it might not. If it does, you will probably want to continue developing it. If it does not, you will probably abandon it, or part of it, and try something else.

What kind of evidence can you gather to show your educative influence?

This is your second set of data, which will also turn into evidence by meeting your nominated criteria. You can use the same, or different, data-gathering methods that you used before. Perhaps you used surveys and interviews to gather your first set of data; now you might want to use audio and video tape recordings which will capture not only people’s words but also their expressions and body language. You should try to show, through this set of data, whether there is an improvement in the situation, even though that improvement might be very small. You might also be able to show a development in your own thinking and learning. This is an integral part of the action research process.

How do you explain your educative influence?

Remember that the focus of the enquiry is you. You are always in company with others, so what you do is bound to have an influence on them. How can you show that your influence was as you wished it to be? To gauge your impact on them, you need to get their reactions to how they perceive their relationship with you.

Remember that you are not trying to demonstrate a cause and effect relationship between you and other people’s actions. You are not saying, ‘I brought about improvement’ or ‘I made that happen’. You are saying, ‘I can show that certain changes took place as I changed my practice, particularly in myself, and different relationships evolved.’ You are aiming to show a development of influence, an unfolding of new understandings and actions from people working together in new ways, and their influence on one another, that is, how they learn with and from one another.

How do you ensure that any judgements you make are reasonably fair and accurate?

If you say, ‘I think that such and such happened’, you can expect someone to say, ‘Prove it.’ The answer is that you can’t. You can’t prove anything. The word ‘prove’ does not exist in action research. You can however produce reasonable evidence to suggest that what you feel happened really did happen, and you are not just making it up.

In saying that you believe you have influenced your situation for good, you are making a claim to knowledge. You are also producing evidence to back up the claim. Now you need other people critically to consider your claim and agree that you have good reason for making your claim. They might agree that you are justified in making your claim, and their agreement would be validation of your claim. They might suggest that you need to look at the research again and gather further data, perhaps, or tighten up the link between your data and your criteria. Once you have other people’s validation you can say in all honesty, ‘I am claiming that I have influenced this situation because I started looking at ways in which I could improve what I am doing, and I now have the endorsement of other people to show that what I say I am doing constitutes a fair and accurate claim.’

How do you modify your practice in the light of your evaluation?

You will probably carry on working in this new way because it seems to be better than the way you were working before. It is more in line with the way you wish things to be. You are living in the direction of your values (though you might still have far to go).

This does not mean closure. Although you have addressed one issue, others might have emerged which now need attention. Perhaps in addressing one issue, you have unearthed other issues that you had not expected. There is no end, and that is the nature of developmental practices, and part of the joy of doing action research. It resists closure. Each ending is a new beginning. Each event carries its own potentials for new creative forms.

This is what makes action research a powerful methodology for personal and social renewal. You are thinking and searching all the time. You are never complacent or content to leave problematic situations as they are, because you refuse to become complacent or lazy. As long as you remain aware, alert, constantly open to new beginnings, you will continue growing into all the persons you are capable of becoming.

***********

The full booklet on performing action research is available at no cost online at: http://www.jeanmcniff.com/ar-booklet.asp

Dr. McNiff is a Professor of Educational Research at York St John University, UK: and  holds Visiting Professorships at the University of Limerick, Ireland; the Nelson Mandela Metropolitan University, South Africa; and the Ningxia Teachers’ University, People’s Republic of China. She has published a new and updated resource for researchers interested in performing action research:

Action Research for Professional Development:

Concise advice for new (and experienced) action researchers, by Jean McNiff
Publication date: 14 November 2010
192 pages
Price £14.99, including post and packing

Available at: http://www.september-books.com/actionresearchforprofessionaldevelopment.asp

Further Reading:

Whitehead, Jack and Jean McNiff. Action Research: Living Theory. London, UK: Sage Publications, 2006.

McNiff, Jean. Action Research for Teachers: A Practical Guide. London, UK: David Fulton Publishing, 2005.

(available in the Research Academy Library):

McNiff, Jean. All You Need to Know About Action Research. London, UK: Sage Publications, 2005.

Cross, K. Patricia and Mimi Harris Steadman. Classroom Research: Implementing the Scholarship of Teaching. San Francisco, CA: Jossey-Bass, 1996

Angelo, Thomas A. Classroom Assessment and Research: An Update on Uses, Approaches, and Research Findings. San Francisco, CA: Jossey-Bass, 1998.

The Scientific Imagination – Where Do Ideas Come From?

This month the Creative Research Center at Montclair State University filmed a one-hour virtual webcast, The Scientific Imagination – Where Do Ideas Come From?” as part of its Second Annual CRC Symposium.

The video, available here, presents a panel discussion on creativity and imagination, discussed among scientist educators working at MSU, to foster innovation, creative learning, and adaptive expertise in research and in the classroom. The discussion is moderated by Dr. Neil Baldwin, professor in the Department of Theatre and Dance in the College of the Arts and director of the CRC. He interviews Dr. Jennifer Adams Krumins, assistant professor, Department of Biology and Molecular Biology; Dr. Cigdem Talgar, director of Research and Programs and acting director of the Research Academy for University Learning (RAUL); Dr. William Thomas, director, New Jersey School of Conservation; Dr. Ashwin Vaidya, assistant professor of Physics in the Department of Mathematical Sciences; and Dr. Meiyin Wu, associate professor, Biology and Molecular Biology and director of the Passaic River Institute.

For educators, an essential struggle in any discipline lies in exciting our students’ imagination, getting them to think creatively about a problem or concept, and asking them to adapt to new knowledge and variable information in order to think more critically and deeply. This video highlights ways in which this is being done in the classroom, what role models and sources of inspiration have served our educators, how important engaging students in world views and creative thinking is to change, innovation, and adaptability, and much more. The conversation takes us into the specific profiles of each scientist educator, leads us into their world of development and experimentation, and models how they integrate their passion into their research and teaching.

I highly recommend that you watch this video, and share with your colleagues and students. There are numerous ways to approach creative thinking and imaginative learning; here are several of them packaged into an active and informative discussion.

The Scientific Imagination – Where Do Ideas Come From?

 

Getting Students to Complete Reading Assignments – Ideas from Teachers for Teachers

The Research Academy held its first Teaching Circle meeting last Wednesday. I decided to start the semester with a topic that repeatedly comes up in teaching consultations and faculty discussion groups: getting students to do the reading and/or out-of-class work. I observed a class a year ago in which the new young instructor, finishing up the 90 minute class, asked who had done the assigned reading. Not one hand went up. She rather desperately searched her student’s faces: “No one did the reading?” she asked incredulously. No response. I knew this felt awkward for her; she was being observed (at her request) by her colleagues and she didn’t know how to handle the situation. Carry on? Cover the material anyway? Her plan had been to lead a discussion around the concepts in the reading; if no one read it, she would essentially just be teaching the material. She decided to skip the reading altogether and finish up with some group work on a different topic.

This is hardly a singular experience. Nearly every (every?) teacher has faced a class of students who are unprepared. They didn’t read, they didn’t watch the video, or do the review. Luckily, there are definite ways to handle this. First, why don’t students do the reading? Our group, squeezed into a library classroom, brainstormed the following reasons behind the student-didn’t-read phenom:

  1. There is no pay-off. Students are very strategic about their work load. When assigned readings are not tied to any evaluation (grades) or when the teacher covers the material anyway, they know that they can get away with not reading with no penalty.
  2. The reading isn’t connected to course material in an obvious way, or the teacher has not helped them make the connection. When assignments seem to be arbitrary, that is, not tied to course work in an appreciable way, students lose motivation to complete it. They do not see the reading as an extension of the course work or core to disciplinary understanding, so they shrug it off.
  3. Students don’t know how to read academic texts. This, unfortunately, prevents them from contributing to a discussion even if they did TRY to do the reading. They may not have understood what they read, did not know what was important (highlighted EVERYTHING ON THE PAGE), and are afraid to sound “dumb” if they discuss what they read. Students receive very little training on how to read academic texts. They don’t know the jargon, they don’t know how to identify what’s important, they don’t know how to summarize the text. This level of reading can be intimidating.

These are some of the primary reasons that students don’t complete assigned reading. It is important to know why they aren’t reading because this directly informs how you can make some alterations to instruction in order to address these issues.

The participants offered some ideas on what they are doing to counter the no-reading issue:

  1. Mini-quizzes on the reading at the beginning (or before the beginning) of each class. These are conducted online, through Blackboard, and take about 10 minutes. Quiz grades count towards overall course grade.
  2. Guided reading – questions to answer as they read, using Socrative, an online student response system. Socrative allows teachers to set up exercises and questions, multiple choice or open-ended, graded or not graded, that the students can answer from any connected device (phone, laptop, tablet). They can see each others responses if the teacher deems it important, or the answers can be anonymous.
  3. Model good reading strategies, especially for research-oriented or academic level text. One professor has them highlight only the portions of the text where they felt lost or began to lose track of what the text was saying. These points of confusion can guide class discussion, provide fodder for small-group work (students work together to grapple with meaning), and can let the teacher know what students struggle with the most.

