Celebration as Learning

At the recent FYE Conference in Orlando, Kurt Penner from Kwantlen Polytechnic University in Vancouver, British Columbia presented a session on how First-Year Experience programs can use "celebration" as a supplement to their offerings, particularly at the end of the first year.  This got me thinking about how celebration could be used as a pedagogical tool so I started a small conversation among colleagues in Utah where I work and live.  The general consensus was that celebration might be a good thing, but it would depend on how it is done.  

One comment in our discussion was particularly thought provoking.  Gary Daynes, a friend and the Associate Provost for Integrative Learning at Westminster College in Salt Lake City, Utah raised questions about how meaningless most celebrations have become and used the myriad award shows that we see on TV these days.  While I would agree that most of the award ceremonies that we see in the media (think of the Oscars the other night where 25 awards were given, but most of us really only cared about 5 of them--and how many Americans even know what "cinematography" is?) have become dog and pony shows, I do believe that strategic and intentional celebrations can lead to meaningful learning and reflection for students.  My reasons are outlined below:

1.  Ritualistic closure presents opportunities for learning and growth.  Effective celebrations become rituals that, when timed in a strategic way, can bring closure to a meaningful experience while also serving as a springboard for what is to come, or the "next step" as it were.  Commencement exercises at colleges and universities are an excellent example of this.  During commencement students celebrate the end of their academic journey, are reminded of various aspects of the experience (e.g. challenges faced/overcome, knowledge gained, relationships developed), and then invited to consider how their 4 years of scholarship have prepared them to "commence" the next step in their journey, whether that is graduate school, work, raising a family, or anything else they might choose to do.  I may be going out on a limb with this one, but a marriage might also be considered a ritualistic celebration that "closes" one chapter and promotes reflection on the next--a couple celebrate the end of their courtship, recall experiences they have had together and the characteristics they value in each other, and then look forward to their future life together.  Well-timed and thoughtful rituals like these and others bring tremendous opportunities for reflection, meaning-making, and learning.  Even more, it isn't empty learning that is stored away on a shelf--the participants are engaged in considering how what they have learned or experienced makes a difference in what they will do and become.  (For a thoughtful discussion of the role rituals play on college campuses, you might consider reading Peter Magolda's essay in Anthropology & Education Quarterly)

2.  Celebrations can recognize and reinforce behaviours that lead to good learning.  When student/faculty awards are included in first-year celebrations, organizers help stakeholders involved in the first-year to identify and consider those behaviours that promote deep and meaningful learning.  This is an appropriate time to reconsider the Oscars as a poor example of this sort of celebration.  The problem with award ceremonies in Hollywood is that (1) there are far too many awards given, effectively decreasing the prestige of all but the top awards (e.g. best actor/actress, etc.) and (2) those giving the awards don't articulate clearly why a particular actress or film is being recognized so unless someone has seen the film and has some film background they never really learn what, for example, good sound editing looks (or sounds) like.  Effective celebrations not only recognize good performance, but help the rest of the community better understand why the performance is good.  Hearing well-told stories about individuals being recognized (stories that highlight the behaviours we wish to reinforce) are a good way of driving this sort of learning.

3.  Celebration builds community.  Bringing students together to celebrate one another's achievements, hear stories about challenges and struggles, and recognize meaningful learning can connect them to each other and to our campuses.  These interactions can remind members of the campus community of our shared experiences and encourage us to support one another as we move towards becoming communities of scholars.  Ritualistic practices like fight songs, iconic images from campus, stories about founders, etc. also help revive feelings of pride and respect for the institution.  Things like this frequently occur at our orientations and again at graduation, but there is a dearth of such practices in the gap between those two bookends.  While large gatherings like what occur at the two ends of the college experience are things that probably cannot and should not be replicated.  Smaller-scale celebrations during the "in-between" times could enhance the sense of community on campuses.

4.  Celebrations communicate messages about what an institution values.  When an institution invites members of its community to gather together for a common experience, it communicates a set of values to the participants.  Furthermore, students learn about what we value by the number and type of gatherings we promote.  Consider the gatherings we see most often on the campuses of large research universities.  While only anecdotal, the three types of celebrations I see are athletic events, faculty lectures focused on research, and large-scale social events that feel like parties.  None of these things are inherently negative; however, when students see these celebrations they learn about what the institution values:  high-profile athletics, scholarly work, and "good times".  With no celebrations of student learning to balance the rest of our celebrations, there is danger that students will pick up on the theory in use (John Tagg, The Learning Paradigm College, 2003) and lose sight of our true institutional missions (Tagg would call this the espoused theory)--learning and becoming.  Effective academic celebrations will communicate to students that we value meaningful learning, effort, civic engagement that draws upon the knowledge we gain at our institutions, and the overcoming of challenges.  

