The Tyranny of E-mail – Let’s go to the Piazza!

E-mail is probably the worst way to have an argument. Both sides tend to end up constructing long, winding and complex arguments that neither side really reads, rebutting the points that they feel they can and disregarding the rest. In truth, e-mail is the digital equivalent of “You said what?” when arguments start to fester.

It’s a shame, then, that we use such similar mechanisms in on-line fora. One student posts something, another student responds and addresses points, student one addresses some and ignores the rest and off we go. It’s a fundamentally competitive mechanism, because we do not provide an intrinsic mechanism to allow for modification of an existing statement in a way that doesn’t either appear to favour sycophancy or belligerence.

Tools like Piazza, where you can construct good answers and questions in collaboration with staff oversight, provide a completely different approach. You do not have to superimpose your answer or rebuttal over someone else, you can work with them to arrive at a new, joint answer. This is a completely different approach. It’s not even like Wikipedia where you are all sharing the same working space – in Piazza you have student space and staff space, you can provide a student refined answer and a staff refined answer. Students can work together to come up with a question and staff can work together to refine their follow-up question or teaching points.

Where all students have access to working on a common question or answer, no editing action (given that you’re reading and otherwise participating) can indicate agreement (or lack of significant dissent) but no giant bread crumb trail has to be followed. If things start heading a way that you don’t agree – join the editing process. (Falling back on staff oversight if the collaboration does happen to fall apart, but being able to constantly update and edit that staff oversight.)

Collaboration is built into Piazza as a base concept. It’s a fascinating tool and it could be handy if you find yourself having to act as the fight stopper in your on-line fora or student e-mail exchanges.


The Impact of Snappy Titles, or, “You Must Read This Or Die”

I’ve been experimenting with making my work easier to engage with in many ways. For students, this involves careful design and construction, structured development and all those good things. For you, my readers, I’ve been working with content, coming up with snappy titles to draw you in and trying to bring in graphics. Ultimately, I want my voice to be part of your thoughts on this area so I’m trying to make the blog itself attractive and engaging.

Apparently, the biggest impact on my readership appears to be the titles. Yesterday’s post had 22 readers within 6 hours of posting. It also had a really snappy title.

One of my recent posts. “This Is Five Minutes Work”, is, to me, one of the best posts I’ve put in – it’s a live writing exercise designed to show what five minutes of uninterrupted activity can look like. It’s designed to frame the old chestnut of ‘how much time do we allow in class’? And it attracted the least viewers of any of my posts, barring the time when I didn’t use categories or Facebook linking.

Five.

Five people read “Five Minutes”, either on Facebook or in the Edu stream. Somehow, for that post, less than 1/8 of my usual readership decided to read this post, across all of the countries and places that they normally read.

Given that the tags and categories are the same, I can only draw one conclusion – there is something about the title or initial set-up that makes people think “Meh.” Now this is fascinating but, at the same time, I found the challenge of producing “This Is Five Minutes Work” to be quite exacting and it is not something I would have done, if not to illustrate a point.

Regrettably, this point has not been made because almost no-one has read it.

I imagine that this post will have even fewer viewers. A number of people will refuse to read this BECAUSE of the title – they don’t want to be manipulated. Maybe I’m wrong – maybe the Oyster post will have enough follow-on ‘titleness’ to keep people coming back.

It’s interesting, isn’t it? I have some data but I’m not really sure what it means – the constant dilemma of the scientist.

I’m not sure what to do with this information but a good scientist continues to measure, even after they get the result that they want, to see what the result actually is. I thought that my days of sub-10 readers was behind me but, apparently, I still have to watch my step! 🙂

This is all part of being honest about the investment of effort, something that we should share with our students. The knowledge that one approach may not be working, and that it may be time to try others, is not defeatism but pragmatism. You’re not giving up, you’re trying another angle. One of the big benefits of this blogging process is that I’m, still, always learning something new from it, even on a low reach day.


Pass me an oyster knife, I’m trying to bring a student out of their shell.

