Archive for the 'University 2.0' Category

AAUP and the Future of Higher Education

I had the opportunity this week of attending a lunch discussion with Ernie Benjamin, Interim General Secretary of the American Association of University Professors. The session was very informal, with faculty coming and going as needed while Dr. Benjamin discussed several issues. He did not have an opportunity to give a formal presentation.

All that said, I was somewhat disappointed. The session was billed as an opportunity to hear AAUP perspectives on academic freedom and the future of higher education. At the risk of over simplifying (always a problem for me), here is what Dr. Benjamin said. The proportion of full-time, tenure or tenure-track faculty is down significantly over what it has been in the past. More and more faculty are ‘contingent’ in nature. This poses a threat to academic freedom and thus weakens the quality of higher education. The accountability movement in higher education threatens to dumb down the curriculum to that which is easily measurable, as has occurred in K12 education as a result of No Child Left Behind. Serious quantitative measures to assess educational effectiveness have been generally co-opted by unsophisticated audiences and reduced to comparing raw scores un-controlled for differences in institutions. University authorities have deflected measures to increase transparency about their programs and staffing, which would make it easier to genuinely evaluate different schools’ programs.

While I agreed with nearly everything Dr. Benjamin said, it struck me that his comments were almost completely defensive in nature (and highly conservative in the original sense of the term). Benjamin stated that higher education in the US is the best in the world, and thus implicitly, there is nothing to be done to improve it except to restore the balance in tenure/tenure-track faculty. In particular, he said nothing about potential changes in way teaching and learning in higher education may occur in the 21st Century. Is University 2.0 too avant garde for the mainstream? Or is the AAUP’s focus too narrow to consider that possibility.

A little irony

The lecture, as a teaching methodology, has gotten a lot of bad press in recent years. I should know–I’ve been one of the critics. The problem with lectures, it is said, is that they are passive, allowing recipients to simply listen without necessarily being engaged.

Both the literature on pedagogy and my experience have taught me that the lecture method works best with students who are highly motivated to learn, and willing and able to take what the professor presents and make meaning out of it. In other words, the presentation is only the beginning of the learning experience for such students.

University 2.0, at least what I make of it, is designed to help students become more engaged in their learning. It doesn’t present them the facts they need to learn, but rather helps them understand how to teach themselves. It seems ironic to me that lecture works well for the motivated, self-starting learners, while U2.0 with its very different pedagogy seeks to make students better able to learn from the lecture method.

Even More Fishing

More thoughts on the proper role of technology staff in supporting the teaching of faculty and the appropriate sharing of their respective responsibilities. In particular, this post is a response to Gardner’s comment and Laura’s more recent post.

Gardner observes that a tech support center should not be:

a drop-off shop for faculty who wanted someone else to do all the techie stuff and hand them a turn-key finished product. For me, all faculty need to be empowered to do simple stuff with images and sound, no less than with text, and for a lot of faculty that’s going to mean some learning.

I agree that faculty need to be empowered. But the way you do that is to work with them to develop their facility and expertise with the tools.

Gardner then argues,

As Chris Dede noted in his keynote at ELI, faculty who have not had compelling creative experiences themselves with the technology will not be able simply to bolt technology or tech products into their “business as usual.

That’s an overstatement, I think. On at least several occasions, I’ve seen a particular technology demonstrated by someone else and thought I might be able to apply it in one of my courses. I wouldn’t characterize that as having been a compelling creative experience for me, more like just an inkling of a possibility. At the same time, I wouldn’t have been able to successfully set up and use the technology without the help of our IT staff who kindly “bolted” the new technology onto my course to let me explore it.

Laura raises a really important issue:

All I ask is for some mutual respect. I will respect the faculty member’s knowledge of their content area and I hope they will respect my expertise in technology and its application to teaching. I sometimes think this equation gets messed up. I am expected to have respect for the faculty member because they have a Ph.D. and tenure while I do not receive the same respect in return.

I’m not sure how important Ph.D. and tenure are to the issue. I think a far bigger issue is content vs. pedagogy. I think many faculty see pedagogy as secondary in teaching. After all, we were trained in the content, but few of us in our graduate work were trained in pedagogy or instructional design. I think it’s fair to say that university faculty tend to associate pedagogy with something done by primary and secondary school teachers. It’s simply not something that academics do. If I am correct in this assessment, then technology staff labor under a handicap by definition, since their expertise is something my culture dismisses. Regretfully.

