The Mission (Geo)Impossible Scavenger Hunt

It was a Saturday morning like any other and my husband and I were enjoying a cup of coffee while he channel surfed to find a program related to disassembling and reassembling automobiles. He paused on a channel showing the movie Smokey and the Bandit, a classic film from 1977 about an epic beer run between Atlanta and Texarkana. “I wonder if I drove that road,” he said.

So we looked at Google Earth and found that there were two possible highways that Smokey and the Bandit could have used to move their beer. And then I saw it: the intervening space had a variety of superposed plunging folds. The seed for Mission (Geo)Impossible was planted the moment I began to wonder how I might lead students on a path to make that discovery for themselves. I don’t recall whether it was I or my husband who came up with the actual notion of torturing challenging students with a scavenger hunt for information, but it certainly appealed to my nefarious side.

What is it, exactly?

Download the handout here.

Mission (Geo)Impossible is a series of 19 quests that teams of students complete for extra credit. Why 19? I like prime numbers. 17 seemed to few, and 23 was too many. The first time around the optimal number of quests was one of many unconstrained variables. Why extra credit? Because when I make up the quests I honestly have no idea whether students will be able to do them. They are meant to be challenging problems, and are of a type that I’ve never seen as part of an assessment or activity. Students go into this knowing it will be difficult (I make sure they know), and do so by their own choice so I can feel a little less guilty about how hard they work.

Why on Earth would students want to do this?

The enticement for them to try Mission (Geo)Impossible is a substantial bonus on their final grade. If their team completes all 19 quests, 2.5% is added to their grade. That means a 60% becomes a 62.5%. If their team finishes first, they get another 2.5% for a total of 5%.

That might seem like a lot, and I wrestled with whether this was appropriate or not, but in the end I decided it was legitimate for three reasons. First, it is a term-long project and they work very hard on it. Second, to complete it they must learn a lot of geology and do synthesis tasks at a level that I would never ask of students in an introductory physical geology class under other circumstances. Finally, I’ve applied similar curves to final grades, and with serious misgivings. To my mind, this extra credit work is a heck of a lot more legitimate than bumping grades so the class average falls in the magical 60% to 65% range.

I also try to entice them by imbuing the whole undertaking with a spirit of playful competition. Students are competing with me- I tell them I designed the quests to mess with them (true), and challenge them to beat me. They are also competing with their classmates. There is a bit of secret agent role playing, too. It is Mission (Geo)Impossible, after all. They “activate” their teams by emailing a team name and roster to Mission (Geo)Impossible Command Central, and there is a Quest Master who confirms their activation.

How does it work?

The mechanics of the scavenger hunt are designed to keep the level of work manageable for me, to keep my interactions with teams as fair as possible, and also to leave students to their own devices. Those devices turn out to be very good, and likely better than students realize themselves, which is a big reason why I like this activity.

To begin with, I post a pdf containing 19 quests on the course website. The procedure they follow is to email their quest solutions to Mission (Geo)Impossible Command Central, and the Quest Master responds with one of three words: “correct,” “incorrect,” or “proceed.” “Proceed” means some part of their answer is correct, or they are going in the right direction, but I don’t provide any information about what they’re doing right. That keeps me from having to worry about whether I’ve given one team more of a clue than another.

They can submit as many solutions as they like, and they have taken advantage of this in interesting ways. One team submitted “anagram” as their first attempt on a quest. They were trying to figure out what sort of puzzle they were solving. If they had gotten a “proceed” they’d know it was an anagram. The puzzle turned out to be a substitution cipher rather than an anagram, but it was a clever approach nonetheless.

So what do these puzzles look like?

The quests specify a target (a general thing to aim at), and deliverables (what students must submit). Then they give the clue.

Here’s an example of one a quest that they solved relatively easily:

Lisbon

Solution: Earthquake, Lisbon, Portugal

The key to this quest is realizing that the minerals can be assigned a number using the Mohs hardness scale. In the order the minerals appear, those numbers are 1, 7, 5, and 5… or 1755, a year. Students could google “events in 1755,” they might actually know what happened, or they might have read the syllabus and found the sidebar I included about the earthquake in Lisbon, Portugal, that happened on 1 November, 1755.

Here is another one. It proved a bit more challenging for some students.

dancing men

Solution: Paricutin. It’s a cinder cone while the others are stratovolcanoes.

If you’re a fan of Sherlock Holmes, you’ll recognize this as the cipher from The Adventure of the Dancing Men. Solving the cipher gives the following rows of letters:

PINATUBORA

INIERFUJIY

AMAPARICUT

IN

If you break up the rows differently, you can get this:

PINATUBO

RAINIER

FUJIYAMA

PARICUTIN

These are the names of volcanoes. It’s possible students will recall what I’ve said about those volcanoes in class, and immediately realize that the first three are stratovolcanoes, while the last is a cinder cone. On the other hand, the solution might involve looking up each volcano, listing the important characteristics, noticing that Parícutin is a cinder cone while the others are not, and verifying that stratovolcano versus cinder cone is an important distinction. The latter scenario requires a lot of work and ends in a very clear idea about the difference between a stratovolcano and a cinder cone.

Anything that can be googled will be googled

When designing these quests there were a few things I wanted to accomplish. One was that students from a variety of backgrounds and with a variety of interests would be a valuable part of the solution. In fact, I wanted them to realize something very specific: that their background and perspective, whether they considered themselves “science people” or not, was indeed valuable for figuring out a puzzle about science.

To make Mission (Geo)Impossible a meaningful exercise, it was important that students could not simply look up the answer somewhere. As far as possible, I tried to make the clues things that could not be put into a search engine, or something that could be searched, but would only give another clue to the problem. At first blush, this might sound next to impossible, but here’s an example of something unsearchable:

branches

Detail of a painting at St. Peter’s College

This is a blurry photograph of a corner of a painting. It’s a painting that students walk by daily. The photo is of tree branches, but they aren’t necessarily recognizable as such. There is simply nothing about this that gives you a searchable string. Students would have to recognize the painting, and proceed from there. In this case the deliverable was the age of bedrock beneath the College. Students had to realize that the painting was giving them a location, and then look at a geologic map.

Here are a few other things I kept in mind:

No extraneous information

I didn’t include things that weren’t relevant to the quest. At least not on purpose. The quests were hard enough, and there wasn’t anything to be accomplished by sending students on a false path. They did that on their own often enough.

No process of elimination

I wouldn’t give them a quest in the style of multiple choice because they could simply keep guessing until they got the right answer. Where quests had a finite number of options, there was either work involved to get those options (like the dancing men quest), or work involved in explaining a choice (ditto the dancing men).