What does all of this mean?

The answer that comes to my mind immediately is "I don't know" because the implications of these ideas probably look very different depending on what campus we might find ourselves on (I also recognize that there are a lot of flaws in my thinking surrounding this issue and hesitate to make any broad statements about what should happen on any given campus, especially my own).  With that disclaimer, I do believe that we could be a little more thoughtful about the celebrations we design for our first-year students.  I've outlined some basic principles that might be helpful--embedded rituals, recognition of good learning, and institutional values--so I won't say much more about those things, but I would like to close with a warning.  As faculty and administrators, there is a danger that the celebrations we design will become what students might see as "too academic".  It is important that these celebrations are at least a little bit like the celebrations we experience outside of our jobs (e.g. birthdays, parties, etc.).  That's not to say that these celebrations should look or feel like what we already see on our campuses (the ones planned by Student Affairs units where we give out lots of free food and play loud music).  As academic affairs professionals we have a responsibility to find a balance where the celebrations we organize are enjoyable enough that people will actually come, but thoughtful enough that they really lead to learning.  As far as I can tell we have lots to do in that area.  

Helping Students Create a "Digital Identity"

I recently returned from the Annual Conference of the National Resource Center for the First-Year Experience and Students in Transition held Feb. 6-10 in Orlando, Florida.  I was struck by the frequency with which web 2.0 technologies (blogs, wikis, social networking sites, etc.) are being used as pedagogical and community-building tools in first-year initiatives across the country.

In one of the very first sessions I attended Kevin Prentiss, CEO of Swift Kick (an education company specializing in open and collaborative learning, particularly using technology in meaningful ways to support learning and engagement) said something that has had me thinking ever since.  He talked about the importance of helping students create a "digital identity" that can serve as an educational footprint, documenting what they have learned, what conversations they have been participants in, what they have produced, etc.  Those working in higher ed might describe this as an e-portfolio (something that we have been discussing on my campus).  

Basically, the idea is that as educators we should be inviting and encouraging students to be active participants in the blogosphere by creating and maintaining blogs, commenting on the blogs of others, posting material to their blogs that demonstrates meaningful learning, etc.  

This was a completely new idea to me.  I had heard lots of negative things about students involvement with blogs & social networking sites, but never have I heard an argument for using these technologies as well articulated and clear as the one Kevin presented.  I can see a number of reasons why we as educators should promote blogging and e-portfolios among students

1.  Students like technology and know how to use it well.  Students live in a fast-paced and dynamic world.  They are accustomed to being engaged by technology that employs a variety of media and are becoming increasingly uninterested in static forms of learning (e.g. sitting in large lecture halls, searching the stacks for periodicals, etc.).  While arguments for "traditional" aspects of education can be made and definitely have value in some cases, the reality is that if education does not adapt to present itself in a way that is engaging for students, they will go somewhere else to learn (on a side note, open learning is making that easier and more viable as we speak).  Good teaching involves finding ways to engage the unique learners that present themselves to us.  By refusing to use technology in meaningful ways we are limiting the learning that might occur, and as a result, guilty of educational malpractice.

2.  E-Portfolios can simpflify and improve assessment.  Imagine what it would be like for a university to have electronic collections of students writing, research, poetry, film creations, etc?  Even more, using blogs and other open electronic tools means that we spend less on paper, filing, human resources, etc.  Obviously, institutions would need to be thoughtful about how to organize e-portfolios so that they were searchable, findable, etc., but if we are as insightful and bright as we all think we are in higher ed, we should be able to figure something out.  The point is that if institutions made campus-wide efforts to employ web 2.0 technologies the educational record of their students would grow rapidly and provide meaningful assessment artifacts.

3.  Learning should be a knowledge-building enterprise.  Students who are engaged in creating knowledge are better learners.  This is not a new idea, however, at times we fence ourselves in by thinking that all knowledge construction consists of written papers and exams.  Blogs, wikis, etc. provide additional opportunities for students to share, refine, and construct new knowledge in ways not always possible through traditional assessment instruments.  Electronic forums not only allow students to write, but they can also create and share images, engage with video content, reference web-based materials, etc.  While reading and writing do form the backbone of education, there are a whole host of other ways to learn, many of which are neglected in higher education.

