A central tenet of the flipped class model is the idea that the instructor goes from being a "sage on the stage" to a "guide on the side." That is, that the focus of attention in the classroom shifts from the instructor to the students. In principle, this is exactly how teaching should work. After all, as instructors we can only provide a meaningful and well-conceived learning experience; and supply some coaching and motivation. But we can't learn for our students. The operating principle of a lecture--that knowledge can be transferred from lecturing instructor to passively listening (and perhaps note-taking) student--is absurd. I am reminded of this frequently, when I ask an exam question about a topic that I explained in detail during a lecture and my words and ideas come back to me in jumbled, nonsensical form. In a large enrollment class (<100 students), however, alternatives to the lecture are tricky to implement.
In the aftermath of my first attempt at flipping a large enrollment "lecture" class (and at the start of my re-designed, second attempt), I've come to the conclusion that one of the greatest difficulties in incorporating the techniques of blended learning in a large-enrollment class is the fact that we are completely overturning the student-teacher relationship in the classroom. It was a challenge for me to adjust to this; and it was clearly a struggle for my students to figure out how to hold up their end of the bargain in a flipped classroom. A student-centered instructional model means that students have a much greater responsibility for what happens during class time. It became evident in my Fall 2012 class that the students were not always eager to take on this extra responsibility. Indeed, resistance to the flipped class primarily took the form of resistance to taking responsibility for what happened in class. The majority of the class wanted me to run the show while they watched rather than actively constructing their own experience. In fact, they actively resisted my efforts to get them to take control of their learning experience in the class. This meant that class meetings often felt useless even to me (and almost certainly to many of them). As well, I felt terribly frustrated that I had handed over control to a group of students who, as a group, were not willing to take on that responsibility.
One of the things I spent a lot of time meditating on over the winter break was the distinction between student-centered and student-driven teaching. I realized that, in my fall class, I had designed a class that depended on the students themselves to assume control of and responsibility for their learning. When they didn't do that, the class didn't work as well as it could have and should have. In addition, there was no easy way for me to step in and take back some of the control (and responsibility). Once I was "on the side" it was tough to get back on that stage, even just a little. In my spring 2013 class, I have approached the question of a student-centered course design from a different perspective. Realizing the problems that can arise when students drive the in class sessions, I have stepped back on the stage. At the same time, I have deliberately shed the role of sage and adopted the persona of the guide who is slowly but surely edging off of that stage. My course design puts the students front and center. Their needs and character drive it and, as the semester progresses, I will adapt as necessary to their willingness to take over the controls; but, if they opt to be more passive, I am ready to step back on the stage and work at getting them to take more responsibility for their learning experience.
Most of all, I learned that I cannot expect my students--students who have been trained to be passive recipients of knowledge--to suddenly rejoice at the opportunity to play a more active role in the classroom and in their learning experience. In reality, they don't know what to do when given the controls. It's a bit like expecting a ten year old who has ridden in a car for many years to know how to drive that car. But, with a lot of orientation, practice, and guidance, I do think that they can learn what to do. I also think that, by gradually handing over control to them over the course of several weeks rather than all at once at the start of the semester, more of them will embrace the opportunity to play an active role in their learning.
Thursday, January 24, 2013
Wednesday, January 23, 2013
A Fantastic Resource on the Flipped Classroom
For anyone thinking about flipping their class, especially a larger enrollment class, UT Austin's Center for Teaching and Learning has put together a fantastic resource page. They have also made a series of short videos on some of the key elements and common stumbling blocks encountered when trying to design and implement a flipped classroom: one on roles and expectations; outside of class structures; in class structure; and beginning with the end in mind.
The Stealth Flip: First Impressions
The "stealth flip" of my 400 student Introduction to Ancient Rome class began in earnest this week. Whereas in the fall the class met three days/week for 50 minutes (really, two days for 45 min. because I used Fridays for additional review and had to let them go 5 minutes early so that they could get to their next class on the other side of campus), this semester we are meeting T/Th for 75 minutes. In addition, there are two, hour-long and optional Supplementary Instruction (SI) sections each week. During the SI sections, one of my teaching assistants will be working with the students on their basic study skills (i.e. how to create a study space; how to take notes) and their test-taking skills. These SI sections are NOT discussion sections nor are they content-based review sessions. Rather, they are intended to help the students develop basic, transferable skills that will help them do well in my course but also in future courses. I have come to see that these weekly SI sections are central to my learning objectives for this class, and I especially like that we will have the chance to dwell at length on many of the skills I am trying to instill in the students via the T/TH "lectures."
I am referring to this version of the class as a stealth flip because, well, that's what it is. In the fall, I marched in on the first day of class and told the students that they were in a flipped class. I explained in detail what a flipped class was, how it worked, and why it would be better for their learning (and grade) than a traditional lecture class. I even had a short, pre-recorded, PPT-illustrated lecture on the flipped class. They all nodded along and, for the first 6 weeks, prepared for class and engaged in the reviews and application exercises that I had prepared for them. And then, about the time that midterm season hit, they stopped preparing for class. Just like that. They went from being prepared and engaged to unprepared and disengaged. Sure, about 20-25% of them continued to engage in the flip; but most of them, under time constraints from their other classes and activities, realized that I couldn't force them to be prepared (in the sense that their daily preparation was not attached to any grade) and so just stopped. They were unable to follow or benefit much from the in class activities. The accuracy rate on i>clicker polls went from 85% correct to 20-25% correct. Peer instruction was nearly useless because so few of them had prepared.
We started to have serious behavior problems: texting, chatting, eating, wandering in and out of class at will. It was extremely disruptive and finally led me to abandon my required attendance policy at the end of October, after the second midterm. The majority of the students had "crammed for the exam" and had scored on it basically what my students in a non-flipped class had scored. In other words, they weren't flipping and so weren't seeing the learning gains (and gains in achievement) that come with flipping. I also realized that, by being "forced" to come to class unprepared and review material they hadn't prepared, they had to confront the fact that they were not keeping up with the class assignments. They had to emerge from their denial and face the reality that they were robbing Peter to pay Paul (which, of course, led them to argue that they shouldn't have to do so much work for a class that was "only" a requirement and not part of their major). Coming to class became a negative experience, associated with negative emotions, for the majority of the students.
