If we want to give feedback, then the time it takes to give feedback is going to determine how often we can do it. If the core of our evaluation is feedback, rather than some low-Bloom’s quiz-based approach giving a score of some sort, then we have to set our timelines to allow us to:
- Get the work when we are ready to work on it
- Undertake evaluation to the required level
- Return that feedback
- Do this at such a time that our students can learn from it and potentially use it immediately, to reinforce the learning
A commenter asked me how I actually ran large-scale assessment. The largest class I’ve run detailed feedback/evaluation on was 360 students with a weekly submission of a free-text (and graphics) solution to a puzzle. The goal was to have the feedback back within a week – prior to the next lecture where the solution would be delivered.
I love a challenge.
This scale is, obviously, impossible for one person to achieve reliably (we estimated it as at least forty hours of work). Instead, we allocated a marking team to this task, coordinated by the lead educator. (E1 and E2 model again. There was, initially, no automated capacity for this at the time although we added some later.)
Coordinating a team takes time. Even when you start with a rubric, free text answers can turn up answer themes that you didn’t anticipate and we would often carry our simple checks to make sure that things were working. But, looking at the marking time I was billed for (a good measure), I could run an entire cycle of this in three days, including briefing time, testing, marking, and oversight. But this is with a trained team, a big enough team, good conceptual design and a senior educator who’s happy to take a more executive role.
In this case, we didn’t give the students a chance to refactor their work but, if we had, we could have done this with a release 3 days after submission. To ensure that we then completed the work again by the ‘solution release’ deadline, we would have had to set the next submission deadline to only 24 hours after the feedback was released. This sounds short but, if we assume that some work has been done, then refactoring and reworking should take less time.
But then we have to think about the cost. By running two evaluation cycles we are providing early feedback but we have doubled our cost for human markers (a real concern for just about everyone these days).
My solution was to divide the work into two components. The first was quiz-based and could be automatically and immediately assessed by the Learning Management System, delivering a mark at a fixed deadline. The second part was looked at by humans. Thus, students received immediate feedback on part of the problem straight away (or a related problem) while they were waiting for humans.
But I’d be the first to admit that I hadn’t linked this properly, according to my new model. It does give us insight for a staged hybrid model where we buffer our human feedback by using either smart or dumb automated assessment component to highlight key areas and, better still, we can bring these forward to help guide time management.
I’m not unhappy with that early attempt at large-scale human feedback as the students were receiving some excellent evaluation and feedback and it was timely and valuable. It also gave me a lot of valuable information about design and about what can work, as well as how to manage marking teams.
I also realised that some courses could never be assessed the way that they claimed unless they had more people on task or only delivered at a time when the result wasn’t usable anymore.
How much time should we give students to rework things? I’d suggest that allowing a couple of days takes into account the life beyond Uni that many students have. That means that we can do a cycle in a week if we can keep our human evaluation stages under 2 days. Then, without any automated marking, we get 2 days (E1 or E2) + 2 days (student) + 2 days (second evaluation, possibly E2) + 1 day (final readjustment) and then we should start to see some of the best work that our students can produce.
Assuming, of course, that all of us can drop everything to slot into this. For me, this motivates a cycle closer to two to three weeks to allow for everything else that both groups are doing. But that then limits us to fewer than five big assessment items for a twelve week course!
What’s better? Twelve assessment items that are “submit and done” or four that are “refine and reinforce to best practice”? Is this even a question we can ask? I know which one is aesthetically pleasing, in terms of all of the educational aesthetics we’ve discussed so far but is this enough for an educator to be able to stand up to a superior and say “We’re not going to do X because it just doesn’t make any sense!”
What do you think?
One of the problems with any model that builds in more feedback is that we incur both the time required to produce the feedback and we also have an implicit requirement to allow students enough time to assimilate and make use of it. This second requirement is still there even if we don’t have subsequent attempts at work, as we want to build upon existing knowledge. The requirement for good feedback makes no sense without a requirement that it be useful.
But let me reiterate that pretty much all evaluation and feedback can be very valuable, no matter how small or quick, if we know what we are trying to achieve. (I’ll get to more complicated systems in later posts.)
Novice programmers often struggle with programming and this early stage of development is often going to influence if they start off thinking that they can program or not. Given that automated evaluation only really provides useful feedback once the student has got something working, novice programming classes are an ideal place to put human markers. If we can make students think “Yes, I can do this” early on, this is the emotion that they will remember. We need to get to big problems quickly, turn them into manageable issues that can be overcome, and then let motivation and curiosity take the rest.
There’s an excellent summary paper on computer programming visualisation systems aimed at novice programmers, which discusses some of the key problems novices face on their path to mastery:
- Novices can see some concepts as code rather than the components of a dynamic process. For example, they might see objects as simply a way of containing things rather than modelling objects and their behaviours. These static perceptions prevent the students from understanding that they are designing behaviours, not just writing magic formulas.
