Posts Tagged With: Higher education

Student-Curated Video Collection: An Activity

AEG/Telefunken television from 1937. This was newfangled back when I started screening videos for this course. Eckhard Etzold, CC BY-SA 2.0

AEG/Telefunken television from 1937. This was newfangled back when I started screening videos for this course. Eckhard Etzold, CC BY-SA 2.0

I’ve been working on revisions to a distance-education physical geology course, and attempting to make it more interactive by offering videos. Have you ever tried to source relevant and accurate videos for multiple topics across multiple course modules? It involves going through hours and hours of videos, and rarely finding one that is directly on point or without problematic inaccuracies. My search technique has evolved to skipping anything longer than 5 minutes that doesn’t come with a transcript or clear description, and then screening the video at 1.5x speed.

So what to do about getting reliable videos without spending most of your adult life in the attempt… well, one school of thought would say let the students do it. I experimented with this kind of activity a few years back, but didn’t have an opportunity to deploy it full-scale. Here are the instructions I provided, with annotations. If you try it, let me know how it goes!

Curating Videos for Historical Geology

In this assignment you will assemble a collection of videos and complementary resources for historical geology students. You will work from the TED Ed* Lessons Worth Sharing video collection, Awesome Nature. This collection can be found at http://ed.ted.com/series/awesome-nature.

*I chose TED Ed because the videos are short. The student who did this moved on to TED Talks, which are  longer. I’d advise limiting the length of videos if you don’t want to spend hours watching videos in order to grade the results. If I were doing this today, I’d also recommend the fabulous video collection at MinuteEarth.

Your work will form the basis of a collection of resources to be made available to future students in Geology 109. If you wish, you will be acknowledged as the curator of the resources when they are posted, although I reserve the right to make any modifications that might be necessary to optimize the effectiveness of the collection.

Rationale

In the Independent Studies version of Geology 109, students do not have access to video lectures. Sometimes the textbook is unclear or written in too technical a fashion for students new to the topic to immediately understand what is being said. Videos designed by someone with a different perspective on the topic can be very helpful for reinforcing concepts, or clarifying points of confusion.

The problem is that not all videos are created equal. Some have factual errors, or even seek to mislead viewers. Some could benefit from clarifications. The task of looking for and vetting videos requires an understanding of the objectives a video should satisfy, and an assessment of how well the video accomplishes those goals. It also requires that viewers understand why they are watching the video and what they should get out of it. When an instructor looks for videos, he or she has an idea of what students find difficult, but it is really the students themselves who can most accurately identify where they need help, and what helps the most.

Your task

  1. Identify a video that satisfies one or more of the learning objectives for Geology 109. Provide the name of the video, and the link.
  2. Write an overview of the video. This should not simply restate the title of the video, but should summarize its contents in three or four sentences.
  3. List the learning objectives from the Geology 109 Course Guide that the video covers, and indicate which chapter they are from.
  4. Identify three key questions that the video answers. The questions should not be a restatement of the learning objectives, and should make it clear to other students why they would find the video useful. The questions will take the following form:
    1. Have you ever wondered …?
    2. Would you like to know how [something works or happens/ happened]?
    3. Have you ever been confused by …?
  5. Identify five terms that are technical in nature, and that are key to understanding the topic of the video. Define those terms in simple language, using your own words.
  6. Identify three “loose ends,” and explain the loose ends so that others watching the video will not be confused by them. The “loose ends” could be:
    1. Points that could be expanded upon
    2. Points that might leave some confusion in the minds of students watching the video
    3. Factual errors (hopefully there won’t be any of those)
    4. Points that are inconsistent with something in the course materials (e.g., competing hypotheses, more recent information, etc.)
  7. Write ten multiple choice questions so students can test their knowledge after watching the video. Supply the correct answers. The questions should cover key points. A good set of multiple choice questions will have the following characteristics:
    1. Four answer options (a through d)
    2. Little to no use of answer options like “all of the above” or “none of the above.”
    3. It should not be obvious to someone with no prior knowledge of the topic which is the correct answer. (Over-simplified questions are not helpful when trying to understand a topic.)
    4. Questions should be relevant to the topic of the video and to the learning objectives.
    5. After doing the questions, it should be clear to students what key points they have not understood.

Deliverables

You will write up each video following the layout supplied at the end of this document. This layout is designed to be compatible with the Blackboard system. The specific software you use to create the write-up is not important, nor is the font. (Blackboard has some formatting limitations, and formatting must be done within the Blackboard text editor, so this is something I will have to do afterward.)

