How much has technology really helped us in education?

I just finished reading Atul Gawande's latest book, Checklist Manifesto.  In a nutshell, Gawande argues that the right kind of checklist (it turns out that good checklists aren't easy or quick to produce) can lead to vast improvements in the way we do things, and for very little cost.  It's a great read and one of the most practically useful books I've read in a while.

Gawande is a physician and uses stories from medicine to illustrate the effectiveness of simple checklists (there are also some fascinating examples from building construction and finance).  One of the areas where checklists have made the most difference are in operation rooms.  It turns out that for even the most developed countries--those with great hospitals, state-of-the-art medical technologies, and highly-trained physicians--surgical complications are a fairly significant problem.  Gawande and his team have managed to develop simple checklists that, when used properly, have drastically reduced complication rates.  It is important to note that these have not been modest findings, the results have been startling and and hard to argue with.  

The interesting thing in all of this is that the vast majority of physicians and hospitals have refused to use the checklist.  Instead most have opted to invest in $1.7 million remote controlled surgical robots that have driven up costs massively, without producing any significant improvements.  Meanwhile, the low-tech, low-budget checklists are saving lives.

There seems to be a parallel here to education.  More and more, institutions are adopting technology with the hope that it will revolutionize learning.  In my graduate work I spend a fair amount of time with instructional technologists, some who tout technology as the saviour of schools.  I should also confess that I am sometimes a sucker for cool ed tech gadgets because they seem to make learning fun and engaging.  That's not to mention my reliance upon technology for some of the most basic functions of my job (just last night I made a presentation to a group of parents of incoming students and used the bells and whistles of a fully-mediated auditorium to "enhance" my remarks).

The nagging question I keep having, though, is whether the very expensive technology we use has really improved the learning experience for students.  It likely cost thousands of dollars to outfit the auditorium I spoke in last evening.  And, I would estimate that there are at least 100 other rooms of various sizes just like it across the rest of my campus.  In many ways this is nice.  It means that instructors can use PowerPoint slides, show media clips, play music, etc.  These things are entertaining for students and can deepen engagement.  But, how much more did the parents in my session learn because I used technology?  What if the computer had crashed mid-presentation?  Would I have been prepared enough to make the remaining 15 minutes useful?  Would a low-tech "technology" like a "minute paper" have been just as beneficial as a data slide?

I'm not arguing for the elimination of technology in higher education (or any setting for that matter).  But, I wonder how often we falsely assume that twitter, tech classrooms, and iClickers will simplify the educational process and prevent educational failures.  Could it be that simple pedagogical tools, processes, or philosophies could be just as impactful and at a much lower cost?  And, what sorts of new failures does technology introduce?  Gawande frames this question well:

"We have most readily turned to the computer as our aid.  Computers hold out the prospectof automation as our bulward against failure.  Indeed, they can take huge numbers of tasks off our hands, and thankfully already have--tasks of calculation, processing, storage, transmission.  Without question, technology can increase our capabilities.  But there is much that technology cannot do:  deal with the unpredictable, manage uncertainty, construct a soaring building, perform a lifesaving operation.  In many ways, technology has compicated these matters. It has added yet another element of complexity to the systems we depend on and given us entirely new kinds of failure to content with."

What are our "educational checklists?" (i.e. those simple and frugal things that can make signficant differences in learning).  And, what are the "surgical robots" in education that look cool, but deplete budgets without making any meaningful improvement to the educational landscape?  And, maybe most importantly, how do we know when we're dealing with an expensive failure or something that, while expensive, truly will revolutionize learning?

The forgotten part of the First-Year Experience

A recent discussion on the first year experience listserv has gotten me thinking about the way we allocate resources across the first-year experience.  If your campus is like mine you likely have a variety of programming for first year students with most of it being front loaded to the first semester or even the first two weeks of their time on your campus (it's always been interesting to me that we speak of our work in terms of the first year experience, when most of us do very little in the way of formal programming during the second half of that year).  