- There can be significant difficulties in understanding the computer, seeing the notional machine that is the abstraction, forming a basis upon which knowledge of one language or platform could be used elsewhere.
- Misunderstanding fundamental concepts is common and such misconceptions can easily cause weak understanding, leaving the students in the liminal state, unable to assimilate a threshold concept and move on.
- Students struggle to trace programs and work out what state the program should be in. In my own community, Raymond Lister, Donna Teague, Simon, and others have clearly shown that many students struggle with the tracing of even simple programs.
If we have put human markers (E1 or E2) into a programming class and identified that these are the problems we’re looking for, we can provide immediate targeted evaluation that is also immediate constructive feedback. On the day, in response to actual issues, authentic demonstration of a solution process that students can model. This is the tightest feedback and reward loop we can offer. How does this work?
- Program doesn’t work because of one of the key problem areas.
- Human evaluator intervenes with student and addresses the issue, encouraging discovery inside the problem area.
- Student tries to identify problem and explains it to evaluator in context, modelling evaluator and based on existing knowledge.
- Evaluator provides more guidance and feedback.
- Student continues to work on problem.
- We hope that the student will come across the solution (or think towards it) but we may have to restart this loop.
Note that we’re not necessarily giving the solution here but we can consider leading towards this if the student is getting visibly frustrated. I’d suggest never telling a student what to type as it doesn’t address any of the problems, it just makes the student dependent upon being told the answer. Not desirable. (There’s an argument here for rich development environments that I’ll expand on later.)
Evaluation like this is formative, immediate and rich. We can even streamline it with guidelines to help the evaluators although much of this will amount to supporting students as they learn to read their own code and understand the key concepts. We should develop students simple to complex, concrete to abstract, so some problems with abstraction are to be expected, especially if we are playing near any threshold concepts.
But this is where learning designers have to be ready to say “this may cause trouble” and properly brief the evaluators who will be on the ground. If we want our evaluators to work efficiently and effectively, we have to brief them on what to expect, what to do, and how to follow up.
If you’ve missed it so far, one of our big responsibilities is training our evaluation team. It’s only by doing this that we can make sure that our evaluators aren’t getting bogged down in side issues or spending too much time with one student and doing the work for them. This training should include active scenario-based training to allow the evaluators to practise with the oversight of the educators and designers.
We have finite resources. If we want to support a room full of novices, we have to prepare for the possibility of all of them having problems at once and the only way to support that at scale is to have an excellent design and train for it.
I’m about to start a new thread of discussion, once I’ve completed the assessment posts, and this seemed to be good priming for thinking ahead.
“The true business of people should be to go back to school and think about whatever it was they were thinking about before somebody came along and told them they had to earn a living.”
Buckminster Fuller, reference.
I drew up a picture to show how many people appear to think about art. Now this is not to say that this is my thinking on art but you only have to go to galleries for a while to quickly pick up the sotto voce (oh, and loud) discussions about what constitutes art. Once we move beyond representative art (art that looks like real things), it can become harder for people to identify what they consider to be art.
I drew up this diagram in response to reading early passages from Dewey’s “Art as Experience”:
“An instructive history of modern art could be written in terms of the formation of the distinctively modern institutions of museum and exhibition gallery. (p8)
The growth of capitalism has been a powerful influence in the development of the museum as the proper home for works of art, and in the promotion of the idea that they are apart from the common life. (p8)
Why is there repulsion when the high achievements of fine art are brought into connection with common life, the life that we share with all living creatures?” (p20)
Dewey’s thinking is that we have moved from a time when art was deeply integrated into everyday life to a point where we have corralled “worthy” art into buildings called art galleries and museums, generally in response to nationalistic or capitalistic drivers, in order to construct an artefact that indicates how cultured and awesome we are. But, by doing this, we force a definition that something is art if it’s the kind of thing you’d see in an art gallery. We take art out of life, making valuable relics of old oil jars and assigning insane values to collections of oil on canvas that please the eye, and by doing so we demand that ‘high art’ cannot be part of most people’s lives.
But the gallery container is not enough to define art. We know that many people resist modernism (and post-modernism) almost reflexively, whether it’s abstract, neo-primitivist, pop, or simply that the viewer doesn’t feel convinced that they are seeing art. Thus, in the diagram above, real art is found in galleries but there are many things found in galleries that are not art. To steal an often overheard quote: “my kids could do that”. (I’m very interested in the work of both Rothko and Malevich so I hear this a lot.)
