A Quick 5 Tips: Surviving Intensive Teaching
Posted: February 8, 2012 Filed under: Education, Opinion | Tags: education, higher education, reflection, teaching approaches 1 CommentMy colleagues in K-12 are probably rolling about laughing at the thought that teaching 9-5 is considered ‘intensive’, but in my part of higher ed, teaching 16 hours solidly over a weekend is called intensive teaching. It’s very different from what I normally do so here are my five survival tips. The basic problem that I face is that I have a full day and no spare time – and no easy way to make up time if I lose time.
- Know the work
Yes, bit of a no-brainer but in intensive mode you have no ‘sneak off and look it up’ time. You have to go into each day’s session with either full knowledge of the 7-8 hours ahead or a well-constructed set of reminders, cheat sheets and mnemonics. I use extensive presenter notes to augment my presentations, as well as some easy to read notes that jog my memory. And I’ve taught this course over 6 times now. - Check your presentation gear
If you are using laptop, projector and slides, make sure that all of them work. Carry your charger, have a spare on USB or the network, know where the bulbs are. Using whiteboard? Have lots of pens, multiple erasers and check the whiteboard quality. Blackboard? Chalk, chalk and more chalk? Flip charts? Spare paper? Spare pens?
Do you have it? Does it work?
I run long distances and there’s a saying that you never change your gear for race day. It doesn’t matter if your current shorts are a health and safety violation in four states, don’t put on a brand new untried pair for race day. Chafing that starts at 20 kilometres is a road to agony by 42.
Your presentation gear and techniques should, for the most part, be your faithful set – your tried and true. - Check your environment
In Singapore, I check the rooms for good air conditioning, comfortable chairs and enough workspace. (I teach at a good facility so this is always true) Before teaching, I make sure that the air has been flowing for 30 minutes to cool the room BEFORE the lesson starts. I move chairs out from places where I don’t want students sitting. I align tables to form the collab environment that I want. I move my flip charts or whiteboards around. I set light levels.
These students are going to be sitting in a room, trying to stay awake and listening to me. I have to make their space work the best that it can for both us. I put up a plan so that students know what they’re doing when and where they’re supposed to be. That’s as much a part of my teaching space as the chairs or tables. - Allow enough time
I usually allow 30-60 minutes before and after class to give me enough time to set up and get things running, grab a coffee, and minimise my rush. I should be cool, calm, collected and ready to go by the time the first student appears. If a student, after 7 hours, has finally got the courage up to ask me some questions then I have to be available to give them some time outside of the intensive phase and talk to them.
That’s why I don’t jump on 8pm flight on a Sunday, because I’d need to leave bang on the dot of 5, cutting off any discussion and saying to the students “Well, that was nice, but I have important things to do now.” My students are working as hard, if not harder, than I am to listen, learn, stay alert, program, contribute, collaborate… allowing a little bit of no-rush time either side makes me more approachable and defuses the innate grind nature of the intensive. - Be interesting
Yeah, sorry, I’m ending with a hard one. I try to involve my class as much as possible in the learning activities. Sometimes this means that I have to be interesting – general information on CS, pertinent stories, anecdotes to engage interest. I try to cheat and bit and get the class to talk to each other, because they have far more in common. Being interesting isn’t about being a showman or a jester, but it does mean being willing to step away from didactic approaches and letting the reins of control slip a little, whether you’re handing over from strict learning to some background colour, or handing over to the class to work together for a while.
It doesn’t really matter what you do, in many ways, as long as different things happen occasionally and the students know what they’re doing and when.
As I said, my K-12 colleagues do this every day so I’d love to hear from other people how you face these challenges and what you’d suggest to make this task more manageable – or even enjoyable!
How Far Do I Allow You To Go, When You’re Heading the Wrong Way?
Posted: February 7, 2012 Filed under: Education, Opinion | Tags: education, higher education, teaching, teaching approaches Leave a commentPart of the assignment work that I’m overseeing on this teaching weekend is a set of programming assignments designed to let students show their understanding of the work by producing a small version of a big system. The first of these tasks, Assignment 0, is a dry run at using the big system and looks deceptively simple.