Don’t restrict the quests to things explicitly addressed in class.

There is value in extrapolating knowledge and building on it. For example, in the case of Smokey and the Bandit, the plunging folds are easy enough to pick out with some searching, if you know what you’re looking for. However, the plunging folds I show in class are of the “textbook” variety. The ones between Atlanta and Texarkana are much more complex, but still discoverable if students think carefully about how plunging folds are expressed at Earth’s surface. In the end, they found the folds.

Use a wide variety of clues and puzzle types

As best I could, I used clues that involved a wide range of topics (literature, art, science, popular culture of the 1970s). I used puzzles that would appeal to different ways of thinking. Some involved interpreting images to get a word or phrase. For example, a pile of soil next to an apple core would be interpreted as “earth” and “core.” Some were ciphers, and some involved recognizing objects. Some were narratives, like the one below. Students used the stories to get the differences in timing between P-wave and S-wave arrivals, then used triangulation to find the location of an earthquake. But they had to find a map of Middle Earth first, and do some km to miles conversions.

earthquake

It was an earthquake in Fangorn Forest.

 

So how did this go over with the victims students?

My class was never more than 23 students, and the uptake was 2-3 active teams each time. I would need surveillance throughout the College to see exactly how they responded to the quests (and I’m not sure I’d like what I’d hear). But from conversations with students it seemed there was the right amount of frustration to make solving the quests feel like an accomplishment. In all but one case, teams that started Mission (Geo)Impossible also finished it, or else ran out of time trying.

 

They submitted solutions at 5:30 in the morning, 11:00 in the evening, and sometimes during the lecture. They brought their quests to the lecture in case I dropped a hint. They came to visit me and said things like, “This is driving me crazy,” and “Why, Karla? Why?” I successfully (I think) suppressed a diabolical grin on most occasions. In fact, they put so much work into this that I felt bad about it from time to time. But it was an optional activity, I rationalized.

Wiggle room

When I started this I had no idea whatsoever whether students would be successful, but I did intend to supply a safety net if it was needed, and make sure their work was rewarded. This is my policy with everything I try in my courses.

In the first iteration things bogged down part way through the term, so to get students going again, I gave them an option: they could request one additional clue to a quest of their choice, or they could request clues for three quests, but I would pick which ones, and I wouldn’t tell them which I chose. (Heh heh.)

Naturally, the teams negotiated an arrangement whereby they sorted out which combination of options would work out to their collective advantage, and then they shared the information. At that point I was very glad I insisted on teams rather than letting individuals play, because as individuals they could conceivably ask for enough clues to specific quests to beat the system.

 

In the second iteration, I tried a new style of puzzles that turned out to be more difficult than I intended. By the end of the term, and after a massive effort, the teams were only about half way through. In that case I awarded the team with the most quests the 5% and 2.5% to the other team.

 

The third iteration

I will do this again, but with fewer puzzles (13- still a prime number), and with fewer difficult quests than last time. I will also give students some examples of quests from previous iterations. I’m hoping that will convince more students to get involved.

I won’t relax the rule about participating in teams. I tried that the second time around, and the individual participants either did not get started, or got hopelessly off on the wrong track. I do need to find a solution for students who want to participate, but aren’t comfortable approaching other students in the class who they don’t know.

But I will find a way to get as many students involved as possible, because the potential for this activity to give students confidence in their ability to approach difficult tasks- even seemingly impossible ones- is just too important.

Oh yes, and by the way…

I dare you.

dare

Deliverable: x + y + z

Categories: Challenges, Learning technologies, Teaching strategies | Tags: , , , , , | 2 Comments

Clear As Fine-Grained Sediment Mixed With Water: A Discussion Forum

This week I’m presenting a poster at the Earth Educators’ Rendezvous. The poster is about a discussion forum activity that I do with my introductory physical geology students at St. Peter’s College. I’ve turned my poster into a blog post just in case anyone is thinking about trying a similar activity and would like to refer back to it. Alternatively, folks may simply want to confirm that some nut at an academic meeting designed a poster consisting largely of cartoons. Either way, here it is.Intro

Why

How

You can download a copy of the handout for this activity, including the rubric, here.

Examples.png

Strategies

This is a great resource from the University of Wisconsin-Stout for explaining online etiquette to students.

summary

Categories: Assessment, Teaching strategies | Tags: , , , , , | Leave a comment

On Leaving the Circus

Circus_poster,_1890

Circus poster, 1890. (Library of Congress)

My last day of work at Athabasca University was Friday, June 3. That weekend was the most relaxing I’d had in… ever. Even finishing my PhD didn’t come close to the sensation of lightness. For the two weeks prior, it was almost impossible to concentrate because I felt like a kid about to start summer holidays.

If I had stuck around until September, it would have been 8 years. Unlike most schools, Athabasca University does not break up its year into terms or quarters. It has a continuous enrollment model, where new students start the course every month. Students can submit their assignments at any time during their contract period. The result is that there is no way to predict workload. There is also no way to predict income, because it depends partly on monthly enrollment, as well as the number of papers graded. For me this meant that my life was in a perpetual holding pattern to accommodate the irregular income and schedule. Eight years is a long time to stay in an unproductive holding pattern.

The message I got upon being hired by Athabasca was that my position was intended to be a small auxiliary source of income, kind of like babysitting is for a teenager. Nevertheless, I would be expected to offer the highest possible standard of customer service. If I could coin a phrase, it would be “work like you’re full-time.”

But I managed this. I also had the opportunity to revise my courses, which made me feel like I was actually in a teaching position. However, Athabasca’s financial concerns soon came to the forefront. There was the email requesting that employees take unpaid vacation to reduce the burden on payroll. AU entertained the notion of laying off all tutors for a day to save money. Large-scale layoffs happened. There was the move to digital textbooks, where savings realized from the lower cost of digital textbooks were not passed on to students as a decrease in fees.

And then there was the call centre. This news came in the form of a sternly worded email from the acting president that a) tutor costs were unsustainable, and b) this problem would be solved by getting rid of the system of tutors and replacing it with a “one stop shop” for all inquiries.

The claim was that students contacted their (unhelpful, unprofessional) tutors infrequently, and when they did it was mostly with administrative questions that tutors were not equipped to handle. Therefore, there should be a call centre that students would contact first. Knowledgeable and professional call centre operators (in sharp contrast to tutors) would then connect the student with appropriate resources. If it were deemed necessary, a highly qualified Academic Expert (former tutor) would be contacted and informed that the student had a question. The Academic Expert would then contact the student within 2 business days.

