My Own Private Teaching Method

In response to CGB's query, I've decided to dedicate my first post on this shiny new blog to teaching method. Hopefully, T/S, CGB, and others will write posts about their own methods and we can turn this into one of those highly-esteemed "roundtables." That term always reminds me of dashing knights and damsels in distress (not this, though), but I guess that's another story.

When I think about my teaching method, I immediately wonder what the term means. What is "teaching method"? Does it simply mean what I do in the classroom? Or, does it signify something more discreet: innovative strategies that I deploy (or don't) in the classroom, a sort of asymmetrical warfare of education? For public school teachers in the U.S., this is a much simpler question. Part of their training involves a number of courses on method; a prospective teacher has to be prepared for a detailed discussion of method, with reference to the most recent scholarship, as part of the interview process. I, on the other hand, as an academic trained to serve at the university level, am not even sure of what the term means. Most (though, notably, not all) of my mentors at Large Private University, Northeast (LPUN) viewed teaching as a burden. Their "teaching method" consisted of descending from the rarified air they usually occupied to deliver the good news to the initiates, er, students. Well, since I've just inadvertently defined teaching method as "how one goes about teaching in a classroom setting," I should discuss my own method, such as it is.

I have taught, broadly speaking, in three different kinds of classrooms. First, I've taught (or, rather, preached) in a lecture hall filled with 150 or so students. This experience felt (and feels, as it is currently ongoing) far removed from any "teaching method" or from a "classroom." In fact, it is much more like giving a one-person performance. My gestures, voice, actions, and emotions are all on a much larger scale than anything I do in other settings. I raise my voice to a shout and lower it to a whisper, I get visibly angry and sad, I use props, I bang my fist on the table, I point with abandon. It can be quite intoxicating, in fact, especially if one (like this one) enjoys performing. Preaching in the lecture hall is many things, then, but it never seems much like teaching.

The second kind of environment is the 30-40 student "lecture" course. I identify this type as a lecture course, because these are the courses where it's always seemed necessary to do some manner of lecturing. By lecturing, I mean giving a pre-planned and structured talk that conveys information and makes an argument. Another distinguishing feature of this type of course is that it takes place in an actual classroom. There is a blackboard, there are desks in which students sit, and there is some kind of desk with drawers at the front of the room. Well, this semester, it's a lab table and I have a sink, which I've, unfortunately, yet to have occasion to deploy. In these courses, I've always had a reading to which between 40 and 60 minutes of class time is devoted on a weekly basis. During this time, I use discussion strategies that I'll discuss below (I don't want to give anything away, so I'll move on). I suppose I would identify the rest of the time I spend in the classroom as lecture, but I certainly don't just talk. In fact, it depends. Yesterday, I gave my British history class a lecture called "Free Trade and Famine." Most of this lecture consisted of me delivering a pre-planned talk. Even then, though, we spent about 10 minutes in the middle of class (a 75-minute class) discussing several images, which I displayed in a PowerPoint presentation and we had two or three other brief (say, 3-4 minute) discussions about issues raised in lecture. On the other extreme, I gave a lecture about the Great Exhibition of 1851 a few weeks ago in which I provided only a short (probably 10 minute) introductory talk outlining the main features of the Exhibition. Before I began, I gave the students a multi-page handout with newspaper articles, quotes, and figures that we looked at throughout the class and discussed. I also had 7 or 8 images that we talked about. Most of my lecture time falls between these two extremes, and probably tends toward the latter. I usually provide a handout with several extended quotes and/or several short newspaper articles. I try to see the lectures as providing a backdrop against which we can use primary sources to build a narrative. I'm not completely comfortable with this yet, plagued as I am with self-doubt (and the voices of my esteemed mentors in my head, who are shocked--SHOCKED--that I didn't provide the details of the Encumbered Estates Act), and I often end up talking more than I'd intended.