Assignment 0 is sufficiently complex that the students should write a design, should think about some key elements and should write an array of test code to see what happens. Assignment 0 is run with a 2-hour lab session, where I can watch the students work, talk to them and give them some guidance. More importantly, every 20 minutes or so I address the class and ask about a particular design feature – how will you deal with this, have you thought about it – and watch a lot of ‘oh’ faces appear as people start to realise that design is important, even for these simple assignments.
My students seem to learn a lot when they have an ‘aha’ moment. Most of these ‘aha’ moments occur when they have punched through some layers of ignorance to reach some real knowledge, and often when they have realised that they were wrong. It is worth me letting them wander slightly into the valley of the shadow of less-than-deft because of the benefits they get from seeing the mistake, avoiding or fixing it and moving on.
The question is ‘how far do I let them go’? This is a tricky call, especially over a large class. Thats why I like group discussion, peer consultation and guided pracs. If use a peer instead of me, then the ‘authority of wrongness’ is limited and I can step in and correct easily. If I use a group, then I tend to get good answers coming out from broad band Delphi effects – plus I can sit in on a smaller scale set of groups pretty easily.
In this ‘managed’ practical sessions, I can survey the class by staring at screens, expressions and electronic submissions. I can quickly see if people are heading down the wrong path and step in, individually or at the group level, when the ‘aha’ moment is ripe.
What I believe I should rarely do is to deliberately misinform the class, even if I correct myself shortly afterwards. There’s a big difference between accidentally getting something wrong and setting out to deceive the class. There’s a big difference between a ‘trick question’ and half an hour of rubbish.
Some of you may disagree and I welcome examples or discussions of experiences where you found that deceiving the class or letting them go a long way wrong was ultimately of positive benefit. Let me hear it!
Your Screwdriver Is a Hammer
Posted: February 6, 2012 Filed under: Education | Tags: education, higher education, teaching, teaching approaches, tools Leave a commentThere’s always a temptation to start teaching tools rather than techniques, and that’s certainly true in my discipline, Computer Science. My school doesn’t teach inside a ‘standard’ Integrated Development Environment (IDE) [If you’re a non-tech person, that’s a friendly, graphical framework for writing programs]. This isn’t because we have some sort of “real programmers don’t use IDEs” nonsense going on but it’s because we want to teach techniques for designing, writing, testing and improving computer code that can be used anywhere and everywhere.
Not everyone runs the same computer hardware, operating system and applications package set-up. Almost every workspace is different. (Whether they should be or not? That’s another post.)
It’s a little like that “give a man fish…” sentiment, except that tools are notoriously short-lived and mercurial in the computing world. Today’s killer environment is tomorrow’s bad example. One group may have a semi-religious objection to the tools of another group – and both can be wrong. It’s more like “give a man a fire, he’ll be warm for one night, set him on fire, he’ll be warm for the rest of his life” and makes about as much sense, once you remove the humour.
Ultimately, if I teach someone a tool-based approach, there’s always the risk that they will think that this is the only way to solve it. To drag out another platitude, when all you have is a hammer, opening beer becomes very messy. This is why we try not to only teach one programming language, one programming paradigm (that’s an overall approach to programming) and certainly not one platform – especially if it’s an expensive or proprietary platform.
I recently purchased one of the Adobe Creative Suite full-version packages, for work, at a cost of thousands of dollars. Is it useful? Yes! Has it broadened my horizons in terms of teaching design? Yes. Would I teach with it? Oh, heck no. If what I’m teaching is programming, like the scripts in Adobe, I can do that with free products and the knowledge transfers, with a small warm-up time if you get to use this product. If what I’m teaching is graphics, then there are existing products out there that are free and in the same ball park. Yes, students can buy student licences, but at roughly the same cost as a textbook – given a choice, I’d probably rather that they bought a useful book than a heavily specialised tool. I’d be slightly terrified if someone though that all problems could be solved with CreativeSuite.
It’s a bit like using Microsoft Excel for scientific data analysis: great tool, wrong purpose, costs real money, makes bad science.
Yes, I accept that I may disadvantage a student who takes their general Bachelor of Computer Science and goes to a place that demands 6 months experience with Adobe. But I’m not part of tech training for tool use (not saying that this is bad, it’s just not what I do) so I have to focus on techniques so that, whichever package or system or language my students find themselves involved with, they can look at it through the tool and apply the techniques.