4.  Learning should be a social and open process.  The best learning occurs as individuals engage in dialogue with each other.  While this dialogue may make cameos in our undergraduate experience, the reality is that most undergraduate students pack themselves into large or small rooms and listen to monologues.  Occasional class discussions may ensue but they are all too often directed by an authority figure (the instructor), limited to a pre-determined set of topics or questions, and limited by physical space and time (e.g. when the 90 minute class session is over, so is the conversation).  Electronic media provide opportunities for students to engage in discussions long after the session ends, about whatever they want, and in whatever manner or sequence they see fit.  While this may scare some people ("what will the prisoners do if we let them out into the yard for free time?"), the potential benefits cannot be ignored.  The challenge for educators is to help students see the value in these dialogues and to generate enough motivation for them to engage in the process.  I'm convinced that after one or two meaningful learning experiences in this setting, students will be "converted" and participate of their own accord thereafter.  Additionally, these conversations can occur across courses and student cohorts (e.g. poly sci students may talk with biology students about environmental issues, athletes may read and comment on the blogs of dietetics students, etc.) leading to the development of a true community of scholars where learning knows no disciplinary or classroom bounds.

In short, using collaborative, conversational technologies in meaningful ways will not only create this digital identity for students, which as an aside makes them much more attractive to employers who are in the habit of "googling" applicants to see what kind of contribution they have made in the blogosphere, but has the potential to provide a much more meaningful and engaging learning experience while they are on our campuses.

For a much more thoughtful and articulate discussion of this and other ideas, visit Swift Kick's blog at http://blog.swiftkickonline.com/.

Teachers: Does pay make a difference?

In a recent "Inside HigherEd" column Wicke Sloane (a candidate for the presidency at Williams College) commented about the pay of university administrators by saying 

"For a job you love, and that’s what a college presidency must be, $125,000, house or not, is an awful lot of money. I disagree that colleges will only attract able presidents by offering vast salaries and benefits. Today, high salaries may attract exactly the wrong candidates."

http://www.insidehighered.com/views/2009/02/06/sloane

That got me thinking about the way that we pay teachers.  Not that there is any danger in this ever happening in my lifetime, but what would happen if teachers were paid like attorneys or business executives?  Would we attract the "wrong candidates" like Sloane suggests?  What is the magic salary window in which we attract the "right" candidates?

In my home state of Utah most first-year public school teachers make around $28,000.  In the district where I taught I was paid $26,000 for my first year, but other districts are a bit higher.  Like many young professionals in the field, particularly those with families, I made the decision to leave public education because the prospect of supporting a family, going on any sort of vacation, and ever buying a home seemed very out of reach.  This may sound a bit arrogant, but I considered myself an excellent educator and feel like the system lost a good candidate when I left.  This is the current debate in education:  How much do we need to pay in order to keep the talented ones?

I'm not really sure what that number is, although it is surely more than what we are paying teachers currently.  The interesting question is the one posed by Sloane.  How much is too much?  How important is altruism and unselfishness in a teacher?  Does paying them what they are worth pose a threat to their motives and intentions?  It's interesting to me that we ask these sorts of questions relative to education, but not in other fields like, say for instance medicine.  My wife recently delivered our first child and I was shocked at what the anesthesiologist made (grateful that we had him, but still quite amazed at what he billed for the limited amount of time he spent attending to my wife).  For the record, I think his services are worth what we pay him for.  What is interesting to me is that I don't think anyone would ever worry about what his pay might do in terms of his motives or whether the high pay of the position might attract the "wrong" type of candidate.

Is attracting the "wrong" type of candidate really something we should be worrying about?

Education as Design

At the suggestion of a wise faculty member I have been reading a fair amount about the process of design over the last few months.  I've read things focused in areas from architecture to shopping carts to surveys and started to think about education through the lenses of design.  This has been very enlightening for me because typically my approach to learning has been very narrow minded and I haven't considered all of the many facets of the learning experience that need to be attended to.  

Most recently I read a book that really impacted my thinking--The Ten Faces of Innovation, by Tom Kelley.  Kelley is the General Manger at IDEO, a design consulting firm that works with a wide range of organizations to improve their products and services.  There were far too many new ideas to cover here, but a few that stood out were the importance of collaboration, physical space, and stories.  Kelley also described "experience architects" who design experiences for users or clients.  This idea seems to have particular relevance in education where we are providing a set of learning experiences for students.  Too often we think of education as writing tests, finding readings, and leading discussions--very disconnected, fragmented, and isolated events.  Kelley's ideas about designing experience suggest that we would be more effective in thinking about our courses as integrated experiences (even stories) of sorts where we design mini experiences or interactions for students to take part in.  Those interactions might be with each other, with the instructor, with a reading, etc., but they are all weaved together in a well-connected tapestry.  The challenge in this is realizing that no matter how "well-designed" the experience might be, students will be impacted by it in different ways and may learn a variety of different things.  Deterministic, behaviorist thoughts will have to be discarded.  

