As you know, I am gearing up to teach my first fully online course this fall (and a second in the spring). Until now, I have taught only hybrid classes. I’m very excited and, if you’ve been following, I’ve been exploring lots of ideas for what I might do (see here, here, and here). It finally reached the point where I had played around enough, and it was time to start making some decisions about what to do for the fall course.
This is when I started running into problems. Not major problems. Nothing that can’t be fixed. But I want to highlight some of the issues today that I ran into as a first timer and share my thinking about them with you.
Welcome to the LMS
While not a fan of the LMS in general, I decided that for my first time out the gate (and in a new position), I should give it a shot. The problem is that I had to fill out a form to get access to the LMS, and I am waiting for that form to process. By the time I learned I had to fill out a form and then wait for someone to approve it I had easily squashed two weeks (and I’m still not approved yet). This means I cannot start learning the LMS or setting anything up. And not only is this frustrating, bit it is causing me to panic.
I’m not a last minute person. At all. I do my best work over time when I can play with ideas and retool things. At the moment I have plenty of time to devote to getting the class in shape, but no space to design it in. I can’t just sit here anymore and wait on people to sign off on things. Given the circumstances, I decided to go back to my default (wikispaces) because I know how to design courses using that format. I decided that when I do get access to the LMS I might use some of the features but most likely now I will be linking out of it. Oh well. I was never bound to the LMS anyways.
Let’s Fancy the Joint Up (Or Not)
I have been reading about lots of great things that I could do in my online courses. Eventually it was time to see if I could put some of those ideas in action. And now I’m back to being seriously overwhelmed. Here I became overwhelmed thinking about:
design: I have to think through what an appropriate amount of work/interaction looks like in an online space; while I have some experience with this because of my hybrid courses, I found that I still had issues to think through going fully online
too much new: teaching online is new; I’m willing to give an LMS at least a partial glance which is new; the ideas I found intriguing were new and a lot of work in and of themselves. That’s a lot of new to balance out!
Here is where I decided to cut myself some slack. I just left a position I had been in for 12 years and moved across the country. That in and of itself is a lot of work. I’m teaching fully online for the first time. That is not necessarily a lot of work, but it requires a shift in thinking and planning. Once I processed this I made the following decision which was:
What you are doing is more than enough in and of itself. You do not have to do it all right now. Get the basics under control. Teach in ways that are relatively familiar. That is enough, and there is nothing wrong with it.
I can be particularly hard on myself, but since the move I have learned to tell myself, “You are enough. This is enough. Let it be enough.”
So for now, I will keep reading and exploring. I will continue thinking through the possibilities online teaching has to offer and how we might enact them. But I will also allow myself to simply be and experience this first year of teaching online. And from there, I will forge ahead.
Recently, I came across this article which discusses the importance of normalizing failure as a part of the learning process. Failure, the author argues, is a part of the learning process. However, from the moment we first enter schools failure is treated as something to be avoided at all costs. It is something to be ashamed of as a student. If you are a teacher, you can be seen as a poor one if your students experience failure.
And yet, as both students and teachers, we all experience failure. If handled appropriately, we can always learn from it and grow.
As a professor, I have experienced students at every level simply want to reproduce whatever it is they think I need to see in order to get an A. I understand that. At this point in their lives that’s what they’ve been conditioned to do. Additionally, the higher your GPA the more access you have to other opportunities. A great GPA in high school is needed for college. Another is needed for grad school.
So I get it. And I cannot change this system.
On the flip side, if I take a risk as an instructor, and it doesn’t pan out, then I am at risk for students giving me low evaluations which could have a negative impact on my job (see my posts here and here). In this case, no one (in my experience) is interested in contextualizing the evaluations. No one is going to try to understand what new idea I am working on and how I am, in light of the experiences I just had, attempting to refine it.
And yet, we have to get over this fear of failure, and we have to help our students get over it as well. We have to normalize it, but we also have to set up a system so we don’t penalize it.