As you may have guessed, there is a lot of research and expertise available that supports our group’s ideas of how to get students to read, as well as provides some additional ideas. What the experts say:

From Karl Wirth, Malacaster College (http://serc.carleton.edu/NAGTWorkshops/metacognition/activities/27560.html):

Reading Reflection

After completing the reading assignment, write brief responses (i.e., at least several sentences) to 2 out of 3 questions:

  1. What is the main point of this reading?
  2. What information did you find surprising?  Why?
  3. What did you find confusing?  Why?

Too often, when we read the words on a page we do not fully integrate that new information into our existing knowledge structure, and so we fail to gain new understanding of the world around us.  Research in cognitive science and learning tells us that “deep learning” requires that the learner reflect on new knowledge and create personal meaning from it.

To help us reflect more deeply on readings in this course, we will use reading reflections.  These reading reflections are designed to help the reader engage with the material in a deeper way, and to construct new meaning from it.  The reflections also have the advantage of providing the instructor with detailed information about your learning in the course.  This not only helps guide the daily preparation of course activities, but also helps connect us as a community of learners.

Your response need not be long, but must clearly indicate careful reading and thoughtful reflection.  You must respond to two of the questions.

What is the Main Point?
Reading assignments often contain a lot of information.  What is the main concept that the author is trying to get across?  This may, or may not, have been explicitly stated in the reading.  Why did the author choose to emphasize this point, and not some other?  Your response is not a summary of the chapter, but an analysis of it in a way that creates new meaning for you.

What is Surprising?
Your response to this question should be reflective.  Did you learn something that is in conflict with your previous notions of the world?  Did you learn something that fascinates you in a way that you didn’t expect?  How does this new knowledge connect with material in other courses, or with other parts of your life?  Responses must also clearly explain “why.”

What is Confusing?
Responses to this question require careful reading and reflection; it is only though the process of reconciling new information with our existing knowledge structure that we become aware of inconsistencies, or “gaps” in our understanding.  Responses to this question should be specific and actionable – that is they should outline a clear path to understanding.  Responses must also clearly explain “why.”

Rubric for Evaluation
10 points         Responses to both questions are labeled and clearly indicate careful reading and deep reflection.  Responses submitted before class meeting.

5 points           Responses are not specific, do not clearly indicate reflection, or are submitted soon after deadline.

0 points           No response, or response submitted more than one class period late.

From the IDEA Center, Idea Paper #40 – Getting Students to Read: 14 Tips, by Eric H. Hobson, Georgia State University (http://www.theideacenter.org/research-and-papers/idea-papers/idea-paper-no-40)

1)   Using appropriate texts:

  • Why am I using this particular text?
  • How does it help me meet my course goals/educational outcomes?
  • What do I mean by “required”? How does it contribute to students’ success in the course? “Nist and Kirby (1989) wrote that documented reading assignment compliance rates among college students (20 to 30%) “could be partly due to the fact that students quickly discovered that they did not need to read and study their texts in order to do well in the class. Perhaps attending class and studying lecture notes were sufficient for acceptable performance” (p. 327).”

2)   Rate your reading material: (e.g. absolutely essential, good supporting material, exotic, appealing to experts, or idiosyncratic choice). Only material that is essential should be labeled “required” and students will be held accountable for reading (such as graded reading assignments or readiness quizzes). Consider not using a text if no text can be categorized as essential; instead, build a course reading packet that supplements and complements the course. Any additional texts can fall under Recommended Reading.

3)   Course readings should show up as part of in-class presentations (yours or the students), factor into course projects, or appear on exams. Connections between the course and the reading should be obvious.

4)   Scaffold your reading assignments. Aim most assignments at “marginally skilled” readers, slowly build up the difficulty level of the readings, have students identify concepts or terms they struggled with for group/class discussion. Develop necessary reading skills and interpretative/inter-relational analysis skills. Preview the readings; relate them to course activities; practice reading skills in class (marking text and understanding why certain things are marked, summarizing concepts, identifying confusing or unclear ideas, forming questions).

5)   Use the syllabus as a teaching tool: “Effective syllabi do more than identify required reading materials; they provide background about the materials so that students understand why the reading assignments contribute to learning and how they relate to other course content and course activities (Grunert, 1997; Maleki & Heerman, 1992).”

Source: Turn to Your Neighbor (Peer Instruction Blog): http://blog.peerinstruction.net/2012/09/04/how-one-professor-motivated-students-to-read-before-a-flipped-class-and-measured-their-effort/

Peer Instruction (at least concerning homework and reading assignments) emphasizes effort over getting it right. So, in class, students would compare answers and work together towards a correct answer.

1)   Questions associated with the reading.

  • What did you find difficult or confusing in the reading? What attracted your attention, or you found most interesting? What questions do you have?
  • Content-specific questions where students must justify their answers.

2)   Students will be prepared to be called on to lead discussions on the reading. Assignment is random (cold-calling). Set up communication climate to establish trust and openness for ideas in the classroom.

3)   Make the reading MEAN something. Reading should ALWAYS be separate but related to the class material, else what’s the motivation to read it?

4)   Credit (grade) for Reading Assignments.

Works Cited

Grunert, Judith. The Course Syllabus: A Learning-Centered Approach. Bolton, MA: Anker, 1997. Print.

Hobson, Eric H. “Getting Students to Do the Reading: 14 Tips.” IDEA Center, Idea Paper #40, (2004), 1-10. Print.

Maleki, R.B. & Heerman, C.E. “Improving student reading.” IDEA Paper No. 26, Manhattan, KS: Kansas State University, Center for Faculty Evaluation and Development, 1992.

Nist, S.L. & Kirby, K. The text marking patterns of college students. Reading Psychology: An International Quarterly, 10 (1989), 321-338.

Schell, Julie. “How One Professor Motivated to Read Before a Flipped Class, and Measured Their Effort.” Turn to Your Neighbor, Peer Instruction Blog. 4 Sept 2012. Web. 2 Oct 2012. <http://blog.peerinstruction.net/2012/09/04/how-one-professor-motivated-students-to-read-before-a-flipped-class-and-measured-their-effort/&gt;

Wirth, Karl. “Reading Reflections.” Carlton College, Science Education Resource Center. 29 May 2012. Web. 2 Oct 2012. <http://serc.carleton.edu/NAGTWorkshops/metacognition/activities/27560.html&gt;

Fair Use – New Discussions on Copyright and Learning Materials

(Pictured: “Open Source”, Randall Munroe – via his excellent webcomic xkcd, available under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 2.5 license)

 

Fair use – defined as the limited use of copyrighted material for purposes of parody, journalism, commentary/criticism, or education – and intellectual property/copyright laws always cause confusion (what does ‘limited’ mean? what is intellectual property? is everything copyrighted? what about stuff on the Internet?). This is especially true  in the classroom, where we must not only know what it means ourselves, we must be able to articulate it to our students and have them understand what it means to their own academic/creative work.  Lawrence Lessig has been the most vocal  advocate of loosening copyright restrictions for appropriating the work of others for one’s own creative development. His book Remix is famous for calling for the “free culture” of knowledge sharing, creative use – the remixing/sampling – of art, media, literature, music, and more. Lessig also founded Creative Commons, a copyright and free use hub for artists of all media persuasions and creative Web surfers looking to share their own work or use other people’s work.

A recent court ruling has brought the issue of Fair Use back into the news, as Oxford University Press, Sage Publishing, and Cambridge University Press sued Georgia State University’s online reserve for copyright infringement. From Harvard University’s Derek Bok’s Center blog, we highlight some key summaries of findings from the case of Cambridge University Press vs. Becker, and what it means to educators:

“The short story is that, in the face of potentially far more prohibitive measures, CUP v Becker ruled that, in most cases, one chapter in a book of ten or more chapters (and 10% of a book with fewer than ten) is generally considered the limits of “fair use.” So, if you’re looking for a rough benchmark, there you go. But, of course, it’s not really THAT simple.”

1: The “character” of the use. The ruling states that educational purposes strongly supports Fair Use. So far so good.

2: “The nature of the work being used.” This is more problematic. The judge ruled that there is a greater scope for Fair Use if the work is factual, or non-fictional. “Creative” works have a more restricted Fair Use application. For a lot of humanities and social sciences, this also supports Fair Use. Tough luck, Literature, I suppose – and for a wider swath of educators who use “creative” texts in the classroom.

3: How much of the work is being copied. Here are the brass tacks: According to the ruling, for works with ten chapters or more, the use of one chapter is fair. Under ten chapters, 10% of the total pages (including bibliography, index, etc.) is fair. On one hand, this could be worse. But 10% of a monograph can really come fast. Compilations, that is, multi-authored works, are to be considered as one text.