Critical in this design are the "sets" (Ch. 8 of Kelley's book) where our experiences play out and the stories that are told (or that learners are invited to tell themselves.  Classrooms will probably always be a part of these sets, but too often we limit our designs to the traditional room filled with desks.  What kinds of other experiences might be provided?  Also, what stories are we building into the learning experiences of our students?  Good stories not only clarify concepts and provide context, they can produce powerful emotional responses and help learners connect with each other and with the content.  For a really interesting examination of the power of stories see Ch. 10 of Ten Faces as well as Tell Me a Story, Roger Schank.

Libertarian Paternalism

I read a book about a month ago (Nudge) that has had me thinking a lot about the issue of choice and how much freedom universities should give to students in making choices about their education.  The idea of "libertarian paternalism" is a way of preserving freedom of choice, but which also allows institutions (such as universities) to encourage individuals to make choices that are more likely to be beneficial for them.  For example, school cafeterias have found that foods placed at eye level are much more likely to be selected than those that might be placed on a lower shelf or display table (I think grocery stores know this as well which is why the expensive name-brand cereals are always at eye level and the cheap store brands are almost on the floor).

This has some interesting implications for Universities and the way we structure our systems.  At times we may be guilty of providing students with so many choices and options that it is complicated at best and overwhelming to the point of paralysis at worst (See The Paradox of Choice, by Barry Schwartz for an interesting discussion of this phenomenon).  An example of this is course registration.  At my institution students must complete a set of "University Core" requirements (just a fancy way of saying "General Education") in order to graduate--an important aspect of the college experience, no doubt.  The problem is that for each of the many Core requirements there is a very long list of courses or complicated table explaining what combinations of courses can meet the requirement.  Many students make poor choices about what courses to enroll in to fill these requirements, often finding themselves in a course they either aren't interested in or one that actually doesn't "count" towards the requirement.   Students are able to meet with advisors to help them make these decisions, but that requires initiative and time, two barriers that keep a lot of students out of the offices of academic advisors (another problem worth exploring in another post).  Hence, students are often left to their own devices, relying upon what they find online, in conversations with friends, etc.  What was intended to be a good thing for students--choice--ends up being a burden that can cause anxiety and ultimately, poor decisions.

Nudge suggests that institutions finding themselves in these situations would do well to think of themselves as "choice architects".  Their role is to preserve freedom of choice, but to design the process of "choosing" in a way that both informs and assists individuals in making wise choices.  What if universities were to design templates that were the default course schedules for students (maybe even just during their first few semesters while they are getting their feet wet).  Students could opt out of these templates and design their own schedule, but the default would be a good fit (albeit not "perfect") for the majority of the students.  Or, what if there were a tool developed that functioned like Turbo Tax?  Students would be asked a series of questions about their interests, AP Credit, future job aspirations, etc. and based on the information they input the program would suggest a small number of possible schedules from which the student could choose.  This would preserve their choice, but help them narrow the field to a manageable number of "good" choices.

Doing "Good" Research

"Progress in science arises from the application of an informed imagination to a problem of genuine consequence; not by the monotonous application of some formulaic mode of inquiry to a set of quasi-problems."  

-Daniel Robinson, Paradigms and "the myth of framework"

A faculty member teaching the empirical inquiry class that I am enrolled in this semester shared that quote with us this week as a foundation for a discussion about research and how we can make decisions about the types of questions and problems we tackle in our work.  We also discussed the importance of avoiding the tendency of shying away from difficult questions, even though they may be the most important questions we could seek to answer.  Too often researchers choose to address "easy" questions because of the promise of publications, a longer vitae, etc.