In my view, the solution is for IT folk to find ways to convince teaching faculty that they have something substantive to contribute to the teaching enterprise, not just in principle but in specific courses. What is it that faculty need to improve their courses? Want your students to hear diverse points of view on a topic? Ask them to read blogs. Want your students to get more practice writing (and thinking) in a non-formal environment? Ask them to write a blog. I can come into your class and show your students how to do both. Okay, that’s not too profound, but it’s a start. Once a faculty member begins to trust his IT support people, the possibilities begin to open.

One ambitious way to approach this might be for IT staff to offer themselves as part of an instructional team. Right now, I think our Department of Teaching and Learning Technologies does an excellent job as consultants to faculty. But the next step is for them to be accepted as equal partners in an instructional team, which is not the same thing. (Note also, that I’m not arguing that this is for every course or every teacher, just one option.) In a real sense, a consultant is a hired gun, who does his or her work and then leaves. A team member may not. Rather, he or she bears some continuing responsibility for whether the initiative succeeds or fails. But they also get an “owner’s share” of the credit. Getting to this point would require a huge cultural change.

What would an IT specialist bring to a course on a continuing basis? I could posit an answer but I’ll leave that to others. In the current culture, it’s difficult enough to team-teach a class, that is, to share a course with a departmental or other teaching colleague who comes from the same culture. See, for example, Tim Burke’s comment. What I’m suggesting here goes far beyond that in terms of a paradigm shift. I agree with Laura. The way to achieve this may be to go about it one sympathetic teacher at a time, striving for a critical mass large enough for the faculty at large to take notice. That’s my approach.

Somehow we need to hook faculty on technology (or more precisely, one or more specific tech tools), but then very clearly spell out the expectations for working with them to master it.
Faculty have every right, I think, to expect the IT folks to teach them how to use the technology. But the IT folks similarly should expect faculty to learn how to use it. Perhaps what is necessary is some public discussion or explicit statement of mutual expectations. One concern is that this could be perceived by faculty as another hurdle towards IT usage. But if the value-added of IT support can be successfully sold, I think this can be a net positive.

Response to Fishing vs. Teaching to Fish

Laura at Geeky Mom raises some important issues as we move away from a traditional model of teaching to one involving more technology: To what extent should IT support staff do tasks for instructors as opposed to teaching them how to do those tasks for themselves?

At the risk of taking some things out of context, here are a few points Laura makes that prompt a response:

Faculty are more problematic. How much technology is it reasonable for them to know how to use without much help?

Comment: It’s a moving target and it depends on whether you’re trying to recruit a faculty member new to technology or whether the faculty member has experience using a given technology. On our campus, it’s no longer appropriate for IT staff to teach email or MS-Word, two of the applications Laura mentions. But if you want me to start using video, you’re going to have to carry me a while.

It’s the more complex tasks that become an issue. Using course management systems is something I think most people, if they’re going to use such systems, should know how to do quite well. Most of the features in CMS’s are pretty straightforward.

A couple comments: I agree with what Laura says up to a point. On the other hand, I’m not an IT professional and it doesn’t make sense for me to try to become one. As an economist, it’s not my comparative advantage. So where do you draw the line? I find that tasks that I do only once a semester are not worth learning the first time I do them. An example of this is doing a course copy in Blackboard. It’s not hard to do, but it is hard to remember from one term to the next. I know it’s frustrating to my IT support (Sorry, Jerry!) but it would take too much time to master something which I only use twice a year.

I often send instructions or explain the process over the phone rather than do whatever the task is for the faculty member.

This is a very reasonable approach. Here’s one that worked effectively in our department: For tasks that many faculty are likely to want to learn, why not create little video clips (for example, using Camtasia) to show them how to complete the task. For visual learners, like me, this is as good as you doing it for me.

Plus, I have this sense (maybe I’m wrong) that because we’re talking about course content, that the process of putting the content together is part of the faculty member’s responsibility.

I think I’m going to disagree with this, at least in part. It’s clear that most IT support staffs are overworked and understaffed for what we expect from them. I agree that the instructor has primary responsibility for a course’s content, and that if that content includes technology the instructor should be able to apply that, assuming this is something they’re doing on a regular basis. But you can’t expect them to try something new without IT support. It won’t happen, or at least the odds are it won’t happen well.