4: How the use could affect the potential market or value of the copyrighted work. The ruling is weighed against Fair Use if it would result in a financial loss to the holders of the copyright. This is where things get tricky. After all, how is the average professor or TF supposed to know or quantify these criteria? However, Judge Evans qualified this factor, stating that it would significantly favor publishers, AS LONG AS a license in an appropriate format is both readily available and at an appropriate price. In other words, if the publisher does not have a reasonably priced (and accessible) licensed digital version, then the scales tip back to Fair Use. And as things stand now, most publishing houses don’t provide such an option.

(Bolded items mine)

I know that some faculty vaguely understand the restrictions of copyright, fair use, and intellectual property – they are usually the holders of either a copyrighted work or intellectual property. Students, however, are probably much less clear on what constitutes copyrighted material, how to get permission to use such material, and the pervasive idea that “if it’s on the Internet, doesn’t it belong to everyone?”. While the judgement in the above case certainly helps clear up some confusion for educators – we know more exactly what we can use and what we can’t, as well as providing academic publishers with an incentive to make licenses more affordable – for students this is less helpful when creating their own work, perhaps through appropriation, or remix, of other people’s work. The following may provide a useful guideline- modified as necessary for your course and the coursework you are assigning for your students (note the phrasing in the second-to-last paragraph is particular to a course on digital rhetoric and literacy). Below that I’ve posted a couple really useful Fair Use & Copyright informational resources.

(courtesy of Professor Caroline Dadas, Assistant Professor, English, Montclair State University)

Some thoughts on Copyright and Fair Use:

Copyright (an author’s exclusive right to his/her writing or discovery) is established by the U.S. Constitution. Prior to 1976 authors had to register a copyright of their work, but after 1976 all work is automatically copyrighted. This means that the following are all protected by copyright:

  • alphabetic text
  • designed alphabetic text (HTML files)
  • images (.JPG, .GIF)
  • audio (.WMA, .MP3)
  • video (.MPG)

To promote the exchange of ideas, there is the Fair Use Clause which allows for the copying of portions of a work provided that: the purpose is non-commercial, only a portion of the work is used, the work is credited to the original author, and the use of the work does not infringe upon the gain an author might have from their original work.  Fair Use applies in instances of “criticsm, comment, news reporting, teaching, scholarship, or research” (US Code 17, Section 107).

So, if you are using copyrighted texts, you should keep in mind the context: you are limiting your use of these images to a classroom, for the purposes of critique/comment. In this case, you are covered by Fair Use.

Even though all work is automatically copyrighted, it is possible to provide licenses of use that are less stringent than U.S. Copyright. Take a look at www.creativecommons.org for an example of licenses that are based on an ethic of sharing, copying, sampling, remixing.

Online Resources:

Stanford Copyright & Fair Use Center – http://fairuse.stanford.edu/

National Council of Teachers of English (NCTE) – http://www.ncte.org/positions/statements/fairusemedialiteracy

Works Cited:

“Lessig on Fair Use.” Independent Lens, Copyright Criminals, PBS. 10 Jan 2010. Web. 26 Sept 2012 <http://www.pbs.org/independentlens/copyright-criminals/fair-use.html&gt;

 “‘Fair Use’ – A Nightmare Averted?” The Bok Blog. 17 Sept 2012. Web. <http://blog.bokcenter.harvard.edu/2012/09/17/fair-use-a-nightmare-averted/&gt;

Managing your online persona as an educator

There seems to be a lingering question of how and if we present ourselves to students via social media. This post offers some good guidelines for managing your online presence, with a very useful collection of further resources at the bottom of the post. As always, please share your thoughts about interacting online with students and establishing an online persona as an educator.

Communicating With Students – Creating a Comfortable, Open Environment

Sending EmailTwo recent documents crossed my desk, one a study concerning sending welcoming emails to students one-week prior to the beginning of class (I know, this is a bit late for that, but still doable). The other discussed how to set boundaries on email communication, limiting digital clutter and establishing the rules and expectations on digital communication – which is probably especially important for those teaching hybrid/online courses. I thought I’d do a “welcome back!” post combining the strategies of these two studies, as a tip for setting the tone of out-of-class communication with your students, managing expectations and possibly limiting stereotypes and prejudices.

The study was conducted by Angela Legg and Janie Wilson in 2009. They found that sending a welcoming email to students one-week prior to class increased student’s motivation, fostered a positive attitude among students towards the instructor and the course, and increased student retention. Their study builds on existing research that indicates that building a rapport with students and keeping an open line of communication can increase motivation, participation, attendance, and learning (cf. Buskist & Saville, 2004; Christensen & Menzel, 1998; Frymier, 1994). Their research operates as an extension of theories of immediacy behaviors, and was expected to be most effective along gender lines, especially appreciated by female students more than male. To read about these theories more fully, I recommend you read the full study (available via the link below), it’s not long and it’s informative about student behaviors and how we can anticipate and forestall negative attitudes and perceptions.

First impressions can set the tone – good or bad – for the rest of the semester (Nilson, 2003; Wolcowitz, 1984). Traditionally, first impressions are made on the first day of class, but a welcoming email (the authors also suggest first contact can take other forms as well, such as using a social networking platform) can build a relationship before you ever meet your students. Tips for sending a welcoming email:

  • Personalize the message, rather than send a mass, blind cc email to all your students.
  • Provide your full contact information, office hours, and preferred method of contact (we’ll return to this item below).
  • Use a professional but approachable tone in your email, avoid excessive familiarity, attempts to be overly humorous, crude, or “hip”, stay on task by sticking to the connecting factor, your course. Striking just the right tone of friendly, open availability balanced with a professional, professorial air will carry over into your classroom environment.
  • Provide pre-reading opportunities (if applicable), list of texts, where they can be found (and publisher you prefer if applicable) and any other resources that may be helpful for students to get a jump on course work and/or come prepared to class.
  • Finally, invite questions! But, be sure you have the time and inclination to answer every email students may send your way. Let’s explore this question more now.

Courtesy of National Geographic, 2003

How much communication is too much? We have to be aware that, if we open the door to digital communication and invite a relationship via email or any digital platform, there may be other expectations set. The second piece I read was called “The Low-Information Diet: How to Eliminate E-Mail Overload & Triple Productivity in 24 Hours” by entrepreneur Timothy Ferriss, author of The 4-Hour Work Week (Crown, 2009). Though geared for a business audience, I found that many of the themes and suggestions of the article seemed particularly useful in relation to the study on welcoming emails and digital communication with students. It’s one thing to say, “I want my students to feel welcome to email me and ask questions”, but what limits do you set on your time, willingness to answer every minor email from students, and willingness to be available and expected to reply quickly? In an age where instant access and instant response are the standards, it is a wise move to set some boundaries and let students know what they can expect in their digital communications with you. By sending a welcoming email, you can influence attitudes, motivation, and even control some preconceived stereotypes or prejudices, but it’s worth limiting these communications – not at the expense of the student or relationship, but to strengthen them.

Ferriss calls email “the single biggest time waster in modern life” (4). He provides the following tips for setting boundaries for your email communications:

  • “Batching” Check email only once or twice a day, at set times. Turn off auto-alerts when you get a new email; it distracts you and interrupts productivity. Establish this rule of access in a template that is replicated (like a signature line) in each email – set up as an autoresponder or as an automatic amendment to each outgoing email. Here is a template [modified for educators]:

Greetings,

Due to a high courseload and pending deadlines [or research/teaching obligations], I am currently responding to email twice daily at 12pm EST [be sure to indicate your time zone] and 4pm EST.

If you require help with something that can’t wait until either 12pm or 4pm, please call me on my [cell/office phone] at 555-555-5555.

Thank you for understanding. I look forward to working with you this semester.

  • Either in your course syllabus or in your welcoming email, set expectations of what you will or will not respond to.
    • This means letting students know that if there isn’t a question to be answered, you won’t respond to email. This can be helpful for colleagues as well. It cuts down on the back-and-forth correspondence that plagues us all.
    • Here is a template [language modified for educators, particularly those that supervise others]:

Thank you so much for your message. I make every attempt to personally respond to each person who contacts me, but due to the high volume of e-mail I receive, this is sometimes impossible. Please be assured that I have received and have read your email. If your email requires a response, I will reply between the hours of [your email schedule]. Thank you for understanding and have a wonderful day!

Ferriss addresses several other tactics for limiting or eliminating digital clutter and the consequent demands on our time that accompany digital correspondence. The full report is available via the link listed below.

By first establishing a relationship through a welcoming email, and making sure to define the expectations and parameters of that relationship, you could increase positive student attitudes about you and your course, increase retention rates, and increase student motivation. As well, you are making sure that you can maintain that digital relationship by setting communication expectations, so you aren’t disappointing or failing to respond to a student, which we all know, can sour the attitude of many a frantic student. It’s equally important to follow through on what you say. If you establish a schedule, stick to it.