The final environment in which I've taught is a seminar-style course, with 8-15 students. I have the most experience with this kind of classroom, going back to my days as a Teaching Assistant, and am probably most comfortable there. Discussion is, obviously, central to the seminar-style classroom. Often, in this setting, I'll just run this in a pretty standard way: I ask questions and the students answer. There is relatively little conversation between students and everything is largely under my control. This sates the control-obsessive in me, but doesn't always work as a way to maintain student interest or even to relay material to them. I often use group work, and with some success. I've had the best results when students have to build an opinion or a perspective together. Since that's hopelessly vague, I'll elaborate. I've often used this strategy as preparation for a class debate. One of the best discussions I've had was several years ago in a debate about the slave trade. The students had read a collection of sources edited by David Northrup. The book contains a mix of secondary and primary sources. I divided the students into several groups and assigned each group one of the secondary-source readings. They then had to use the primary sources and, with their groupmates, construct a position based on the primary material that supported their assigned secondary source and that they could then defend in debate. I've also been lucky to have great TAs these past few years and they are often better in the seminar-style classroom than I am. When we discussed Achebe's classic Things Fall Apart earlier in the semester, for example, one of my TAs wrote four categories on the board and had each student go to the board and write a quote that they found interesting under one of the categories. It was actually quite effective as a way to get students moving around and thinking about the reading. And, since it's in this paragraph, it almost seems like I can take credit for it. Almost.

The broad point in all of this seems to be, then, that, like most of those in my profession, I don't really know what I'm doing, I'm fumbling around in the dark. Until universities start to take the training of graduate students as teachers seriously, it cannot be otherwise. Faculty at R1 institutions (outside the Ivies and the other top-tier schools) must realize that the vast majority of the PhDs they produce will not get jobs at R1 institutions and therefore will have to take teaching much more seriously than many R1 faculty members do (though, of course there are a great many outstanding and dedicated teachers at R1 institutions around the country, including LPUN). There are structural factors at R1 institutions that help to make this so, but that's a story for another day.

Advice to Newly Hired Redux

I certainly do not have time to peruse lots of blogs in the course of a day, never mind a week. So I am grateful to other more diligent bloggers who let the rest of us schmucks know when there is a good thread in the blogosphere. In this case I appreciate Historiann (who has already moved on to other topics) who provides links to two posts offering "advice to the newly hired." Center of Gravitas began the discussion with advice directed to R1 hires. Reassigned Time offered alternative suggestions for people at "institutions that fall in the elsewhere."

In the spirit of these posts, I add a few nuggets of advice of my own. Disclosure: I am in the fourth year of a t-t position at an "elsewhere" institution; I also serve in the union leadership.

1. If your department has bylaws that spell out requirements for promotion and tenure, become familiar with them early. Create rough plan that identifies ways that you might fulfill the requirements over a 5-6 year period and then try to achieve those goals. In my few years I have seen that the process for obtaining P/T can be a dicey one, even at a teaching institution. It would be terrible if your file was called into question because while you participated in committee work, you did not meet a standard established by the department by serving in a "leadership" capacity.

2. Listen to peers about the P/T process, but take responsibility for it yourself. Remember that institutions change. New union contracts, bylaws, presidents, deans and provosts can alter the process or the interpretation of that process. For instance, what if a new provost arrives at a teaching institution and decides that scholarship is the name of the game and that all Asst Profs looking to obtain P/T must demonstrate a commitment to it. Despite the specificity of bylaws, there typically is enough wiggle room in them to create problems in this type of situation. The rule here is to learn the system and rules--don't assume it will be the same as 5 years ago when your colleague went through it.

3. Scholarship. While there are still many teaching institutions out there, scholarship is becoming more important each year. If you are at a state college or university that downplays the importance of scholarship and encourages the faculty to focus far more on teaching, I will wager that will change within the next decade. More and more teaching institutions--especially state schools--need to demonstrate the scholarly prowess of its faculty in order to compete with R1 institutions for their share of the educational budget. The best way for them to do so is through faculty publications or other forms of scholarship (See for instance, Earnest L. Boyer. Scholarship Reconsidered: Priorities of the Professoriate (1990)). Especially if the current economic crisis continues, presidents at smaller state institutions will need to justify their budgets, not only to maintain the status quo, but to improve their college or university so it can become even more competitive, even if it does not abandon its teaching mission.

Never too Late to Register

Check out the first Scholarship of Teaching & Learning Academy, which will take place at Eastern Michigan University, May 18-19. According to the website:

This conference seeks to bring together all members of the academy engaging in or wanting to learn about the scholarship of teaching and learning (SOTL). Applications are encouraged from experts and novices in this field, at all career stages. This national conference will provide a forum for presenting new SOTL work, for sharing reflections on SOTL and its role within the academy, and networking with others engaged in this enterprise.