Even a well-crafted screwdriver can blind you to the other options out there and, in the worst case, have you stand there sadly banging the screws in. With an understanding of technique, well, I’d love to say we’d eliminate this, but let’s settle on we’ll probably reduce the possibility of this happening.
Beating the Blank
Posted: February 5, 2012 Filed under: Education | Tags: education, higher education, reflection, teaching approaches 1 CommentI’m currently running one of my favourite teaching activities, the collaborative practical. My students are split into groups and are, as individual groups, trying to solve a small set of problems. The answers matter, but the process and group discussion is what I’m after.
Already, the person who has resisted all of my attempts to open up (for the last three days) is actively taking part, engaged and is contributing to their group. Other groups are discussing system aspects and, at times, having polite but intense arguments about interpretation.
Right now, I’ve stepped back to let them have a think, consolidate their ideas and let them start putting their notions down, to submit to me later.
Every student is currently engaged, everyone is contributing. There were some blank faces by the end of a 16 hour intensive weekend – all of those blank faces are gone.
Why am I here?
Posted: February 5, 2012 Filed under: Education, Opinion | Tags: education, higher education, reflection, teaching, teaching approaches 1 CommentI’m currently in Singapore, teaching an intensive course as 3 hours Friday night, 6 hours Saturday and 7 hours Sunday. Obviously a course like this poses challenges for both staff and students, given the intensive nature, so I try to make it very interactive, full of peer activity and very little ‘just listening to Nick speak’. (Sometimes I succeed better than others.)
On Friday night, I wrote two lines up on the board:
“Why are you here?”
“Why am I here?”
My first discussion with the class, at 7pm on a Friday night after they’d been at work all day, was on these questions. As always, initial participation was guarded. Most students are in classes to meet requirements, pass exams and get pieces of paper – asking questions about this can cause some soul searching. So I switched to a discussion about why I was there.
Pause. Then a cautious suggestion.
“Money?” (Class laughter)
This gave me a more relaxed class to talk to and the chance to talk about all the reasons I could be there. After a minute or two’s (guided) discussion, I heard:
“You’re here to share your knowledge?”
Which then guided us to the next stage of the intro discussion – the important bit. The fact that if they know the work then passing the exam will be relatively easy. The fact that I care about what they know and that, when they leave, they should be able to practise their art with confidence.
The whole activity took about 5 minutes and set the tone for highly engaged discussion in and around 28 people, late on a Friday night, that happened to include a lot of information on Distributed Systems. It’s an ice breaker, a warm-up and it also tells the students what I need them to know: that I need them to know.
It’s Saturday, it must be Singapore
Posted: February 4, 2012 Filed under: Education | Tags: education, higher education, intensive teaching, teaching, teaching approaches Leave a commentThe next few messages have the theme of Intensive Teaching, as that’s what I’m doing this weekend, at our Singapore campus. I have 28 students, half a semester of content and 16 hours over three days. These students almost all have responsible full-time jobs and, in Singapore, that means 5.5 days a week.
My challenge is to present the material of Distributed Systems in an interesting, engaging and informative way to 28 people who, by Sunday, will be at risk of narcolepsy. Fortunately, the students are keen, the material is quite interesting by itself and I’ve done this before.
I hope that some of the posts that follow give you some interesting insights into a type of teaching that we don’t do all that often in higher ed – the ultra-intensive. I look forward to your comments.
False praise but I love your journal (random number)
Posted: February 4, 2012 Filed under: Education, Opinion | Tags: education, higher education, reflection, teaching, teaching approaches 1 CommentYou’ll excuse me writing a post that is reaction to my comment spam but a recent spate of spam reminded me of something important.
False or insincere praise is worse than no praise at all.
I use WordPress’s ARMY OF AUTOMATION to detect and corral my spam comments into an area where I can inspect them and delete them, without all of you having to read about false Google page rank updates, or notes saying things like “Wow, I loved this, keep it up 782346”. Things designed to take you to trap blogs or URLs to give some person somewhere some money. But I still manually review the spam to ensure that some poor ‘fan’ hasn’t written something that tipped the false positive scale. What this all reminded me of was my disappointment when I realised that something that I thought was personalised praise was actually automated nonsense, designed to suck me in. It’s deflating.