I hope this proves helpful for your course and your relationship with students. I’m eager to hear your experience, so please comment or write and tell me what works for you. Have a wonderful semester!

References:

Legg, A. M. & Wilson, J.H. (2009). E-Mail From Professor Enhances Student Motivation and Attitudes. Teaching of Psychology, 36(3), 205-211. Available online at: http://www.tandfonline.com/doi/abs/10.1080/00986280902960034

Buskist, W., & Saville, B. K. (2004). Rapport-building: Creating positive emotional contexts for enhancing teaching and learning. In B. Perlman, L. I. McCann, & S. H. McFadden (Eds.), Lessons learned: Practical advice for the teaching of psychology, 2, 149–155. Washington, DC: American Psychological Society.

Ferriss, T. (2007). The Low-Information Diet: How to Eliminate E-Mail Overload & Triple Productivity in 24 Hours. ChangeThis, 34(4). Retrieved from http://changethis.com/manifesto/show/34.04.LowInfo.

Our Best Teaching Moments – Writing our Teaching Philosophy

Courtesy of DiscoverySchool.com. Copyright © 1998 Mark A. Hicks. Originally published by Mark A. Hicks. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

Our Best Teaching Moments

by Julie Dalley

Our last Teaching Circles meeting of the semester was April 24, a Tuesday. There were only four of us present physically, one virtually, through email. The discussion began with our “best” teaching moment, when we knew we had kicked ass and taken names when delivering our lesson – that one (or more) class where everything just “clicked. I think we can all remember a day where the students talked, where our lesson was BOSS and our delivery was award-worthy, where students “got it” and time ran over but no one cared (or something along those lines), and I choose to close out our meetings this semester with some positive stories and experiences because, of course we want to end on a good note, and because, good – and bad – experiences are what form us as educators and turn us into teachers.

Surprisingly, it was much harder to think of a “best” moment – that is, a moment that stood out. I can remember feeling great about a class, remember wonderful conversations, but it was harder to fill in the details than when I thought of my worst moments as a teacher. Classes gone amok were much clearer, which makes me part of a 2.6% who find positive memories harder to recall, or I could be mildly depressed? Perhaps I was more emotional, and stressed, by the bad classes, which is most likely. Either way, remembering these classes became important to my development as a teacher, and is a crucial way to build our teaching philosophy. My goal was to share these stories, tap into our memories – good and bad – and use this material as fodder for crafting our teaching philosophies.

As my post, Our Worst Teaching Moments, detailed, we have all failed spectacularly in front of a classroom of judgmental and amused students. Mostly though, after the judging and laughter wore off, students felt sympathetic to our struggles, and this show of humanity – we all fail sometimes – helped to ultimately create stronger bonds with our students. We became better because we fell on our faces.

When it comes to our best moments, often they are connected to true engagement with you, the instructor. Yes, you! Not just the material, the content, but how you deliver it, how you invite them to challenge, explore, experiment, or even be shocked by, the lesson is what made that day, that class, special. Our first story came from a professor in Classics & General Humanities. He talked about how he asked students to compare the United States Constitution with the ancient Greek Athenian constitution. Their surprise on how similar the two documents were resulted in a lively debate about the roots of our country’s ideas about democracy borrowed from the ideals perpetuated in ancient societies.

Our next speaker talked about her experience teaching Music Theory. This topic – rich in dense vocabulary and foundational knowledge – became personally viable to her students when she invited them to bring in their own music which they then connected to the theory or practices they were learning at the time. This made the class more engaged and personally connected to what was otherwise dry instruction.

Our computer science faculty member shared that his best classes came when students could engage in hands-on application of knowledge. Once past the point of introduction or theory, applying what they knew and trying out concepts, building programs, really became the nexus of pedagogy and student engagement.

My best moment teaching came during a discussion about the roots of racial inequality in the United States. I was teaching an American History junior high school class, and we were role playing the Civil War. When the conversation turned from then to now, a student made the statement that race “wasn’t a big deal anymore” because “I have lots of black friends who I don’t view in any different way.” She was shocked when several of my black students spoke up and quickly rebutted her statement with “just because we hang out with you, doesn’t mean we’re friends or equal.” I let the conversation roll, despite my internal fear that it may get out of hand and it was a topic I wasn’t sure I was capable of moderating with poise, but it turned out to be one of the best learning moments I’d ever had in my classroom – for me and my students. We really talked, without anger or recriminations, and we discussed perspective – personal, biographical, historical perspective. Everyone was respectful while connecting the issue at hand – racial inequality in the United States and its historical roots – with their own personal experience.

The four stories above share a common element: engagement with the personal. We surprised our students with knowledge they didn’t expect (finding similarities between the old and the new, always a shocker to the young, who invented everything!), we went off plan in our lessons, and we invited them to engage personally and emotionally (sharing their personal taste in music).

This post is related to my post of Worst Teaching Moments because these are rich stories that make for a wonderfully personal orientation when developing our teaching philosophy. For faculty hoping for tenure or re-appointment, or for new graduates looking for a full-time appointment, teaching philosophies are critically important in articulating our experience, our goals, and our understanding of what it means to teach and learn in our disciplines. By reflecting on our experience with both success and failure in the classroom we are conveying that we paid attention to what worked, what didn’t, and what we learned from it. It needn’t only be limited to our teaching experience either; new graduates may have limited teaching experience, but as this article in the Chronicle of Higher Education points out, we’ve all been students. We know what we liked as students, what we didn’t, and why we chose to become educators.

These two meetings were meant to be exercises to help us frame our teaching philosophies. In the Fall, we will hold a formal workshop with hands-on writing exercises to polish and get feedback on writing our teaching philosophies. I hope these ideas of reflecting on what worked and what didn’t were helpful in at least getting you thinking about your teaching experiences, and to perhaps write a few sentences on what you considered a success, and what you thought failed, and what you learned from each. Every stand-out teaching philosophy has, at minimum, those three elements. For more resources on writing your teaching philosophy, please check out the following resources. Have a wonderful summer!

“How to Write a Statement of Teaching Philosophy” by Gabriela Montell, retrieved from the Chronicle of Higher Education, May 11, 2012: http://chronicle.com/article/How-to-Write-a-Statement-of/45133/

“Writing the Teaching Statement” by Rachel Narehood Austin, retrieved from Science Careers, from the Journal of Science, May 11, 2012: http://sciencecareers.sciencemag.org/career_magazine/previous_issues/articles/2006_04_14/noDOI.14633728089694563528

University of Minnesota, Background and Contexts for Teaching Philosophies: http://www1.umn.edu/ohr/teachlearn/tutorials/philosophy/background/index.html

The Ohio State University, University Center for the Advancement of Teaching. Writing a Philosophy of Teaching Statement: http://ucat.osu.edu/teaching_portfolio/philosophy/philosophy2.html

 

Silence at a Teaching Tool: Meditation in the Classroom

Silence as a Teaching Tool: Meditation in the Classroom

Silence as a teaching tool

Teachers fill their classes with sound. A lecture or assignment that excites a lively class discussion is deemed successful. It is also productive to fill them occasionally with silence. There is no exercise that my students enjoy more than silent meditation. They say they are under a lot of pressure, and a few minutes of quiet with the lights low is refreshing, calming, and settles their minds.

My pedagogic specialty is the application of the principles of linguistics to the writing classroom, and one area of linguistics concerns how ideas are created before they are voiced or written down. Ideas come as plentifully from silence as they do from discussion.

The three meditation-based exercises below give students a creative tool which most of them have never used before.

I.    Meditation Before Writing.

Meditation is a sophisticated practice which requires a long time to master. The better title for this exercise may be “quiet concentration” or “pure thinking.”

Exercise: Provide an in-class assignment; it could be a simple description (“What would the ideal classroom look like?”), or a more philosophical question (“What is the right way to discipline young children?”). It could also be a memory question (“What is your earliest memory?”). The question can be tailored to current class work.

Turn the lights off, ask them to silence their electronic devices, tell them to get comfortable, and announce that the meditation will last five minutes.

When the five minutes are up, give them time to write a paragraph on the assigned subject. You could then ask them to read the paragraphs aloud, but that is not required. Ask them to share their reactions to the meditation process.

The payoff would be that the process results in a better final paper, but there is no good method to test that.

It’s a simple exercise, but provides a memorable and often empowering experience for the students.

II.  Guided Meditation.

One of the pitfalls of learning is the frequent assumption by students that their view of the world is universally held.  In my classes recent statements have ranged from “Everyone serves lasagna on Christmas,” to “Everyone loves their parents,” to “There were no abortions before Roe v. Wade.”