Failure in Teaching
Failure in teaching is a pretty strong statement. What I mean is we have to allow for us, as educators, to try out new methods, assignments, and so on. For example, when I decided to apply the concept of gamification to my teaching that was a pretty huge risk. I spent all summer long working on it (and since I am on a 9-month contract this means I did it, technically, without pay). I researched it. I skyped with people about it.
Was it perfect straight out of the gate? Of course not.
Were there things I could have done better? Absolutely.
My teaching evaluations from the first few rounds of this were actually fine, but I was prepared for them not to be given the drastic change in how students experienced my course. There were things I did not like about the course each time I taught it, and I worked to improve those elements either in the moment or the next iteration.
I decided to take on the challenge of gamifing my courses simply because I wanted to. I had read about it, found it interesting, and thought it would help me rethink teaching and learning, and it did. Without our higher education system, we have to give educators lead way to take risks in their teaching – however it is they want to challenge and push themselves to improve. And we cannot penalize them if their evaluations come back low. What we can do is have conversations about the teaching and where it’s headed. If you know your limitations, and have ideas for how to improve, then that makes you a good, if not great, educator. I don’t care what your evaluations say.
If all you do is stay the status quo, never change, and always get fine evaluations, what does that mean? Are you really better than someone who pushed the envelope and maybe had a few falls along the way?
I tend to think the people who push themselves have something to offer us. They can educate us about their approaches – which includes the failures and the struggles. Knowing where another struggled and fell is useful to me. I can look for it in my own teaching. We need to set up systems that reward this kind of risk taking. Or maybe we don’t need a system at all. Maybe what we need is a culture that values us to challenge ourselves as teachers and re-conceptualize what we do now and then.
It’s summer! I just moved from North Carolina to Wyoming to start a new job. I’m getting settled in. Posts between now and August 21st will be intermittent as I get up to speed. Regular content will resume August 21st.
Recently, I drove about 1800 miles to move from Durham, NC to Laramie, WY. You can do the drive in three days if you’re willing to drive 8-10 hours a day and stop only for necessities. I didn’t want to do that and took 5 1/2 days to get here stopping to see the sights along the way.
One of the places I stopped at was the City Museum in St. Louis. I had no real understanding of what this place was and simply went on the recommendation of a friend who said I had to go there. If you’ve never been, there is no way to explain what this place is like (however this site and this one do a really solid job). One of the things they are known for is an elaborate, man-made cave system that you can explore. However, that’s just one aspect of this place which encompasses 600,000 square feet.
There are, of course, other things you need to know about this place. For example, there are slides everywhere. You can be walking around and suddenly a hole appears next to you. It could be a tunnel that you can climb through OR it could be a slide that leads to who knows where. You have to decide if you want to take the slide or not, and it’s not a simple decision to make. Taking the slide means letting go of exploring where you are at, and you might be interested in seeing what lies ahead. If you go down the slide, you will end up someplace that may or may not appeal to you, and getting back to where you had been before you took the slide isn’t necessarily easy and, in fact, may never happen.
Why? Because there are no maps at the City Museum. You just have to go for it.
And during my experience there I couldn’t help but think about how what I was doing in the museum helped me better understand myself as a teacher and just how scary it could be to be a student in one of my classes.
It’s not that City Museum doesn’t have any directions as far as where things are. When you enter the lobby there’s a sign that tells you the cave system is directly ahead. That’s kinda about it. You have to figure out where things are and, as a result, end up getting annoyed, frustrated, scared, and excited. I experienced at least all of those emotions.
The whole no map thing reminded me of how I recently started exploring the idea of creating customizable paths in my class this fall. The options for students would be to have a map – completely crafted by myself to meet goals I had determined – or to create their own based on a set of choices placed before them (and then they can tailor their experience towards their own goals). What I learned through my experience at City Museum is that this isn’t as straight-forward as having students decide which path they want to take.
Why? Because sometimes you challenge yourself and get completely freaked out.
The first thing I did at the museum was enter the cave system. But I immediately found out I didn’t understand what was going on. Do I just start climbing anywhere? Go through any opening? Is that allowed? I was an adult conditioned to a system where there are rules that I should follow, and I kept looking for someone to tell me what to do.