What I also saw in spades by mid-October was significant student resistance to the flipped model of instruction (see this post for more on student resistance). Students ranted about it on the class Facebook group (I had access to their posts but did not read them until after grades were submitted for the semester). Few of them said anything directly to me, but when they did come to office hours I often questioned them about their experience with the flipped model. Most of the acknowledged that it made pedagogical sense; but most of them also voiced their dislike of it. They frequently asked if they were going to have to take other flipped classes and seemed disconcerted that UT was investing significant capital in transforming courses along these lines. "I learn better from lecture," many of them insisted. "I can't discipline myself to prepare for class on a regular basis," I often heard. I strongly believe that a lot of this outrage, frustration, irritation, and other negative emotions was a reaction to the discomfort that accompanies change. The very students who would have benefited most from a flipped classroom--those with poor study habits and a tendency to try to cram for exams too late--were precisely the ones who were most resistant because they were the ones being asked to make the biggest changes. Their old ways had worked well enough, they reasoned, so why change. Even in the face of evidence that their old ways weren't working very well in my course, they dug in their heels and refused to change. Because I had not changed my assessments, I had no way to motivate this change with grades (apart from "punishing" them with lower course grades--something I did not do, because my aim was to improve learning rather than punish those who refused to get with the program).
As I planned for the spring iteration of the class, I knew that I'd need to make at least four major changes: first, incorporate *some* lecture into each class. Otherwise, the flipped model was simply too disorienting for students in a large enrollment, non-problem based class (that is, not a math/science class). It was too much change; it messed too much with their expectations and experience. Second, I would never refer to the class as a flipped class. I wouldn't talk to the students about the flipped model and I wouldn't appeal to their rational side in trying to get them to buy in to the changes in content delivery and in class activities. Indeed, I would present the class "as is" and act as if nothing was at all unusual or different about the class. Third, I would make significant changes to the assessments, to emphasize cumulative learning over large stakes assessments. As well, I would use graded assessments to motivate the students to be prepared for class and to be able to then participate in the review and application activities that I built into the in class presentations. Finally, I would put a strong emphasis on classroom etiquette and respect for the learning community. I would be clear from Day 1 that rude behavior would not be tolerated and, in fact, would have the students sign a contract stating that they had read the course syllabus and etiquette policy and would abide by its rules. These four elements would be the foundation for my stealth flip.
So far, the class is working as I had hoped it would. My class presentations are a mix of content delivery, review of assigned work, and peer discussion (usually building on something that I presented in class). There are daily homework assignments, which include watching about 2 short (15 min.) pre-recorded lectures/week As the semester progresses and the students build up a foundation in the course content, it is my plan to decrease gradually the amount of content that I present in class and to increase the application of that content. What I especially like about the stealth flip--besides the fact that it doesn't give the students anything to grab onto as an excuse for not engaging in the class--is the flexibility that it affords me. By incorporating some lecture into class, but also using pre-recorded lectures and assigned readings, I can regularly adjust the balance between inside and outside of class content presentation through the semester. It means that I can lecture in class without feeling like I've "given in" to the students' desire to sit back and be talked at. It also means that I can give them a chance to adjust more slowly to the flipped class model. Indeed, thus far, my class isn't all that different from many they have taken at UT (many faculty use i>clickers and some use peer discussion). The only major difference is the pre-recorded lectures, which I am introducing slowly and in small number and short length.
I hope that, by the end of the semester, the majority of class time can be spent doing application and other higher order thinking activities. But I've learned that, to get to this point, I need to start at a point that feels comfortable to my students and then gradually introduce the different elements of a flipped class. I can't expect them to buy into the flipped model on the basis of graphs and charts that demonstrate increases in learning. In fact, most of them care far more about grades than they do learning (at least for this particular class, which they are taking to fulfill a requirement). If I want them to buy in, I have to create a learning environment that motivates them via grades to make good choices (e.g. prepare for class); lets them experience the benefits of that learning environment (wow! I got a good grade on the quiz! Studying for the midterm isn't so hard when I've been doing the work as I go! I got a high score on a difficult exam! I am able to talk about complex situations in Roman history because I have truly learned the material! Roman history is interesting and fun and relevant!); and then, through experiential knowledge of the flipped model, gets them to buy in.
I am referring to this version of the class as a stealth flip because, well, that's what it is. In the fall, I marched in on the first day of class and told the students that they were in a flipped class. I explained in detail what a flipped class was, how it worked, and why it would be better for their learning (and grade) than a traditional lecture class. I even had a short, pre-recorded, PPT-illustrated lecture on the flipped class. They all nodded along and, for the first 6 weeks, prepared for class and engaged in the reviews and application exercises that I had prepared for them. And then, about the time that midterm season hit, they stopped preparing for class. Just like that. They went from being prepared and engaged to unprepared and disengaged. Sure, about 20-25% of them continued to engage in the flip; but most of them, under time constraints from their other classes and activities, realized that I couldn't force them to be prepared (in the sense that their daily preparation was not attached to any grade) and so just stopped. They were unable to follow or benefit much from the in class activities. The accuracy rate on i>clicker polls went from 85% correct to 20-25% correct. Peer instruction was nearly useless because so few of them had prepared.