Exercise: Ask students to close their eyes.  Ask them to breathe comfortably in and out, and then instruct them to relax their feet, ankles, knees, hips, stomach, throat, eyes, etc.  Then guide them in a meditation.  This has as many permutations as there are people, but I often use this one:

Imagine you are walking along and you come upon a gate in a fence.

You walk through the gate, and across a wide field. 

You come to a body of water, where you stay for a while. 

Now turn around and come back to where you started.

You can also use this one:

Imagine you stop your car by the side of the road and walk to a lake 100 yards away

What is on the surface of the lake?

Descend lower into the water. What do you see there?

Descend to the bottom of the lake. What do you see there?

Now rise back to the top and walk to your car.

This part of the exercise should take 5-10 minutes. It takes time for images and impressions to develop, so leave plenty of time between each phase of the imagined experience.

After it is over, ask the students to tell the rest of the class what their fence/field/body of water looked like, what they did while they were walking.

Some students are alone, some with others. For some the field is full of flowers, which they pick, others play soccer with their team. Some go swimming in the water; others dip their toe in, and some just look at it. On their return, some lock the gate behind them; others walk through and leave it open. Some have friends awaiting them on the other side of the gate; others are alone. The imagined experiences are utterly different from one another, and students are amused, amazed, and delighted at the variety.

(As an aside, Thanksgiving provides an opportunity to demonstrate similar diversity on a more practical level. In the first class after the break, I ask each student write down what they ate on Thanksgiving. I have done this three years in a row and there is no single food that “everyone” has served, not even turkey and pumpkin pie. One such real-life example of natural diversity is worth any number of lectures on the subject.)

This is a counter-linguistic exercise in that it involves no language at all until the class reviews what they have imagined – the experience takes place on another level. It is a good opportunity to question where ideas come from, how creativity works, and what our “minds” are.

The dazzling array of different experiences speaks for itself in demonstrating that no two minds think alike. The point can be underlined by noting that their imaginings proceeded from different experiences and expectations, and that this diversity should be assumed in every area of the human experience.

III. Talking Stick:

This exercise is based on tribal ceremonies to resolve differences and hash through issues. It can be used in any discipline to dig deep into a specific area of inquiry. It is nonthreatening, egalitarian, and always interesting. I participate too when the Talking Stick comes into my hand.

Example: In my writing class this semester, the essays are based on the Ages of Man, beginning with “before birth, childbirth, and early childhood.”  We are reading poetry, essays, and fictional works which portray or discuss this period in life, and inspiration can be gleaned from these readings, but it is still a daunting challenge to narrow the focus to a specific claim. This semi-meditative exercise provides a rich lode of issues and experiences to enrich the thinking of all members of the class.

Exercise:  The teacher must find a “talking stick” of some sort, which is simply an interesting stick. You can tie a ribbon around an ordinary stick from your yard, or use, as I have, a colorful carved walking cane. Some stick-like object decorated by your imagination suffices.

The role of the teacher is to guide the discussion and regulate the timing.  The students should understand clearly the issue they are to address. Instruct them to give complete attention to the person holding the Talking Stick – no laughter, no commentary, no questions. Students self-regulate the length of their comments so each participant has time to speak, but the teacher should be ready to cut off a time-hog. The teacher will also judge how long the sharing should go on, giving each student a chance to speak the same number of times. In a class of 18 students, two times around with the Talking Stick took 40 minutes.

The class sits in a circle and the Talking Stick is placed in the middle.  The group sits in silence until someone is moved to pick up the stick and share a thought about the subject at hand. He or she speaks for as long as necessary to express his or her thought and then passes the stick to the left. The next person speaks, and passes it to the left, and so on. Students who can’t think of anything to say can pass it without speaking, but the teacher should come back to them later.

The Talking Stick is powerful. As each participant sees it coming closer and closer, a sense of excitement grows, and often the thoughts expressed when the Talking Stick arrives are freighted with deep commitment. It is a cathartic and informative experience for everyone involved.

This exercise works for both introverted and extroverted students. There is plenty of time to compose a thought, and a flexible amount of time to present it.

Ann Evans is an Adjunct Professor in the award-winning First Year Writing Program at Montclair State University.  She has an M.A. in Applied Linguistics from Montclair State, and an M.A. in English from New York University.  She writes a monthly column, Language Bits, in The Sussex Newspaper and her blog, “Linguistics in the Writing Classroom” (http://www.linguisticsintheclassroom.com) is read around the world. An article, “Beyond Grammar: Linguistics in the Writing Classroom” was published in the Spring 2011 issue of the Duke University journal, Pedagogy.

Learning How to Learn: A Mandate for Change in Today’s College Classroom

 “It is not the subject per se that is educative or conducive to growth…There is no such thing as educational value in the abstract.”
– John Dewey, “Criteria of Experience,” in Experience & Education, 1938.

“Students’ long-term success does not depend upon short-term business cycles or the technical demands of the latest ‘hot’ industry.”
– Carol Geary Schneider, President, American Association of Colleges and Universities, in The Chronicle of Higher Education, May 6, 2011.

Author and Professor Neil Baldwin

Author Neil Baldwin

Author and Professor Neil Baldwin

I. What kind of essay this is; and to whom addressed. 

Learning How to Learn is a wake-up call directed at those who care about the perplexing challenges involved with educating today’s college youth in our interconnected world: Where is the common ground? How should we be talking to — and with — these mercurial young people? And how can we convince them that learning how to learn should be their ultimate goal?

This essay avoids the debilitating ideological “war” between utilitarian education for a job (vocational), and general education for well-rounded citizenship (liberal arts) fueling the crisis mentality that pervades media conversations, blogs, and articles about American higher education.  The time has come to focus the scatter-shot, overheated debate about what is “wrong” with college and “the system,” and to bear down instead upon the most intimate arena in which education actually occurs: the classroom.

Learning How to Learn encourages teachers to draw upon what they know, with confidence — their expertise — then take a crucial step beyond, making use of common sense pedagogy that recognizes the unique mind-set of their generational audience, aged 17-22.

This is not a utopian dream about what could happen if we had all the money in the world.  We must work with what we have been given. The American public higher education landscape is commonly portrayed as impoverished and out of balance financially and intellectually. Therefore, what can the everyday classroom teacher be expected, supported — and inspired — to do, without sacrificing standards and ideals?

Let me also say at the outset that Learning How to Learn is not predicated upon any authoritative, longitudinal studies. It is documented with a rich and varied bibliography of current literature on American higher education that I have been tracking down, reading, writing about, and commenting upon from the web-based vantage point of the virtual Creative Research Center at Montclair State University.

As a tenured full professor and classroom teacher with a “3-3” curricular load of undergraduate introductory, intermediate, and advanced courses as well as graduate seminars, I have given deep thought to what should be going on “on the ground;” why, and toward what desired ends.

II. The Current Crisis. 

My simmering contemplation of the current crisis was crystallized by two chance readings that, on the surface, seemed unrelated. The first began as a conversation about teaching I was enjoying with a friend in the Philosophy Department who glancingly referred to “the only essay on education that Hannah Arendt ever wrote – and it’s all about the American educational system” — did I know of it?  I raced home and pulled Arendt’s classic collection, Between Past and Future, from my shelves.

Arendt’s major concern in her essay “The Crisis in Education” (1954) was that our much-vaunted school system, at all levels, was “helpless before the individual child,” that we were in danger of forsaking the “obligation that the existence of children –  human beings in the process of becoming — entails for every human society…One cannot educate without at the same time teaching,” she wrote, but “an education without learning is empty.” The ultimate iteration of freedom as action — in Hannah Arendt’s hopeful words — would be only through education to inspire and encourage “care for a world that can survive us, and remain a place fit to live in, for those who come after us.”

Soon thereafter, I was rushing through Newark Airport when a headline on the cover of The Atlantic caught my eye – Scenes from the Class Struggle, by Joel Klein, recently retired chancellor of the New York City public school system.  I grabbed the magazine and read the piece on the plane. “President Obama was on to something in 2008,” Klein wrote, “when he said, ‘The single most important factor in determining student achievement is not the color of their skin or where they came from. It is not who their parents are or how much money they have. It’s who their teacher is.’ ”  Klein warned that, “Time is running out. Without a citizenry willing to insist upon reform, our schools will continue to decline…Shocking as it may sound, the cost in human terms, to our nation, and to the kind of people we aspire to become, will be even greater.”

Fifty-seven years apart…and yet, both Arendt and Klein are saying the same thing: Our educational system, designed in another time for other purposes, is in a state of emergency; and something needs to be done right away, or we will suffer the loss of future human capital.

The urgency of the language in both cases emanates from fear on the most personal level that we as teachers and parents are in danger of literally losing our youth – abandoning them – by not serving them as well as we should; and that we, as a society, on the largest level, are neglecting our mission as adults, forsaking our obligations to the young, chastising ourselves for being unresponsive to what Arendt calls “The New Ones,” the newest generation — new at whatever stage they may be, from pre-school toddlers to college freshmen.