They argued that the centre could be open for longer hours, and on weekends, whereas there were limited office hours during which students could contact their tutors. First of all, these office hours were limited because AU was not willing to hire tutors full-time- so it’s hardly fair to blame the tutors for that. But second, and far more importantly, who uses the phone anymore? If I got more than 30 phone calls in the time I worked there, I’d be surprised. But I did get emails at all hours of the day and night, 7 days a week. The vast majority of those questions were about the course material.

The call centre would save money because the Academic Experts would be paid only for specific activities, rather than the “block pay” determined by the number of students assigned to a tutor. Getting paid would require filling out time sheets to document those activities. You can see a list of what counts here, in the appropriately named Outsider newsletter of CUPE 3911 (the tutors’ union).

And that’s were my self-respect threshold came into view. The notion of having to subdivide my job into tiny bits and pieces, and keep meticulous track of them in order to get paid, seemed incredibly burdensome. That’s not why I teach. Add to that rumblings about Academic Experts having their time sheets rejected, and the suggestion that I could expect a 40% decrease in my income, and it just didn’t seem worth it anymore.

My initial plan was to wait until my courses were moved to the call centre. I would see how things went, and then resign if the situation got as bad as I thought it would. But I got tired of waiting for the axe to fall. I got tired of there being an axe. I started to feel like a chump for staying there.

I might have been able to tolerate the problems if I had felt valued, but I didn’t. Even before the call centre, I had the sense that AU felt its tutors needed to be scolded into doing a good job. On an employee pulse survey, someone commented that tutors as a whole lacked professional development. This is in spite of the fact that no-one had bothered to ask what kind of professional development tutors had done. There also seemed to be a pro call-centre PR strategy to denigrate the abilities and work of tutors, as a means of emphasizing that AU was making the tough choices and seeking solutions.

So I felt about as valued as a piece of chewing gum stuck to the bottom of a shoe. I didn’t realize how deeply that feeling went until I received a 5-year service pin in the mail. I was surprised and confused because I honestly didn’t think tutors counted as employees for purposes of service recognition.

I’ve never quit a job before. I expected that quitting this one would happen when I was angry and bitter, but instead I was completely blissed out. If this post sounds like an angry rant, it isn’t. It is more of an exorcise- an exercise in exorcising those demons so I can leave them behind and begin whatever healing is required. Being chewing gum is hard on a person’s psyche.

My resignation letter was one sentence saying only what date my resignation would be effective. I didn’t say why I was quitting, and no-one asked. I was a little surprised that they didn’t ask for a hand-off overview of how the courses were going. They should have. Maybe I could have offered that information, but there would have been a lot to say. I’ve tried to communicate issues and solutions before, only to be disregarded, and I didn’t have it in me to try again. And anyway- not my monkeys, not my circus.

I don’t have a new job lined up, per se, but I do have a project that I’ve been meaning to start. I will get to use my research skills, and learn new things. I will have an opportunity to progress rather than being trapped in a holding pattern. I won’t have to read messages from administrators about how I’m not worth what they’re paying me. I won’t have to be afraid of decisions others are making about my future. I won’t need the approval of people who are less qualified than I am to make decisions. I’m not leaving higher ed just yet, but I am branching out and trying to make my own opportunities. What comes after remains to be seen.

Categories: Challenges, Distance education and e-learning, Uncategorized | Tags: , , , , | 12 Comments

On the Importance of Being Dr. Panchuk

terrence

On his better days, Terrence was not at all a bad guy to know.

Last week I encountered pure vicious hate from a student. Under other circumstances this would be more unsettling, but he was in one of my online courses. Maybe his physical presence is intimidating and aggressive- I have no idea- but his intellectual one is not, and that’s a deciding factor when your relationship is entirely via email. Also, I’ve been visualizing him as a madly barking chihuahua who I pick up gently and deposit outdoors so I don’t have to listen to him.

This all started when I notified students in my courses that they should address me as Dr. Panchuk. Previously they had been using my first name, with my permission. Sometimes after posting a communication like this one, students contact me to be sure that they haven’t offended in some way. The worried ones are never the ones who caused me to issue the communication. This time I only received an email from “Terrence” (not his real name). I realize now that Terrence was exhibiting passive-aggressive behavior in his email. He opined on whether my communication was appropriate, and suggested alternative verbiage. On two occasions within the email he used what he mistook to be my first name.

I’m used to sub-par emails from students, so I applied the usual method of addressing Terrence’s concern by explaining carefully and politely that Terrence would have to suck it up. Then I noticed the signature on his email. It consisted of statements that don’t belong in a professional communication. Most people would find them in bad taste at best, and offensive and crude at worst. This included a statement that, remarkably, managed to ridicule academics and recommend a violent treatment of the poor all in one go.

The statement most problematic for me was a joke with the punch line that women should be seen but not heard. The whole point of being Dr. Panchuk was to make students understand what standard of behavior was required, and this was not it. I’ve never called anyone on a sexist statement before, because generally there isn’t much point in attempting to educate the proudly politically incorrect. But in this case I would be working with Terrence for some time, so that was definitely not on. I told Terrence that if he preferred women to be silent, he had registered in the wrong course. I also attempted to explain the impact such a statement would have on a woman who had been mistreated.

I expected Terrence to send an apologetic email, acknowledging that the jokes were in bad taste, that he had forgotten they were there, and so forth. Not so. I received an email from Terrence the chihuahua. The email was a baffling combination of juvenile posturing, and detailed personal insults. (Not that those are chihuahua characteristics- sorry chihuahuas.) The insults were bizarre because they seemed to come from a well developed but fictional picture of me that he had constructed for himself. He exhibited an unhinged blind rage. I read the first sentence or so, skimmed another paragraph, and left the rest. It went on for some way. Terrence had clearly spent time to tell me what was what.

The remarkable thing about Terrence is that he was Bob all over again. “Bob” was a person with whom I attempted to have a thoughtful conversation in the comment section of a news story, and who erupted in a similarly nonsensical way. My husband, concerned for Bob’s health, suggested that I disengage from the conversation. “You don’t want to give him a heart attack.”

At no point did my side of the conversation with Bob decay into personal insults, but he indulged liberally. All I did was try explain my point of view carefully, and without discouraging Bob, just as I would to a student who wasn’t getting a difficult problem. And that might have been the issue.