There was an opening in front of me so I started to enter it when a woman said, “You are brave.”
“Why?” I asked.
“I can’t make myself go down that part,” she answered. “It’s dark and narrow.
Upon closer inspection I thought, well, it does look a bit scary, but I can do this. And in I went.
And she was right. It was dark and narrow. And while I knew, logically, that I was completely safe and that, eventually, I would come out of this dark and narrow place I couldn’t do it. I panicked. I could have pushed forward, but doing so would have required me to make a series of decisions about which way to go (there were usually options and this was rarely a straight path) and put up with my fear and discomfort. But I didn’t do it. I let the fear take over and I backed out the way that I had come in because I knew that would get me out of the tight spot I had gotten myself into.
How This Experience Informs My Teaching
For me, City Museum asked me to take risks. I didn’t know where I was going most of the time. I didn’t know where I would end up. Sometimes things got uncomfortable. I realized I ask my students to do the same. I ask them to do things that are not a big deal to me but that are a big deal to them. I am sure there were plenty of kids running around the museum that day that would not have understand my panic in the caves. For them, it was nothing, you just keep making decisions about which way to go and you end up where you end up. Some of them likely had been enough times that they knew where they were going.
Second, when students take risks I need to give them options if they push themselves too far. I pushed myself too far in this example. But I knew how to get out of it (back out the way I had come in) and doing so had zero consequences. I didn’t fail at the museum or get kicked out. I simply made decisions from there on out that didn’t put me back in the same position. Yes, this limited my experience at the museum but I don’t regret it. I wasn’t ready for all the experiences the museum had to offer. However, I learned a lot just from wandering around within the spaces I was comfortable. Being in the museum was so new that it was overwhelming. I didn’t need to take it all on at once. What I needed was multiple trips. Over time I would likely start pushing my boundaries a bit.
If students take risks, and go farther than they are ready, then I need to consider what that means in the context of class. I want students to take risks, and I like the idea of them deciding how much of a map they want to be provided with. However, I learned it’s easy to get excited about push yourself too far. When that happens, there needs to be a way out that comes without consequences.
If the idea is to learn, but to also push yourself, then I have to recognize that sometimes this will fail. Just like I recognized that I didn’t want to continue on in a particular part of the cave system so too might students realize they have taken on too much or selected a task that ended up being more than they were ready to take on. This isn’t failure, and we shouldn’t treat it as such. This is recognizing one’s one limitations at the moment and adjusting accordingly.
Yes, I could have kept on in the cave system despite the overwhelming fear and panic I felt within the tight space I had wandered into. But what would it have accomplished? Probably nothing but relief when I got myself out – which is exactly what I felt when I backed myself out. What would have been the point of dragging it out? Yes, I would have learned that I was capable of doing it and surviving, but I would have just endured it. I don’t think I would have learned much else.
I don’t want students to endure class. I want them to learn and grow. And giving them that experience might require backing up and re-configuring the path. I need to remember to make space for that.
When I think about writing a syllabus, and how I want to structure a class, I tend to formulate it around questions. For example, I have taught a class where the overarching question was, “What does it mean to be literate?” and another where it was, “What counts as knowledge?” I then use these larger questions to identify smaller, usually weekly, questions that help us explore the overarching one.
This approach is totally fine. I like it a whole lot better than setting specific course objectives. Students come to class on Day One, we explore the overarching question, and I get insight into where they stand with it all. It’s good stuff.
But recently I read something – and I am sorry but I cannot recall what I was reading or where – and it inspired me to think a bit differently about how I frame my courses. Rather than set objectives, or framing it through questions, what if I instead asked my students to consider what problem or problems they wanted to use the course to work on solving.
This approach may not work well for undergraduates, but it could work well in masters and possibly doctoral level courses. In a masters course, particularly those that are designed for working professionals, students come into the class with questions and issues related to their work. They can then use the course as a space to work on those problems.