We started to have serious behavior problems: texting, chatting, eating, wandering in and out of class at will. It was extremely disruptive and finally led me to abandon my required attendance policy at the end of October, after the second midterm. The majority of the students had "crammed for the exam" and had scored on it basically what my students in a non-flipped class had scored. In other words, they weren't flipping and so weren't seeing the learning gains (and gains in achievement) that come with flipping. I also realized that, by being "forced" to come to class unprepared and review material they hadn't prepared, they had to confront the fact that they were not keeping up with the class assignments. They had to emerge from their denial and face the reality that they were robbing Peter to pay Paul (which, of course, led them to argue that they shouldn't have to do so much work for a class that was "only" a requirement and not part of their major). Coming to class became a negative experience, associated with negative emotions, for the majority of the students.
What I also saw in spades by mid-October was significant student resistance to the flipped model of instruction (see this post for more on student resistance). Students ranted about it on the class Facebook group (I had access to their posts but did not read them until after grades were submitted for the semester). Few of them said anything directly to me, but when they did come to office hours I often questioned them about their experience with the flipped model. Most of the acknowledged that it made pedagogical sense; but most of them also voiced their dislike of it. They frequently asked if they were going to have to take other flipped classes and seemed disconcerted that UT was investing significant capital in transforming courses along these lines. "I learn better from lecture," many of them insisted. "I can't discipline myself to prepare for class on a regular basis," I often heard. I strongly believe that a lot of this outrage, frustration, irritation, and other negative emotions was a reaction to the discomfort that accompanies change. The very students who would have benefited most from a flipped classroom--those with poor study habits and a tendency to try to cram for exams too late--were precisely the ones who were most resistant because they were the ones being asked to make the biggest changes. Their old ways had worked well enough, they reasoned, so why change. Even in the face of evidence that their old ways weren't working very well in my course, they dug in their heels and refused to change. Because I had not changed my assessments, I had no way to motivate this change with grades (apart from "punishing" them with lower course grades--something I did not do, because my aim was to improve learning rather than punish those who refused to get with the program).
As I planned for the spring iteration of the class, I knew that I'd need to make at least four major changes: first, incorporate *some* lecture into each class. Otherwise, the flipped model was simply too disorienting for students in a large enrollment, non-problem based class (that is, not a math/science class). It was too much change; it messed too much with their expectations and experience. Second, I would never refer to the class as a flipped class. I wouldn't talk to the students about the flipped model and I wouldn't appeal to their rational side in trying to get them to buy in to the changes in content delivery and in class activities. Indeed, I would present the class "as is" and act as if nothing was at all unusual or different about the class. Third, I would make significant changes to the assessments, to emphasize cumulative learning over large stakes assessments. As well, I would use graded assessments to motivate the students to be prepared for class and to be able to then participate in the review and application activities that I built into the in class presentations. Finally, I would put a strong emphasis on classroom etiquette and respect for the learning community. I would be clear from Day 1 that rude behavior would not be tolerated and, in fact, would have the students sign a contract stating that they had read the course syllabus and etiquette policy and would abide by its rules. These four elements would be the foundation for my stealth flip.
So far, the class is working as I had hoped it would. My class presentations are a mix of content delivery, review of assigned work, and peer discussion (usually building on something that I presented in class). There are daily homework assignments, which include watching about 2 short (15 min.) pre-recorded lectures/week As the semester progresses and the students build up a foundation in the course content, it is my plan to decrease gradually the amount of content that I present in class and to increase the application of that content. What I especially like about the stealth flip--besides the fact that it doesn't give the students anything to grab onto as an excuse for not engaging in the class--is the flexibility that it affords me. By incorporating some lecture into class, but also using pre-recorded lectures and assigned readings, I can regularly adjust the balance between inside and outside of class content presentation through the semester. It means that I can lecture in class without feeling like I've "given in" to the students' desire to sit back and be talked at. It also means that I can give them a chance to adjust more slowly to the flipped class model. Indeed, thus far, my class isn't all that different from many they have taken at UT (many faculty use i>clickers and some use peer discussion). The only major difference is the pre-recorded lectures, which I am introducing slowly and in small number and short length.
I hope that, by the end of the semester, the majority of class time can be spent doing application and other higher order thinking activities. But I've learned that, to get to this point, I need to start at a point that feels comfortable to my students and then gradually introduce the different elements of a flipped class. I can't expect them to buy into the flipped model on the basis of graphs and charts that demonstrate increases in learning. In fact, most of them care far more about grades than they do learning (at least for this particular class, which they are taking to fulfill a requirement). If I want them to buy in, I have to create a learning environment that motivates them via grades to make good choices (e.g. prepare for class); lets them experience the benefits of that learning environment (wow! I got a good grade on the quiz! Studying for the midterm isn't so hard when I've been doing the work as I go! I got a high score on a difficult exam! I am able to talk about complex situations in Roman history because I have truly learned the material! Roman history is interesting and fun and relevant!); and then, through experiential knowledge of the flipped model, gets them to buy in.
Another semester, a new class
I have a number of posts about my first experience with flipping my large-enrollment Intro to Ancient Rome class this past fall. At some point, once this new semester calms down a bit, I will finish them and get them up on the blog. For now, though, I want to write about my new class and my new strategies for getting my students to flip. Once again, the class is completely full at the end of the add/drop period (403 students!). I am teaching in the same room, albeit on a T/TH schedule instead of a M/W/F schedule. I regularly have to remind myself that it is a new semester and a new group of students. My approach to the flip this semester is probably best described as "The Stealth Flip." I have made a number of changes in the design of the course and, most importantly, incorporated a significant amount of structure. I am also presenting it to the students in rather different terms: no mention of flipped classes or experimentation. I did talk to them about Peer Instruction and the importance of active engagement during class, but otherwise presented the class as a traditional lecture course with a few twists (a discussion board; i>clickers; a portfolio assignment; supplementary pre-recorded lectures).