This is all a fine line because judgments about what constitutes "problems of genuine consequence" are very subjective and probably only appropriate for individual researchers to make.  However, that practice of examining the impact of our work seems appropriate and needed.  We have all seen examples of research that addresses quasi-problems and that is only read by the researcher, his mother (although she probably doesn't understand it), and a close circle of professional colleagues; I won't take any time to describe what I believe might fall into those categories.  But, I have seen a number of excellent examples of "good" research here on my campus (Brigham Young University) that I believe makes a tremendous contribution to the body of scholarly work.  More importantly, these projects seem to have been initiated and carried out because of the promise that they hold for improving human lives.  Below are some links to just a few:

Student-designed device to help poor East Africans coax oil from coconuts

http://byunews.byu.edu/archive08-jul-tanzania.aspx  

The merry-go-round that makes electricity from kid power

http://byunews.byu.edu/archive08-jun-ghana.aspx

More nutritious tortillas – BYU research team shares method with Mexico’s neighborhood tortilla shops

http://byunews.byu.edu/archive08-nov-tortillas.aspx

Institutional Values

Part of my work at the University involves planning and coordinating New Student Orientation events for incoming students which has been an interesting task for me because it has helped me be more reflective about the implicit messages that we as a University send to students.  Colleagues of mine have helped me understand the importance of "bookends" in students' university experience, in other words the events at the beginning and end of their time on campus.  New Student Orientation seems to be one of these critical bookends and an opportunity to help students catch a vision that can carry them through the rest of their educational career on our campuses.  

This idea of the big picture is something that I gleaned from the work of Jean Lave & Etienne Wenger in their book Situated Learning:  Legitimate peripheral participation.  In it they explore the utility of an "apprenticeship model" in terms of learning.  The book examines a number of case studies (Yucatec Midwives, West African Tailors, Navy Quartermasters, Retail Meat Markets, and Alcoholics Anonymous) and identifies the aspects of those settings that help or hinder learning.  One theme that I saw emerging from each of those studies was that the best learning occurred when learners were able to develop a clear vision of what a good performance looks like whether that was a well-tailored suit, a successful delivery, or a fully recovered alcoholic.  

In many ways New Student Orientation can help new students develop this vision of "what can be" or what they can become during their University experience.  Sadly, we often approach orientation activities from one of two perspectives (1) a very technical business model or (2) the social/party model.

The Technical Approach:  In the technical approach we use orientation as a venue for communicating large amounts of information to students (e.g. registration policies, graduation requirements, housing policies, etc.) or as a way of helping them complete a number of orientation tasks (e.g. obtaining a parking permit, registering for classes, purchasing textbooks, etc.).  The objective here seems to be running students through the system so that they can complete as many "errands" as possible and be ready to begin classes.  While there is undoubtedly a place for these sorts of things in an orienation program, if all a student does during Orientation weekend is stand in lines, complete online forms, and engage in transactional interactions there is a danger that they will perceive the University as a mill where students go through the motions in order to check off a set of well defined tasks.

The Party or Social Approach:  In this model orientation is a big party where students attend dances, take tours, watch sporting events, and make friends.  The goal  here is to help students make social connections and to show them a good time so their first experience on campus is a positive one.  Again, not a bad thing--literature suggests that meaningful social connections pay big dividends in retention rates and overall learning gains.  However, there are two problems with an orientation that makes this its focus.  First, it may be a little naive to assume that large group activities facilitate the formation of the meaningful relationships that are referred to in the literature.  While this may happen occasionally, it is more likely that those relationships that persist through the first year are those that were formed in small, informal interactions occurring in the residence halls, among members of student groups/clubs, etc.  Secondly, if orientation is nothing more than a big party we run the risk of leaving students with the impression that college is a party--fun and games with the occasional late night of cramming for an exam.

A Better Way:  What if orientation became a way to help students develop the "big picture" referred to in Lave & Wenger's work?  What messages could orientation send in terms of academic expectations, institutional culture, etc.?  It is my feeling that campus administrators can design orientation experiences that communicate these messages while also allowing for the "business" and social connections to take place.  The key is in being thoughtful about the experiences that we provide for students and the values that are embedded in these experiences (as a side note, training of orientation leaders becomes critical here because they are likely to communicate a great deal about implicit institutional values in the informal conversations they have with students during orientation).  This can be challenging because the temptation is to pack students into the basketball arena and talk at them.  While this simplifies things from a logistic standpoint, very little learning takes place for students and they are left worn out from a weekend of lectures from high minded university administrators.  We have a responsibility as orientation professionals to find ways to engage students in active learning during orientation activities and to provide environments where they can learn about what it means to be a university student, what is expected of them, and what they can hope to become during their time with us.  

Occasionally I hear from colleagues that 18 year-old students aren't ready to participate in conversations about institutional missions and objectives.  My response to those individuals is that if not now, then when?  If students don't find out about our Aims until their junior year it is too late.  Furthermore, at that point in their educational career they have very little time or motivation to consider things of that nature as graduation deadlines, the MCAT, and law school interviews loom on the horizon.  Orientation is a window of time when students are both receptive to and in need of these conversations.  We are doing them a disservice if we aren't providing a forum for that type of learning to take place.