A powerful element at the core of the current cultural crisis is the intensified pressure upon higher education professors as “content-deliverers” who must justify and quantify the ultimate applications and uses of the information and knowledge acquired (or not) by their students.

But remember: Information is not knowledge.

My vigilant classroom anthropological “fieldwork” has led me to try to come up with new ways to elicit and legitimize the affect of college students, encouraging them to take enduring values and morals to heart that originate in content and subject-based arenas, and extend beyond them.

III. The American Idealist Tradition and Its Pedagogical Legacy. 

As an historian and biographer steeped in American culture (works on William Carlos Williams, Man Ray, Thomas Edison, and Henry Ford) my current teaching behavior and beliefs grow out of decades of writing books that identify and elucidate redemptive qualities in our native imagination, most recently The American Revelation: Ten Ideals That Shaped Our Country from the Puritans to the Cold War. 

This American chronicle [see  http://www.neilbaldwinbooks.com], combined with immersion in teaching, inspired me to revisit — with rejuvenated appreciation — our mainstream pragmatist pioneer, John Dewey (1859-1952). No self-respecting examination of American higher education can be complete without (re)encountering Dewey – prolific public intellectual, exemplar of progressivism, hailed by The New York Times as “America’s philosopher.” As Chairman of the Philosophy Department at the University of Chicago, Dewey founded an experimental elementary school and launched his quest to “define democracy in all its phases – political, economic, social, and cultural.”

The pragmatic philosopher celebrated what makes us most human. Dewey encouraged every American student to explore his literal and figurative neighborhood, “just local, just human, just where we live.”  Indeed, the original name for pragmatism, as coined in 1898 by Dewey’s faithful correspondent and friend, William James, was “practicalism.”

Henry Steele Commager praised Dewey as “the guide, mentor, and conscience of the American people.” Here was a teacher who predicated his life’s work upon empiricism, the supreme value of experience in all domains of life, spanning from primary education to the imperative social contract that connects every one of us to each other.

My affinities as a classroom teacher resonate with Dewey’s lifelong intention to “reach beyond the academy and speak to a wide range of citizens…[in] the general march of events…outleadings into the wide world of nature and man… of knowledge and of social interests…”

I am impelled forward by John Dewey’s endorsement of ways of knowing that carry across the boundaries between disciplines; his melding of the ethical and the practical; his conceptualization of teacher-as-learner (particularly pertinent today); his faith in process before product; his view of the institution of the school as the proper spawning-ground for moral sensibility and the development of role models; his healthy opinion of the child’s affection for the teacher as a suitable foundation for learning; his belief in the organic relationship of disparate subjects to each other; his conviction that art is a form of praxis and that the quality of the thing made far outweighs quantity; his insistence that the “machinery of thought” must be kept moving for reflection to exercise its greatest influence; and that the teacher demonstrate correct learning through daily behavior – not only through what he says, but what he does.

John Dewey’s greatest follower, Jane Addams (1860-1935), declared, “The sphere of knowledge is the sphere of action.” In that same spirit, I endorse converting pedagogical thought into purposeful action.  Dewey’s vintage writings have much to tell us now about remedying systemic problems in higher education. America’s philosopher is due for a vigorous revival.  His prescient and seminal studies including Experience & Education and Art as Experience provide timely reading for today’s teachers, parents — and millennials.

Social MediaIV.  The Challenge of Social Media.

College professors are constantly reminded of our obligation to teach – to be “exposed to” — the many (as expressed through calculation of Student Semester Hours, or, colloquially, “butts in seats”).

I am constantly asking, “how I can get to know my students as individuals?”

The administrative/economic-productivity mandate to reach more college undergraduates is at odds with a constant succession of observed behaviors in our students – resentment of high school and the legacy of No Child Left Behind of teaching to the test; individual and quirky cognitive gaps and lapses; continuous partial attention; vicissitudes and inconsistencies over the course of a semester, during which time a teacher occasionally finds himself wondering why some of his students are even there in the first place.

We read nowadays about how teachers are trying to incorporate social media into the classroom instead of heading in the other direction, which is to outlaw it.  Every teacher needs to ask himself, when in front of the class, how he honestly feels about looking out over the students and seeing them on their laptops, wondering if they are texting, tweeting, or Facebooking.

One short year ago, the girls used to hide their phones inside their purses on their desks, and text with one hand; and guys in the back of the room leaned against the wall, baseball cap brim pulled down, and cradled the phone just below the edge of their desks.  Now, they are unabashedly overt, nestling the phone in their laps or laying it in plain view on the top of the desk and texting “unobtrusively.”

What does this behavior signify? Insouciance? Rebellion? Habituation? Ignorance? Instinct? How are teachers supposed to interpret and act upon such behavior? Are students conscious of what they are doing when they do it? Do they understand (or care) that their habituated mediations infringe upon the pedagogical atmosphere? What does it mean if, in fact, they are not conscious and/or do not see anything wrong with incessant electronic chat?

The virtual is real to this distracted and (self-characterized) omniscient generation (i.e., “It’s all on the Web whenever we need anything).  The great danger for the teacher is automatically reading such multi-tasked immersion as indicating that students are not paying attention. Could it be that their mode of situated cognition has conjured up an utterly different definition than mine of what it actually means to “pay attention?”

To what degree should teachers be willing to accommodate the technology? To what degree should we resist or (even) criticize it? When I start to call them out I feel a twinge, as if I am acting like a high school teacher or disciplinary monitor. When I tell the class how awkward I feel, they may tone it down for a day, but texting and surfing invariably return.

When the investment of the teacher and the mental disengagement of the student are at odds, my going-around-in-circles with the dilemma is compounded by reluctance to downgrade my status at the front of the room, which is, after all, where I belong. Each disciplinary comment I put out there is one more incremental departure from the reasons we are supposed to be in the room.

My inner monologue goes something like this: They are in my class, well-aware that they, or their parents, are paying to be there; they are experiencing first-hand contact with a noted author, and making a choice to do what they do. If it is impossible for students to stay off their phones for an hour and fifteen minutes, or to sit in the seat without getting up, eating, drinking Starbucks, going to the bathroom, dropping their highlighters and hand-held devices, and other random gestures, then what is to be gained by my trying to stop them coercively, as opposed to permitting them to behave in customary ways?

This past year marked Marshall McLuhan’s 100th birthday. His dictum that “the medium is the message” applies to this pedagogical dilemma. Case in point: To discuss my ideas — and assuage my apprehensions — about the format of an online graduate course I agreed to teach, I met with a well-meaning instructional designer.  It was self-evident to him that anything I taught face to face could be accomplished and executed equally well through technology. It was going to be a matter of my providing learning objectives for the course and the structure of the syllabus; then he would work with me to devise the technology that would “best convey the desired content.”

He used a container-analogy, explaining that teaching a class online was just like choosing between a “truck or a van or a car” to “deliver” a package. I countered that this translation did not hold up.  Learning is a cognitive process of uncertain duration that transpires between the time a concept or idea is launched and whether (or not) it lands in the student’s mind in a way that will be sustained beyond the moment.

V. The teacher as mentor.

Arthur Levine’s trenchant observation in The Chronicle of Higher Education strikes a responsive chord: “Graduate-level teacher training programs created by schools and school districts tend to emphasize practice over theory, clinical education over academic instruction, pedagogy over content, and faculties of expert teachers over university professors.”

Rather than legislate abstract, over-arching national curricular standards for the common core, the best way to improve our educational system is to start at the classroom level, with teacher preparation that bridges the metaphorical “widest street in the world” between colleges of education and colleges of arts and sciences. Classroom teachers should be singled out and trained based upon their commitment to developing a positive classroom ambience and emotional climate; at the same time, the affective quality of classroom life must be enhanced in support of the teacher’s level of expertise in a specialist subject area.

Teachers need to reallocate their energies, draw upon empathy rather than cultivate resistance, and re-evaluate how subject matter is conveyed.  In the classroom, at that point where the expert meets the novice, there needs to be an unforced lamination of subject matter onto meaningful engagement.

Students expect the classroom teacher to place greater demands upon himself.  This is a message many professors do not like to hear. The contrarian dimension of my manifesto is an appeal to change our ways, as difficult as that may be for those of us further along in years.

Today’s college teacher needs to be a guide and a coach — not a judge. He must learn a new cognitive language when he steps into the classroom. He must muster up the energy to leap over the generation gap; possess behavior-modification strategies of other-directedness, empathy, patience; understand the students’ brains and accept that they operate differently than ours.

In the ideal classroom environment, students will notice and emulate thoughtful, well-considered, authentic modeling behaviors. The fact is that until teachers are committed to adaptive behavior (as distinguished from the dangerous pitfalls of trying to act “cool” or to talk like the students; and not unlike insisting upon speaking English in Paris) we will never be able to convey any “major” or subject matter successfully.