Grading

Each write-up is worth up to 10 points. Those points will be calculated as follows:

  • Is the video relevant to Geology 109, and is the relevance clearly explained? (2.5 points)
  • Are all of the elements in points 1 through 7 above provided (e.g., the learning objectives, multiple choice questions, etc., are present)? (2.5 points)
  • Is the write-up scientifically accurate (e.g., definitions are correct, multiple choice answers are correct, etc.)? (5 points)

You may curate as many videos as you like*, however the maximum possible score for the assignment portion of the class will be 100%.

*This assignment was designed for a specific student. You may wish to rethink the “as many as you like” policy, or turn it into a group project to reduce the workload.

Format for submission

Square brackets mean text that you will insert. Text in italics are my notes, and don’t need to be included in your write-up.

[Video title]

[url]

 

Summary

[Three to four sentence summary of the video topic]

 

Why watch this video?

  • Have you ever wondered […]?
  • Would you like to know how [something works or happens/ happened]?
  • Have you ever been confused by […]?

 

This video addresses the following learning objectives for Geology 109:

  • [Learning objective], Chapter [chapter number]
  • [Learning objective], Chapter [chapter number]
  • [as many additional points as necessary]

 

Some key terms used in this video are:

[term 1]: [definition]

[term 2]: [definition]

[term 3]: [definition]

[term 4]: [definition]

[term 5]: [definition]

 

Special notes

  • [Loose end 1, explanation]
  • [Loose end 2, explanation]
  • [Loose end 3, explanation]

 

Note: these could take the form of, “In the video, [topic] is mentioned, but [concept] isn’t explained. Here is what it means,” or “The video says [this] about [topic], but in the textbook it says [that].   The difference is [reason].”

 

Self-test

[Questions 1 through 10]

 

[Solutions (e.g., 1a, 2b, 3d, …)]

 

Deadline

All write-ups must be submitted on or before Monday, March 30th 2015.

 

Categories: Assessment, Distance education and e-learning, Learning strategies, Learning technologies, Teaching strategies, Uncategorized | Tags: , , , , | Leave a comment

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 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

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

Crowd-sourcing distance education (or, Why Athabasca University’s problems are just getting started)

mortar quoteLast week there was another missive from Athabasca University interim president, Peter MacKinnon. The post appears to be damage control after a Metro article by Jeremey Nolais, Fears arise that Alberta’s Athabasca University will be lost as tough budget looms.  The post says that while Athabasca is facing “financial challenges that are acute,” and “a decline in the rate of enrollment growth,” the rumors in the media that it will be merged with another school or shut down are untrue.

What I found interesting about the article were the comments. There are only 6 of them at this point, and three of the comments were complaints about insufficient interaction with tutors. They weren’t complaints about the call centre model, where students contact the call center and a call center employee determines whether an Academic Expert should be informed that the student needs assistance (contact ensuing within 2 business days). Instead they were complaints by students who had tutors but felt that they weren’t hearing from the tutors enough. As one student says, “… I did not pay to be completely ignored and paid to be TAUGHT.” [original emphasis]. There were complaints about the quality of education, and the blame for that laid at the feet of tutors as well.

Given the controversy surrounding the call center, and the seemingly obvious thing to comment about- that those who were unhappy with insufficient contact from their tutors could rest assured that they would soon have no contact with a tutor whatsoever- it is surprising that no comments of that nature were posted. After some experimentation, I determined that those points of view were being moderated out. The upshot is that readers will come away with the conclusion that what is wrong with Athabasca is its tutors, which is very convenient for the administration at present. However, there is also a very real risk of discouraging students who might otherwise register for courses that are still running under the tutor model. If someone at AU thought that was a risk worth taking… well, make of that what you will.

I’m not saying that all tutors do the job that students want them to- some tutors may not do the best job they can for any number of reasons, and some students may have bought into the misconception that they have a full-time teacher assigned to them.

