This guest post is part of a series linked to the publication of G. Pleschova & A. Simon (eds.) Learning to teach in central Europe: Reflections from early career researchers. This post comes from Sarah Holz.
a teacher who aspires to student-centered learning, increasing student class participation
and involvement in seminars is a central concern for me. Reading Michal
Tkaczyk’s book chapter offered some insightful and thought provoking
ideas for me because the chapter addresses the question in how far enhanced
student participation, interest in the subject matter, and the acquisition of
key concepts are linked.
In his chapter, which is part of the newly released online book Early Career Academics’ Reflections on Learning to Teach in Central Europe edited by Gabriela Pleschová and Agnes Simon, Michal Tkaczyk offers insights into the findings from a teaching innovation introduced in a seminar on semiotic analysis of media contents. The innovation aimed at (1) improving student knowledge-acquisition, (2) enhancing their skills to apply key concepts of semiotic analysis and (3) promoting student participation.
After last week’s class discussion about participation, I decided to run an exercise that made it really easy to show the marginal benefit of preparation.
I told students to prepare for a meeting about putting together an agenda for another negotiation, and gave them all specific roles, plus some rules of procedure.
(For those who are looking for Brexit sims, this was a Council working group, putting together an agenda for the Commission to take to the UK to discuss the Political Declaration).
Because it was about formulating an agenda, I hoped that students would see they didn’t need to get too deeply into substantive positions, as long as they could frame the general areas to be covered.
Plus, but giving clear roles and rules, I incentivised everyone to push out their own draft agendas prior to the meeting. In so doing, I hoped they’d see that even a small amount of preparation could have big effects.
(for those benighted souls unfamiliar with Eurovision, the title’s from a song, so it’s fine. Really)
I ran into a bit of roadblock yesterday in class.
The students had been undertaking a negotiation on drawing up a joint statement by a number of groups and we were talking through some of the debriefing points.
I suggested that they’d taken things much as they came, whereas if they’d come with an agenda, or some text, had pushed to become chair or rapporteur, or generally had been more forceful, then they’d have been much more successful in securing what they wanted to achieve.
This produced, well if not quite uproar then at least debate.
Various individuals argued that given the dynamic of the group, anyone who came in with A Plan would risk marginalising themselves for the rest of the module, as others would be resentful to them.
It was pointed out that they’d managed to produce a text, so why do things differently?
And they also highlighted that they had other modules to study for, so there was a limit to how much time they would or could put into preparing, not least because of the way I assess.
That assessment is based on self-reflective writing, so I’m not judging their ‘success’ in negotiating per se,
The discussion was a useful one, at least for me.
The root of it all largely appeared to come down to students taking my comments as a striving for perfection, rather than as a relativistic statement.
As we continued to talk, I tried to underline that I wasn’t asking that everyone did everything, but rather that doing a bit more than others would produce much of the same effect.
To take the example from the session, one student became the effective chair because they’d happened to say something at the outset of the session. It required no additional preparation, and because that individual also offered to write up the statement, they gained huge influence over the outcome.
Just a little bit
And this is perhaps the point for the rest of us.
There’s a tension in what we teach our students between the notional perfection of How Things Should Be and How To Do Better Than We Are Now.
That’s probably most pronounced in questions of methodology: how systematically and perfectly should one pursue a methodological approach and where can one cut corners (and to what cost)?
But it’s true of all our work. I’ve seen enough theory to know that there are almost endless levels of refinement of theoretical positions to know that perfection is never truly possible in a practical setting.
With that in mind, perhaps we have to ask ourselves how we tackle this tension in our classes. To counsel perfection is one thing, but do we not then set up students for some level of failure? But if we don’t strive to do the best we can, do we risk not helping students to maximise their potential and their practice?
The answers to these questions will vary from place to place, but a starting point has to be an understanding of what we aim to achieve with our students.
In my case, I’m going into the coming sessions with some new ideas to help draw students more into the kind of logic that I discussed with them, to see if that addresses the dilemma.
And if it does, then we’ll move onto the next line of the song: “A little bit more”.
It’s good to be back in the classroom. So good, in fact, that within the hour I’d got back out of it.
Of course, this was all in the service of setting up the class for the semester’s work on negotiation, which I finally began at 9AM on Monday morning.
(personally, I like that slot and I do promise to students that I will make it worth their while to be there too)
As well as the usual what’s-the-module-all-about-ery, I use this opener to underline that it’s student-led and that they have to take very active responsibility for their learning.
In past years, Victor’s Hobbes game (which we’ve discussed endlessly here) has served really well, as it has a bit of getting-to-know-each-other as well as its big dollop of people-are-a-pain-to-be-with.
But as I noted last year, it’s not necessarily the freshest take and I knew that I had at least a handful of students who’d taken this module in previous years.
So what to do?
Reaching back into my metaphorical bag of activities, I recalled an activity that was rather good for exploring preparation and communication, both key themes in negotiation.
Amanda’s post prompts me to do a bit more reflecting on us, the instructor.
It’s really easy to focus on students as the source of problems, but as Amanda rightly underlines, that’s not the most productive of frames.
As a less-experienced lecturer, one of the most useful lessons I got in my training was that we go through different stages in our understanding of what’s happening in a classroom.
You start out by thinking it’s all about yourself, then you move to thinking it’s all about the students, before finally understanding that it’s actually about the situation you and they are in.
So part of that is recognising that you matter, but you’re not the only thing that matters.
And, frankly, sometimes we’re not at the top of our game.
Either that means we’ve not prepared enough, or we’ve not on the ball enough in the classroom.
I’ve done that – not often, but more than once – and I’m going to guess that you have too.
What’s the problem?