Some years ago, when I was just starting out, I received an e-mail from the chair of a relatively highly ranked conference inviting me to be on the program committee. Given that I’d published a bit in the area, I thought it was personal recognition and was really chuffed until my wife, very, VERY delicately, pointed out that it had gone to a giant mailing list called DBWORLD. (Yes, I should have noticed, but in those days I read the content before author and subject. These days, I do a lot more pre-filtering.) Every single person on that list had received that e-mail. This was a not a personal e-mail in recognition of any achievement on my part, it was a seat-filling exercise that had hit me as part of a wave.
There is a big difference between addressing small groups of people within the large, while openly admitting that you’re speaking in the large, and sending something that appears to be personal, but is secretly in the large. If you’re sending out messages of congratulations to the top performers in your class, why not spend the extra effort to send each person a message? They probably are going to talk about it and may notice how similar your message is – some may not care, of course, but some might. People who aren’t showing up? You can probably use blind carbon copy to send out the initial reminder, because it’s not SUCH a personalised message, and then personalise as they respond, or you can start personal, if you can manage it.
If you have a group of top students, but each one has nailed down a specific aspect of the course, noting the specific achievement as part of genuine and personal praise is, I suspect, going to have a far greater effect than a blanket e-mail saying “You’ve all done well”. “You’ve all done well” means I sorted the marks, selected the top 5 and pasted their e-mail into a mail merger. Specific praise, to reinforce that you have read it, you do know it, and you know at least some of that student’s mind, is going to reinforce the reality that you did mark it, what was submitted was noted, the work that went into it mattered.
This is what we’re saying when we produce genuine praise: “what you did mattered and it was good”
That’s why all feedback should be genuine and grounded in the work. Even if you’re giving general feedback to a class, I think it’s really helpful to find as much ‘resonant truth’ as possible – the feedback that everyone nods along to and goes ‘yes’. I could talk about authenticity and the importance of being genuine for hours but, once again, that’s another post.
Don’t get me wrong. Genuine praise and follow-up on the mass scale is better than none at all. If you have the time and resources, then we can probably all agree that personalised is better than general.
However, false praise, or insincere or misdirected praise, is counter-productive and really doesn’t have much place in our practices. It’s false and, ultimately, we’re about truth.
Everything can convey a message
Posted: February 3, 2012 Filed under: Education | Tags: education, higher education, reflection, teaching approaches Leave a commentWhile reviewing my blog, I noticed that the ‘site visitor’ graphics on the top left looked a little like a city skyline.
I don’t know which city is represented in a tiny set of pixels but I have the urge to click across it and explore it. To see what pops up.
Of course, the visual I see is not tied to the information overlay that I have placed upon it… but what a curious idea.
A tiny idea, visually engaging, to drag someone off into a world of information.
You Can’t Believe You Did So Badly?
Posted: February 3, 2012 Filed under: Education, Opinion | Tags: education, higher education, reflection, teaching, teaching approaches 1 CommentA common e-mail comment I’ve had from students who didn’t get the mark that they were expecting is often “I can’t believe I did so badly” or words to that effect. “I knew I did well in the exam.” “I answered all of the questions correctly.” All of these are the same and, expect for the rare occasion when we have made an administrative error in assembling the mark, it usually indicates one thing.
The student doesn’t have enough knowledge to be able to assess their level of knowledge.
It would be glib to talk about Dunning-Kruger here, so I suspect it would be even more glib to mention it in passing and not discuss it! The Dunning-Kruger effect is a bias in your thinking that leads people with lower skill level to have an artificially high assessment of their own skills. The converse is that the highly skilled often underrate their ability.
