Dead man’s curve: Adventures in overdriving.
Posted: January 28, 2012 Filed under: Education | Tags: education, higher education, reflection, teaching, teaching approaches 6 CommentsLooking at my previous posts, you’ll know that I have a strong message for my students: do the work, do it yourself, get the knowledge and you’ll most likely (at least) pass. Part of my commitment to my side of the bargain is that a student almost exclusively controls the input that controls his or her own mark. Yes, very occasionally, we will scale a bit if we think that students are being disadvantaged but I have never seen a situation where we have increased the number of students who fail. (To be honest, our scaling is really lightweight.)
In particular, I do not fit grades to a curve. I rarely have so many students that such an approach would be even approaching statistical validity and, more interestingly, I tend to get an approximately normal distribution anyway, without any curve fitting. My position on this is more than mathematical, however, as it doesn’t sit well with me to fail someone because someone else did better.
Because we try very hard to not have to shift marks, we have an implicit obligation to manage the courses so that a pass mark represents a sufficient level of effort in assimilating knowledge, completing assignments, participating in individual and group interactive activities and the exam. Based on that, if everyone has done enough work to pass, then I can pass everyone. The trickier bit is managing the difficulty of the course so that the following conditions hold:
- A pass mark represents a level of effort and demonstrated knowledge that means that a student has achieved the required level of knowledge.
- A fail mark represents a level that, over a number of opportunities for improvement, indicates a combination of insufficient knowledge and/or effort.
- There is scope in every activity for students to demonstrate excellence. These excellence marks go ON TOP of the ‘core’ marks.
- The mark distribution is not bimodal around 0%/100% but has a range of possible values.
To avoid having to manually redistribute the buckets using curve grading, I have to build the course so that the final mark is built from assignments that meet all of those criteria and in a way that the aggregate of these marks will also produce marks that meet the final criteria. This, of course, means that I advertise assignment weightings, combinations and criteria as early as possible to allow students allocate their effort and then I have to incur the marking burden of applying a marking scheme that, once again, gives me this range.
One of the reasons that I believe this is important is because we risk overdriving one of our key student characteristics if we create an artificial curved-based separation. My students have all been through a fairly rigorous selection system by the time they reach me – the numbers dwindle through to final year of high school and the number who go to Uni are less than a quarter of those who start school. The ‘range’ of these students is the ‘not only passed but made it to a Uni course’. This automatically bands them relatively closely. If 100 students sit a course and half get 60 and half get 65 then, assuming I’ve done my job correctly in the design, they all deserve to pass because they are quite close in in-coming ability and they have achieved similar results. More importantly, the half who got 60 don’t deserve to fail because the other half get 65. If you overdrive noise then all you get is loud noise, not some sort of ‘better’ signal.
I’m not opposed to adaptation in teaching – in fact, I’m a huge fan of using challenge and extension questions to allow people other opportunities to excel, to refine their knowledge or to get a chance to be more specific. However, I support it from an additive approach, where marks are added for success, rather than a subtractive approach, where not managing to add more marks is treated as a mark removal exercise if a sufficiently large group of other people manage to add marks. This requires me to design courses carefully, give enough assignment opportunities for people to demonstrate their skills and provide a lot of feedback.
I note that I use almost no standardised testing and, where I do use multiple choice questions, I either require an accompanying explanation or the component is worth a small number of marks. As a result, I have a lot of flexibility in my marking.
I am not saying that we need to dumb down our material – far from it. If we design our courses with ‘acceptance level = pass, extension achievement = distinction’ we can isolate the core material and then put the ‘next stages’ in as well. As I’ve said before, letting a student know that there’s somewhere else to go and something else to do can be a spur to higher achievement.
Coincidentally, I had a meeting today with a colleague who has done some very interesting work on identifying and assessing the amount of ‘core’ material a student gets right from the ‘advanced’ material. From his early figures, there is very little variation in core material achievement level, as you would expect from all of this explanation that I’ve put up, but there was a vast range of achievement in the advanced material. More investigation required!
Two Slides Enter an Alleyway – Only One Returns!
Posted: January 27, 2012 Filed under: Education | Tags: education, higher education, resources, teaching, teaching approaches 6 CommentsOne of the commenters asked for examples of what I thought were examples of (relatively) poor material design and (relatively) better design. I’m not trying to weasel out here by using (relatively). These things are relative. Both slides I’m going to show you have good and bad points. From my experience, one is less well-received than the other and I can list some reasons for it.
Both slides are from first year courses, one taught in 2006 and one taught in 2011. The first is Powerpoint, the second is Keynote. (All copyright and page number data has been removed.)
Here’s number 1, which is a ‘not so great’ example.
And here’s number 2, which is probably better:
So, what are the major differences? To me:
- Slide 1 is cramped and hard to read. Following the long yellow lines, despite the fiendishly good contrast, is difficult.
