For this semester, that answer is difficult to condense. I’ve had invaluable conversations about teaching, learning, advising, course redesign, assessments, and classroom technology with both visiting speakers and administration, faculty, and staff at Austin Peay. We at the Center for Excellence in Teaching and Learning and the Office of Title III Grant hosted the Course Redesign Summer Teaching Academy, 19 campus-wide events, a departmental meeting with a guest speaker, an orientation for new faculty, and two individual consultations. I had the honor of participating in the planning and assessment of an advising program that targets students with identifiable at-risk characteristics. Not to mention, I had the pleasure of meeting with course-redesign teams, interviewing Provost Denley about course redesign, participating in an interview with Dr. Chris Dede about media-influenced learning styles, and coordinating with Susan Jones, the Professional Development Coordinator of the Clarksville-Montgomery County School System. For our resource center, we collected over 150 books and DVDs on pedagogy, advising, diversity, course redesign, assessments, tenure and promotion, and other aspects of professional development. Thanks to Austin Peay, my semester’s list of learning opportunities not only extends beyond what I’ve enumerated, but in fact seems endless to me.

So what have I learned?

First and foremost, that the combined efforts of APSU administration, faculty, and staff created every one of these learning opportunities. My personal role was relatively insignificant — merely that of taking an idea from Person A and bringing it to Person B, C, D, E … until that idea, somewhat transformed by its journey, became a reality.

Some ideas didn’t complete that journey. Other ideas became events but drew insufficient attendance. Beyond the obvious correlation with what’s left of my shoes’ soles, I learned a more simple lesson: So long as a plan is viable and we can generate enough interest, we can accomplish anything — but the reverse is also true.

With this understanding, we’re looking for ways to wed the professional-development program with the greater campus community. For example, we’ve organized an Advisory Committee for Faculty-Development Planning. This committee will assess the faculty’s professional-development needs in teaching and advising and produce a list of ten teaching strategies that professional development will target. In addition, we’ve rolled out a growing list of events for the spring semester. This list hopefully will enable interested faculty and staff to plan their schedules around at least certain events they would like to attend. Also, I intend to build coalitions around shared objectives and thereby increase the financial and human resources for professional-development opportunities.

How has my exposure to these conversations, events, and resources influenced my understanding of their topics? What I’ve learned about teaching, learning, advising, diversity, course redesign, assessment, and classroom technology are complex, critical conversations — much of which I hope to distill for the two courses I’m teaching next semester. I’ve learned that for me to quote a colleague, speaker, book, or DVD is not adequate proof of what I’ve learned. Pardon the pun, but I need to put these ideas to the test.

In other words, I realize I need to get back into the classroom. And I thank the APSU English department and PASS program for giving me these teaching opportunities.

Happy Holidays, Austin Peay!

Sincerely,

Gray Kane

So what are some of the debates?

A growing number of teachers imagine how and why different types of students encounter and relate to each learning opportunity: communal learners, solitary learners, visual learners, kinesthetic learners, millennial learners, adult learners…. Although the list is potentially endless, ultimately arbitrary, and likely inaccurate, even the most avant-gard, student-centered teacher often relies on some working list as a starting point for rethinking the course from multiple points of view.

Those points of view are cookie-cutter interpretations. Human eyes — specific students’ eyes — don’t look through them. And yet, is not this initial stage of designing a course the central crux of student-centered pedagogies — if not in the ways those pedagogies are practiced, then in the ways they’re written, published, and otherwise presented?

For a proponent of the above pedagogical approach to claim that what a more traditional teacher does is not student-centered — well, that’s just offensive. What even the most avant-gard teacher has to remember is that the more traditional approaches are also student-centered.

Yes, the traditional course-designing process may lean heavily on the teacher’s side of perceiving the course and its delivery systems: what a student should accomplish, how a student should accomplish it…. But even the more radically student-centered teachers have to determine learning objectives from additional perspectives, not just from the students’. In other words, the pedagogical debate about student-centered teaching is not between opposites. There’s no such thing as pro- or anti-student-centered teaching.

Once a more traditional teacher gets to know his students, he contemplates the specific problems certain students are having — only without referring to generalizations or types.

So where’s the argument?

More traditional teachers object to the reliance on stereotypes about students. Not every student of a certain age is a “millennial student.” Not every student of a certain age fits the description of an “adult learner.” A teacher’s reliance on those inevitably false categories can hurt students more than help them.

Even the most avant-gard teacher has to agree with those claims. Regardless of how different articles or guest speakers may define our students, we ultimately can’t define our students. We have to know them.