But let’s resist the urge to condemn people because, after we’ve wrapped art up in a bow and placed it on a pedestal, their natural interpretation of what they perceive, combined with what they already know, can lead them to a conclusion that someone must be playing a joke on them. Aesthetic sensibilities are inherently subjective and evolve over time, in response to exposure, development of depth of knowledge, and opportunity. The more we accumulate of these guiding experiences, the more likely we are to develop the cultural capital that would allow us to stand in any art gallery in the world and perceive the art, mediated by our own rich experiences.
Cultural capital is a term used to describe the assets that we have that aren’t money, in its many forms, but can still contribute to social mobility and perception of class. I wrote a long piece on it and perception here, if you’re interested. Dewey, working in the 1930s, was reacting to the institutionalisation of art and was able to observe people who were attempting to build a cultural reputation, through the purchase of ‘art that is recognised as art’, as part of their attempts to construct a new class identity. Too often, when people who are grounded in art history and knowledge look at people who can’t recognise ‘art that is accepted as art by artists’ there is an aspect of sneering, which is both unpleasant and counter-productive. However, such unpleasantness is easily balanced by those people who stand firm in artistic ignorance and, rather than quietly ignoring things that they don’t like, demand that it cannot be art and loudly deride what they see in order to challenge everyone around them to accept the art of an earlier time as the only art that there is.
Neither of these approaches is productive. Neither support the aesthetics of real discussion, nor are they honest in intent beyond a judgmental and dismissive approach. Not beautiful. Not true. Doesn’t achieve anything useful. Not good.
If this argument is seeming familiar, we can easily apply it to education because we have, for the most part, defined many things in terms of the institutions in which we find them. Everyone else who stands up and talks at people over Power Point slides for forty minutes is probably giving a presentation. Magically, when I do it in a lecture theatre at a University, I’m giving a lecture and now it has amazing educational powers! I once gave one of my lectures as a presentation and it was, to my amusement, labelled as a presentation without any suggestion of still being a lecture. When I am a famous professor, my lectures will probably start to transform into keynotes and masterclasses.
I would be recognised as an educator, despite having no teaching qualifications, primarily because I give presentations inside the designated educational box that is a University. The converse of this is that “university education” cannot be given outside of a University, which leaves every newcomer to tertiary education, whether face-to-face or on-line, with a definitional crisis that cannot be resolved in their favour. We already know that home-schooling, while highly variable in quality and intention, is a necessity in some places where the existing educational options are lacking, is often not taken seriously by the establishment. Even if the person teaching is a qualified teacher and the curriculum taught is an approved one, the words “home schooling” construct tension with our assumption that schooling must take place in boxes labelled as schools.
What is art? We need a better definition than “things I find in art galleries that I recognise as art” because there is far too much assumption in there, too much infrastructure required and there is not enough honesty about what art is. Some of the works of art we admire today were considered to be crimes against conventional art in their day! Let me put this in context. I am an artist and I have, with 1% of the talent, sold as many works as Van Gogh did in his lifetime (one). Van Gogh’s work was simply rubbish to most people who looked at it then.
And yet now he is a genius.
What is education? We need a better definition than “things that happen in schools and universities that fit my pre-conceptions of what education should look like.” We need to know so that we can recognise, learn, develop and improve education wherever we find it. The world population will peak at around 10 billion people. We will not have schools for all of them. We don’t have schools for everyone now. We may never have the infrastructure we need for this and we’re going need a better definition if we want to bring real, valuable and useful education to everyone. We define in order to clarify, to guide, and to tell us what we need to do next.
In my earlier post, I wrote:
Even where we are using mechanical or scripted human [evaluators], the hand of the designer is still firmly on the tiller and it is that control that allows us to take a less active role in direct evaluation, while still achieving our goals.
and I said I’d discuss how we could scale up the evaluation scheme to a large first year class. Finally, thank you for your patience, here it is.
The first thing we need to acknowledge is that most first-year/freshman classes are not overly complex nor heavily abstract. We know that we want to work concrete to abstract, simple to complex, as we build knowledge, taking into account how students learn, their developmental stages and the mechanics of human cognition. We want to focus on difficult concepts that students struggle with, to ensure that they really understand something before we go on.
In many courses and disciplines, the skills and knowledge we wish to impart are fundamental and transformative, but really quite straight-forward to evaluate. What this means, based on what I’ve already laid out, is that my role as a designer is going to be crucial in identifying how we teach and evaluate the learning of concepts, but the assessment or evaluation probably doesn’t require my depth of expert knowledge.
The model I put up previously now looks like this:
My role (as the notional E1) has moved entirely to design and oversight, which includes developing the E3 and E4 tests and training the next tier down, if they aren’t me.