But Athabasca’s problem isn’t tutors not doing what students want them to. Its problem is a structure designed in the days when distance education required sending students boxes of paper in the mail. This is a problem because the system that can most efficiently manage hard-copy course materials is one in which teachers cannot have the autonomy to alter their course materials at will to respond to students’ needs. Think of the nightmare that keeping track of document versions would be! There would be no control on the workflow (and therefore on costs) if instructors could alter materials whenever they found a better way to teach. In order for the school to function, teaching has to take a back seat to operations.

kids these days

Kids these days

On the surface, it would seem that Athabasca has moved past this, with an online learning management system, online exams, and digital textbooks. At its core, however, Athabasca is still structured so that it is necessary to inhibit its teachers in order for it to operate as efficiently as possible. The reason I think that Athabasca’s problems are just beginning is that the costly and harmful structure they are fighting to protect is rapidly becoming unnecessary for distance education.

Think of it this way- these days most universities run courses through online learning management systems. Using these systems, instructors can post documents, set up quizzes and exams, post video links, post videos and podcasts of lectures, host class discussions, and more. It is entirely doable with a very minimal outlay for me to broadcast my in-class lectures live online, and have students answer questions in real time through Poll Everywhere while watching that lecture. We could discuss their answers as a group, and I could adjust my lecture on the fly to address issues that they were having. Students could even submit questions through Twitter during the lecture.

With courses set up this way, no-one sends students a box of paper course-materials. Students download and print what they want, access the rest online, and purchase textbooks directly from vendors in the format they want. Students can take a course and engage fully with a community of learners and an instructor without being in the classroom, whether that course is designated as distance education or not.

In contrast, Athabasca is structurally incapable of empowering its front-line teaching staff to act in their students’ best interest. It has people to grade papers and answer questions, but it doesn’t afford those people the mantle of teachers, the salary so they can be committed to students full-time, or the autonomy to fix issues with courses as they arise. Consider this: I don’t have access to the course materials that I wrote.  If I want to fix a typo, there is a separate group of people who handle that sort of thing, and I have to make a request to get it done. I had to hunt around to find out who those people were. If I had the same control over my Athabasca courses as I do with some other courses I teach, I would just take the three seconds to fix the typo myself and not tie up IT people, and who knows who else. I would likely be updating the course regularly to improve it, which means that a separate expenditure on a Subject Matter Expert (who is also me) to revise the course every so many years would be unnecessary.

From a business perspective, it might have been safe at one time to compromise on teaching if you were the only game in town that could mail out those boxes of paper. But what happens when mailing out boxes of paper becomes irrelevant to serving students at a distance? What happens when the competition is no longer other distance education schools or programs- when it becomes hundreds or even thousands of individual creative, energetic, and innovative instructors at traditional brick-and-mortar schools who choose to build and manage their own online courses? What happens when the additional cost of running those courses is trivial, because the resources are already there as part of how on-site students are served? Well, what happens is that the competition is essentially crowd-sourced, and can do a better job with lower costs and happier teachers.

I don’t know what will become of Athabasca. As long as it offers programs that no-one else does, there will be a demand for its product, and perhaps it will begin to focus on that segment of the market instead of a broad swath of undergraduate courses. But if it does offer programs that no-one else does, that will have more to do with no-one else choosing to offer those programs, rather than being unable to do so in a cost-effective manner. Athabasca will not change the way it does business because it is firmly committed to the notion that as long as the school is run as a business, the rest will take care of itself.  The call centre model- where by design, the first person students talk to will never be the person teaching them- is evidence of that. There is an entrenched culture which holds front-line teachers in such low regard as to view answer databases and non-teaching call-center employees as a better alternative.  This exists because at some level, Athabasca views itself as an organization for delivering courses rather than for teaching students.

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

Time: The final frontier

Timefleet Academy logo: a winged hourglass made of ammonites

A logo begging for a t-shirt

Here it is: the final incarnation of my design project for Design and Development of Educational Technology– the Timefleet Academy. It’s a tool to assist undergraduate students of historical geology with remembering events in Earth history, and how those events fit into the Geological Time Scale. Much of their work consists of memorizing a long list of complicated happenings. While memorizing is not exactly at the top of Bloom’s Taxonomy (it’s exactly at the bottom, in fact), it is necessary. One could approach this task by reading the textbook over and over, and hoping something will stick, but I think there’s a better way.

I envision a tool with three key features:

  • A timeline that incorporates the Geological Time Scale, and “zooms” to show events that occur over widely varying timescales
  • The ability to add events from a pre-existing library onto a custom timeline
  • Assessments to help students focus their efforts effectively

Here’s an introduction to the problem, and a sketch of my solution. If your sensors start to detect something familiar about this enterprise then you’re as much of a nerd as I am.