I learned an incredible amount from my Fall 2012 class, most of all, that in a core course the majority of students aren't necessarily motivated by learning and therefore aren't going to respond to a model that has as its stated payoff increased student learning. Rather, most of the students in my course speak the language of grades, specifically, how to get the highest grade with the least amount of effort. It's not that they are lazy slackers but that they prefer to devote most of their energy to classes in their major and other extracurricular activities that they deem more important to their future goals and job aspirations. When they opted not to do the work assigned for each class, or even to attend class, they were not necessarily making irrational choices. In their world, in fact, this was a completely rational choice. But it was a choice that meant that they were resistant to the flipped class model.
Perhaps most of all, my experiences with implementing the flipped class model in a large enrollment "lecture" class taught me that I can't flip a class; students themselves make the choice to flip. I can only design a course that strongly motivates and rewards the decision to flip, the decision to be a more active and engaged learner. However much I, personally, am motivated by the pleasure of learning, I have to accept that many of my students are not, at least not in a course that they are taking to fulfill a core requirement. This is not to say that they don't like to learn or simply want to check off a box on their way to high-paying jobs as engineers and doctors. Rather, I have come to understand, my students have multiple demands on their time and energy. If I want a substantial piece of that pie, I have to show them why they should want to invest some of their limited time and energy in my class. Otherwise, they will scheme to find a way to do the absolute bare minimum for the maximum return (though, unfortunately, they often miscalculate and end up with a lower than desired grade).
I also learned that, however much excitement I might have over the potential of the flipped class model to revolutionize the large lecture class, my students don't necessarily share that excitement. In fact, they generally like the lecture model: it is familiar, it doesn't demand too much of them, and it allows a fair amount of flexibility in when they learn material. As well, because of limited classroom support and substantial demands on our time, faculty often have a limited number of assessments--a few midterms and, maybe, a final. Very little writing, unless a faculty member is a masochist or abusive of his/her TAs. Even exams are often non-cumulative and don't go beyond multiple choice and maybe some fill in the blank, especially as the number of students surpasses 250. All of this means that, in large enrollment classes, students can generally expect that lecture will rehash assigned readings, allowing them to skip the readings; and exams will ask them to regurgitate largely factual knowledge from lecture. There are elaborate networks for sharing study guides and course notes, so many students don't even bother attending lecture or doing any assigned work. They study from the study guide of other students and, it seems, generally score As or Bs with such a minimal input of effort. It's no wonder, then, that they resist any instructional model that requires regular and sustained and deep engagement with the course content. This is especially true if that course isn't part of their chosen major. In an ideal world they might well be convinced to invest a lot of energy in learning about Ancient Rome. But they operate in a world that is far from ideal, in which they often hold jobs; commute to campus from distant places; and are taking demanding upper division classes in their major.
Once I got into the classroom with my students and watched their responses to my first attempt at a flipped large lecture class, I realized that I was going to need to go back to the drawing board. Most of all, any revisions would need to take account of the behavior of my users. This is the thing about a flipped class: it is student-centered. It shifts a substantial amount of control over class time from the instructor to the students. Given this fact, it is essential that any implementation take account of the particular features of one's audience. In designing my spring semester class, this is precisely what I've tried to do, starting with the fact that my students need a substantial amount of orientation to the techniques of blended learning. They need to be put in the pot of water and have the heat slowly turned up, not tossed into an already roiling pot.
I learned an incredible amount from my Fall 2012 class, most of all, that in a core course the majority of students aren't necessarily motivated by learning and therefore aren't going to respond to a model that has as its stated payoff increased student learning. Rather, most of the students in my course speak the language of grades, specifically, how to get the highest grade with the least amount of effort. It's not that they are lazy slackers but that they prefer to devote most of their energy to classes in their major and other extracurricular activities that they deem more important to their future goals and job aspirations. When they opted not to do the work assigned for each class, or even to attend class, they were not necessarily making irrational choices. In their world, in fact, this was a completely rational choice. But it was a choice that meant that they were resistant to the flipped class model.
Perhaps most of all, my experiences with implementing the flipped class model in a large enrollment "lecture" class taught me that I can't flip a class; students themselves make the choice to flip. I can only design a course that strongly motivates and rewards the decision to flip, the decision to be a more active and engaged learner. However much I, personally, am motivated by the pleasure of learning, I have to accept that many of my students are not, at least not in a course that they are taking to fulfill a core requirement. This is not to say that they don't like to learn or simply want to check off a box on their way to high-paying jobs as engineers and doctors. Rather, I have come to understand, my students have multiple demands on their time and energy. If I want a substantial piece of that pie, I have to show them why they should want to invest some of their limited time and energy in my class. Otherwise, they will scheme to find a way to do the absolute bare minimum for the maximum return (though, unfortunately, they often miscalculate and end up with a lower than desired grade).
I also learned that, however much excitement I might have over the potential of the flipped class model to revolutionize the large lecture class, my students don't necessarily share that excitement. In fact, they generally like the lecture model: it is familiar, it doesn't demand too much of them, and it allows a fair amount of flexibility in when they learn material. As well, because of limited classroom support and substantial demands on our time, faculty often have a limited number of assessments--a few midterms and, maybe, a final. Very little writing, unless a faculty member is a masochist or abusive of his/her TAs. Even exams are often non-cumulative and don't go beyond multiple choice and maybe some fill in the blank, especially as the number of students surpasses 250. All of this means that, in large enrollment classes, students can generally expect that lecture will rehash assigned readings, allowing them to skip the readings; and exams will ask them to regurgitate largely factual knowledge from lecture. There are elaborate networks for sharing study guides and course notes, so many students don't even bother attending lecture or doing any assigned work. They study from the study guide of other students and, it seems, generally score As or Bs with such a minimal input of effort. It's no wonder, then, that they resist any instructional model that requires regular and sustained and deep engagement with the course content. This is especially true if that course isn't part of their chosen major. In an ideal world they might well be convinced to invest a lot of energy in learning about Ancient Rome. But they operate in a world that is far from ideal, in which they often hold jobs; commute to campus from distant places; and are taking demanding upper division classes in their major.