Both Bob and Terrence are men retired from positions of considerable authority. One would think that someone having been in authority would have a certain respect for the power structure in other contexts. Not these two. My husband explained that they may have achieved their positions through aggression, and had likely never been called on their behavior- certainly not by someone they viewed as their subordinate, such as a younger female. This younger female was demonstrating an expectation that they would behave appropriately, and in one case acknowledge her authority- intolerable!

The fact that I didn’t buckle after the first go round with Bob, and tried to sort things out probably made things worse rather than better. Bob didn’t want to be explained to. I didn’t even try with Terrence. He referred to me as pompous (no doubt a sting for an earlier generation), so I pointed out that generally it wasn’t considered pompous to request that people call one by a title that one has earned. Then I told him that his behavior was inappropriate, his comments abusive, and I would be referring the matter to the course coordinator. I would not be communicating with him further.

Terrence sent another angry email which I didn’t read, aside from the first few words as they appeared in the notification in the corner of my screen. (Those made it clear he was angry.) He sent another in which he attempted to one-up me by forwarding the conversation to the acting president of the university. Given Terrence’s derogatory comments about academics, that seemed ill-considered.

The course coordinator responded to Terrence in that special way academics have of displaying calm reason and professionalism while at the same time implying “you’re an ass” between each and every line. It’s the kind of email after which one can only say, “Oh, burn!” I will be eternally grateful for the support. The course coordinator outlined Terrence’s options as shaping up or facing a formal inquiry.

A few days later Terrence emailed to say he would take a third option: shipping out. It was another long email, but the first sentence and a half made it clear that he was taking a last poke at me, so that’s where I stopped reading. I forwarded the email to the course coordinator. I didn’t respond to Terrence. Have you tried reasoning with a frenzied chihuahua?

The point is, knowing only my gender, Terrence was vehemently opposed to respecting me. Because individuals like Terrence exist, it’s all the more important to claim my title. Not because of a vain wish to hear myself referred to in that way, but as an acknowledgement of work I did, and skills and competence gained. To the Terrences of the world, not claiming it confirms their belief that I can’t possibly have earned it. Further, if I don’t claim it, students in my class will have that as an example. It would be particularly damaging if female students opted to follow my example of not using earned titles, making it seem acceptable for the Bobs and Terrences of the world to treat them as unworthy of being acknowledged for their accomplishments, by virtue of their gender.

Judging by Terrence’s responses, his ego won’t permit him to feel that he came out the loser. He did lose, though. He avoided calling me Dr. Panchuk, but at the cost of dropping the course. He encountered another male (the course coordinator) who told him that I should be addressed as Dr. Panchuk. He also lost a rather one-sided battle of wills to have me defer to him. Any venom he unleashes in a course evaluation will be a mix of hate and ridicule so over the top as to make him look unhinged rather than reflecting badly on me.

In contrast, this is a big win for me. I realized for the first time how important it is to be Dr. Panchuk.

 

Categories: Challenges, Classroom management, Women in STEM | Tags: , , , , | Leave a comment

Sadly, This Was Necessary: Meet Dr. Panchuk

In a course announcement today:

Hi everyone,

I would like to bring a change of procedure to your attention. In the past students have addressed me by my first name, but from now on I will follow standard procedure, which is for you to address me by my academic title, Dr. Panchuk.

I have never had to make this requirement in the past, however I’ve noticed that an increasing number of students are displaying disrespectful and argumentative behaviour. The vast majority do not behave this way, but I’m hoping it will serve as a reminder in those few cases of what is appropriate conduct in an academic context.

You should not take this to mean that you aren’t permitted to raise questions about your work. These are always welcome, and I’m happy to assist you. What it does mean is that you must use an appropriate tone. This is no different from what should happen in any of your other courses.

On a related matter, be aware that the appropriate level of discourse is what would occur in a business setting. What this means is that the shortcuts you might use when sending casual text messages to a friend are not appropriate. Writing “hey cn u hlp me w/ this qustn” won’t do, and for those of you unfamiliar, is not a good approach in general if you’re trying to make a good impression. Some people who receive such a message will take it as a sign of disrespect on your part.

I imagine some of you will be horrified to receive this notice, because this isn’t how you behave or communicate, and I’m sorry to have to send it out. Nevertheless, here we are. If it’s any consolation, appropriate behaviour and communication are noticed, and do set you apart. You can read the comments section of any news story to see what I mean.

I will be sending a second announcement outlining the appropriate way to submit your assignments.

Regards,

Dr. Panchuk

Categories: Challenges, Classroom management, Distance education and e-learning, Teaching strategies | Tags: , , | 1 Comment

Why Open Science Daily?

In February of this year I started a new project: a Twitter account called Open Science Daily (@journal_365). I started after reading about Sci Hub, a project of systematic piracy of research articles from behind journal paywalls. This matters because such articles are the lifeblood of academic work, but the cost of journal subscriptions is keeping them locked away. You might not think it’s a big deal whether or not a scientist has access to the Antarctic Journal of Annelid Research but what about journals publishing the latest findings on cancer?

Contemplating a Life Without Truth

I had the jarring experience myself of discovering that one of the universities I work for had forgotten I existed (at least for staff computing privileges) and cut off my access to electronic journals. It felt like I’d lost a limb or a smartphone. I wondered how anyone could possibly survive without being able to find out stuff whenever the out of stuff needed finding. What do you do without access to truth as filtered through the peer-review process? Those were dark days indeed.

After reading about Sci Hub I thought that it should be doable to establish some sort of framework where a journal could offer content freely by optimizing on the fact that its input (research) comes to it for free, its reviewers are free, editors may be unpaid, and there is no longer the overhead of producing materials in hard copy. As I contemplated how this might work, I suddenly remembered that it already existed, and was called open-access publishing.

Now I’m not the most up on my open-access resources, but I’d like to think that I have at least a little more knowledge than the average Jane. Yet I forgot these things even existed! Free peer-reviewed knowledge, and I forgot! It occurred to me that if I didn’t remember these things existed, then (barring explanations including but not restricted to teaching-related stress, lack of sleep, and lack of caffeine), how many other people don’t know or forgot? And so Open Science Daily was born.

So What, Exactly, Are You Doing?

Using the OSD account, I’ve been tweeting about one open-access science journal a day (more or less- but my track record is pretty good). I include the name, the url, and some key hashtags, but my strategy for maximum attention-getting is to use images. Initially I started off doing this sort of thing:

Earth System Dynamics

 

But then it got a little fancier,

Paleo Electr

 

and fancier (this one makes my eyes happy),

TWBul.png

 

and now they’re mini art projects. (Note the superposition of the semi-transparent storm clouds over the melting glacier to give the whole thing an ominous feel.)