More importantly, again invoking the precedent of John Dewey, any useful praxis must continue beyond the limits of a semester. We must pay more attention to the definition, cultivation and reinforcement of lasting epistemic virtues that cross subject boundaries – attentiveness, benevolence, creativity, compassion, curiosity, inclusion, objectivity, tenacity, and wisdom.

Today’s college teacher, whatever his specialty, must inculcate and encourage in his students an inquisitive, associational, imaginative mentality through habits of mind dedicated to – yes, even obsessed with — the continuous pursuit of knowledge, linked to the positive implications of that pursuit for the greater society.

This broad path supercedes particular courses for which students have willingly and/or unwillingly registered. As I tell my (required) Play Script Interpretation class on the first day of the term, “It doesn’t matter to me what subject I teach.”

The student needs to understand that memorizing is not learning. Neither, for that matter, is abstract intellectualizing. Giving a quiz to make sure that everybody has at least read the assignment works on the reductive, essential level.  The only way for a teacher to find out if students are learning is to ask them to apply principles or themes or ideas from a wide range of perspectives to creatively devised hypothetical situations, challenges and prompts.

Unless students feel emotionally comfortable with the teacher, they will not learn in a sustained fashion; they will only acquire information expediently and transiently. They must be reminded by the strategically self-conscious teacher about the ongoing narrative/through-line of the course, where they are located within it, and how the course will eventually pertain to their lives in the day to day larger society.

Students need to trust from the first class meeting that the teacher knows the syllabus-as-narrative best of all, because he has conceived of it and written it, and will keep writing it as it goes along. The teacher must remain confident of this classroom “story,” welcoming the students in on it from time to time, so that they begin to think of themselves as co-conspirators.

Hence, what I call…

VI. …the Existential Curriculum.

When I reference “existential” I am drawing upon aspects of the empathic theory of Hannah Arendt’s student, Maxine Greene. I envision a curriculum created with the understanding that, although it is purported to be and presented as a plan, it will still be in a state of continuous formation. The existential curriculum exists to be modified, elaborated and clarified as you forge ahead through the term.

The decisive, adaptable, aware, questing/questioning and observant teacher — active observation being among the desired attributes for any nimble teacher of young people – will be the most effective bearer of any subject embedded in the fluid, evolving situation of the classroom that he/she must be mindful of and control.

Once the plan is in place, teacher and students, together, construct and make the course.

The teacher’s performative cues must be presented openly so the class will perceive what they value (in their words) as the teacher’s “passion” and “caring about / respecting the students.”  The reciprocal degree to which students feel the passion and trust the teacher’s feelings as being sincere will have a salutary influence upon the depth and extent to which the subject-matter is learned.

John Dewey distinguishes illuminatingly between content-value and form-value. Students in the throes of an existential curriculum must be made aware that their sentient teacher has not only a pedagogical methodology but also a moral stance. The behavioral medium is one in which the teacher projects confidence that the students have the capacity to take on and learn difficult concepts. In such an environment, the subject matter will have the optimal chance to traverse the distance from the teacher.

The existential curriculum coalesced in my imagination when I was trying to arrive at a more methodical, “not-rushing,” self-regulating, better-paced way to move through the syllabus as a coherent narrative with a beginning, middle and end. The existential curriculum had roots in the realization that, as is my nature, I had been pushing through recent semesters at a high metabolic level, putting forth one intense idea after another without respite.  I became anxious that, even though my intention was to challenge them, the students were having trouble keeping up.  Conceding that it sounded somewhat “hokey,” I told them, “We are all on the same journey.”  This was a metaphor I had actually learned from them; they approved of my epiphany and began to relax somewhat.

My personal strategies of behavioral self-modification include, for example, but not definitively:  “show and tell,” talking the class out loud through whatever I am doing — even something as simple as using chalk to write on the blackboard; conscientious avoidance of flashy media in the classroom, such as Powerpoint (of which students are quite critical); handing out questionnaires halfway through the term to get their feedback and establish mid-course corrections; encouraging legitimized confusion by trying out new questions, experimenting, and readily admitting when they do not work; pointedly acknowledging my mistakes; using constant interrogation as a primary mode of discourse; accepting all student answers as valid perceptual and learning moments; collapsing the readings syllabus into fewer required works in order to spend more time on each one; impromptu elimination of an exam or exams; shifting emphasis to reading aloud; and establishing a final, collective project embracing contributions from the entire class, such as http://www.montclair.edu/creativeresearch/studentcenter/index.html

VII. Pure epistemology.

Transitioning from the existential curriculum that advocates intellectual and affective development in the college classroom, I propose initiating a conversation about learning at the outset of every class, every semester.

The subject matter of the conversation is heightened awareness of the nature of learning itself – “pure epistemology.”

Start a course – any course — by reading and talking about how learning occurs, and what it means.  Use the discussion of the actual meaning of learning as the common denominator, the obligatory entrée.

This initial conversation requires an accompanying assessment of the students’ “knowledge base.”  Take informational inventory, coming to terms with their prior knowledge of whatever book or subject you are discussing, without placing a value-judgment on the discrepancies different students bring to class from varied high school days and real-life experiences.

Through this collective exercise in metacognition, the teacher helps the students confront the meaning of learning and draw out its connotations.

I frame learning – it should be obvious by now – as an inherent asset, something desirable. The incoming student often needs to be convinced of this value.  Maybe you “have to take” this course, I say to the class, because it is required (as so many general education courses are). Instead of resisting, I continue, you might think about looking at the class as an opportunity to develop your learning skills beyond what the catalog says the course is about. You may end up discovering that there are classes you have to take that you actually end up liking. With more than one-half of the typical college curriculum made up of general education classes, shouldn’t all such classes embody some useful meaning?

In the process of teaching students to learn how to learn, we must revisit the unresolved debate about Liberal Arts education – the oft-invoked canon: what belongs, what doesn’t, according to whom, and how this gatekeeping stricture can be adjusted – not sacrificed, not jettisoned — to reflect the times in which we live and the fragmented mentalities of our students.   In the enlightened future I want for my students, and never stop trying to articulate, there will be skills, attributes, and qualities they will always need out in the world.

It is also a fallacy to decide that a teacher absolutely must cover everything laid out in the proposed curricular terrain. The millennial mind finds it tedious to bear the pedagogical burden of an over-regulated syllabus. Up-front, we should be wary of the oversold or pre-packaged promise of a course because, by the end of the term, what we really want to generate is the realization that.

VIII. …Pedagogy is for Life. 

The college professor and his students face pressures to show documented, measurable outcomes. I am not discounting these out of hand; however, we must also seek to get beyond the hermetic idea that when a course runs, it de facto serves its purpose when it is over.  We must demonstrate greater permeability between the higher education world and the rest of the students’ worlds.

We must guide today’s students toward the understanding that their college education is an opportunity for them to develop and to become indoctrinated to new, better, humanistic, more valuable and sustained mentalities — beyond utilitarianism, choice of majors, getting that piece of paper, and the need for a job.

By the time they graduate, students’ self-centered attentions and energies should be applied outward and forward, to a sense of social responsibility for the collective and common weal, an understanding of the democratic experiment — engagement with their society, their Zeitgeist – because it will be theirs to inhabit, survive, and ameliorate.

“I do not wish to close, however,” John Dewey emphasized in the final pages of Experience & Education, “without recording my firm belief that the fundamental issue is not of ‘new’ versus ‘old’ education, nor of ‘progressive’ against ‘traditional’ education, but a question of what anything whatever must be to be worthy of the name education.”

As Hannah Arendt wrote so movingly, “School is not the world, but it represents the world for the child when he is there.”

The “existentials” need to find better ways to aim for and reach the moving target of the “millennials.” Abandonment of authority will not help teach anybody anything. Nor will free-floating theory divorced from grounded real-life application. From where I stand as a classroom teacher, detached abstraction is of little interest to the average college student.

Rather, learning how to learn is the most urgent higher education challenge in the twenty-first century.

IX. Selected Bibliography.

Arendt, Hannah. The Crisis in Education (1954)

Dewey, John. “A College Course: What Should I Expect from It?” (1890).  In The Early Works, (Vol.3, pp.51-55). Carbondale, IL: Southern Illinois University Press, 1969.

—-. Art as Experience. New York: Perigee Books, 1934, 2005.

—-. Experience & Education. New York: Touchstone Books, 1938, 1997.

Greene, Maxine. The Dialectic of Freedom. New York: Teachers College Press, 1988.

Hickman, Larry A., ed. Reading Dewey: Interpretations for a Postmodern Generation. Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1998.

Klein, Joel. Scenes from the Class Struggle. The Atlantic, June, 2011.

Levine, Arthur. The New Normal of Teacher Education. Chronicle of Higher Education, May 13, 2011.