As an example, I’ve put in two feedback points, suitable for some sort of worked output in response to an assignment. Remember that the E2 evaluation is scripted (or based on rubrics) yet provides human nuance and insight, with personalised feedback. That initial feedback point could be peer-based evaluation, group discussion and demonstration, or whatever you like. The key here is that the evaluation clearly indicates to the student how they are travelling; it’s never just “8/10 Good”. If this is a first year course then we can capture much of the required feedback with trained casuals and the underlying automated systems, or by training our students on exemplars to be able to evaluate each other’s work, at least to a degree.
The same pattern as before lies underneath: meaningful timing with real implications. To get access to human evaluation, that work has to go in by a certain date, to allow everyone involved to allow enough time to perform the task. Let’s say the first feedback is a peer-assessment. Students can be trained on exemplars, with immediate feedback through many on-line and electronic systems, and then look at each other’s submissions. But, at time X, they know exactly how much work they have to do and are not delayed because another student handed up late. After this pass, they rework and perhaps the next point is a trained casual tutor, looking over the work again to see how well they’ve handled the evaluation.
There could be more rework and review points. There could be less. The key here is that any submission deadline is only required because I need to allocate enough people to the task and keep the number of tasks to allocate, per person, at a sensible threshold.
Beautiful evaluation is symmetrically beautiful. I don’t overload the students or lie to them about the necessity of deadlines but, at the same time, I don’t overload my human evaluators by forcing them to do things when they don’t have enough time to do it properly.
As for them, so for us.
Throughout this process, the E1 (supervising evaluator) is seeing all of the information on what’s happening and can choose to intervene. At this scale, if E1 was also involved in evaluation, intervention would be likely last-minute and only in dire emergency. Early intervention depends upon early identification of problems and sufficient resources to be able to act. Your best agent of intervention is probably the person who has the whole vision of the course, assisted by other human evaluators. This scheme gives the designer the freedom to have that vision and allows you to plan for how many other people you need to help you.
In terms of peer assessment, we know that we can build student communities and that students can appreciate each other’s value in a way that enhances their perceptions of the course and keeps them around for longer. This can be part of our design. For example, we can ask the E2 evaluators to carry out simple community-focused activities in classes as part of the overall learning preparation and, once students are talking, get them used to the idea of discussing ideas rather than having dualist confrontations. This then leads into support for peer evaluation, with the likelihood of better results.
Some of you will be saying “But this is unrealistic, I’ll never get those resources.” Then, in all likelihood, you are going to have to sacrifice something: number of evaluations, depth of feedback, overall design or speed of intervention.
You are a finite resource. Killing you with work is not beautiful. I’m writing all of this to speak to everyone in the community, to get them thinking about the ugliness of overwork, the evil nature of demanding someone have no other life, the inherent deceit in pretending that this is, in any way, a good system.
We start by changing our minds, then we change the world.
In yesterday’s post, I laid out an evaluation scheme that allocated the work of evaluation based on the way that we tend to teach and the availability, and expertise, of those who will be evaluating the work. My “top” (arbitrary word) tier of evaluators, the E1s, were the teaching staff who had the subject matter expertise and the pedagogical knowledge to create all of the other evaluation materials. Despite the production of all of these materials and designs already being time-consuming, in many cases we push all evaluation to this person as well. Teachers around the world know exactly what I’m talking about here.
Our problem is time. We move through it, tick after tick, in one direction and we can neither go backwards nor decrease the number of seconds it takes to perform what has to take a minute. If we ask educators to undertake good learning design, have engaging and interesting assignments, work on assessment levels well up in the taxonomies and we then ask them to spend day after day standing in front of a class and add marking on top?
Forget it. We know that we are going to sacrifice the number of tasks, the quality of the tasks or our own quality of life. (I’ve written a lot about time before, you can search my blog for time or read this, which is a good summary.) If our design was good, then sacrificing the number of tasks or their quality is going to compromise our design. If we stop getting sleep or seeing our families, our work is going to suffer and now our design is compromised by our inability to perform to our actual level of expertise!
When Henry Ford refused to work his assembly line workers beyond 40 hours because of the increased costs of mistakes in what were simple, mechanical, tasks, why do we keep insisting that complex, delicate, fragile and overwhelmingly cognitive activities benefit from us being tired, caffeine-propped, short-tempered zombies?
We’re not being honest. And thus we are not meeting our requirement for truth. A design that gets mangled for operational reasons without good redesign won’t achieve our outcomes. That’s not going to achieve our results – so that’s not good. But what of beauty?
What are the aesthetics of good work? In Petts’ essay on the Arts and Crafts movement, he speaks of William Morris, Dewey and Marx (it’s a delightful essay) and ties the notion of good work to work that is authentic, where such work has aesthetic consequences (unsurprisingly given that we were aiming for beauty), and that good (beautiful) work can be the result of human design if not directly the human hand. Petts makes an interesting statement, which I’m not sure Morris would let pass un-challenged. (But, of course, I like it.)