More traditional teachers disagree with the abandonment of the lectern and other time-weathered course-delivery systems for ultimately untested pedagogical fads.

The avant-gard teacher might cite data to show that time-weathered course-delivery systems are no longer working. And the traditional teacher might point out that a lot of these avant-gard techniques infiltrated the secondary educational system in the 1970s, ’80s, and ’90s; he could argue that consequently, today’s college students are inadequately prepared. She might identify that if incoming students are under-prepared, classroom sizes and the need to teach to standardized tests play a role: they restrict students’ abilities to practice critical-thinking and problem-solving skills. She could argue that, meanwhile, the student body has diversified in ways that traditional teaching methods haven’t been able to accommodate. But no one will win this argument. The data tells us only what, not why.

Traditional teachers often see redesigning a course from the students’ perspective as essentially dumbing down the course. Forfeiting the dissemination of facts for building students’ abilities and attitudes, according to the traditional perspective, does not adequately prepare students for the next course in the curriculum: We’re doing them a disservice by not providing them with the basics. And often because of this line of reasoning, many traditional teachers interpret the political, social, and administrative calls for educational reform as in fact encouraging lower educational standards.

The more avant-gard teacher might argue that one can always look up facts. Google on a web-based phone replaces encyclopedic memories. True understanding, which has less to do with what than with how and why, is more important for the next course in the curriculum — not to mention, for our current students’ future professions and lives.

I’ve tried to polarize this debate as much as possible. But in truth, most of what occurs in classrooms are compromises. Even those who make any one of these arguments will appropriate ideas and practices from the other side. The dividing line no longer exists. But the divisive conversations still do — and should continue to — until the data catches up with the interpretations.

Classroom Assessment Techniques 1

Classroom Assessment Techniques 2

Before his presentation, he and I had a chance to sit down and talk, and I asked him the following question:

If we teachers reorganize our lectures into five-minute chapters in order to facilitate our students’ media-influenced attention spans, are we not forfeiting an opportunity to help build our students’ memories? Will we not ill-prepare our students for the concentration they’ll need in the workforce?

Before he answered the question, Dr. Dede pointed out that often in the workforce, a three-minute pitch to the boss in the elevator is more productive than an hour presentation in the conference room. In other words, effective brevity is just as important as a longer, more comprehensive approach.

He also argued that “concentration” doesn’t mean “concentration on one thought.” A complicated study is a weaving of multiple thoughts, a synthesis. So the pedagogical imperative is not that we teach our students to concentrate on one idea at a time.

With those caveats in place, Dr. Dede doubted the premise of my question. He didn’t believe that teachers should reorganize their lectures into five-minute chapters, even when they’re podcasting their lectures. He argued that students will listen to a speaker or an audio-visual file for an hour and a half if the presentation is interesting. Millennial students do not require soundbites in order to process information.

But they do require an engaging presentation of that information. Due to the wiki-structure of their user-created world, millennial students often do not accept titles like “professor” or “Dr.” as representations of authority. If the rhetoric of a blog is more convincing than that of a news site, millennial students will believe the blog over the news site. Rhetorical power is key to this millennial world of earned, not position-granted, authority.

Dr. Dede suggested that teachers determine their students’ starting places and then move them to the learning objectives. If students have five-minute attention spans, then the teacher might organize the early lectures to suit those attention spans, earn his or her position of authority through rhetorically effective presentations, and expand and complicate the lectures over the course of the semester.

I found Dr. Dede’s answer to be worthy of reflection. Not too long ago, pedagogues shunned the charismatic teacher for emphasizing his or her own likability over the importance of the material. If millennial students rely on rhetorical power to judge authority, do we not have to reconsider, at least in part, the pedagogical value of charisma? Is there a rhetorically powerful way of presenting all of the complex topics in the natural sciences? What are the implications of our having to rely on rhetorical persuasiveness to convince students that they should evaluate sources based on criteria other than rhetorical persuasiveness? Is an easily distracted student merely in an earlier stage of synthesis? Does our modeling the synthetic approach with our lectures and examples really move such a student to that more developed stage?

But her sociology professor has required that each student post “at least one interesting idea from the reading” into either Facebook or Twitter each night. Meanwhile, students who actively question, develop, or personalize the ideas in other students’ posts are excused from the requirement of posting something new from the reading. Because her text messages are connected to Facebook and Twitter, Jane gleams some of the ideas she never reads from the textbook and still gets credit for responding to them. She gets into her text discussions, but her statements are often distortions of the original material.

Does this posting assignment do a disservice to students like Jane?