EarthFut

 

While making pretty pictures is fun, I’m cognizant that my images might be the first thing someone sees of a given journal. In other words, I’m making the first impression, and I don’t take that lightly. That means I try to make the images look clean and professional, and take cues from the journal’s homepage about what might be appropriate, or what those running the journal might like to see. Sometimes they make it easy, such as by putting a tiny Mars rover at the top of their page, so I can do this:

GeoIMDS

 

The descriptive text in my images comes verbatim from the journal’s homepage whenever that is possible. This is primarily because I’m dealing with many topics that are new to me, and I don’t want to make paraphrasing errors. It’s also much faster. If I had to go through each journal to come up with my own succinct descriptions I simply wouldn’t be able to do this project. It seems reasonable that the journals should speak for themselves in this way.

Which science journals?

I’m working from the Directory of Open Access Journals (DOAJ), and it’s likely this will keep me busy for a while. I’ve covered the journals they’ve filed under “Geology” and am working through categories which are also related to the Earth system and space. I choose journals which use English to describe themselves, so I can avoid cutting and pasting information in a language I don’t understand. The journal must also have a clear description of its focus and scope. Many do, and helpfully label this information “Focus and Scope.” But others have thwarted by best attempts to find a snippet of description that is pithy enough for my images.

Who is this for?

Awareness of open access journals matters for people who are not affiliated with an institution having deep enough pockets to afford journal subscriptions. That could mean people who are members of the general public, who work independently of an institution, or who belong to an organization that simply doesn’t have the cash. It also matters for the researchers and academics whose work is being published, because they might not otherwise consider whether their journal of choice is open access. It matters because institutions can begin to consider open-access publishing in their policy-making, and take steps to encourage it.

This is also for me, because I love the brain rush accompanying the sudden realization that yet another universe of ideas exists, of which I had been completely unaware. It’s like feeling your way around a dark room and encountering an unexpected doorway. Looking at a new journal each day has made me aware of new fields, and allowed me to make connections between seemingly disparate concepts. I sometimes wonder if my little band of followers will become bored if I stray too far from their areas of interest. But I find myself exclaiming, “That’s actually a thing?!” at least once a week, and having that opportunity must appeal to at least a few of them.

Categories: Open access, Science and such | Tags: , , , , | Leave a comment

Online Courses and The Problem That No-One Is Talking About

There are two kinds of online courses: those which are taught, and those which are facilitated. The distinction does not apply to the task of interacting with students. I’ve been both “teacher” and “facilitator,” and it’s exactly the same job from that perspective. The difference is one of autonomy, and it is a big difference.

The Gwenna Moss Centre is about to run another offering of their Introduction to Teaching Online course. Although I am a co-facilitator for this course, I would describe it as a course which is taught rather than facilitated. My co-co-facilitator and I discuss the course as it is running, and make adjustments on the fly when necessary. We take note of what worked and what didn’t, look at participants’ evaluations, and then modify the course as necessary for the next offering. Not only do we have the autonomy to make the necessary changes, it is expected that we will.

In Intro to Teaching Online, we assume that the participants will also be able to teach their online courses- that they will make pedagogical and logistical choices to respond to their students’ needs, and to make the course run as smoothly as possible. Also, that they will have the ability to revise as necessary and try new things. That’s how you teach an online course.

When you facilitate an online course, while you might take on the task of assisting students and grading their papers, what you can do beyond that is tightly restricted by a delivery model over which you have very little control. How little control will vary, but most likely it will be difficult or impossible to make substantive changes to what is taught, or how it is taught. Even if you designed the course in the first place, that “you” and facilitator you are completely different people as far as control over the course goes, and designer you lost any input as soon as the design contract was up.

If you are lucky enough to be able to request changes, the process is rather like having completed a painting, then being told you aren’t allowed to touch it anymore. If you want something to change, you must fill out a form describing in detail where the paint should go and how to move the brush. Someone more qualified than you will make the change. They might send a note back to you saying that they plan to improve your painting of a cow by adding spots. You must then explain at length that it is in fact a dog, and should not have spots. When the painting is finally modified, the dog is the wrong shade of brown. You decide it is best to not request modifications to your paintings in future.

Why does this matter? I don’t care how good you are- you never get a course exactly right the first time. If there aren’t any outright problems, then it soon becomes apparent where improvements can be made. Facilitator you gets to see the problems or areas for improvement, but must be content with grading papers and answering questions. If facilitator you is like facilitator me, this will drive you nuts. If facilitator you is subject to the same kinds of course evaluations as someone who can teach their course, and make it the best it can be, then this is not only unfair, but professionally dangerous.

While course quality is affected by this- especially if no-one sees a need to consult with facilitator you about how the course is going, or there are no mechanisms for facilitator you to communicate issues and be taken seriously- there is a bigger problem: the very integrity of the course.

At one time distance education was mostly intended to serve those who could not go to a brick-and-mortar institution for one reason or another. Maybe they had a family or a full-time job and couldn’t leave to go to school. Maybe they just couldn’t afford to move. Now things are different. While I don’t have any hard numbers, from what I can tell, at least 70% of my students are already taking classes at a brick-and-mortar school. They take an online class because they can fit it into their schedule better than one on campus, or it isn’t offered on campus at a time they need it, or they’re trying to get ahead/ complete their degrees over the summer.

What this means for the big picture is that students are far more likely to communicate with each other about the course than in the past. It might be two students who take the course together, or it could be someone who took it previously sharing information with someone currently enrolled. In the case that is causing me problems right now, a substantial number of students from one department at one school take the online course to fill a requirement. This is a facilitated course, so perhaps you can guess where this is going.

The students talk to each other. Some of it might be innocent enough, but some of it involves passing on assignments that I’ve graded to the next group of students who take the course. The course has not been updated substantively in some time, so the same assignments and exams still apply.

The problem has become ridiculous of late, with students submitting near-perfect assignments, all exactly alike plus or minus a few careless errors, and within record time. They get things right that no-one ever gets right. Clearly they are working together, but they are also referring to older assignments. I know this for certain for a few reasons: First, the correct answer will frequently appear after incomplete or even nonsensical work. They submit solutions with the answer that would have resulted if a typo, long since removed, was still in the question. They also plagiarize my comments from old assignments, sometimes reproducing them verbatim.