- Slide 2 is simple and pretty easy to read. To be honest, it’s also covering much less ground but its intention is clear. The little node structure, which graphically links this slide to all previous work on linked lists.
- Slide 1 is not a relaxing slide to look at – imagine that dominating a darkened lecture theatre.
- Slide 2 has clear separation between English and not-English, very easy on the eye.
Slide 1 is a multi-stage proof, an extended working piece that takes multiple slides. Slide 2 is a revision slide and summarises the core of a previous concept in one slide, allowing the lecturer to add information, question the class and embellish. The class will have read Slide 2 in a short time and then be able to concentrate. People will be starting at Slide 1 for some time, trying to follow the lines and work things out.
So there are, as promised, some examples for you. Do you agree with my assessment? There are many other things to say about both. What do you think?
Hey! You! Write your learning and teaching blog more often!
Posted: January 27, 2012 Filed under: Education, Opinion | Tags: education, higher education, reflection, teaching 1 CommentSorry to shout but I’m now convinced that a regular blog post is beneficial to you and your learning and teaching. I’ve found that committing to a daily blog means that every day I have to set aside 30 minutes to think as a teacher. To think about what I’ve done and reflect on it, learning lessons, communicating them and trying to share my knowledge.
Isn’t that what we’re always trying to get our students to do? Now I’m making myself analyse my previous actions, assess my plans and be ready to explain it in a way that even the most patient co-lecturer would start to find tiresome.
Now a daily blog is demanding and I speak from a small authority as I’ve been doing this for the better part of a month and, sometimes, I stare at the screen for 5-10 minutes before the words come. But when the words do come, I often get more than I need for the next day. I’m writing this on my Wednesday night, and you’ll see this on Friday 0400 (ACDT +9.5) (Thursday on US time), a day after another post that I just stopped writing. Right now, I’m putting some time and effort into my learning and teaching. They (well, Gladwell) say it takes 10,000 hours doing something to become an expert. Less than three solid years of blogging to go before I become an expert in… uhh… blogging?
But I digress (for comedic value). I’ve got some posts up my sleeve and every time I blog, I think about my teaching rather than my admin or my research.
What are the benefits? Well, every day I’m thinking about what I’ve done and how I can get better. I’m open to new ideas. I seek out new information. I actively look for things to tell you. By committing, I’ve made you a part of my own community and, in at least a small way, I don’t want to let you down by not posting.
If all of us did it, maybe not daily but weekly, we’d have a flood of good teaching advice, experience and lessons that we could all draw from. Of course, then, we’d need a really good search engine to find what we’re after in a giant sea of useful information.
You know? I don’t think that’s too high a price to pay. I’d rather have so much good information I was spoilt for choice, than so little that I had to take what I could get. Right now we’re in a good place because so many inspirational and motivated people are blogging – but everyone’s stories matter. Tell us your stories! Tell us your view of the world we all share! I’ll try to read as much of it as I can.
Farewell, Distributed Systems Class of 2011.
Posted: January 26, 2012 Filed under: Education | Tags: education, higher education, reflection, teaching, teaching approaches 1 CommentHere is the message that I wrote on the forums, after my final lecture to my third year Distributed Systems class. I demand a lot of my students. Most of all, when they leave us to go out into the world, I expect them to have some knowledge. All of us, everywhere, who educate, know how precious knowledge is and how special it is when someone finally gets it. I’ve said a lot of this in lectures, and to individuals, but I always like to say one last thing before we turn off the lights and go in our separate directions.
A few of you, for reasons I don’t understand, sat the exam but gave me no, or almost no, assignment work. An even smaller group handed up nothing, ignored the exam and STAYED ENROLLED. I don’t understand why this is. I now have to fail you for either not doing anything or for minimum performance requirements. I hate doing that, but I’ll still do it, because I have to.Most of you handed up everything and tried everything. Fantastic! Thank you! After having discussions with you in the collaboratives, I’m convinced that the vast majority of you understand what we’re trying to do in this course and I thank you for your attention and continued participation.Sometimes, for some people, what let them down was their ability to tell me what they knew. My advice is that you should always be working on the way in which you can describe and share your knowledge. The majority of marks in the examination were lost for loose descriptions, confusion of concepts and, in some cases, blatant and desperate attempts to arrive at the correct solution by writing everything you can think of. Focus on telling me what you know to be right and spend less time on trying to fool me.
A number of you will hit the workforce next year – you will need to be able to communicate your knowledge and convince people that you know what you’re doing. Maybe your excuse to yourself is that you’re not that interested in DS. Well, fine, but don’t expect everything in the work world to be fascinating and amazing.
(I love teaching but marking exams is one of the least enjoyable jobs ever – but it has to be done, done well and done in a way that supports all of the other activities that lead to it. A lot of things are like this.)