On the one hand, Jane’s reading attention span handicaps her. We might argue that the posting assignment enables Jane’s handicap by offering her an alternative to a sustained engagement with the textbook. If Jane is not the only student who opts out of reading the textbook in favor of this shortcut, then we might say that the posting assignment replaces informed engagement with superficial interaction. We can go even further by adding that her handicap likely derives from our technologically supported culture of soundbite learning — and that rather than confronting the problem, this assignment is contributing to it.

On the other hand, whereas the assignment itself promotes superficial interaction, other assignments can inspire informed engagement. In other words, a “dumb assignment” doesn’t have to dumb down the course as a whole. But why would a professor require such a potentially superficial assignment?

Perhaps we should reevaluate the effects of that assignment. Without such an assignment, Jane likely would withdraw early from this reading-and-writing-intensive course. Although some might claim that merely the assignment’s easiness keeps students like Jane in the course, maybe we can offer a different interpretation: It’s not the facility of the assignment, but rather the facility with which the assignment draws her into the learning community.

It’s easy to withdraw from a course. It’s hard to withdraw from a strong sense of community.

The longer students like Jane stay in a course, the longer they have exposure to the course material. If they are more attuned to their classmates than to either the textbook or lecture, then they still acquire some of that course material vicariously, through the advent of their classmates. And eventually, they might “look stuff up” (something else Jane doesn’t always associate with “reading”) in order to improve their engagement with the community.

Jane may not pass the course. But if she enters into the course’s learning community to engage the material vicariously, Jane might improve her relationship with the material enough to engage that material directly — if not this semester, then perhaps the next time around.

A standard way we can increase our students’ access to course material is to offer them many points of entry into that material. We can provide visual, auditory, read/write, and kinesthetic options for our students to satisfy each learning objective. Some students have even undisclosed learning disabilities that impose obstacles to one particular learning style. Other students prefer one learning style over another. Often, students require the use of multiple learning styles before they can put all the pieces of the puzzle together. How can we provide these multiple options for our students to satisfy each learning objective?

It is true that most redesign efforts broach differences in students’ learning styles by hosting the course material in a variety of media online — or through purchased computer programs that purportedly resolve those differences. These technological approaches, however, do not always work.

What if a D2L shell becomes a mere repository for uploaded materials? Only those students who are already motivated to take the learning process into their own hands will bother with the uploaded resources. Moreover, not even those more motivated students are guaranteed to benefit from those resources. Without guidance, even motivated students can experience what we might call a “Baskin-Robins paralysis”: When there are a 101 options, many people don’t know which ones to choose and become paralyzed with indecision and inaction. Uploaded materials do not inherently encourage the students’ engagement, especially when those uploaded materials are not interactive.

Let us not forget the social element. No matter how good they are, neither digital resources nor purchased computer programs can resolve learning differences without a teacher’s drawing those diverse digital examples and exercises into class discussions. Most students learn socially. Until they experience other people’s interest in a topic and associate that topic with their own personal objectives (classroom social status or some higher objective), information remains meaningless to them. It lacks social signification.

The simple solution to all of these problems: departmental workshops.

1.) The more faculty members discuss how to encourage students to access learning resources, the more their students might use those resources.

2.) The more faculty members share with each other strategies for guiding students, for teaching them how to choose appropriate resources for their own specific learning habits, the more their students might discover an intimate relationship with learning.

3.) The more faculty members experiment with creating interactive course materials, the more their students might interact with those materials and retain some of that material under their fingernails — and perhaps more importantly, bring it with them, even beyond the confines of the course.

4.) The more faculty members explore how to take students’ solitary learning activities and transform them into social engagements, the more their students might engage the material while alone, specifically in order to interact better with their peers in the learning community.

Regular departmental conversations are important for a successful course redesign.

What if the departmental culture opposes a technologically enhanced course? Neither targeting different learning styles nor any of the four points outlined above requires technology. Technology is a tool, not an objective.

Student engagement with the material is the objective. An increase of student engagement will improve retention and graduation rates and enhance student learning. Brainstorm how to achieve the objective, not how to use technology in the classroom. Both your peers and students will thank you for it.

CATs are routine, often anonymous, and non-graded snapshots of the students’ relationships with the lecture material. They help a lecturer assess and revise his or her lectures. But they also help students both learn and increase their involvement in the learning process. In other words, CATs not only help the lecturer cater the material to the students, but they also promote active learning.

In form, CATs are not unlike quizzes or other in-class assignments. However, the anonymity of a CAT enables at-risk and other students to participate freely without fear of judgment. That is, CATs can promote memory and critical-thinking and problem-solving skills even more than document them.