Timefleet Academy is based on the constructionist idea that building is good for learning. Making a representation of something (in this case, Earth history) is a way of distilling its essential features. That means analyzing what those features are, how they are related, and expressing them explicitly. Ultimately this translates to the intuitive notion that it is best to approach a complex topic by breaking it into small digestible pieces.

Geological Time Scale

This is what you get to memorize.

As challenging as the Geological Time Scale is to memorize, it does lend itself to “chunking” because the Time Scale comes already subdivided. Even better, those subdivisions are designed to reflect meaningful stages (and therefore meaningful groupings of events) in Earth history.

There is an official convention regarding the colours in the Geological Time Scale (so no, it wasn’t my choice to put red, fuchsia, and salmon next to each other), and I’ve used it on the interface for two reasons. One is that it’s employed on diagrams and geological maps, so students might as well become familiar with it. The other is that students can take advantage of colour association as a memory tool.

Assessments

Assessments are a key difference between Timefleet Academy and other “zoomable” timelines that already exist. The assessments would come in two forms.

1. Self assessment checklists

These allow users to document their progress through the list of resources attached to individual events. This might seem like a trivial housekeeping matter, but mentally constructing a map of what resources have been used costs cognitive capital. Answering the question “Have I been here already?” has a non-zero cognitive load, and one that doesn’t move the user toward the goal of learning historical geology.

2. Drag-and-drop drills

The second kind of assessment involves drill-type exercises where users drag and drop objects representing events, geological time periods, and dates, to place them in the right order. The algorithm governing how drills are set would take into account the following:

  • The user’s previous errors: It would allow for more practice in those areas.
  • Changes in the user’s skill level: It would adjust by making tasks more or less challenging. For example, the difficulty level could be increased by going from arranging events in chronological order to arranging them chronologically and situating them in the correct spots on the Geological Time Scale. Difficulty could also be increased by placing time limits on the exercise, requiring that the user apply acquired knowledge rather than looking up the information.
  • The context of events: If drills tend to focus on the same group of events, the result could be overly contextualized knowledge. In other words, if the student were repeatedly drilled on the order of events A, B, and C separately from the order of events D, E, and F, and were then asked to put A, B, and E in the right order, there could be a problem.

The feedback from drills would consist of correct answers and errors being indicated at the end of each exercise, and a marker placed on the timeline to indicate where (when) errors have occurred. Students would earn points toward a promotion within Timefleet Academy for completing drills, and for correct answers.

Who wouldn’t want a cool new uniform?

How do you know if it works?

1. Did learning outcomes improve?

This could be tested by comparing the performance of a group of students who used the tool to that of a control group who didn’t. Performance measures could be results from a multiple choice exam. They could also be scores derived from an interview with each student, where he or she is asked questions to gauge not only how well events are recalled, but also whether he or she can explain the larger context of an event, including causal relationships. It would be interesting to compare exam and interview scores for students within each group to see how closely the results of a recall test track the results of a test focused on understanding.

For the group of students who have access to the tool, it would be important to have a measure of how they used it, and how often. For example, did they use it once and lose interest? Did they use it for organizing events but not do drills? Or did they work at it regularly, adding events and testing themselves throughout? Without this information, it would be difficult to know how to interpret differences (or a lack of differences) in performance between the two groups.

 2. Do they want to use it?

This is an important indicator of whether students perceive that the tool is helpful, but also of their experience interacting with it. Students could be surveyed about which parts of the tool were useful and which weren’t, and asked for feedback about what changes would make it better. (The option to print out parts of the timeline, maybe?) They could be asked specific questions about aspects of the interface, such as whether their drill results were displayed effectively, whether the controls were easy to use, etc. It might be useful to ask them if they would use the tool again, either in its current form, or if it were redesigned to take into account their feedback.

Timefleet in the bigger picture

Writing a test

All set to pass the test of time

Timefleet Academy is ostensibly a tool to aid in memorizing the details of Earth history, but it actually does something more than that. It introduces students to a systematic way of learning- by identifying key features within an ocean of details, organizing those features, and then testing their knowledge.

The point system rewards students for testing their knowledge regardless of whether they get all of the answers right. The message is twofold: testing one’s knowledge is valuable because it provides information about what to do next; and testing one’s knowledge counts as progress toward a goal even if you don’t get the right answers every time. Maybe it’s threefold: if you do enough tests, eventually you get a cape, and a shirt with stars on it.

Categories: Assessment, Learning strategies, Learning technologies | Tags: , , , , | 2 Comments

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