This course has a must-pass stipulation on the final exam. Normally that would be some comfort, because students who haven’t learned anything on the assignments would fail the exams. I’ve seen students with 95%, 99%, and 100% on assignments unable to break 20% on the final. (The exam isn’t that hard.) But over the past few months it has become apparent that the content of the exam has been shared. If not an actual copy, then a very good description of what it contains is in circulation. Exam grades have gone up, and students are regularly answering questions correctly which were rarely answered correctly in the past.

Ideally, if so many students who know each other are taking the course, the assignments should change frequently. In our hyper-connected world, it is almost certain that this kind of communication between students will happen. I even know of a homework-sharing website that has some of the solutions posted. The problem is that in order to change this, someone has to keep on top of the course full-time, and have the autonomy to make the necessary changes. The main consideration should not be the logistics of altering course materials. There’s no excuse for that when the relevant materials are or can be delivered online, and everyone and their dog knows how to upload a file to an LMS.

Nevertheless, the issue is that facilitators cannot be empowered in this way without disrupting the underlying structure of course delivery. Even more problematic is a culture amongst those who do run things- those who are not subject-matter experts but who handle the day-to-day operations- which views facilitators as incompetent, and unable to handle this responsibility. Not long ago I was handed an in-house guide to designing distance education courses. It warned readers at the outset that most faculty would be uncooperative and not understand how a distance education course should run. I felt ill, the way you would feel if you overheard your co-workers complaining about how useless you were. As I recycle that book I will contemplate with irony the damage this attitude has caused to distance education, and wonder if maybe I should take a chance and start the dog-washing business I’ve been thinking about.

There are many reasons to disempower facilitators, not the least of which is the cost savings from having them as casual workers instead of full-time ones. So here’s where I’m going to get in trouble for this post (if I haven’t already): if your concern is the bottom line, what happens when the ease with which students can cheat in your course makes other schools, employers, professional certification organizations, etc., decide that credit for your course is no longer meaningful? Even if cheating is less of a risk, what if word gets around that the course is hopelessly outdated or has problems? You don’t get enrollment, that’s what. And the people who communicate this aren’t going to be disgruntled facilitators. I’m the least of your worries. You need to worry about the students themselves who joke openly about cheating, and how little can be done about it, or who are discovered to lack skills or to have learning that is outdated.

There is a fundamental disconnect between what schools view as the appropriate way to structure a distance education program, and what actually works on the ground, when you’re expecting learning to happen. One involves online teaching and the other does not. There is a cultural gulf between those who have the power to do something about it, and those who can only look on in frustration. There are a lot of dogs to wash, but with most of them you have to spell out B-A-T-H rather than say the word, or they run off. A waterproof apron is useful, but not foolproof. You’ll need lots of towels.

Categories: Assessment, Challenges, Distance education and e-learning, Learning technologies, The business of education | Tags: , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Dear Ed Tech: This Is What You Don’t Understand About Higher Education

I am the kind of tired that makes you feel hollow inside, so maybe this isn’t the best time to be writing this, but then again, maybe it is. I just got back from my Monday-Tuesday teaching overnighter out of town. I’m a hired gun in the world of higher education- sometimes we’re called adjunct faculty, sometimes sessional lecturers, and a number of other terms that are beyond my ability to recall at the moment. But you know who we are.

The problem is that being able to learn about educational technologies is really a luxury for my lot. I’ve been able to take many free courses which I’ve enjoyed very much, but I was only able to take them because I could afford to not fill that time with paid work. Full-time faculty on campus who opt to attend a course are doing so during the work day, but hired guns do it on their own time. Many of my colleagues simply wouldn’t be able to take the time- I’m thinking of you, Elaine, with your 8 courses this term in at least three different communities. So the first thing you need to know, Ed Tech, is that a substantial number of the people teaching courses at universities are hired guns like me, and many of those are on the razor’s edge of being able to support their teaching habits.

Part of being a hired gun is not having job security. You should care about this, Ed Tech, because the many wonderful tools you offer require a lot of work up-front. It’s a big decision whether or not to use a technology when learning it and preparing materials happens on your own time. It’s an even bigger decision when access to a tool depends on your employment status, as it often does with institutional subscriptions to software.

My blog, for example, started out on a university WordPress service, but after the jarring experience of having my computing access cut off between contracts, and facing the loss of the materials I created, I moved it and absorbed the costs associated with making it ad-free.

The same university is working on updating their in-class response system. I’m using one now- Poll Everywhere, which also happens to be something I can afford out-of-pocket- and the chance that I would adopt the system they choose is zero. It doesn’t matter how good the system is. What matters is that it takes a lot of time to set up questions and to embed them into presentations. Is it worth spending the time if I only get to use those questions once, or, assuming I’m teaching a similar class elsewhere, am unable to access them? This more or less guarantees that whatever system the university chooses will be utilized far less than they would like.

I came face to face with this issue more recently when discussing a home for the open textbook adaptation I’m working on. First of all, I’ve spent 131 hours on this adaptation so far, according to the timer I use to track my various ill-advised activities. That doesn’t include the 65 hours I spent writing a chapter for the original version of the book (for which, I must add, I was compensated- something I appreciated as an acknowledgement of my work as much as for the income.).

My free Pressbooks account didn’t have enough space for the media library, so I upgraded at my own expense. I then learned that the university is setting up its own version of Pressbooks, but faced with the possibility of losing access to what now seems like a ridiculous amount of work, I would never consider using their account to work on my textbook. I would also be nervous about having my students use a version hosted on the university’s system because I’m not clear on whether I would have access to edit it once it got put there. (I have no idea how authors of print materials aren’t driven nuts by being unable to edit at will.)

In my present state of near-faceplant exhaustion, it appears that I’ve made a great many poor life-choices. I can justify this in my better moments as things that are important to do for my students, but on days like today, all I can think of is why oh why am I killing myself with this?

Ed Tech, you need to realize that many of the people teaching in higher education are not in a position to be as frivolous with their time as I have been. In the push to get instructors to adopt various kinds of educational technology, it isn’t just a matter of convincing them that it’s good for students. They very likely know that already. The challenge is convincing them that they should commit to a technology in spite of the personal and financial burden, not to mention being treated like the education version of a paper plate (it works, it’s cheap, it’s disposable, there are lots more where it came from) by the schools that would benefit from their labour.

The commitment you’re asking for isn’t the same as it would be for full-time faculty, and I don’t think you realize how frustrating- even insulting- it is when you discuss the problem of adoption in terms of instructors being resistant to change, too lazy to change, or just not getting it. Especially when you yourselves are comfortably ensconced in a full-time position. For hired guns like me, the only compensation is warm fuzzies. When you’re a dead-inside kind of tired, warm fuzzies are entirely inadequate.