Of course CATs raise a pedagogical question we should consider before constructing any in-class activity: What is the objective of the activity? Are we assessing the lecture’s effectiveness? Are we also trying to encourage students’ background knowledge, information recall, conceptual understanding, critical-thinking skills, problem-solving skills, or some other learning skill? Often, teachers rotate different types of assessments throughout a course, and ideally, the activities improve the students’ relationships with the very lectures or learning skills that are being assessed.

But there is one type of assessment that many teachers forget to include: an assessment of students’ motivation. Motivation is essential to learning. If an assessment enhances the students’ relationships with what it measures, then a course should include routine assessments of motivation. So how do we assess motivation?

Obviously, an infinite number of ways to assess motivation lurks in the Platonic ether for you to develop. Yet, before we consider even one possibility, perhaps we should think about what motivates our own recall, conceptual understanding, critical-thinking skills, problem-solving skills, etc. We should ask ourselves, in other words, What motivates our learning?

I personally don’t remember much from my undergraduate years that isn’t tied to some greater objective which I have elevated in some way onto a pedestal: the improvement of my understanding of the world, communication skills, interpersonal relations, etc. These heightened objectives determine the value or lack-thereof that I attribute to the information I encounter. In other words, if I interpret a connection between information and one of these objectives — the information as means, obstacle, or otherwise related to the objective — then I retain that information, and the inconsistency of that retained information leads me to contemplate it, think critically about it, problem-solve with it….

In short, I learn thanks to a narrative: “X is important to me. Y enables or prohibits me to achieve X. I now think about Y in order to achieve my goal of X.”

In order to assess my own motivation, I would have to ask myself, “What do I value or hope to achieve in my life that has a connection to this information? What would I have to be able to do with this information, specifically in order for it to improve my relationship with what I value or to help me achieve my greater goal?” The more I can explain, the greater my motivation will be to think about that information.

This reflective process then leads me to create a new assessment question for students:

What do you value or hope to achieve in your life that has a connection to this information about________? Explain what you would have to be able to do with this information, specifically so that it improves your relationship with what you value or otherwise helps you achieve your greater goal.

It is possible you won’t see a connection between this information and what you value or hope to achieve in your life. If this is the case, then thoroughly explain what you value or hope to achieve. Next, clarify what you will have to do to improve that relationship with what you value or to achieve your greater goal.

If I were to evaluate at least a sample of the students’ feedback, I could revise my lectures to cater the course material to these specific students’ values and objectives. That is, I can tie information to students’ lives in such a way that likely increases the students’ motivation to think about the course material.

Obviously, we do not experience motivation in the same way. I included my own reflective process not to impose my learning style onto others, but rather to encourage that reflective process in the creation of classroom activities. What do you remember from your undergraduate education? Which course was that in? Who taught it to you? How does it relate to what you’re doing now? Do you value that information? Why or why not? What motivated you to remember that information?

And how can you transform what you just learned about your own motivation into an assessment that might improve your students’ motivation to learn?

When a teacher chooses the on-ground classroom model as the basis for online interaction, Achilles never catches the tortoise. When a teacher designs a digital interaction to simulate a traditional one, all the students get is an inferior imitation that will never catch up with the real thing.

Does this mean we teachers should resist online educational opportunities? Is Achilles really an inferior imitation of a tortoise? Absolutely not, Dr. Volker insists. We instead should abandon the on-ground model when we design online interactions. Let Achilles run his own path.

Classroom interactions have an embodied crowd effect. If a teacher can generate enough personal, kinetic excitement for the material, that excitement spreads relatively easily to those students who are already engaged. Through these students’ overt excitement, other students who are more interested in their classmates than in the material, in turn, can develop vicarious interest in the material. And even vicarious, sustained interest increases the likelihood of learning.

However, online course interactions have different dynamics than those of an on-ground course. A classroom discussion might silence some shy students who are concerned about how they are perceived. But a disembodied engagement might offer those students the masks — or in digital terminology, the avatars — they need to protect their senses of self from the fires of heated intellectual confrontations.

I don’t want to suggest that this or any other difference we encounter in an online setting is always a benefit. The mask effect can embolden some students to the point of their initiating “flame wars” — or in lay terms, those unproductive contests for domination that sometimes transpire in a discussion-board setting. Where digital engagements differ from on-ground interactions, problems can arise. But those problems often unveil sites where we haven’t adequately reconceptualized online interaction. In other words, the mask effect that produces flame wars is not inherently an obstacle to the learning process.