Of course the dance here is that this is a class and not an independent study. I am not suggesting that we should craft numerous independent studies for each student. Part of the reason (I assume) you take courses is to interact with people who have knowledge and experiences different from your own and who can push and challenge you in different ways. Not everything in a course has to align with a problem a student wishes to address. Rather there should be space inside the course for students to tackle several small issues or one large one.
The goal, as I see it, is not about solving the problem but making progress in understanding and responding to it. If we return to the dual pathways idea, we can see that this kind of design gives us the opportunity to frame a course in this manner. On the one hand, maybe somebody who comes into my course sees their problem as simply not knowing much about the topics we are examining. Maybe they consider themselves a novice. That’s fine. Their goal is to simply gain more information and become better informed. In the dual pathway approach, this person can stick to the agenda I have crafted for them.
But maybe somebody else has some experience and knowledge about the course and has specific questions and issues they want to examine. I still design my course. It still has readings and assignments, and so on…but because I set it up as a dual pathway it can easily allow for students to frame the course around a problem they want to solve.
In the past, I’ve always tried to have at least one assignment where students can frame it around something of interest to them. However, what I am suggesting in this post is a bit different. I’m suggesting that students frame the entire course around a problem they want to address. They then get on the pathway and make decisions about what they want to do based on that problem. Again, the problems would range in complexity.
It’s an interesting approach, and one that can give a lot of power (and hopefully meaning) to students as they experience a course. It’s an idea I’m twirling around in my head right now and thinking about implementing for the upcoming academic year. If it sounds a bit messy right now, that’s because it is messy in my mind.
Regardless of if you teach online, face-to-face, or in a hybrid format you likely have some experience with a Learner Management System (LMS). And, I assume your campus subscribes to one which, technically, means you are supposed to use it.
So let’s talk about that.
First, there are obvious benefits to a campus LMS. For me, the benefit is that it simply exists as an option. So if you know nothing else about technology, or other options, you always have the campus LMS to fall back on. And, if you have issues, you should have tech support to utilize as well.
But the campus LMS, for all the good it’s supposed to do, has its drawbacks. Of course different ones have different features and may be more or less user friendly and to your liking. I get that. But they all do the same thing: they bound us to their system, and they do it in the following ways:
Sets the Structure
An LMS takes control over how your course is structured. This includes what features you can use, how you use them, where they are located, etc…It also dictates how your course looks. The system controls the way things look to you and your students.
Of course any tool that can be utilized as a syllabus or course website is going to do this. For example, I am a huge fan of Wikispaces but using it means that my syllabus and course are going to look particular ways and have particular features. The difference is that when I get to choose a tool like Wikispaces I am making a mindful and conscience decision about how I want my course to look. I’ve played around with Wikispaces. I like how my class website/syllabus looks when I use it. I don’t like how things look when I go into my former university’s LMS (Sakai).
If you have little knowledge about alternative tools to your LMS, or little time to research them, then you are forced into the structure and format of whatever LMS your campus subscribes to. You may like it, you may not, and you may or may not know any better. Which brings me to my next point….
The LMS Has Power
The LMS is now dictating to you what your course looks like, how you and your students function within it, and even how information is communicated. This means that is maintains power over teaching and learning. If you use an LMS mindlessly (i.e. “I use this because that’s what I was told to do”) then you give up any power you had over your course and turn it over to the LMS.
Of course, as I said, any tool you use will shape your course. But if you get to select that tool then you retain your power. You are deciding what you want the course to look like, and you are identifying the tools to make it happen. If the tool doesn’t meet the need for you, then you can drop it and find a new one (or make your own!).
And what if you don’t get to select your own tool? What if you are told you have no options, you are simply not allowed, to use anything BUT the LMS?
Then that is a lot of power and control placed over you, how you teach, and how your students experience their education. And I bet the people who make such decisions don’t even realize it. They don’t realize that what they have done is sanitized teaching and learning.
I’m Not Against the LMS
Least this sound like I am anti-LMS let me state that I’m not. What I am against is being told what tools we must use to accomplish our teaching. If a university wants to subscribe to an LMS then by all means do so. If you are happy with that decision, if the LMS works for you, then please, use it. But I think it’s important to recognize that these systems have power. If we agree with what they have to offer us then that’s fine.