Once I got into the classroom with my students and watched their responses to my first attempt at a flipped large lecture class, I realized that I was going to need to go back to the drawing board. Most of all, any revisions would need to take account of the behavior of my users. This is the thing about a flipped class: it is student-centered. It shifts a substantial amount of control over class time from the instructor to the students. Given this fact, it is essential that any implementation take account of the particular features of one's audience. In designing my spring semester class, this is precisely what I've tried to do, starting with the fact that my students need a substantial amount of orientation to the techniques of blended learning. They need to be put in the pot of water and have the heat slowly turned up, not tossed into an already roiling pot.
Wednesday, December 5, 2012
Extra Credit
In general, I'm not a fan of extra credit. Students, of course, love it. For them, it's a kind of second chance. The problem is, they also tend to think of it as "free" points. They don't view it as a second chance to learn something; or an opportunity to learn content beyond the course syllabus. Rather, in my experience, they often treat it as something they will sort of take a stab at and then expect to get the maximum number of offered points. Over the years, I've started offering some extra credit on exams and also to final grades in large enrollment classes. Partly, it's my way of making up for a question on the exam that may have been unexpectedly difficult for most students; and it's a way of telling them that I won't negotiate on final grades. It gives them the chance to cover those small gaps between letter grades and leaves me giving them whatever grade they earned without feeling bad for the student.
This semester, I have been amazed to observe the way my students behave at the first mention of extra credit. They remind me of my kitten, a food hound, who runs as fast as he can to his food bowl when he hears me pouring in his kibble. Part of what amazes me is the fact that these are the same students who, as a group, won't follow any of my advice about how to prepare for exams. I can tell them that preparing for class regularly, attending class, and participating in the class activities will raise their grade, on average, 10 points and they don't want to hear it. But they will expend a tremendous amount of effort for two points that are guaranteed. Among other things, my observations have reassured me that the way to approach this group is to reallocate all those midterm points to quizzes, homeworks, and other "small stakes" assessments. They have to see the immediate payoff (woot, I got 2 points for doing my homework today) in order to behave rationally. If I simply tell them that doing their homework daily five classes in a row will add ten points to their grade, they wouldn't do it.
This seems to be a generation whose pleasure and reward circuit is wired entirely different from my own. I find it difficult to relate to an audience of students who require constant, tangible incentives to behave rationally. At the same time, it's my hope that, in a way, I can train them in how to do this and then, as they progress through college, they will not require quite so many immediate rewards (though half of my students are already upper division students). I also suspect that I am encountering a large number of students from the sciences who are accustomed to daily homework sets. They have never been taught how to learn in a humanities class and, for various reasons, aren't inclined to listen to the advice of the instructor.
This semester, I have been amazed to observe the way my students behave at the first mention of extra credit. They remind me of my kitten, a food hound, who runs as fast as he can to his food bowl when he hears me pouring in his kibble. Part of what amazes me is the fact that these are the same students who, as a group, won't follow any of my advice about how to prepare for exams. I can tell them that preparing for class regularly, attending class, and participating in the class activities will raise their grade, on average, 10 points and they don't want to hear it. But they will expend a tremendous amount of effort for two points that are guaranteed. Among other things, my observations have reassured me that the way to approach this group is to reallocate all those midterm points to quizzes, homeworks, and other "small stakes" assessments. They have to see the immediate payoff (woot, I got 2 points for doing my homework today) in order to behave rationally. If I simply tell them that doing their homework daily five classes in a row will add ten points to their grade, they wouldn't do it.
This seems to be a generation whose pleasure and reward circuit is wired entirely different from my own. I find it difficult to relate to an audience of students who require constant, tangible incentives to behave rationally. At the same time, it's my hope that, in a way, I can train them in how to do this and then, as they progress through college, they will not require quite so many immediate rewards (though half of my students are already upper division students). I also suspect that I am encountering a large number of students from the sciences who are accustomed to daily homework sets. They have never been taught how to learn in a humanities class and, for various reasons, aren't inclined to listen to the advice of the instructor.
Failure, mine and theirs
It is that dreaded time of the semester when students in danger of failing the course (but for various reasons unable to do a late drop) come to my office to plead for mercy. They ask for opportunities to do extra credit (there have already been several during the semester) or for a change in how their grade is calculated (utterly oblivious to the fact that I can't give them special treatment without offering the same treatment to every other student). Rarely do they take personal responsibility for their failures unless I ask probing questions that force them to confess their lack of study, class attendance, etc. Often, they will assert that they can only learn in a "normal" lecture format and that the flipped classroom harmed their ability to learn the material. This might be more persuasive if I didn't also have a lot of data about these students and their learning habits. After they leave my office, I look at their attendance; I look at the specifics of their i>clicker answers. What I see confirms my suspicions: they didn't do well because they missed a lot of classed and, when they were in class, they clearly had not prepared and missed most of the i>clicker questions (and surely were not able to make heads or tails of the discussion questions).
It also frustrates me that they wait to come see me until the point in the semester when, in fact, I can do nothing for them. It is too late to change their learning habits (at least for my course). It is too late for me to suggest that they work closely with me or a TA in the weeks leading up to the exam. Indeed, I suspect this is precisely the point. They come to ask for special treatment and favors, but they don't want to be asked to do anything in return. The same lack of effort that got them in the position of risking a poor grade is precisely what drives them to take action only when it is too late for me to do anything to help them. They leave my office feeling dissatisfied and I am left feeling disheartened and frustrated (and telling myself that I need to stop taking their failure to engage so personally).