What are some other potential benefits of an online setting?

The most common answer has to do with the difference in students’ learning styles. Many students have to utilize multiple modes of engagement — visual, auditory, read/write, kinesthetic — before they’ll fully grasp the course material. Others need to be able to access the course material in one specific mode. An online interface can host a variety of learning opportunities in an array of different mediums.

But an on-ground course also can diversify modes of engagement for diverse learning styles. So what is distinctive about an online environment?

There are two distinctions in particular that draw me to online learning environments. First, digital mediums potentially level the playing field for the different learning styles. What does that mean? Those who learn the easiest by reading and writing (such as those students who become teachers) traditionally have had an advantage over other students — to a large degree because reading and writing are both recursive activities. In other words, text is reviewable both in selective parts and as a whole. Students who learn the easiest by reading and writing can revisit course material either in specific areas of uncertainty or as a global narrative. For other students, the course material ends up reduced to a collection of classroom activities — singular events that fade per the human limitations of memory.

Digital mediums attribute the recursive characteristic of written text to non-written mediums. If students need to pause and review the last few moments of a lecture, they can. In an online environment, kinetic learners can actively and repeatedly engage with what in a classroom or a textbook might be little more than a stable diagram.

In fact, as far as kinetic learners are concerned, hypertext reconfigures written text into a tactile experience. That is, digital mediums level the playing field by attributing not only the characteristics of written text to non-written mediums, but also the characteristics of non-written mediums to written text.

Although digital mediums undoubtedly help students who are not inclined to learn through reading or writing, digital mediums similarly help those who do prefer reading and writing. Both teachers and students can write on videos and thereby attribute the quality of written text to visual and auditory learning experiences. In other words, digital mediums potentially level the learning playing field, not by handicapping those who excel in more traditional environments, but rather by opening up each and every learning opportunity to every learning style.

The second distinction that draws me to online learning environments has less to do with D2L, Angel, Blackboard, or other course-shell providers than with the free online learning activities, like blogging and microblogging. A professor can require that students blog or microblog about their learning experiences, link their monologues to an extracurricular online community about that particular topic, and thereby increase the likelihood that their students will remain engaged in a learning community about that topic even beyond the termination of the course. If we tie our students’ learning to the confines of a course, that learning can end with the completion of the semester. If we tie that learning to a more permanent community, our students’ learning, even about a particular topic, will likely become more permanent.

These are just two of what are possibly an infinite number of potentially positive ways that an online environment can uniquely contribute to the learning experience. In other words, Dr. Volker is right. Students don’t get the same out of an online course that they get out of an on-ground course, and if we teachers take the time to analyze how online environments differ from classroom environments, we can transform those differences into an improved learning experience.

Lectures do provide information for students to apply when solving problems. Often, tests and other assessment methods do measure memory and both critical-thinking and problem-solving skills. The more students retain from and understand a lecture, the greater the yield of that investment in real-life circumstances.

However, in a lecture environment, students rarely get the opportunity to practice critical-thinking or problem-solving skills prior to a graded assessment. In other words, through homework, quizzes, and tests, professors at least initially judge each student’s either innate or nurtured, preexisting abilities. Those types of assessments, or at least in the way that we use them, measure little more than the students as information receptacles.

And perhaps more importantly, many students interpret graded assessments in that way. Yes, homework is practice for quizzes, quizzes are practice for tests, tests for exams, and exams for future courses or even life itself. But at-risk students in particular fear they are both not “good enough” and going to be “found out.” Even when they study effectively, many attribute good grades more to luck than their performance. And as another symptom of their object-status in the classroom, some blame their bad grades on the professor.

This perceptual problem isn’t a one-way street. Unfortunately, as the expressions “sink or swim” and “cream rises to the top” document, the dominant lecture strategy can negatively influence a professor’s perception of students. According to one such perception, whether due to the students’ will or character, upbringing or genetics, some students have the agency to navigate rigorous course material, but others don’t — regardless of the classroom format. Through this lens, the university system acquires the responsibility of not only documenting excellent and satisfactory learners, but also weeding out inadequate ones so businesses know in whom to invest.

Freire criticizes the influence of the investment model on pedagogical practices, because it locates agency in the investor, the lecturer, and reduces each student to a biologically or socially either suitable or damaged receptacle. Freire observes not just a metaphorical problem, not a mere language game devoid of real consequences. The dominant structure of dissemination dampens ingenuity, fosters dependency, and inhibits the very critical-thinking and problem-solving skills that a professor often lists in a course’s learning objectives. By imposing a “sink or swim” structure, many lecture courses do less to promote critical-thinking and problem-solving skills than to document their existence.