Well, we missed the deadline to submit a panel this year, but perhaps someone would be interested in putting one together for the implicit "second" SOTL? Costs of registration might require institutional support.

Laptop Initiative

UMSU is a laptop university, meaning that all students receive a laptop, the costs of which are included in their full-time tuition. In my courses, as with so many other faculty, these devices have created some wonderful opportunities for creative lesson plans but they also tend to distract students as much as aid them. Recently I sat in on a colleague who gave a lecture to her survey course. Of the approximately 35 students using computers in class that day, only 4-5 clearly were taking notes. The rest surfed Facebook pages, played games, IM-ed each other, and at least one student visited some inappropriate sites. My colleague naturally was unaware of the scope of the problem though she had suspicions. Although I too doubt the diligent use of computers for note-taking in my courses, I have not developed a clear laptop policy because I know how useful they can be for many students. The question that I have not been unable to resolve is: How can I provide students who have different ways of learning the opportunities to access the best learning strategies for them if I deny them use of an important tool?

Over on The Volokh Conspiracy, Eugene Volokh, who teaches at UCLA Law School, has posted the results of an experiment last fall when he banned the use of laptops in his Criminal Law course. At the end of the course he conducted a survey to gauge student responses to the policy. Although students felt the policy negatively affected their ability to take notes, they largely seem to feel it helped them concentrate better in class. On his post, Volokh has also provided a memo he wrote to his colleagues that breaks down the data in more detail and has student responses. It is an interesting read if you have the time. What this means for my courses, I still don't know.

Active Shooters

When I started thinking about what to write as the inaugural post for this blog, I did not imagine it would be on this subject. I figured it would be on the educational component of the stimulus package, the place of adjuncts on college campuses, the midterm grading blues, or some other timely issue. But when I arrived on campus this morning I had an email from university administrators instructing the faculty of Upper Midwest State University (UMSU) that they had to take an online "active shooter" training program to prepare us in the event a deranged student launches an attack like those at Columbine High School, Virginia Tech and other educational facilities. So this is the topic that has occupied my mind today (when I haven't been grading midterms).

Honestly, I have no problem with the administration and public safety creating a plan of action in case such a terrible event were to happen. It demonstrates a responsibility to the people of the institution and an attempt to protect the university from lawsuits. In fact, I feel more confident knowing that the institution is thinking about this potential problem than if they said or did nothing.

It is in the public discussion and gravity they give the issue that bothers me. For the past year or so UMSU administrators have blown a lot of hot air over constructing these plans, arguing--as they did again in the online training program today--that "active shooters" are "considered one of the most dangerous threats on a college campus." No one has identified who "considers" it to be so--I have little doubt it is the private companies specializing in selling related services--but it seems like hyperbole to me.

To be a "most dangerous threat," frequency, immanence, and gravity seem like prerequisites. Such an event would be grave indeed. But these tragedies do not occur often, despite the vivid press coverage. Even the Center for Personal Protection and Safety, who produced the required video, likens the probability of being in such a situation to being struck by lightening (a Google search revealed various probabilities between 1:84,000-600,000). So these events are not frequent, and without specific cause, it is irrational to live with a sense a shooter is imminent.

If an active shooter scenario is a "most dangerous threat," then why does the training stop short of the most important component, according to the film: rehearsal. Through the film we are instructed to be aware of our surroundings and to prepare for potential active shooters but that only by rehearsing will we be fully ready to confront the crisis if one appears. (I particularly appreciated the strategies to use to take out the assailant.) However, other faculty and staff I talked to who went through the training largely skipped through the slide show, coming out the other end no better off than when they began the program.

Universities must acknowledge that they are pursuing a low-cost strategy for a low-probability scenario and not create a simmering sense of dread. It is far more likely that I or a student will be hit by a car walking to class (or hit someone driving to class), or have to evacuate a building because of a fire. With an office in an administrative building, I am most concerned about fire. Even more so since I learned that we are not allowed to have classes meet in my building because it does not meet the fire code. (So it is ok to have loads of faculty and administrators with only a couple exits, but not an additional 20-30 students?) Yet I have never been instructed to participate in a fire drill, either in my office building or the buildings in which I teach.

As academic institution move forward on this issue, I encourage them to do so with honesty and a sense of realism.