Still this misses a larger point, which Judith Boettcher recently raised:

[A]ll teaching functions no longer need to be embodied in one person but can be assumed by various members of instructional teams.

As we move in the direction of U2.0, shouldn’t we be thinking of inverting the industrial model of teaching? Instead of imagining one instructor teaching many students shouldn’t we revision our enterprise as each student’s learning being supported by a team of instructors, including content experts, IT professionals, librarians, etc? Henry Jenkins (via Will Richardson) goes a step further and asks why we must limit instructional teams to local faculty? Perhaps one role of the faculty advisor could be to help students develop (and vet) links with external experts.

Teaching 2.0

Judith Boettcher has an article in the latest issue of Innovate which provides the best guidance I’ve seen to date on how to design a course for University 2.0.

The article draws from research on how people learn to develop a list of ten principles for effective course design. Most of these are not earthshaking unless you think about them. Here is one that caught my attention:

Every learning experience includes an environment or context in which the learning occurs.

Of course. But in the past, when the environments were all the same–classrooms and texts–it was easy for instructors to not notice this. What is water to a fish?

Boettcher observes:

The learning environment is considerably more complex today, including a network in which all students and faculty have access to powerful digital tools for communication and research.

… These tools are dramatically changing the communication patterns and relationships between learners and the faculty.

… Another significant design impact of these tools is the ease by which students can customize their own learning experiences as the content boundaries of a course dissolve.

Here’s a point I hadn’t thought of before:

When the faculty member is acting as the “sage [on the stage],” it is the faculty member who is reaping the benefits of working with the content, structuring the content, and communicating the content. One goal in designing effective and efficient learning environments is to get the students to work this intensively with the content.

And something that resonnates with my experience last fall in the First Year Seminar:

[T]he role of technology in the learning environment allows for the teaching functions of the faculty member to be redistributed in other ways as well. In particular, all teaching functions no longer need to be embodied in one person but can be assumed by various members of instructional teams.

… The point is not that faculty will be less involved in classes, but that these new instructional options will provide faculty with more effective ways to leverage their expertise. … the faculty member has more time to mentor the learning processes of students. [e.g. formative assessment of learning?] Less time is spent on administrative and technical issues, and more time is spent on the formation of thought.

Or related to my experiment in teaching introductory students metacognition last year:

When faced with a new field or discipline, students typically focus on learning the vocabulary of a discipline, but this activity is often done in isolation from an understanding of the concepts that give the words meaning. Without the underlying concepts, words are akin to isolated weeds and seeds likely to be blown away by the winds of time, usually mere hours after an exam.

It may be that I like Boettcher’s article because it agrees with much of my thinking. Or maybe it’s more than that, like the reliance on Vygotsky. Even Bruner gets a cite.

Textbooks 2.0: A new model for the publishing industry?

An interesting article in a recent Wall Street Journal reminded me of some thoughts I’ve had about possible directions for texts in U2.0. The article made some observations about how certain traditional products were based on making customers purchase things they didn’t really want and how digital technologies have made these products obsolete:

Photo companies made customers pay for 24 shots in a roll of film to get a handful of good pictures. Music publishers made customers buy full CDs to get a single hit song.

To me this sounds a great deal like the traditional textbook industry, where the standard texts include coverage of all possible topics, far more than could be covered in a single course.

The textbook industry is in trouble. Students are increasingly questioning the utility of purchasing texts, large parts of which the class will not use. On top of that, text prices are rising faster than the general rate of inflation.

I think we’re likely to see the textbook industry move to an i-Tunes model, where faculty (and perhaps students) can chose which pieces from a large collection of materials they want to use as the text for their course. These custom texts can be printed to order in an inexpensive format. We’re already seeing some limited moves in this direction with the custom texts of the major publishing firms, in which instructors can omit chapters they don’t plan to use, in return for a discount on the price. Open source text projects, like Connexions, are also examples of this trend.

But why stop there? Why not consider alternative formats like audio texts (a la “books on tape”) with graphics provided in a separate digital format (on CD or downloadable from a website). Why pay the expense of print if students don’t need it?

There would be some hurdles to overcome, of course. For audio books, we’d have to figure out a format for queuing up the recording where ever a student wishes.