However, some of us teach in a lecture hall with over 75 students. Without incapacitating ourselves with endless grading, how can we transform the lecture hall into an active-learning environment?

Perhaps the first step is to revise our understanding of classroom assessments to include what are commonly called Classroom-Assessment Techniques.

Definition of Classroom-Assessment Techniques (CATs)

CATs are routine, often anonymous, and non-graded snapshots of the students’ relationships with the lecture material. They help a lecturer assess and revise his or her lectures. But they also help students both learn and increase their involvement in the learning process. In other words, CATs not only help the lecturer cater the material to the students, but they also promote active learning.

In form, CATs are not unlike quizzes or other in-class assignments. However, the anonymity of a CAT enables at-risk and other students to participate freely without fear of judgment. That is, CATs can promote memory and critical-thinking and problem-solving skills even more than document them.

Also, CATs do not drown professors in superfluous grading. First of all, CATs are not graded. Second of all, if a professor requires each student to confine his or her activity to a single note card, CATs are easy for the professor to review. Third of all, the professor has to examine only a sample of 20 cards to identify both common points of understanding and typical misunderstandings.

By acknowledging and responding to those typical misunderstandings at the start of the next lecture, the professor not only corrects misconceptions early in the learning process. That simple acknowledgment simultaneously sends a message to the at-risk students that their misconceptions are not just theirs, but also “common.” That sense of commonality encourages a sense of community.

We hear a lot about promoting a sense of community in the classroom, but what does a sense of community do for an at-risk student?

At-risk students withdraw easily from a course, but very few people withdraw easily from a strong sense of community. And the longer a learning community maintains contact with a student, the more the community influences that student.

The following research question was merely a starting point for how I chose which CATs to address in this post. Please revise the research question to suit the specific needs of your course or field.

RESEARCH QUESTION

How can we encourage our students to

1) pay more attention both to the lecture material and their interpretation of it,

2) intellectually organize the material, and

3) formulate their own ideas in language

…while at the same time we assess how well our lectures have connected with the students in our collective classroom effort to meet the course objectives?

Below you’ll see a list of only seven from what are ultimately an infinite number of possible CATs. I have appropriated these particular CATs from Diana Kelly’s “Evaluating Teaching and Learning” (2008), but you can find most of these and other CATs on The National Teaching and Learning Forum. Please, don’t confine yourself to the CATs you encounter here or even elsewhere. Once you get a feel for how CATs work in relation to your course’s specific learning objectives, you’ll likely want to create your own.

Background-Knowledge Probe

At the start of a course or new topic, the background-knowledge probe encourages students to recall relevant prior knowledge or experience. A lecturer can use a background-knowledge probe both to organize his or her lectures around a specific audience’s knowledge or experience and to measure overall learning during the progression of the course.

Common prompts for this three-minute writing exercise:

· List relevant educational, personal, or work-related experience in the subject.

· Briefly explain your current beliefs about the subject.

· List your motivations/reasons for studying the subject, as well as your concerns about the subject.

· Briefly explain what you hope to learn and how it will help you succeed.

A background-knowledge probe helps the professor investigate each student’s starting point in the journey to meet course objectives. But it also asks students to situate the upcoming lecture within the context of their own knowledge, experience, and/or situation. By personalizing the lecture in this way, a background probe increases the likelihood that the students will pay attention to both the lecture material and its relationship to what they already know. The latter is the starting point for their organizing that information: what fits and what doesn’t fit with what they already know. The assignment also asks students to formulate their ideas in language.

Focused Listing

Focused listing asks students to recall a set of relevant terms, facts, or concepts that they should know for the subject at hand. A lecturer can assign focused listing at the start of a new lecture or topic, not only to assess what the students remember, but also to encourage that memory. Or the lecturer can assign focused listing at the end of a lecture or topic — again, both to assess student recall and to encourage it.

Directed Paraphrase

By asking students to explain a new concept or set of instructions in their own words, a lecturer can both assess and encourage the students’ understanding beyond rote memorization.

Application Cards

A lecturer asks students to apply a newly discussed theory, principle, or procedure to a relevant, real-world context of either their or the instructor’s choosing. The lecturer uses the cards to determine how well students can apply what they’ve learned and to respond to those applications during the next lecture. But application cards also encourage students to think about a lesson contextually.

Memory Matrix

The lecturer provides a list of items down the left side of the matrix and of characteristics “A” through “C” across the top.