It is not only the work of the human hand that is visible in art but of human design. In beautiful machine-made objects we still can see the work of the “abstract artist”: such an individual controls his labor and tools as much as the handicraftsman beloved of Ruskin.
Jeffrey Petts, Good Work and Aesthetic Education: William Morris, the Arts and Crafts Movement, and Beyond, The Journal of Aesthetic Education, Vol. 42, No. 1 (Spring, 2008), page 36
Petts notes that it is interesting that Dewey’s own reflection on art does not acknowledge Morris especially when the Arts and Crafts’ focus on authenticity, necessary work and a dedication to vision seems to be a very suitable framework. As well, the Arts and Crafts movement focused on the rejection of the industrial and a return to traditional crafting techniques, including social reform, which should have resonated deeply with Dewey and his peers in the Pragmatists. However, Morris’ contribution as a Pragmatist aesthetic philosopher does not seem to be recognised and, to me, this speaks volumes of the unnecessary separation between cloister and loom, when theory can live in the pragmatic world and forms of practice can be well integrated into the notional abstract. (Through an Arts and Crafts lens, I would argue that there is are large differences between industrialised education and the provision, support and development of education using the advantages of technology but that is, very much, another long series of posts, involving both David Bowie and Gary Numan.)
But here is beauty. The educational designer who carries out good design and manages to hold on to enough of her time resources to execute the design well is more aesthetically pleasing in terms of any notion of creative good works. By going through a development process to stage evaluations, based on our assessment and learning environment plans, we have created “made objects” that reflect our intention and, if authentic, then they must be beautiful.
We now have a strong motivating factor to consider both the often over-looked design role of the educator as well as the (easier to perceive) roles of evaluation and intervention.
I’ve revisited the diagram from yesterday’s post to show the different roles during the execution of the course. Now you can clearly see that the course lecturer maintains involvement and, from our discussion above, is still actively contributing to the overall beauty of the course and, we would hope, it’s success as a learning activity. What I haven’t shown is the role of the E1 as designer prior to the course itself – but that’s another post.
Even where we are using mechanical or scripted human markers, the hand of the designer is still firmly on the tiller and it is that control that allows us to take a less active role in direct evaluation, while still achieving our goals.
Do I need to personally look at each of the many works all of my first years produce? In our biggest years, we had over 400 students! It is beyond the scale of one person and, much as I’d love to have 40 expert academics for that course, a surplus of E1 teaching staff is unlikely anytime soon. However, if I design the course correctly and I continue to monitor and evaluate the course, then the monster of scale that I have can be defeated, if I can make a successful argument that the E2 to E4 marker tiers are going to provide the levels of feedback, encouragement and detailed evaluation that are required at these large-scale years.
Tomorrow, we look at the details of this as it applies to a first-year programming course in the Processing language, using a media computation approach.
We’ve looked at a classification of evaluators that matches our understanding of the complexity of the assessment tasks we could ask students to perform. If we want to look at this from an aesthetic framing then, as Dewey notes:
“By common consent, the Parthenon is a great work of art. Yet it has aesthetic standing only as the work becomes an experience for a human being.”
John Dewey, Art as Experience, Chapter 1, The Live Creature.
Having a classification of evaluators cannot be appreciated aesthetically unless we provide a way for it to be experienced. Our aesthetic framing demands an implementation that makes use of such an evaluator classification, applies to a problem where we can apply a pedagogical lens and then, finally, we can start to ask how aesthetically pleasing it is.
And this is what brings us to beauty.
A systematic allocation of tasks to these different evaluators should provide valid and reliable marking, assuming we’ve carried out our design phase correctly. But what about fairness, motivation or relevancy, the three points that we did not address previously? To be able to satisfy these aesthetic constraints, and to confirm the others, it now matters how we handle these evaluation phases because it’s not enough to be aware that some things are going to need different approaches, we have to create a learning environment to provide fairness, motivation and relevancy.
I’ve already argued that arbitrary deadlines are unfair, that extrinsic motivational factors are grossly inferior to those found within, and, in even earlier articles, that we too insist on the relevancy of the measurements that we have, rather than designing for relevancy and insisting on the measurements that we need.
To achieve all of this and to provide a framework that we can use to develop a sense of aesthetic satisfaction (and hence beauty), here is a brief description of a four-tier, penalty free, assessment.
Let’s say that, as part of our course design, we develop an assessment item, A1, that is one of the elements to provide evaluation coverage of one of the knowledge areas. (Thus, we can assume that A1 is not required to be achieved by itself to show mastery but I will come back to this in a later post.)