Categories: Challenges, Learning technologies, Textbooks | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

A Guide to Arguing Against Man-Made Climate Change

If you must, then at least do it properly…

The debate about climate change ranges from people arguing that it isn’t happening at all, to those who argue that it is happening, but is entirely natural. The debate can become quite nasty, and part of the reason for this is not that people disagree, but that they disagree without following the rules of scientific discourse. I’m guessing in many cases this is accidental- a kind of cultural unawareness. It’s like making an otherwise innocuous hand gesture while on vacation in a foreign country, only to learn later that it was the rudest possible thing you could have done.

I’ve been annoyed by poor-quality discourse on this topic for some time, and written a few draft blog posts about it, but I’ll defer to the INTJ Teacher for a summary of the key issue (and the main reason I no longer read comment sections after news stories about climate change).

critical thinking2

So now that you know the problem in general terms, let’s talk specifics.

Dismissing the data

First of all, if you’re going to make claims that the data about climate change are problematic in some way, then you should know that there is no one data set. There are thousands of data sets worked on by thousands of people.

Some people seem to think that the whole matter rests on the “hockey stick” diagram of Michael Mann, Raymond Bradley, and Malcolm Hughes published in 1999. (You can download the paper as a pdf here.)

Hockey_stick_annotated

Annotated hockey-stick diagram

Briefly, this was an exercise in solving two kinds of problems: (1) taking temperature information from a variety of sources (e.g., tree rings) and turning it into something that could reasonably be plotted on the same diagram, and (2) figuring out how to take temperature measurements from all over the world and combine them into something representative of climate as a whole. The main reason it became controversial was that it showed a clear increase in temperature since 1850, and that result was not optimal for a certain subset of individuals with a disproportionate amount of political clout. There is a nice description of the debate about the diagram here, including arguments and counter-arguments, along with the relevant citations.

Those arguments are moot at this point, because the PAGES 2k consortium has compiled an enormous amount of data and done the whole project over again, getting essentially the same result (the green line in the figure above).  I can’t help but think that this was an in-your-face moment for Mann et al. (“In your face, Senator Inhofe!  In your face, Rep. Barton!  How d’ya like them proxies?!”)

Despite these results, if you still want to argue that the data are bad, you will need to do the following:

  • Specify which data set you are referring to. Usually this takes the form of a citation to the journal article where the data were first published.
  • Specify what is wrong with it. Was the equipment malfunctioning? Was the wrong thing being measured? Was there something in particular wrong with the analysis?
  • Assuming you are correct about that particular data set, explain why problems with that one data set can be used to dismiss conclusions from all of the other data sets. This will mean familiarizing yourself with the other data and the relevant arguments (although if you are arguing against them you would presumably have done this already).

Things that are not acceptable:

  • Attacks against the researchers. It is irrelevant whether the researchers are jerks, or whether you think they’ve been paid off. What matters are the data. If you can’t supply the necessary information, you have only conjecture.
  • Backing up your argument with someone else’s expert opinion (usually in the form of a url) if that opinion does not cover the points in the first list. It is discourteous to expect the person you are arguing with to hunt down the data backing someone else’s opinion in order to piece together your argument.
  • Arguing from the assumption that man-made climate change isn’t happening. If that’s your starting point, your arguments will tend to involve dismissing data not because there are concrete reasons to do so, but because based on your assumption, they can’t be true. This may be personally satisfying, and ring true to you, but it lacks intellectual integrity. If your argument is any good, that assumption won’t be necessary.

Climate models and uncertainty

It is a common misconception that uncertainty in the context of climate models means “we just don’t know.” Uncertainty is an actual number or envelope of values that everyone is expected to report. It describes the range of possibilities around a particular most likely outcome, and it can be very large or very small.

If you plan to dismiss model results on the basis of uncertainty, you will need to demonstrate that the uncertainty is too large to make the model useful. In cases where the envelope of uncertainty is greater than short-term variations, it may still be the case that long-term changes are much larger than the uncertainty.

Another misconception is that climate models are designed to show climate change in the same way that a baking soda and vinegar volcano is designed to demonstrate what a volcano is. Climate models take what we know of the physics and chemistry of the atmosphere, and add in information like how the winds blow and how the sun heats the Earth. Then we dump in a bunch of CO2 (mathematically speaking) and see what happens. In other words, models specify mechanisms not outcomes. They are actually the reverse of the baking soda and vinegar volcano.

The mathematical equations in a model must often be solved by approximation techniques (which are not at all ad hoc, despite how that sounds), and simplified in some ways so computers can actually complete the calculations in a reasonable timeframe. However, I would argue that they are the most transparent way possible to discuss how the climate might change. They involve putting all our cards on the table and showing our best possible understanding of what’s going on, because it’s got to be in writing (i.e., computer code).

The models aren’t top secret. If you really want to know what’s in them, someone will be able to point you to the code. If the someone is very accommodating (and they often are if you’re not being belligerent or simply trying to waste their time) they might explain some of it to you. But whether or not they do that effectively is irrelevant, because if you’re going to make claims about the models, it’s your obligation to make sure you know what you’re talking about.

If climate changes naturally, then none of the present change is man-made

This is a false dichotomy. No-one is arguing that nature isn’t involved in the usual ways. What they are saying is that the usual ways don’t do all of what we’re seeing now.

A simple way to think about it is as a shape-matching exercise. We would expect that if some trigger in nature is causing the climate to change, then a graph of the temperature change should resemble that of the triggering mechanism. The IPCC has done a nice job of making this comparison easy. In the image below I’ve marked up one of their figures from the Fifth Assessment Report in the way I usually do when I’m researching something. Panel a shows the temperature record (in black), and the panels below it show the changes in temperature attributable to different causes. In the upper right I’ve taken panels b through e and squashed them until they are on the same scale as panel a.

 

IPCC comparison

Annotated shape-matching exercise

A common argument against man-made climate change is to say the sunspot cycles are to blame. You can see the temperature variations that result from these cycles in panel b, and again at the top right. While there are small scale fluctuations in a, it is quite evident that the shape of the effects of sunspot cycles cannot account for the shape of the temperature record, either in terms of having an upward trend, or in terms of the timescale of the temperature change in a. Even if you added in volcanoes (panel c), and the El Niño/ La Niña cycles (panel d), you couldn’t make the trend that appears in a.