Characteristic A, Characteristic B, Characteristic C
———————————————————————————
Item 1
———————————————————————————
Item 2
———————————————————————————
Item 3

Students fill in the blank boxes with their understanding of how the listed items (names of biological cells, governmental structures, economic theories, literary genres, discursive modes, etc.) are different. The memory matrix facilitates both assessment of the students’ understanding of the material and their retention of that material.

Process Self-Analysis

The lecturer asks his or her students both to organize their fulfillment of an assignment into a series of steps and to calculate how long each step took them to complete. Then the students are to determine which steps caused them the most trouble and how they can improve their approaches to those steps.

The One-Minute Paper

This CAT gives both lecturers the information they need to revise the next lecture and students an opportunity to reflect upon what they’ve learned. The lecturer asks his or her audience thoughtful, reflective questions, not factual ones, questions that the lecturer really wants to know the answer to and plans to respond to at the start of the next lecture. Here are some example questions:

“What did you learn the most today about __________?”
“What did you find the most important about __________?”
“List what you learned today about __________.”
“What did you find the most helpful about today’s lecture?”
“What would you have liked to learn more about?”

All course-assessment techniques require that the lecturer in some way discuss student feedback during the next lecture. In fact, some lecturers dedicate entire class periods to student feedback to ensure a truly student-centered environment. As a lecturer acknowledges their comments, students not only measure their own performance against the backdrop of their classmates’ responses; they also discover that others wrote similar comments. This discovery raises self-confidence for the at-risk students who are experiencing difficulties, but it also promotes a sense of community out of the anonymity of the lecture environment. And both self-confidence and a sense of community increase student retention.

Exercise:

Write down the learning objectives for a particular course you are teaching and then review one of your lectures for that course. Now, devise at least one CAT. Feel free to try one of the seven CATs above, but as you feel more comfortable with how CATs relate to your course’s specific objectives, try to create your own CAT.

REFERENCES

Freire, Paulo. Pedagogy of the Oppressed. New York: Continuum, 2007.

Kelly, Diana. “Evaluating Teaching and Learning: Enhancing the Scholarship of Teaching by Asking Students What They Are Learning.” The Scholarship of Teaching and Learning in Higher Education. Rowena Murray, Ed. New York, NY: McGraw-Hill, 2008; 80-90.

Most teachers have taught articulate and assertive female students. But men and women tend to have different styles. Even though both are equally valid, the male style usually dominates in the classroom. As a result, women may not get as much out of their discussion sections as men do. (Romano 1994)

The standard approach to the role of gender in the classroom involves a discussion of overt and covert forms of sexism: inappropriate sexual advances, gender-based recognition or neglect, and last but not least, the all-too-common social misconceptions that discourage a particular gender from choosing a certain major — and thereby halve a department’s potential recruitment of talent. All of these factors negatively impact both student performance and retention rates (See Hall and Sandler 1982). Not to mention, they also postpone the dawn of a new era.

However, with the growing attention to different learning styles, we might occasionally encounter a different line of questioning: Do men and women learn differently? This question is potentially dangerous because it too readily invites some of the common stereotypes that ultimately inhibit student performance and retention: men are more attuned to reason, women to emotions, etc.

And yet, ongoing scholarship would suggest that the question is relevant.

According to a Harvard study, a rigorous admissions process does not standardize the learning process for men and women in such a way that women can compete in the classroom (Krupnick 1985). Drawing from the sociological and anthropological research of Janet Lever, Marjorie Harness Goodwin, and Donna Eder, Deborah Tannen proposes one possible reason. Tannen argues that because most girls learn to use language in small groups centered on private, intimate conversations, and because most boys develop their language skills in larger, far less intimate and more competitive groups, classroom discussion ultimately favors male students. Why? Because classroom discussion “entails putting oneself forward in front of a large group of people, many of whom are strangers and at least one of whom is sure to judge speakers’ knowledge and intelligence by their verbal display.” Tannen believes that — whereas a classroom discussion might suit most male students since they have learned their language skills in structurally similar environments — smaller, more intimate group settings might better suit most female students (Tannen 1991).

Tannen agrees with Walter J. Ong’s characterization (see Ong 1981) of the debate model that teachers traditionally have used for classroom activities. Both critics see the debate format as unfairly benefiting the male gender. In fact, Tannen calls attention to the way instructors question and challenge their students. In her estimation, while most male students might learn from direct intellectual confrontation, female students likely learn more from personal anecdotes.

Yet, Tannen’s analysis is over fifteen-years old, and both the Harvard study and Ong’s characterization are over twenty. Is it not possible that their descriptions of difference encourage outdated generalizations about gender differences? Would it not be disadvantageous for both genders if a professor were to direct intellectual confrontations only to male students and personal anecdotes only to female students?