This practice of front-loading makes sense (and has been advocated for by, among others, John Gardner).  Among other things, it allows institutions to communicate expectations, help students feel connected to each other and to campus, and provides proactive support that positions students to be successful.  These are all good things and the last two decades have provided plenty of data suggesting that they make a difference.  The question raised on the listserv was about end of year rituals or ceremonies and that made me wonder if what we do at the end of the first year experience matters.  

For much of the formal learning we see in schools and elsewhere, beginnings and endings get a lot of attention.  Think about a typical college course.  In the beginning students receive a syllabus that outlines the learning objectives for the course, an anticipated timeline for when and how they can expect to be learning, and some information about how to get help along the way.  The syllabus (assuming it is a well-written one) becomes a guide for the semester.  Plenty of important things then happen in the middle of the course to facilitate learning.  Then, four months later there is an ending, an ending that in some cases is quite ceremonious and ritualistic.  There is the "last lecture" where the faculty member reminds students of what the course goals were, a "testimonial" of sorts where she might remind them of what she thinks is the kernel of the entire course, and some sort of final exam or project that helps students tie things together and demonstrate their learning.  We see this across the entire college experience as well (i.e. Orientation/Convocation followed by graduation/commencement four or five years later).  I even vaguely remember it happening when I was a student in Mrs. Palmer's pre-school class.  On the first day I remember meeting Mrs. Palmer, getting a tour of the classroom, and hearing about all of the fun things I was going to get to do that year.  Then at the end of the year we had a full-blown "pre-school graduation" (complete with homemade graduation caps) where we were honored by our parents and then given a chance to showcase the cutting, coloring, and singing talents we had worked hard to acquire that year.  I would like to think that these practices, ceremonious as they may be, also have pedagogical value.  

The question this raises for me is whether we could or should do something at the end of the first college year that would have value for students and campuses.  The tendency would be to plan an end of year celebration with music, eloquent speeches, and a banquet or refreshments.  That may not be a bad thing, but it is expensive and runs the risk of becoming a frilly show absent of any real value.  So, are there simple, cost-effective ways of capitalizing on the end of the first year that would be both celebratory and educationally useful?

There are a few things that would seem useful to consider when designing a "second book end" for the first-year experience

1.  Revisit the goals, learning objectives, etc. introduced at the beginning of the year.  We spend a fair amount of time and effort introducing institutional missions and aims, learning goals, and expectations.  It only makes sense that we would want to follow up at the end of the first year to remind students of these same things.

2.  Celebrate successes.  The National Resource Center for the First-Year Experience and Students in Transition sponsors a First Year Students Advocate program wherein they recognize faculty members and administrators who have done extraordinary work to improve the experience of first year students on their campuses.  There isn't any good reason why this couldn't happen on individual campuses (I know there are a few campuses that are already doing this).  Faculty members, staff, administrators, and student leaders who have done significant first-year work could be recognized.  Additionally, first year students who have demonstrated tremendous progress towards first-year objectives could be highlighted.  This would seem useful in at least two ways.  First, people like to be recognized and when they are, they tend to work even harder because they feel appreciated.  Second, it would give institutions the opportunity to recognize best practices and communicate a set of values to the rest of the campus community.

3.  Bridge the gap between the first-year and sophomore experiences.  I'll confess that I have not followed the SYE (sophomore year experience) movement very closely as of yet.  However, it seems to be commonly accepted that the transition from the first to the second year is challenging for many students.  If that is true then an end of year book end could be designed to address some of these issues (e.g. how to prepare for the sophomore year, resources to connect with prior to starting classes in the fall, etc.)

4.  Reflection on growth, challenges, and lessons learned.  The first college year and its experiences provide students with plenty of opportunities to learn and grow.  Asking them to reflect on those experiences, make meaning from them, and share their learning in public ways could be beneficial (if you use portfolios on your campus this could be a required artifact in that portfolio).

The challenge in all of this is finding the time, resources, and space for something like this to happen.  So, can it be done?  And, how would it look on a large campus with a large freshman class?  What challenges do small colleges face in considering the end of the first year?