Clearly, there are lots of reasons why this happens and I’m not really so interested as to why, precisely because of that diversity. I know it happens to me when I teach straight after landing from an international flight, but that’s scarcely useful.
The more interesting point is to explore what impact this lack of prep has on your class and what you can do about it.
In the broadest of terms, this is a problem because of the signal it sends to your students. Just as you know full-well when they’re not concentrating in class, so too do they know when you’re not.
Just think back to when you were getting taught and you’ll recall the occasions you were on the receiving end.
If we ask students to be ‘in the room’, then we have do the same. That’s why I always laugh at academic conferences when everyone sits at the back of the room, doing other stuff on their laptops, despite what they say to their students back home.
(It’s also why I don’t say those things to my students)
What’s the solution?
Three steps suggest themselves.
First, acknowledge what you’re falling short on. This doesn’t have to be a big mea culpa, but just a simple recognition that you know what’s (not) happening and not trying to bluff your way out.
If not else, it’s better to get out in front of it and own it, before someone else does that for you.
Second, adapt what you’re doing in class to minimise the impact on student learning. If you could only prep 2/3rds of a lecture, focus on that part rather than winging the last part. If you’re supposed to be providing feedback, try using peer evaluation to replace a block of it.
That’s not always possible: if you forgot the key piece of equipment, then you should sort out getting ASAP. But you need to demonstrate your intention to make the session still work, either in a slightly different way or with a bit of delay. What’s critical is that you don’t just notice you’re not firing on all cylinders, but that you also act on it.
Third, after the session is done, you take action to make up any shortfall in the class and to avoid it happening again. That might mean some jiggling of content for next week’s class, or some additional materials on the online environment.
The longer-term redressing needs you to be reflexive and honest about what went wrong (which you should be doing in any case) and finding ways to deal with it.
So now when I fly I either do it so I can rest afterwards, or I move classes.
For you that might mean changing your schedules, or changing what you do in class, or getting a big orange sign to point to the key piece of equipment, so you don’t forget it.
Taken together, I can’t promise you’ll never have this problem again (especially if you’ve not yet had this problem), but I can tell you that it’ll become much more manageable and much less likely to happen again.
In line with Simon’s musings on whether or not he matters, I’ve been wrestling with whether all of my ideas about how to structure classes to get particular results actually work. Do they matter?
In one of my classes, only a handful of students were able to answer a pretty basic question: what is the main claim in this reading? I’m sure many of us have experienced this before, but in line with my strategies on ensuring students do the reading, I thought I was well inoculated against the steady silence of puzzlement, for two reasons:
Students have to write on all the readings each week. Those papers include an annotated bibliographic entry for each reading, where in 1-2 sentences they must state the main claim of each reading. Since about half the students wrote last week, they should know this.
In this particular case I was asking about last week’s readings, which we had already discussed. This was review! I had mentioned these main points at least once before during our previous classes.
And yet, silence.
That’s not strictly fair. A handful of students were able to answer my question for each of the readings. But the bulk of the students just sat there, staring at me. First, let’s review Simon’s thoughts on getting students to talk, and then let’s consider the possible reasons for this, and how to solve them:
They had not done the reading. Since they only have to write 8 of the 12 papers, these students may have chosen not to write last week–and therefore didn’t bother to read.
Solutions: require more papers. 8/12 was probably too generous, and it is clear that when students do not have to write, they don’t always do the readings very closely (often due to other legitimate commitments, such as work).
They did the reading, but couldn’t remember it. Students may not take good notes when they read, and therefore can struggle with details. They may also need training in how to identify key points so that they don’t miss the forest for the trees.
Solutions: teach students how to take notes on the reading. Its an important skill, and we should not assume they already have it.
Continue to require the annotated bibliographies of the weekly readings so they build this skill over the course of the term.
They did the readings, but were confused. The readings I am assigning are a mix, but many of them are scholarly in nature. Not all students in the class are majoring in the social sciences, and therefore may struggle with key terms. It was also a lot of reading–about 100 pages–and some of the chapters could have been split in two because they covered two widely different topics.
Solutions: Review the syllabus to make sure that the mix of readings is appropriate in terms of amount and difficult.
Take note of key terms and review them in class so that non-majors don’t feel lost.
Continue to review the key point of each reading in class prior to discussion so that everyone is on the same page.
They may or may not have done the reading, but they did not make the connection between our discussions last week and the question of this week. While I had mentioned the key points of the readings last week in passing, I didn’t make a point of it–I did not write them on the board, or encourage students to take notes of what I had said. Often students don’t know how to recognize a key point that is made solely verbally.
Solution: anytime I mention a key point, make sure I put it on the whiteboard to signal to students that it is important.
They may have known the answer, but chose not to speak up. Even though I’ve encouraged my students to ‘fail’ in line with previous discussions on ALPS, many of them are afraid to say something wrong.
Solutions: whenever possible, use small groups to discuss the question first. This allows students to check their answers with a small group of peers first, and then share them with the rest of the class if encouraged.
Minute papers–where students take a minute to write down their thoughts–might also give them the time they need to choose the right wording for their responses.
Note who in their papers got the answer correct, and then cold call on those students to read their responses.
Using encouraging language and thanking students for offering their response may also encourage quieter students to share their ideas in the future.
Track and increase wait time. What feels like an eternity to us in the silence is often mere moments, which might not be enough time to process the question and generate a response. There are plenty of strategies out there to do this effectively.
My takeaway: the students failure to answer my basic question is as much my failing as theirs. We need to recognize the reasons WHY students can’t identify the key point of a reading, and exhaust all the structural and instructional tools and methods we have to get them to a point where they do the readings and are willing and able to talk about them. Our job is provide the tools and training they need to succeed, and we should always make sure that any issues on the part of our students aren’t caused by a failing on ours.