As classes wind down and the final exam looms ever closer, I feel nervous for them. The final is worth a significant amount (25%) of their final grade. I am sure that many of them are counting on doing substantially better on the final than they did on earlier exams. If history tells me anything, it's that they will do worse. Students almost always end up doing worse on final exams because they get distracted with end of semester festivities and blow off studying--despite the best intentions. I've seen this repeatedly over 10 years of teaching at UT and it's one reason I only reluctantly give final exams during finals week to large enrollment classes. The final exam isn't difficult. It will be an abbreviated midterm (albeit covering some pretty complex content) and then a set of ethics-related activities, including an ethical analysis. If they put in the work, they should do extremely well. If they wait until the night before the exam, they will not do very well. I am letting them talk about the ethics part with one another and I expect to get many exams that are ok but largely students trying to repeat what they read from a Facebook group but didn't really understand.
I worry that I am going to end up failing more students than usual in a class that is supposed to improve student learning. The reasons for this are clear--they didn't hold up their end of the deal. They didn't learn despite an abundance of learning tools at the disposal, largely on demand. The exam questions are handpicked from in class discussions, which are based on the recorded lectures and textbook readings. There are no curveballs. Still, I can't help but feel like I also have failed as an instructor and motivator every time I fill in that F bubble on the grade sheet. Rationally, I know the argument about leading horses to water; but it is difficult not to feel that I should have been able to find some way to make them want to drink that water. Hopefully, once we do all the math, it will turn out that most of them were able to squeak by with Cs or Ds. I also suspect that it's generally true that, the larger the class, the higher the failure rate--another reason I don't really like teaching 400 students.
As I worry about their grades, I have also been thinking about how I'd grade my own performance. Perhaps I am being hard on myself, but I'd say an A+ for effort but about a C- for execution. I made several rookie mistakes in the class design, but the most significant was designing in class activities around the expectation that the students had done their assigned homework but with no grade attached to that homework (and no way of checking, even with a quick i>clicker quiz at the start of class). I assumed an ideal, self-motivated student as my audience (aka me when I was in college). Of course, that vast majority of my students didn't behave that way. This meant that in class review and discussion was virtually impossible and led me to eventually remove the required attendance policy. It was a disaster to have 400 students, 300 of whom were unprepared and totally lost, sitting in a room. They chatted with their neighbor, left to get a snack at the student store across from the classroom (and then returned, sometimes bearing ice-cream cones), and were generally disruptive. I felt like I was teaching 9th graders.
In retrospect, I was totally unprepared for the audience I was teaching. In earlier, lecture-based versions of this course, I could envelop myself in a bubble of denial. I could focus on the students who had genuine interest in the course and ignore the fact that most of the class was there to get an A or B and check off a core curriculum requirement. I persuaded myself that I could get these students to engage simply by providing opportunities for engagement. I didn't grasp that I would have to force that engagement, at least at first and probably for much longer. I did not understand that many of them would take pride and pleasure not in learning but in bragging on Facebook about how little effort they are putting into the class. I was utterly unprepared for their strong reaction against change (never have I heard so many praises of the class lecture; typically I hear students say that they CAN'T learn that way because they can't follow the lecturer, etc.). I was caught off guard by the way they used the flipped model as an excuse for not working. It seemed to me that they decided that they couldn't learn from watching pre-recorded lectures and so therefore didn't need to watch them. And when they subsequently did poorly on the exams, well, that was the fault of the course model and not a consequence of their study habits and lack of preparation. Over and over again, they are given opportunities to improve, but many of them would rather complain that my expectations are ridiculous (I mean, who can expect a lecture class to include discussion?); that the grading is to harsh (because we expect the actual, correct answer and not some vague approximation of it); and that they should be doing better--even when some of them are also proud of how little effort they are expending. The logic baffles.
I couldn't make the kinds of mid-semester adjustments that I wanted to make (and that the class needed) thanks to the Texas legislature, which demands that syllabuses be published on the first class day and remain unchanged. This is largely a good thing; but it does mean that, when instructors are testing out new course designs, we are stuck with a flawed design for the entire semester. This is tough on instructors as well as the students, especially the students who wonder why I am not making changes to a model that is clearly not working for a lot of their classmates. I was motivated to change the structure of the course in the first place because I hated feeling like I wasn't really teaching them much of anything; and they certainly weren't learning to do more than memorize a bunch of facts and then dutifully spew them back to me on exams. I totally failed to understand that I couldn't force students to learn anymore than a coach can play the game for her team. All I can do is create a learning environment that motives student learning. On the whole, I didn't do that as effectively as I had hoped, in large part because I failed to understand how much structure and grade-incentivized assessments would be required to get them to abandon their "cram for the exam" mode. On the bright side, I have a very good sense of what steps need to be taken to shift the focus to daily preparation and away from exams. It remains to be seen whether this shift will lead to increased student participation in and enjoyment of class discussion. It also remains to be seen what it will take to persuade students that, to do well, they will have to actually put in some work and perform at a reasonably high level. To my mind, these last two issues are probably much more deeply rooted in pre-college preparation and are going to be much more difficult to change.
It also frustrates me that they wait to come see me until the point in the semester when, in fact, I can do nothing for them. It is too late to change their learning habits (at least for my course). It is too late for me to suggest that they work closely with me or a TA in the weeks leading up to the exam. Indeed, I suspect this is precisely the point. They come to ask for special treatment and favors, but they don't want to be asked to do anything in return. The same lack of effort that got them in the position of risking a poor grade is precisely what drives them to take action only when it is too late for me to do anything to help them. They leave my office feeling dissatisfied and I am left feeling disheartened and frustrated (and telling myself that I need to stop taking their failure to engage so personally).
As classes wind down and the final exam looms ever closer, I feel nervous for them. The final is worth a significant amount (25%) of their final grade. I am sure that many of them are counting on doing substantially better on the final than they did on earlier exams. If history tells me anything, it's that they will do worse. Students almost always end up doing worse on final exams because they get distracted with end of semester festivities and blow off studying--despite the best intentions. I've seen this repeatedly over 10 years of teaching at UT and it's one reason I only reluctantly give final exams during finals week to large enrollment classes. The final exam isn't difficult. It will be an abbreviated midterm (albeit covering some pretty complex content) and then a set of ethics-related activities, including an ethical analysis. If they put in the work, they should do extremely well. If they wait until the night before the exam, they will not do very well. I am letting them talk about the ethics part with one another and I expect to get many exams that are ok but largely students trying to repeat what they read from a Facebook group but didn't really understand.