Recall that the marking groups are: E1, expert human markers; E2, trained or guided human markers; E3, complex automated marking; and E4, simple and mechanical automated marking.
A1 has four, inbuilt, course deadlines but rather than these being arbitrary reductions of mark, these reflect the availability of evaluation resource, a real limitation as we’ve already discussed. When the teacher sets these courses up, she develops an evaluation scheme for the most advanced aspects (E1, which is her in this case), an evaluation scheme that could be used by other markers or her (E2), an E3 acceptance test suite and some E4 tests for simplicity. She matches the aspects of the assignment to these evaluation groups, building from simple to complex, concrete to abstract, definite to ambiguous.
The overall assessment of work consists of the evaluation of four separate areas, associated with each of the evaluators. Individual components of the assessment build up towards the most complex but, for example, a student should usually have had to complete at least some of E4-evaluated work to be able to attempt E3.
Here’s a diagram of the overall pattern for evaluation and assessment.
The first deadline for the assignment is where all evaluation is available. If students provide their work by this time, the E1 will look at the work, after executing the automated mechanisms, first E4 then E3, and applying the E2 rubrics. If the student has actually answered some E1-level items, then the “top tier” E1 evaluator will look at that work and evaluate it. Regardless of whether there is E1 work or not, human-written feedback from the lecturer on everything will be provided if students get their work in at that point. This includes things that would be of help for all other levels. This is the richest form of feedback, it is the most useful to the students and, if we are going to use measures of performance, this is the point at which the most opportunities to demonstrate performance can occur.
This feedback will be provided in enough time that the students can modify their work to meet the next deadline, which is the availability of E2 markers. Now TAs or casuals are marking instead or the lecturer is now doing easier evaluation from a simpler rubric. These human markers still start by running the automated scripts, E4 then E3, to make sure that they can mark something in E2. They also provide feedback on everything in E2 to E4, sent out in time for students to make changes for the next deadline.
Now note carefully what’s going on here. Students will get useful feedback, which is great, but because we have these staggered deadlines, we can pass on important messages as we identify problems. If the class is struggling with key complex or more abstract elements, harder to fix and requiring more thought, we know about it quickly because we have front-loaded our labour.
Once we move down to the fully automated systems, we’re losing opportunities for rich and human feedback to students who have not yet submitted. However, we have a list of students who haven’t submitted, which is where we can allocate human labour, and we can encourage them to get work in, in time for the E3 “complicated” script. This E3 marking script remains open for the rest of the semester, to encourage students to do the work sometime ahead of the exam. At this point, the discretionary allocation of labour for feedback is possible, because the lecturer has done most of the hard work in E1 and E2 and should, with any luck, have far fewer evaluation activities for this particular assignment. (Other things may intrude, including other assignments, but we have time bounds on this one, which is better than we often have!)
Finally, at the end of the teaching time (in our parlance, a semester’s teaching will end then we will move to exams), we move the assessment to E4 marking only, giving students the ability (if required) to test their work to meet any “minimum performance” requirements you may have for their eligibility to sit the exam. Eventually, the requirement to enter a record of student performance in this course forces us to declare the assessment item closed.
This is totally transparent and it’s based on real resource limitations. Our restrictions have been put in place to improve student feedback opportunities and give them more guidance. We have also improved our own ability to predict our workload and to guide our resource requests, as well as allowing us to reuse some elements of automated scripts between assignments, without forcing us to regurgitate entire assignments. These deadlines are not arbitrary. They are not punitive. We have improved feedback and provided supportive approaches to encourage more work on assignments. We are able to get better insight into what our students are achieving, against our design, in a timely fashion. We can now see fairness, intrinsic motivation and relevance.
I’m not saying this is beautiful yet (I think I have more to prove to you) but I think this is much closer than many solutions that we are currently using. It’s not hiding anything, so it’s true. It does many things we know are great for students so it looks pretty good.
Tomorrow, we’ll look at whether such a complicated system is necessary for early years and, spoilers, I’ll explain a system for first year that uses peer assessment to provide a similar, but easier to scale, solution.
This is a great TED talk. Joi Ito, director of the MIT media lab, talks about the changes that technological innovation have made to the ways that we can work on problems and work together.
I don’t agree with everything, especially the pejorative cast on education, but I totally agree that the way that we construct learning environments has to take into the way that our students will work, rather than trying to prepare them for the world that we (or our parents) worked in. Pretending that many of our students will have to construct simple things by hand, when that is what we were doing fifty years ago, takes up time that we could be using for more authentic and advanced approaches that cover the same material. Some foundations are necessary. Some are tradition. Being a now-ist forces us to question which is which and then act on that knowledge.