Tannen’s argument draws from research on, yes, gender discrepancies, but more specifically on the role of gender in games. The longstanding generalization is that whereas girls play in small, fairly intimate groups indoors, boys play outdoors in larger more competitive groups that are more conducive to engagements with strangers. To what extent do our genders inform the games we play, and to what extent do the games we play inform our genders? These different play settings at very least affect each gender’s relationship with language and learning skills.

However, the growing popularity of video games and other digital technologies might both shrink those gender differences and radically pluralize individual learning styles. How younger generations develop language and learning skills is increasingly less reliant on gender and more dependent on each individual’s social-networking strategies. Does a student prefer structured games in which a single person or team can win? Or does he or she socially interact through games or in virtual worlds that lack uniform rules, objectives, winners, or losers? Will the student text-message friends and family only privately, or through social-networking sites such as Facebook or microblogging services like Twitter that often extend communication to strangers? Likely these communication decisions will affect learning styles more than gender will.

Nevertheless, as you run searches on “learning styles” in order to improve your own teaching practices, you may encounter statistical or other studies that researchers have stratified along gender lines. For example, a 2007 study of 86 students enrolled in an upper-division physiology lab at Michigan State University revealed that whereas 87.5% of the male students preferred multiple learning modes (visual, auditory, reading and writing, and kinesthetic), 54.2% of the female students favored learning from a single mode of presentation. And the differences did not end there (See Wehrwein, Lujan, and DiCarlo 2007). Although a sample of 86 students is not large enough to draw broader conclusions about even MSU students, let alone physiology majors in higher education or cross-the-board gender differences, such studies are informative. What they reveal is the broad range of different learning styles that sometimes fall along gender lines. Problems arise only when we use that data to make generalized gender distinctions that in turn affect the way we organize gender in the classroom.

One website cites a study of kindergarten games to support the hypothesis that “girls prefer to relate to people, whereas boys ‘relate’ to objects.” But if we are looking to avoid the generalizations that lead to our policing gender norms and thereby disenfranchising difference in the classroom, perhaps a more productive statement might be, “some students prefer to relate to people, whereas others ‘relate’ better to objects.” Why? The latter statement encourages us to cater our classroom activities to different learning styles without enforcing a gender separation to accomplish that objective.

There is nothing more disenfranchising in a classroom than a professor’s using generalizations to enforce differences among students. Student-centered teaching does not mean socially divisive classroom activities: girls on one side of the room, boys on the other. On the contrary, student-centered teaching unites the social body by drawing from and appealing to the learning styles of everyone. We have an opportunity to recast our classrooms in the dawn of a pedagogically new era.

The following teaching tips come from Renee Romano’s “Gender Issues in Teaching”:

1. Keep a log of which students speak and for how long. Watch for patterns over several weeks. Try to identify the dominant and subordinate groups in your classroom.

2. Have an outside observer come to your class and ask them to pay particular attention to patterns of participation and interruption.

3. Ask your students how they feel about the classroom atmosphere, or have someone from CETL do a small group evaluation in your class.

REFERENCES

Renee Romano. “Gender Issues in Teaching: Does Nurturing Academic Success in Women Mean Rethinking Some of What We Do in the Classroom?” Speaking of Teaching; Stanford University Newsletter on Teaching. FALL 1994, Vol. 6, No. 1.: http://ctl.stanford.edu/Newsletter/gender.pdf (found on 7/13/09).

Hall, Roberta and Bernice R. Sandler. “The Classroom Climate: A Chilly One for Women?” Washington, D.C.: Association of American Colleges, 1982.

Krupnick, Catherine. “Women and Men in the Classroom: Inequality and Its Remedies.” On Teaching and Learning: The Journal of the Harvard-Danforth Center. (May, 1985): 19-25.

Tannen, Deborah. “Teachers’ Classroom Strategies Should Recognize that Men and Women Use Language Differently.” The Chronicle of Higher Education, vol. XXXVII, no. 40. (June 19, 1991); http://www.iub.edu/~tchsotl/part2/TannenTeachers%27%20classroom%20strategies (found on 7/13/09).

Ong, Walter J. Fighting for Life: Contest, Sexuality, and Consciousness. Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1981.

Wehrwein, Erica A., Heidi L. Lujan, and Stephen E. DiCarlo. “Gender Differences in Learning Style Preferences among Undergraduate Physiology Students.” Advances in Physiology Education; 31: 153-157, 2007.