Mirel, Jeffrey. “Bridging the ‘Widest Street in the World’: Reflections on the History of Teacher Education.” American Educator, 35.2, Summer 2011.

Webster, Scott. “Existentialism: Providing an ideal framework for educational research in times of uncertainty.” In AARE 2002: Problematic Futures. Coldstream, Victoria, NSW, pp.1-15.

[Note: The central theme of this essay originated in my Keynote Speech presented at the Montclair State University Student Research Symposium, April 16, 2011. I express grateful appreciation to my first readers, Susan Albertine, Vice-President for Engagement, Inclusion, and Success, and Karen Kalla, Director, Network for Academic Renewal, Association of American Colleges and Universities; and for their generous critique and editorial commentary through successive drafts of Learning How to Learn over the past twelve months, I would like to thank Ada Beth Cutler, Dean, College of Education and Human Services; Jennifer Robinson, Executive Director, Center of Pedagogy;  Linda Davidson, Associate Dean, College of the Arts; Erhard Rom, Professor, Department of Theatre & Dance, College of the Arts; Cigdem Talgar, Acting Director, Research Academy for University Learning and Julie R. Dalley, Assistant Director, Research Academy for University Learning — all of Montclair State University.]

Neil Baldwin, a widely-published cultural historian and critic, is a Professor in the Department of Theatre & Dance, and Director of the Creative Research Center http://www.montclair.edu/creativeresearch in the College of the Arts. Prior to joining the faculty of Montclair State University, he was the Founding Executive Director of The National Book Foundation, sponsor of The National Book Awards. His teaching interests cover the span from dramaturgy and danceaturgy at the undergraduate level to arts management at the graduate level. His current areas of research include interdisciplinarity, the history of the imagination, Web-based modern dance documentation and archival practice, and the pedagogical centrality of the arts in American liberal education.  Dr. Baldwin also serves as co-chair of the NYU Biography Seminar. His Web site is http://www.neilbaldwinbooks.com

 

Our Worst Teaching Moment

Siddhartha Bautama by Suta Sila Dham. Courtesy of Fotopedia.

Our last Teaching Circle meeting, I decided to try a more guided discussion, and asked guests to bring their worst teaching moment to share with the group. I have to admit, I think we probably had worse ones than the ones we actually shared, but that’s okay, because the point was two-fold:

  • Build community through stories;
  • Identify our weaknesses as teachers and how they’ve made (or can make us) better.

The reason for sharing our worst stories first is so we can – right out of the gate – admit that we are all human and that every educator has moments, or days, possibly a full week, when they don’t, exactly…shine.

Sharing our stories was cool, and I mean that in the sense of Chester Cheetos-like cool, because we laughed at ourselves without feeling our stories diminished us at all as educators. How we handle these moments became the take-away from this meeting, and how they can form, and inform, us as educators became teaching philosophy fodder. Because this is the point: none of us is perfect and it’s important for us, and our students, to know that. Don’t lose your cool! Students love it when they can bond with you over a little SNAFU in class, come to your assistance, or otherwise pull together as a group to solve a problem (I’m quite surprised technology implosions didn’t feature much more largely in our discussion – we did have one instructor discuss her experience with full system failure though). Though some students may view it as an opportunity to dismiss you as an authority with knowledge to share, most students will rally around you if you show a sense of humor and some humility about life’s little jokes.

Here is a brief rundown of the funny and humble stories featuring times we felt less than great about our teaching or inter-action with students, with each of us presenting different moments revealing our unique yet 0h-so-common teaching bonds. No matter how long you’ve been teaching, how well you know your topic, how utterly fabulous you are as an instructor, you will at some time have the teaching gods frown upon you. I began by owning up to a particular lesson in a high-school economics class, where my students ended up schooling me on a simple math equation. Don’t remember the context, the exact lesson, or the math I couldn’t do that day, but I distinctly remember the embarrassment. We then talked about how to handle these situations; I handled it badly by NOT addressing it with my students and pretending I wasn’t a complete math ignoramus, but it was okay, because eventually I could look back and recognize how I should have handled it, and how I would be better prepared for these moments in the future. Something to write about in my teaching statement, which I have done. Nothing says, “I’ve made mistakes and I’ve learned from them” than an honest story that reveals what we don’t know about teaching and what we want to learn, yes?

Next came stories of language barriers – especially relevant for our international scholars and professors who struggle with accents and pronunciations in front of American students ( and for the record, I myself have practiced pronouncing many words that I don’t speak regularly but are difficult for any English speaker; for example, homogeneous is often mispronounced, still can’t confidently say the names of Tacitus or Aeschylus; just about any word with a lot of vowels…); “things students say in class” that catch us unawares -forcing some quick thinking and instant ability to react wisely! (“Oh, prof, I won’t be here for that class; I’m going to Coachella.”; “Oh, okay. <long pause> Have fun.” = awkward!); lapses in basic knowledge (see my math freeze above), inability to answer a student’s question coherently, razing by jerky students who know you are “fresh” – this WILL happen to you as a new or younger teacher. We heard a story about a mathematician of renown, possibly still teaching, but the story is of old, who simply shrugged off his calculation errors in front of students, and put the onus of knowledge on the students (that is, he let them figure out the problem; he already knew how to do it, why should he do it for the students?). Would that we all had that confidence and aloofness, yes? We discussed our frustration when students don’t “get it” and how we struggle to make meaning for them – is it us? them? How can we make it clearer? It seems so OBVIOUS!  We decided that we – yes, us teachers – are of the homo sapiens species after all, thus prone to error. We were able to turn these mini-crises into really pivotal and critical teaching and learning moments, ones that we ALL share as educators.

We also talked about the Flipped Classroom, Google+ versus Facebook, whether or not we should interact with students on social media sites (that was a resounding NO as I recall, but we did agree that setting up professional “teacher/colleague” profiles were a good idea when you did want to create a space online with your students). We ran out of time before we got to some writing exercises for tying all of this into our teaching philosophies, but I hope we can get to that next time.

For our next meeting, I plan to guide us to the flip side of the teaching coin-  our best teaching moment – that one (or more) class where everything just “clicked. I think we can all remember a day where the students talked, where our lesson was BOSS and our delivery was award-worthy, where students “got it” and time ran over but no one cared (or something along those lines), and we pictured Cate Blanchett playing us in the Oscar-winning movie of 2026 on inspiring teaching stories that bring a tear to the eye (dream sequence)…so, I thought, let’s end our semester with some positive stories and experiences, and what they can tell us about our teaching, about our students, and how these experiences (good and bad), are integral parts of being awesome educators.

We’d love to hear from you out there: what was your best or worst teaching moment? What did it teach you about yourself as an educator? Join us!

In Defense of Studying Social Media – 10,000 Words

In Defense of Studying Social Media – 10,000 Words.

Should a more indepth and critical knowledge of social media be articulated by granting certificates and degrees in this area of study? This article advocates for such, and for moving beyond personal and more superficial knowledge of these platforms, so that employers and academics can better demonstrate and exercise the power of social media in the work place and the classroom. Discuss.

Are you Facebook friends with your students? Should you be?

Are you Facebook friends with your students? Should you be? Comments and experiences welcome.

teaching and learning with technology

In the normal classroom discussion the other day I was interested to find that everyone in the class (16 of them) have joined a Facebook group that one of them set up as a Literature study group. They’re all there, I asked and checked, and are discussing and asking questions and supporting each other (I hope) and pushing each other in the right directions (I hope)

I hope because I’m not sure. And I’m not sure because I’m not there. I’m not allowed to ‘friend’ students or be connected to them in social networks according to our school policy; a policy that I had a hand in developing. But, you’ve got to wonder. Here am I out here, trying to utilise our own online tools including a pretty decent wiki and blog setup, to get student collaboration and participation going and, here are they in there, doing it themselves, in…

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For those interested in instantly gauging student understanding of concepts, polling for student opinions and perspectives on issues raised through discussion, or just curious on how you might integrate this in your teaching practice, check out these new tools. Read the full entry for more information of how these tools are utilized, and how easy they can be used for instant student feedback on learning.

On blogging in the Digital Humanities

I have nothing to really add to this excellent blog post on why we academics, scholars, and teachers should be blogging, now:

http://ullyot.ucalgaryblogs.ca/2012/02/24/on-blogging-in-the-digital-humanities/

“Blogging in the social, pure, and applied sciences is a common enough practice that two members of the London School of Economics’ Public Policy Group said today that it is “one of the most important things that an academic should be doing right now” — namely, circulating ideas-in-progress to readers in more immediate and (yes) more interesting forms than traditional academic publishing.

It’s no less important in the humanities, even if it’s less common. But in a research field like the digital humanities, blog posts and tweets are the primary way — for many, the only way — that scholars and students disseminate and learn about new questions and methods.”

Read the full post at: http://ullyot.ucalgaryblogs.ca/2012/02/24/on-blogging-in-the-digital-humanities/

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