When these students look at their exam scripts or assessments again, as I encourage them to do, the illusory has to confront reality. They see where I drew a red line across a page to indicate that they didn’t answer, say, question 2 at all, which cost them up to 30 marks. They see the places where I asked them to explain an unlabelled diagram, or to give me the detail underneath their broad brush statements. Sometimes, it’s seeing where I’ve written ‘sorry, no’ beside where they’ve answered both true and false to the same question. Without explanation. Then again, some students look at what I’ve said and try to find any possible wriggle room to get extra marks. Where it’s trying it on, it won’t get them anywhere, but I understand it. Where it’s a genuine lack of understanding as to why what they’ve provided is not a complete answer? That’s sadder, because they’re now functioning at a level where, until they advance, they will fail and not understand why they’re failing.
Worse, they may not realise even that they need help, or what kind it will take, to improve their skills. They’re fine – it’s the rest of the world, including me, that’s wrong.
You only have to speak to some students who have been around a little too long, or who left without their degrees, to realise that among those who have genuine problems, but are aware of them and striving to fix them, there are those who have equally genuine problems but assume that it’s nothing they can fix because it’s not their fault.
Does anyone out there have suggestions as to how we can help or approach these students, dealing with the delicate matter of their feelings as well as the cognitive bias? Please share them!
Failures of Politeness: Write Down Your Rules!
Posted: February 2, 2012 Filed under: Education, Opinion | Tags: education, higher education, reflection, teaching approaches Leave a commentBeing a University-level educator has some major advantages. One of the most significant is the degree to which the educators before me, in the school system, have shouldered the load of disruptive students, violent students – the students who didn’t manage to make it through the educational system and get into Uni. My heartfelt thanks, as always, for the effort and patience that it must take!
This gives me, 99% of the time, a very polite classroom. There’s always the impersonal indifference of late teen-age years (I remember how many other really important things I had to do, as well) but that’s usually fairly easily managed. It all runs like a large-ish dinner party with strangers most of the time. People pass the mustard when asked, generally share the food and no-one does anything diabolical. That’s why it’s surprising when you run across someone who breaks through that fragile and informal social compact. Let’s face it, you snatch the bread at home and someone’s going to have words with you. Steal the host’s fork and he or she will look at you with surprise, grab another one and, depending on what you do next, possibly etch your name into the ‘do not invite again’ column. Now that kind of ‘transgression’ is an obvious one – someone’s being rude, for whatever reason.
But let’s talk about finger bowls. A finger bowl is a bowl full of warm water with a squeeze of lemon in it. It’s used to wash your fingers when eating certain messy courses that must be handled manually. If that shows up on the table and you don’t know what it is, chances are you’re going to think it’s weak soup. There’s an etiquette in using these but any decent host is going to work out (a) if their guests know what these things are and clearly illustrate their use or (b) serve something else. Putting people in a situation where they accidentally break rules in ignorance doesn’t do anything other than upset people.
Community discussion, such as public forums or debates, can be confusing for some students, especially when they don’t understand the implicit social compact in play. When unwritten rules do get broken, people’s feelings get hurt on both sides and it’s hard to know what to do. If someone stood up and shouted in one of my lectures, I’d eventually call security most likely but the disruption has happened and the damage is done. If you have to forcibly march someone out of a computer lab because they’re causing trouble, the lesson is shot for the next 10-15 minutes, no matter how much everyone present agrees with the action. We deal with most of the ‘extreme’ actions with a well-publicised list of acceptable behaviours, but what about the implicit ones? The subtle ones?
This is why I support writing all of the rules down. When you set up an electronic forum, I think it’s really helpful to have a list of (mostly) DOs and (a few) DON’Ts. (My pet theory is that people remember verbs, not modifiers. Hence PLEASE WALK is better than DON’T RUN because it puts the right action in your head. No doubt someone has proven or disprove this. Comments welcome!) If someone hits one of the rules, you can moderate in a transparent and fair fashion. You don’t set up trip lines for people to stumble into because then people will wonder where they can and can’t step – restricting motion when you want them to be embracing opportunity! Do you have in-class discussions? A simple set of guidelines can be put on a forum, or an A4 sheet, or as part of the moderator’s kit and everyone can be briefed.
Unwritten rules, like the arbitrary finer detail of politeness, can be confusing, divisive and, in an educational setting, are a hindrance rather than a help. You don’t know all of the details of your students’ background and, in an ideal world, everyone would be able to come here. So rather than depending on everyone in the world knowing the unwritten rules, let’s write it all down and avoid these unnecessary failures of politeness.