Teaching across many cultures can be challenging. Usually, when we talk about cultures we’re talking about country, race, religion and upbringing – at least that’s what it seems to devolve to. It’s easy to point to a group of students from a given culture and say that they have behaviour X. Often, willingness to participate is listed amount these. Now, while certain cultures may have general tendencies, there are many students who just have difficulty in participating. Limiting it to one group is missing the point, in my opinion.

Let me, then, step back from my introductory statements about culture based on country or upbringing and split students into the only two cultures that matter for this post: students who will willingly participate in class and students who won’t.

It can be difficult in a large class to get to all of the students to participate in class-wide discussion or sharing of opinion. Students can choose to make it harder for me to do this in very simple ways. Sitting in a middle row, halfway in, makes it very hard for me to walk up to you and ask you what you’re doing. I prefer a more open class, which is smaller of course, as I can assign some work to the class during the lecture (something small) and then walk around and talk to people. Once I start people talking in a semi-private space, I may be able to get them talking to their neighbour, then their locale, then it’s a much smaller step to get them talking to everyone and participating. My experience in intensive teaching in Singapore shows that me leading people from individual discussion with me up to working in groups is very successful in opening people up. You can see more about that here.

In a large class in a big traditional lecture theatre, as I said, this is harder. However, just because I can’t get to a student doesn’t mean that nobody can. Students almost invariably have a student near them and this where, rather than me using my natural abilities to bring a student out, I can ask students to work in a group. This is far less intimidating because:

  1. Students are generally less scary than lecturers.
  2. Their views are in a far more controlled space and they aren’t having to talk to a very large group.
  3. A small enough group makes it a conversation rather than a presentation.

Of course, there are problems with this as well:

  1. Students may feel more pressure because of the intimacy. This can be helped with prior exposure and training in tutorials or by the demonstration of positive exemplars in the classroom.
  2. Students may still not say anything. In this case, I try to make the discussion have a hand-in artefact associated with it – at some stage, they’ll have to talk to each other.
  3. This does put pressure on students. This is a hard one, as my discipline has group work built in as a fundamental requirement. Students have to work with other people, make presentations and generally get on with people as part of their process with us. So, while I respect that some people don’t want to participate, this will be a problem for them at some stage. I’m trying to provide a safe and comfortable environment for this, so I’m ok with this to an extent.
  4. Students may just talk and not do the work at all!

I don’t mind 3 much, as long as I can regain control. Students talking is better than students sleeping, in some ways, although my goal is still to get everyone working! What is everyone else’s experiences with this?


This is Five Minutes Work.

This post has a definite time limit imposed upon it. Having set up categories and tags, I gave myself five minutes to write down today’s post, including thinking about what I was going to say.

Obviously, today’s point is that having a limited time for an activity is going to shape the nature of the activity. But it’s not the only point. I’ve had to make a decision as to how much editing I will allow and basically, once a line is complete, I have to leave it alone. This makes this (usually at least semi-edited) blog into something that is much closer to an in-class exercise.

Now, I’m lucky in many ways because this task is not overly challenging. I have freedom of topic (so I probably have enough in my head to work out what I want to say), I have good tools to use (I can type quickly and get something legible) and I’m not actually being watched. If you’re reading this I thought the final result was interesting enough to post.

2.5 minutes.

In a classroom, if I give students an assignment to complete, I have to be aware of the fact that writing legibly takes longer than scrawling, that typing may not ever make it to me because the artefact is locked onto someone else’s machine and that the sheer thinking time involved for a student to be able to engage with my desired context could eat the entire five minutes.

So the next time that I think about setting a five minute in-class exercise, I’m going to have to consider the following:

  1. Have I provided enough context or guidance that the students can start almost immediately?
  2. Is there an easy first thing to write down?
  3. Am I only expecting less than 100 words (4:20 and this is about 295)
  4. Am I setting a task that is really too hard? Should it be a 30 minute exercise out of class.

Well, my time’s running out so I have to come to a close. I found this really interesting to do, and I hope that you found something useful from it as well. 4:59.


A Quick 5 Tips: Surviving Intensive Teaching

My 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.

  1. 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.
  2. 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.
  3. 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.
  4. 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.
  5. 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?

Part 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

There’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

I’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?

I’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

The 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.