Your students will be able to run enterprises from their back rooms that used to require the resources of multinational companies. It’s time to work out what they actually need to get from us and, once we know that, deliver it. There is a place for higher education but it may not be the one that we currently have.
A lot of what I talk about on this blog looks as if I’m being progressive but, really, I’m telling you what we already know to be true right now. And what we have known to be true for decades, if not centuries. I’m not a futurist, at all. I’m a now-ist with a good knowledge of history who sees a very bleak future if we don’t get better at education.
(Side note: yes, this is over twelve minutes long. Watch our around the three minute mark for someone reading documents on an iPad up the back, rather than watching him talk. I think this is a little long and staged, when it could have been tighter, but that’s the TED format for you. You know what you’re getting into and, because it’s not being formally evaluated, it doesn’t matter as much if you recall high-level rather than detail.)
We know that we can, and do, assess different levels of skill and knowledge. We know that we can, and do, often resort to testing memorisation, simple understanding and, sometimes, the application of the knowledge that we teach. We also know that the best evaluation of work tends to come from the teachers who know the most about the course and have the most experience, but we also know that these teachers have many demands on their time.
The principles of good assessment can be argued but we can probably agree upon a set much like this:
- Valid, based on the content. We should be evaluating things that we’ve taught.
- Reliable, in that our evaluations are consistent and return similar results for different evaluators, that re-evaluating would give the same result, that we’re not unintentionally raising or lowering difficulty.
- Motivating, in that we know how much influence feedback and encouragement have on students, so we should be maximising the motivation and, we hope, this should drive engagement.
- Finally, we want our assessment to be as relevant to us, in terms of being able to use the knowledge gained to improve or modify our courses, as it is to our student. Better things should come from having run this assessment.
Notice that nothing here says “We have to mark or give a grade”, yet we can all agree on these principles, and any scheme that adheres to them, as being a good set of characteristics to build upon. Let me label these as aesthetics of assessment, now let’s see if I can make something beautiful. Let me put together my shopping list.
- Feedback is essential. We can see that. Let’s have lots of feedback and let’s put it in places where it can be the most help.
- Contextual relevance is essential. We’re going to need good design and work out what we want to evaluate and then make sure we locate our assessment in the right place.
- We want to encourage students. This means focusing on intrinsics and support, as well as well-articulated pathways to improvement.
- We want to be fair and honest.
- We don’t want to overload either the students or ourselves.
- We want to allow enough time for reliable and fair evaluation of the work.
What are the resources we have?
- Course syllabus
- Course timetable
- The teacher’s available time
- TA or casual evaluation time, if available
- Student time (for group work or individual work, including peer review)
- Rubrics for evaluation.
- Computerised/automated evaluation systems, to varying degree.
Wait, am I suggesting automated marking belongs in a beautiful marking system? Why, yes, I think it has a place, if we are going to look at those things we can measure mechanistically. Checking to see if someone has ticked the right box for a Bloom’s “remembering” level activity? Machine task. Checking to see if an essay has a lot of syntax or grammatical errors? Machine task. But we can build on that. We can use human markers and machine markers, in conjunction, to the best of their strengths and to overcome each other’s weaknesses.
If we think about it, we really have four separate tiers of evaluators to draw upon, who have different levels of ability. These are:
- E1: The course designers and subject matter experts who have a deep understanding of the course and could, possibly with training, evaluate work and provide rich feedback.
- E2: Human evaluators who have received training or are following a rubric provided by the E1 evaluators. They are still human-level reasoners but are constrained in terms of breadth of interpretation. (It’s worth noting that peer assessment could fit in here, as well.)
- E3: High-level machine evaluation includes machine-based evaluation of work, which could include structural, sentiment or topic analysis, as well as running complicated acceptance tests that look for specific results, coverage of topics or, in the case of programming tasks, certain output in response to given input. The E3 evaluation mechanisms will require some work to set up but can provide evaluation of large classes in hours, rather than days.
- E4: Low-level machine evaluation, checking for conformity in terms of length of assignment, names, type of work submitted, plagiarism detection. In the case of programming assignments, E4 would check that the filenames were correct, that the code compiled and also may run some very basic acceptance tests. E4 evaluation mechanisms should be quick to set up and very quick to execute.
This separation clearly shows us a graded increase of expertise that corresponds to an increase of time spent and, unfortunately, a decrease in time available. E4 evaluation is very easy to set up and carry out but it’s not fantastic for detailed feedback or higher Bloom’s level. Yet we have an almost infinite amount of this marking time available. E1 markers will (we hope) give the best feedback but they take a long time and this immediately reduces the amount of time to be spent on other things. How do we handle this and select the best mix?
While we’re thinking about that, let’s see if we are meeting the aesthetics.
- Valid? Yes. We’ve looked at our design (we appear to have a design!) and we’ve specifically set up evaluation into different areas while thinking about outcomes, levels and areas that we care about.