But we need to stop and took a look at what these system say about teaching and learning. Who are they benefiting? What does teaching and learning look like within the system? Are we ok with that? Do we want something more, something different? And will we be able to strike out and utilize tools beyond the LMS?
I’m really into this concept right now. Basically, it explores how we can design courses that give students options for how they engage with the content. Students can take a predetermined path or modify it based on their goals and background knowledge.
That should give you plenty of ideas to play around with this month! Which ones are you planning to try?
Recently, I came across this article on point-based grading systems. The ideas in the article were nothing new, and I’m sure you’ve heard most (if not all) before. This includes things like:
students expect and are used to points
points are not entirely objective
points are an extrinsic form of motivation; the goal is to get more points
My take away from this article is that while points-based grading systems have their place, they emphasize the earning of points and de-emphasize learning. Recently, I shared a post where one of my former students wrote about their experiences with my own point-based system. While the author of the points-based post refers to a previous article on how to get students to think more about learning, and less about grades, the ideas fell flat with me.
The truth is, grades matter and they particularly matter at the undergraduate level where students are often thinking ahead to advanced degrees. Students don’t just expect points anymore. They have grown up in a system where they are sort and ranked and tested to death. They have grown up in a high stakes system that emphasizes grades over learning.
Even at the Masters level, I have found that students’ rationale for why they are there is first and foremost a pay increase (totally understandable). At least, that’s what the majority of them have said on the first day of class when asked to share what motivated them to come back to school. Yes, some people put learning first. Most put salary first, and most don’t mention learning.
How Might We Change This?
I think getting students to be more interested in learning and less interested in grades is difficult – especially in higher education. Doing so requires a cultural shift both in how we do things and how students perceive the course and engage with it and each other. Grades are high stakes. And, even if they are not, students are so used to seeing them as such that it’s a common mindset to hold.
If we want students to put learning first, then we have to accept that learning comes with risks. We learn, in part, through trial and error. We learn by taking chances. We learn by struggling. We learn by failing. And none of that is commonly valued in traditional grading systems. The norm is you have one chance to show what you understand. If you take a risk, and you bomb out, you will pay the price.
That’s not what I want.
The Place for Competency Based Education
This is where I think competency based education (CBE) has a chance to play an important role – at least at the graduate level. However, it requires doing some things differently. I could run a CBE course and tell students that an A is earned by acquiring so many competencies, but I don’t think that’s what we want to do. Instead, what I would envision is this:
students enter a program and are given a road map for completion.
the road map takes stand alone courses and breaks them down into competencies
students need to acquire the knowledge relevant to each competency and then demonstrate a particular level of mastery to get it checked off as being met
students leave not with a grade (although we could assign them if need be) but a list of competencies they have obtained and the mastery level they obtained each with
Something like this would work well in an online program where teaching and learning could be more fluid if traditional face-to-face meeting times were scrapped. Instructors create content, share readings, and set up ways for students to interact and share work. This could be done through an LMS, a facebook group, twitter chats, and so on.
Doing this kind of work requires a program to let go of traditional semester systems. It means that we have to let go of traditional views on teaching loads in higher education. It does not mean that we overload instructors with students and work to accomplish this idea.
For the last 12 years, I have taught a 2/2 load. While numbers of students within a class vary, it’s reasonable to assume an average of 25. That’s 50 students a semester or 100 a year give or take. If I worked only in the type of program I am laying out here, then let’s say I could be responsible for up to 100 students at a time.
Initially this would be a lot of work. I would have to get everything set up. However, once I did then the work load would decrease to something reasonable. My focus would shift to making sure content was updated and relevant, interacting with students, and providing assistance (and scoring) competencies.
So, in the end, what I’m saying is I don’t think we even need points-based grading systems. Certainly not for everyone. If we want students to focus on learning then we have to make their experiences about learning. In a couple of weeks I will lay out my thoughts on how we can set up a structure to do just that.