The only graph with a similar shape is the one that shows the temperature variations we would expect from adding CO2 and aerosols at the rate humans have been doing it (panel e). The red line in panel a is what you get if you add together b through e. It doesn’t have as much variation as the black line, meaning there are still other things at play, but it does capture the over-all trends.

You needn’t rely on someone else’s complex mathematical analysis to do this. This is something you can do with your own eyeballs and commonsense-o-meter. You may still be inclined to argue that all of these graphs are made up out of thin air, but if you have a look at the many different studies involved (you can do this by reading the chapter in the IPCC report and looking at the citations), you should realize that it’s a pretty lame argument to dismiss all of them out of hand.

But if you are undeterred by said lameness, at that point anyone interested in a serious conversation is going to decide that it isn’t worth their time debating with you, because you’ve already decided that any evidence contrary to your point of view must be wrong. Nothing they can tell you or show you will make a difference, ergo the conversation is pointless. You will appear to be impervious to reason which, incidentally, will be assumed to be the case for your opinions on other matters as well, whether that impression is deserved or not. (“It’s not worth arguing with Jim… if he has an idea in his head, he won’t change his mind no matter what you tell him. He would stand under a blue sky and tell you it’s pink.”)

Scientists are paid off to say climate change is man-made

This argument is quite irrelevant given that the data are what matter, but I think part of this argument might be related to another misconception, so I’m going to address it anyway. It is true that there are millions of dollars spent on climate research grants, but this isn’t pocket money for scientists. To get a grant researchers must justify the amount of money they are asking for in terms of things like lab expenses, necessary travel, and the like. Often their salaries don’t even come into the picture because they are paid by employers, not grants. It is more likely they will be paying grad students and post docs than themselves. When they do apply for funding that will cover their own salaries, that salary must be justifiable in the context of what others in similar positions get paid. In many cases this is a matter of public record, so you can go look up the numbers for yourself.

Most research being done on climate change is funded by government grants. A very few scientists have funding from private donors (though there isn’t nearly as much money as for petroleum-related research), but there is a big check on what influence those donors can have. Research must still go through review to be published. Even if biased research did make it through review, scientists on grants are highly incentivized to pick it apart because that can be an argument for additional grants to further their own research. Getting a grant is a matter of professional survival, so competition for research grants is intense.

In conclusion

There is only one way to make arguments against man-made climate change, and that is to address data and conclusions honestly and appropriately. It may feel good to add your two cents, but if your comments amount to ad hominem attacks or generalizations so broad as to be silly, you shouldn’t expect a good response. You’ve just made the equivalent of a very rude hand gesture to people who value thoughtful and well-informed discourse.

This all seems obvious to me, and I’ve struggled to understand people who argue in a way that I can only describe as dishonest.  But maybe psychology is a factor.  The climate-change deniers need only suggest that scientists are making things up. People don’t want to feel that they’ve been fooled, and most don’t have the background to easily check such claims, so it feels much safer to settle into uninformed skepticism.

Categories: Learning strategies, Science and such, Teaching strategies | Tags: , , , | 3 Comments

INTJ Teacher: An Alternative Approach to the Teaching Philosophy Statement

Some weeks ago I attended a workshop on designing a reflective teaching portfolio offered by the GMCTE at the U of S, and facilitated by two of their excellent instructors, Kim West and Wenona Partridge. The workshop was about making a written record of one’s ideas about teaching, of the methods for accomplishing teaching goals, and of evidence of how that was going. The starting point was a statement of teaching philosophy, which is exactly what it sounds like- a written description of how one views teaching, and how those views inform one’s approach to teaching. (You can find some examples here.)

Kim and Wenona had us do a number of activities to help us articulate a teaching philosophy. I found those activities useful, but what really helped me was something that appeared in their slides, but which we didn’t really discuss in the workshop: the Myers-Briggs survey. Myers-Briggs is a set of questions that helps to classify people into one of 16 personality types described by four letters: I or E for introvert or extrovert; S or N for sensing or intuition; T or F for thinking or feeling, and J or P for judging or perceiving. The figure below is a nice summary.

 

Chart of Myers-Briggs personality types

Chart of Myers-Briggs personality types. (Source: Jake Beech, CC-BY-SA 3.0)

I don’t know what motivated me to do the test, and from the figure, it doesn’t seem like the classifications should lead to any earth-shattering revelations. But I did do the test (I used the one at 16 Personalities, because it seemed to have the best interface and descriptions of personality types), and the outcome was something I would never have imagined: relief! It felt like a huge burden was lifted!

I learned that many of the things I though were dysfunctional about me, and which I’ve worked hard to overcome so that I could interact with “normal” people are actually themselves perfectly normal characteristics… albeit for a very small segment of the population. If you haven’t guessed yet, my type was INTJ, and I’ve read that approximately 0.8% of North American females fall into that category. That certainly explains my experience of high school (shudder).

On the one hand, nothing has changed, but on the other hand everything has. I suddenly feel like I’m allowed to be myself, which I would describe as someone with mildly misanthropic tendencies. The kinds of things that frustrate me are quite predictable based on the type, and this also explains why very few people seem to feel as cranky as I do about a number of things which I find blatantly objectionable (some of which I’ve discussed at Petragogy).

After a sense of relief, the next thing that occurred to me is that INTJs would, on the surface, not seem to be particularly suited to teaching roles. The phrases “does not play well with others,” and “does not suffer fools kindly” come to mind. But teaching is something I feel very strongly about, and something I put a lot of effort into getting right.

So naturally, I’ve decided to do a webcomic about being an INTJ teacher. I see it as serving a number of purposes:  I’d like it to catch the attention of others like me so I can hear about their experiences.  I think it’s a nice way to give advanced warning to those who might cross my path. It’s also a remarkably effective way to communicate ideas that took several paragraphs to articulate in my teaching philosophy statement. One would think a cartoon would be limiting as a means of communication, but somehow it’s just the opposite. I can get more across with a few lines of text and some pictures than I could in several pages of writing.

I’m calling my comic INTJ Teacher (as far as I can tell no-one on the internet has claimed that yet), and using the tag line, “For those who are, and those who should know what they’re dealing with,” because that pretty much sums it up. My first installment (below) is an introduction, and I will put it and subsequent installments on a new blog. With the small number of INTJs out there, and the fraction of those who are educators, I’m not expecting a huge readership. That’s fine, though. I just like the idea of being able to point someone to a url and say, “You’ve been warned.”

INTJ Teacher webcomic

Introducing the INTJ teacher

Categories: Teaching philosophy | Tags: , , , , | 2 Comments

Blog at WordPress.com.