Some years ago I tried an alternative text from DotLearn. The text was provided online with lots of interesting computer animations built in–features that simply couldn’t be provided in a print medium. The company offered an inexpensive spiral-bound printed version for people who didn’t want to read from the screen. Students didn’t like the text. They all wanted the printed text, but then many were disappointed when they couldn’t resell it. They forgot that they received the resale price and more upfront.

If we had a true digital text, we could allow multiple formats to support different learning styles and preferences.

Vetting the Product

Last week I observed that in my U2.0 teaching I haven’t been doing enough quality control. I’ve been changing the process of teaching/learning in my classes, but haven’t been vetting the product enough.

I’ve been working to improve that recently. Today I’ve been reviewing the wiki postings done by the students in my macro course. These are attempts to clean the wiki up, to answer the questions I didn’t get to in class, but which were raised by students, and to generally clarify the text. I made the effort to learn how to compare subsequent versions of the wiki so that now I can easily assess the contributions of the students. It makes sense to do this on a regular basis rather than waiting until the end of the semester. Two students are “responsible” for each chapter on the wiki, but all the students can contribute as they like. You can see one version of what it looks like here.

What Does School 2.0 Look Like?

David Warlick just published a provocative article in TechLearning called “A Day in the Life of Web 2.0″ which provides a vision of what School 2.0 could look like. It’s similar to an earlier piece by Will Richardson. It also speaks to the future of higher education.

There was one discordant note as I was reading–it was a reaction I had, rather than anything the article said. I had an image of teachers being required to write blogs that reflect on their teaching practice; think of a mandate by the administration. I wonder if this would work. Unwilling teachers could be forced to write, but they couldn’t be forced to write well. A couple of mitigating factors come to mind: Hopefully, after writing for a while teachers would see the value of such a blog. But what if they don’t. Perhaps not everyone would benefit from such self-reflection or at least not from this format. Fortunately, blogs that weren’t well done, probably wouldn’t end up being read–that’s one advantage of the blogosphere.

“Teaching” from a Distance

Late Friday afternoon I found out I had to be away Monday thru Wednesday, which meant I would not be able to attend the first year seminar Tuesday. What to do?

Saturday morning while listening to our new President Bill Frawley’s powerful inaugural speech, I got an idea. I would ask the class to read and discuss the speech, and explain its relevance for our class. The assignment is here. After the speech, I ran into Martha and casually asked if she was planning to come to class Tuesday. She said she thought so, after which I asked if she would moderate the discussion in my absence. She agreed.

Sometime later, I had another idea. Gardner has been after me for a couple of years to podcast one of my class sessions. Perhaps this would be the opportunity. I emailed Martha and Jerry and asked if they could record the class session Tuesday. They assured me that it would be very easy to do so.

Monday I went off on my trip. Tuesday morning I made a posting to our course webpage letting students know I wouldn’t be there for class, but that I expected them to carry on in my absence.

The discussion was held. A student unilaterally decided to take notes on the class wiki. (The notes make more sense in conjunction with the audio recording which I hope to post later when it gets cleaned up, but I’m getting ahead of myself.) He later reflected on his perceptions of the discussion in his personal blog.

Wednesday afternoon, as I was returning to my trip, I called Jerry to ask if the audio was available for my listening pleasure. He said it should be ready later in the day. Last night I downloaded it from home. This morning, on my commute, I listened to the audio and was very pleased with the thoughtfulness of the discussion. I identified seven of my fourteen students’s voices on the discussion. That’s fewer than a discussion where I’m present but then I call on the students who don’t speak up on their own. Martha and Jerry didn’t do that. The second great pleasure of the recording was to hear for the first time really, how Martha and Jerry teach a class. Of course, I’ve witnessed their teaching technology tools before, but this seemed different. We are very fortunate to have these minds at our institution–they are indeed (administrative) faculty.

I began today’s class by asking their impressions of the discussion, and in particular, whether they felt intimidated by the recording. The consensus of the students who responded was that they did feel uncomfortable at first but soon forgot about it. I don’t what those who didn’t respond thought and it’s possible that was a reason for their not participating.

I observed that my view of class is not where the instructor delivers predigested knowledge to the students who absorb it.  Rather, I stated, the class session is a crucible where knowledge is created through our collective engagement with the material.  As such, it’s not my presence per se which is important for learning, but theirs.
One final note: At the end of class today when most other students left, Stephen told me that during the discussion, he and Hart had been carrying on a side conversation about the topic via IM, because they didn’t want to disturb (or dominate?) the rest of the discussion. It was as if he had gotten away with something.