I worry that I am going to end up failing more students than usual in a class that is supposed to improve student learning. The reasons for this are clear--they didn't hold up their end of the deal. They didn't learn despite an abundance of learning tools at the disposal, largely on demand. The exam questions are handpicked from in class discussions, which are based on the recorded lectures and textbook readings. There are no curveballs. Still, I can't help but feel like I also have failed as an instructor and motivator every time I fill in that F bubble on the grade sheet. Rationally, I know the argument about leading horses to water; but it is difficult not to feel that I should have been able to find some way to make them want to drink that water. Hopefully, once we do all the math, it will turn out that most of them were able to squeak by with Cs or Ds. I also suspect that it's generally true that, the larger the class, the higher the failure rate--another reason I don't really like teaching 400 students.
As I worry about their grades, I have also been thinking about how I'd grade my own performance. Perhaps I am being hard on myself, but I'd say an A+ for effort but about a C- for execution. I made several rookie mistakes in the class design, but the most significant was designing in class activities around the expectation that the students had done their assigned homework but with no grade attached to that homework (and no way of checking, even with a quick i>clicker quiz at the start of class). I assumed an ideal, self-motivated student as my audience (aka me when I was in college). Of course, that vast majority of my students didn't behave that way. This meant that in class review and discussion was virtually impossible and led me to eventually remove the required attendance policy. It was a disaster to have 400 students, 300 of whom were unprepared and totally lost, sitting in a room. They chatted with their neighbor, left to get a snack at the student store across from the classroom (and then returned, sometimes bearing ice-cream cones), and were generally disruptive. I felt like I was teaching 9th graders.
In retrospect, I was totally unprepared for the audience I was teaching. In earlier, lecture-based versions of this course, I could envelop myself in a bubble of denial. I could focus on the students who had genuine interest in the course and ignore the fact that most of the class was there to get an A or B and check off a core curriculum requirement. I persuaded myself that I could get these students to engage simply by providing opportunities for engagement. I didn't grasp that I would have to force that engagement, at least at first and probably for much longer. I did not understand that many of them would take pride and pleasure not in learning but in bragging on Facebook about how little effort they are putting into the class. I was utterly unprepared for their strong reaction against change (never have I heard so many praises of the class lecture; typically I hear students say that they CAN'T learn that way because they can't follow the lecturer, etc.). I was caught off guard by the way they used the flipped model as an excuse for not working. It seemed to me that they decided that they couldn't learn from watching pre-recorded lectures and so therefore didn't need to watch them. And when they subsequently did poorly on the exams, well, that was the fault of the course model and not a consequence of their study habits and lack of preparation. Over and over again, they are given opportunities to improve, but many of them would rather complain that my expectations are ridiculous (I mean, who can expect a lecture class to include discussion?); that the grading is to harsh (because we expect the actual, correct answer and not some vague approximation of it); and that they should be doing better--even when some of them are also proud of how little effort they are expending. The logic baffles.
I couldn't make the kinds of mid-semester adjustments that I wanted to make (and that the class needed) thanks to the Texas legislature, which demands that syllabuses be published on the first class day and remain unchanged. This is largely a good thing; but it does mean that, when instructors are testing out new course designs, we are stuck with a flawed design for the entire semester. This is tough on instructors as well as the students, especially the students who wonder why I am not making changes to a model that is clearly not working for a lot of their classmates. I was motivated to change the structure of the course in the first place because I hated feeling like I wasn't really teaching them much of anything; and they certainly weren't learning to do more than memorize a bunch of facts and then dutifully spew them back to me on exams. I totally failed to understand that I couldn't force students to learn anymore than a coach can play the game for her team. All I can do is create a learning environment that motives student learning. On the whole, I didn't do that as effectively as I had hoped, in large part because I failed to understand how much structure and grade-incentivized assessments would be required to get them to abandon their "cram for the exam" mode. On the bright side, I have a very good sense of what steps need to be taken to shift the focus to daily preparation and away from exams. It remains to be seen whether this shift will lead to increased student participation in and enjoyment of class discussion. It also remains to be seen what it will take to persuade students that, to do well, they will have to actually put in some work and perform at a reasonably high level. To my mind, these last two issues are probably much more deeply rooted in pre-college preparation and are going to be much more difficult to change.
Tuesday, December 4, 2012
Midterm #3: A New Record
My Rome students made a significant contribution to a new record for number of views of Echo recordings on a single day. Unsurprisingly, the day they set this record was the day before the third midterm. I wasn't surprised. After the second midterm and in part in response to a lot of grumbling from students that they didn't find class a good use of their time (unsurprising since 75% of them were unprepared and so unable to really participate in the various polls and discussions), I decided to make attendance optional. I expected a big drop off: November is a very busy month for students (and faculty) and they knew that everything for the Rome class was available on demand. In fact, most days saw about 25% of the enrolled students in class. It was largely the same students who came for every class (not coincidentally, several of these same students have test averages over 100).
I wasn't that surprised that students decided not to come to class. When I recorded my lectures last fall, attendance dropped to about 30% of the class most days. I wouldn't say that there was a significant difference between the two cohorts in this respect. If given the opportunity, a lot of students will opt not to come to class, regardless of what is happening in the classroom (lecture or review/discussion). This semester I saw very clearly just how poorly most of my students manage their time; and the depths of their denial about how much work they have to do to catch up. When I offered the attendance "opt out", I expected that 70-75% would take it. But I also expected that most of them would view the recordings of class at some point, perhaps even regularly. In this respect, I was completely deluded. While I don't have data from last fall showing me WHEN the students viewed the recordings of class lectures, I do have it for this semester. What I saw was disheartening. Despite repeated warnings not to save everything for the last few days; and despite being told repeatedly that 90% of the exam questions were taken from the material covered in class (about 50% are taken word for word), they apparently did no work whatsoever for 2.5 weeks and then attempted to cram everything in at the end.