- Reliable? Looks like it. E3 and E4 are automated and E2 has a defined marking rubric. E1 should also have guidelines but, if we’ve done our work properly in design, the majority of marks, if not all of them, are going to be assigned reliably.
- Fair? We’ve got multiple stages of evaluation but we haven’t yet said how we’re going to use this so we don’t have this one yet.
- Motivating? Hmm, we have the potential for a lot of feedback but we haven’t said how we’re using that, either. Don’t have this one either.
- Relevant to us and the students. No, for the same reasons as 3 and 4, we haven’t yet shown how this can be useful to us.
It looks like we’re half-way there. Tomorrow, we finish the job.
How does one actually turn everything I’ve been saying into a course that can be taught? We already have examples of this working, whether in the performance/competency based models found in medical schools around the world or whether in mastery learning based approaches where do not measure anything except whether a student has demonstrated sufficient knowledge or skill to show an appropriate level of mastery.
An absence of grades, or student control over their grades, is not as uncommon as many people think. MIT in the United States give students their entire first semester with no grades more specific than pass or fail. This is a deliberate decision to ease the transition of students who have gone from being leaders at their own schools to the compressed scale of MIT. Why compressed? If we were to assess all school students then we would need a scale that could measure all levels of ability, from ‘not making any progress at school’ to ‘transcendent’. The tertiary entry band is somewhere between ‘passing school studies’ to ‘transcendent’ and, depending upon the college that you enter, can shift higher and higher as your target institution becomes more exclusive. If you look at the MIT entry requirements, they are a little coy for ‘per student’ adjustments, but when the 75th percentile for the SAT components is 800, 790, 790, and 800,800,800 would be perfect, we can see that any arguments on how demotivating simple pass/fail grades must be for excellent students have not just withered, they have caught fire and the ash has blown away. When the target is MIT, it appears the freshmen get their head around a system that is even simpler than Rapaport’s.
Other universities, such as Brown, deliberately allow students to choose how their marks are presented, as they wish to deemphasise the numbers in order to focus on education. It is not a cakewalk to get into Brown, as these figures attest, and yet Brown have made a clear statement that they have changed their grading system in order to change student behaviour – and the world is just going to have to deal with that. It doesn’t seem to be hurting their graduates, from quotes on the website such as “Our 85% admission rate to medical school and 89% admission rate to law school are both far above the national average.”
And, returning to medical schools themselves, my own University runs a medical program where the usual guidelines for grading do not hold. The medical school is running on a performance/competency scheme, where students who wish to practise medicine must demonstrate that they are knowledgable, skilful and safe to practice. Medical schools have identified the core problem in my thought experiment where two students could have the opposite set of knowledge or skills and they have come to the same logical conclusion: decide what is important and set up a scheme that works for it.
When I was a solider, I was responsible for much of the Officer Training in my home state for the Reserve. We had any number of things to report on for our candidates, across knowledge and skills, but one of them was “Demonstrate the qualities of an officer” and this single item could fail an otherwise suitable candidate. If a candidate could not be trusted to one day be in command of troops on the battlefield, based on problems we saw in peacetime, then they would be counselled to see if it could be addressed and, if not, let go. (I can assure you that this was not used often and it required a large number of observations and discussion before we would pull that handle. The power of such a thing forced us to be responsible.)
We know that limited scale, mastery-based approaches are not just working in the vocational sector but in allied sectors (such as the military), in the Ivy league (Brown) and in highly prestigious non-Ivy league institutions such as MIT. But we also know of examples such as Harvey Mudd, who proudly state that only seven students since 1955 have earned a 4.0 GPA and have a post on the career blog devoted to “explaining why your GPA is so low” And, be in no doubt, Harvey Mudd is an excellent school, especially for my discipline. I’m not criticising their program, I’ve only heard great things about them, but when you have to put up a page like that? You’re admitting that there’s a problem but you are pushing it on to the student to fix it. But contrast that with Brown, who say to employers “look at our students, not their grades” (at least on the website).
Feedback to the students on their progress is essential. Being able to see what your students are up to is essential for the teacher. Being able to see what your staff and schools are doing is important for the University. Employers want to know who to hire. Which of these is the most important?
The students. It has to be the students. Doesn’t it? (Arguments for the existence of Universities as a self-sustaining bureaucracy system in the comments, if you think that’s a thing you want to do.)
This is not an easy problem but, as we can see, we have pieces of the solution all over the place. Tomorrow, I’m going to put in a place a cornerstone of beautiful assessment that I haven’t seen provided elsewhere or explained in this way. (Then all of you can tell me which papers I should have read to get it from, I can publish the citation, and we can all go forward.)