Does the episode described here constitute teaching on my part? If so, it sure is a different mode than giving a traditional lecture.

Rethinking Grades and Learning

Is learning fundamentally a flow or a stock? Is learning about improving your skills and knowledge or about being skilled and knowledgeable? I ask these questions because often it appears to me that we’re grading what students know more than what they’ve learned. Bright students get good grades. Students who write well, complete A papers. Grading is an exercise in sorting based on what students know, which may have little correspondence with what students have learned on an assignment or in a course. I’ve encountered many students who, at least in lower level courses, didn’t have to learn anything to get good grades. What a shame, or is it a sham from the perspective of education?

This creates a contradiction for me or at least a discomfort: Our objective as teachers is to help students learn, to help them improve their thinking and understanding. But we grade not on their learning in the sense of improvement, but rather on what they know.

Okay, so be it. Let grades be an indication, an estimate, of what a student knows or is able to do at a point in time. But let’s not pretend that grades measure learning.

So where does that take us? Actually, quite a distance. It reminds me that teaching should focus on learning and not grades, that teaching is a craft while grading is a mere administrative function, and that grading provides only a poor incentive for learning. What does this mean in terms of one’s teaching? I will explain.

I asserted that grading is a poor incentive for learning. What do I mean by that? After all, economists argue that people respond in predictable ways to incentives. Rewarding students with a good grade for learning, or punishing them with a poor grade for not learning should encourage students to do what is necessary to learn more. But what is necessary? Grading is a blunt object for teaching. The signal to noise ratio is quite low. Grades less than A tell students that what they did wasn’t right, or wasn’t completely right. But grading, the way it is often done, provides little direct information about how to perform better. (A grade of A is almost as bad: telling students they are “completely right”, as if that is possible in the real world.) By contrast, I suspect that carefully thought-out, formative assessment can be a strong tool for enhancing learning. At least that’s my hypothesis. As Christopher Miller, President of St. Johns College, said today in a panel presentation, “Assessment should be an integral part of learning itself.”

Over the last ten days, I’ve reviewed two sets of student papers. Both were non-traditional assignments: one was the first meta assignment in my intro course, which I blogged about the other day, where students reflect on what was important in the previous topic, but more importantly, why it was important. The second assignment was the first major essay in my first year seminar on globalization. For this assignment, I asked students to identify, explain and justify what they see as the most important questions that need to be answered about globalization. I asked why the questions identified were important, and who they were important to.

For both of these assignments, I read and responded to their papers, but I didn’t grade them. I didn’t sort the papers (students?) and label them A, B or C. Rather, my responses were guided by the Inquiry Method, which says not to provide answers to students, but only to respond with additional questions, that is questions that lead students to think more deeply.

I must say I found this approach difficult. I have been training for more 25 years to sort, categorize,and label assignments (students?). It’s harder and it takes a bit longer, but it is opening my eyes to a new way of viewing teaching. Instead of reading a student’s paper and looking for what it lacks and what I can deduct points for, I start from “zero” and look for what I can suggest to improve the paper. What is the limit in the deductive approach? You can knock a student’s grade down to zero. What is the limit to this new approach? There is none. Students can improve without limit. In the first year seminar, I’m allowing encouraging students to revise their work as many times as they wish until the end of the semester. With each revision, I’ll give them additional feedback. When is an assignment done? When the student is convinced they have nothing more to add or when I have nothing more to suggest. I haven’t gotten rid of grading (which comes at the end); I’ve just put it into the back seat in favor of regular formative assessment.

This approach implies a very different view of teaching and learning, one where an instructor treats each student as engaged in a personal and in some ways unique journey towards education. Putting it another way, one must accept students’ abilities where they are and strive to help them improve. Each of them. Contrast this with the one size fits all method of the industrial model of education.

Can this approach be scaled? At one level that’s a question from the industrial model, though I admit it can be legitimate from the perspective of an institution or a school system. It may be possible to do something approximating this approach with the tools of Web2.0, but that remains to be seen. The question for me is whether I do it with a class size of 35, since that is the general limit in my courses.

I think I can, said the Little Engine that Could.




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