I have a handful of altruistic students who have made a number of different study aids intended to help students review the lectures. They also collect all the iclicker questions from class. I am sure that many students skimmed the posted PPTs of lectures and then went to these study aids. But, in various ways, these study aids were insufficient (notably, they didn't include images of architecture, which played an important role in the last third of the class). The exam was on the Monday before Thanksgiving. Starting on Wednesday, I received daily updates of the viewing stats; and over the weekend I received them every 12 hours. As expected, they skyrocketed in the 24 hours before the exam. Also as expected, many of the students did not make it through the entire list of assigned lectures. This ended up causing them a lot of problems since the short answer portion of the exam put more emphasis on the later lectures (I wrote the exam before seeing these stats and had done this in part because I assumed that these would be easier questions for everyone, and especially for those who had been in class).
The stats for this exam aren't really comparable to previous cohorts because I also had a reasonably large group of students who were earning As or Bs blow it off (I allow them to count their lowest midterm for 5%--something I won't do again). But, overall, the performance on the exam was dismal. Typically, students score about 10 points higher on this exam than on the second midterm. This group actually scored lower on this third midterm. The reasons for this poor performance were apparent from their learning habits. As several of them have subsequently explained to me, they had exams for their "important" classes (calculus, chemistry, computer science, etc.) during the same period and so put the Rome class on the "back burner". Interestingly, though, they think that the problem is that the class is too hard, not that perhaps they should accept the consequences of not keeping up in a reasonably demanding class.
If I ever had any doubts about my plan to overhaul the assessment structure for future cohorts, they were laid to rest when I watched the train wreck that was the third midterm. I also realized that I will never be successful in changing student learning habits by talking to them and trying to reason with them. I have to simply put a structure in place that gives them constant feedback and forces them to engage or drop the class. If I don't want them to cram for midterm exams, I need to put less weight on midterm exams and start attaching grades to their daily assignments. Many of my students come from the natural sciences, engineering, vel sim. They are used to doing daily homework. It will be a change for them to do that in a large enrollment, humanities class, but I think they will settle into the habit relatively fast. One of the biggest lessons of this semester has been that students will repeatedly make bad decisions if the negative consequences of those decisions are not immediately apparent. In some sense, they WERE apparent when they came to class and couldn't engage, but their response was to devalue the classroom experience rather than to change their behavior.
I wasn't that surprised that students decided not to come to class. When I recorded my lectures last fall, attendance dropped to about 30% of the class most days. I wouldn't say that there was a significant difference between the two cohorts in this respect. If given the opportunity, a lot of students will opt not to come to class, regardless of what is happening in the classroom (lecture or review/discussion). This semester I saw very clearly just how poorly most of my students manage their time; and the depths of their denial about how much work they have to do to catch up. When I offered the attendance "opt out", I expected that 70-75% would take it. But I also expected that most of them would view the recordings of class at some point, perhaps even regularly. In this respect, I was completely deluded. While I don't have data from last fall showing me WHEN the students viewed the recordings of class lectures, I do have it for this semester. What I saw was disheartening. Despite repeated warnings not to save everything for the last few days; and despite being told repeatedly that 90% of the exam questions were taken from the material covered in class (about 50% are taken word for word), they apparently did no work whatsoever for 2.5 weeks and then attempted to cram everything in at the end.
I have a handful of altruistic students who have made a number of different study aids intended to help students review the lectures. They also collect all the iclicker questions from class. I am sure that many students skimmed the posted PPTs of lectures and then went to these study aids. But, in various ways, these study aids were insufficient (notably, they didn't include images of architecture, which played an important role in the last third of the class). The exam was on the Monday before Thanksgiving. Starting on Wednesday, I received daily updates of the viewing stats; and over the weekend I received them every 12 hours. As expected, they skyrocketed in the 24 hours before the exam. Also as expected, many of the students did not make it through the entire list of assigned lectures. This ended up causing them a lot of problems since the short answer portion of the exam put more emphasis on the later lectures (I wrote the exam before seeing these stats and had done this in part because I assumed that these would be easier questions for everyone, and especially for those who had been in class).
The stats for this exam aren't really comparable to previous cohorts because I also had a reasonably large group of students who were earning As or Bs blow it off (I allow them to count their lowest midterm for 5%--something I won't do again). But, overall, the performance on the exam was dismal. Typically, students score about 10 points higher on this exam than on the second midterm. This group actually scored lower on this third midterm. The reasons for this poor performance were apparent from their learning habits. As several of them have subsequently explained to me, they had exams for their "important" classes (calculus, chemistry, computer science, etc.) during the same period and so put the Rome class on the "back burner". Interestingly, though, they think that the problem is that the class is too hard, not that perhaps they should accept the consequences of not keeping up in a reasonably demanding class.
If I ever had any doubts about my plan to overhaul the assessment structure for future cohorts, they were laid to rest when I watched the train wreck that was the third midterm. I also realized that I will never be successful in changing student learning habits by talking to them and trying to reason with them. I have to simply put a structure in place that gives them constant feedback and forces them to engage or drop the class. If I don't want them to cram for midterm exams, I need to put less weight on midterm exams and start attaching grades to their daily assignments. Many of my students come from the natural sciences, engineering, vel sim. They are used to doing daily homework. It will be a change for them to do that in a large enrollment, humanities class, but I think they will settle into the habit relatively fast. One of the biggest lessons of this semester has been that students will repeatedly make bad decisions if the negative consequences of those decisions are not immediately apparent. In some sense, they WERE apparent when they came to class and couldn't engage, but their response was to devalue the classroom experience rather than to change their behavior.
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