Alan Noble put it really well when he described what the Google Engineers did. They don’t just sit in their offices and code, they go out and talk to their colleagues and other business people. They communicate. They share ideas. They can put their knowledge into practice as coders and as communicators.
Let’s finish on a positive note. When you check your marks, if you’ve passed this course then you can rest assured that you’ve demonstrated enough knowledge to have earned your pass. You know enough about distributed systems that you can work in an industry where these concepts become more important by the day, towards a future that will make extensive use of the underlying principles that you learned here.
If you did pass, how did you do it? What can you learn from it that will increase your chances of success in the future? People say that they learn the most from failure, and I think that’s true, but unless anyone got 100% for everything, you can still improve. Was there something I said that can help you improve that in the future? I hope that at least some of it has been useful.
Now, if you didn’t pass, why was that? Were you doing too much? If you could get into this course then you have the aptitude to pass but we know for a fact that life often gets in the way. You need to allow yourself enough time to study for these courses and put enough work into the assignments and examination preparation. If you have a supp, study as hard as you can and try and get through it. If you come back next year, start from scratch and do everything again, as if it’s for the first time.
We are, above all, scientists. If have a set of possible actions and a set of possible outcomes, how do we select our actions to select our desired outcome?
We have covered an introductory set of knowledge in a fascinating, growing, active and exciting area of research and practice. It’s now up to you to make use of that knowledge.
I’m not teaching third year in 2012, as I’m working on a new degree program, so I may not see many of you again. If I don’t, I wish you the very best of luck in the future, wherever you go and whatever you do.
I did… what?
Posted: January 25, 2012 Filed under: Education | Tags: education, higher education, learning, reflection, teaching Leave a commentLast year I set an assignment where I asked students to reflect on their semester of assignments and tell me about their software development process. As I believe I’ve already mentioned, the assignment was answered with thoughtful and generally well written answers. One student’s response stood out and I reproduce it, anonymously and in part, here:
“I assessed the difficulty of the pracs each week by reading through the instructions and taking a guess [at] how difficult it would be and how long it would take. I was actually pretty accurate with these guesses (except for a few unforseen bugs that didn’t set me back much). I even did an okay job assessing the time it would take me to do the library prac. And then I ignored that assessment and skimped on the design and didn’t start it until a few days before it was due. [My bolding] I’m not entirely sure what I was thinking there, I was probably just dreading the prospect of doing such a large prac.”
I find this comment fascinating because we are currently listening to one of the top students of the class going through a thought process that is, effectively, “I did… what?” The library prac was the hardest programming assignment of the semester. Two weeks duration rather than one, complex dependencies, detailed design required to get it right and an assignment where your testing framework was either good enough or next to useless. We’d spent a lot of time building up their coding muscles to handle this but, obviously, we’ve still got a way to go.
One of the best students, who actually scoped the problem properly, looked at the task, worked out what was required – and didn’t do it. In the same assignment where this quote comes from was a question “If you could give one piece of advice to a student starting [this course] next semester, who wants to do well in the [coding assignments], what would it be?” The student in question made a lot of good comments, as he wrestled with the question and tried to pick the best piece of advice.
“Good design (or in fact any design) reduces the chances of making mistakes and creating bugs to begin with, but breaking up code and testing it bit by bit catches the bugs early, before they become a big problem and are harder to find and fix.”
Again, his awareness of his own mistakes appears to be driving his thinking and his writing. He’s move on beyond the “I did… what?” and is now finishing that phrase with “but this is how I’ll avoid doing it again!” He’s explaining to his peers how, from a similar basis, he made mistakes but he’s making fewer now and this is something that they can learn. Yes, he didn’t explicitly address the fear issue that he raises as a possibility, but he does advocate divide-and-conquer, one of the best techniques for conquering something large and scary, so I think he’s addressing the issue anyway.
There’s nothing intrinsically wrong with someone staring aghast at their early coding errors, as long as it’s quickly accompanied by a well-learnt lesson, a scribbled reminder and a silent promise to catch it next time before it becomes a problem!
Ready to roll (or teach)
Posted: January 24, 2012 Filed under: Education | Tags: education, higher education, resources, teaching, teaching approaches, workload Leave a commentYesterday I mentioned CS Unplugged. Today I’m helping out, somewhat last minute, at a CS Unplugged event that I didn’t even know about yesterday! Perhaps I should write a post about “Nick gets lots of free money given to him” and keep my fingers crossed?
This does actually segue into something semi-useful and blogworthy in that my general principle in my career is “always be ready to seize a new opportunity”. I stick my hand up for a lot of things but I never stick my hand up if I don’t think that I would do a good job. The price to pay here is that you must always know what you can do, what you have time to do and, harder, have a good enough vision of the future to have the right skills.
I don’t pretend to be an expert here but I have a short list of things that I do that help me to do this:
- I prepare myself for the idea that opportunities could come along and think about how and why I should accept them.
- I talk to lots of people. I attend events, talk shop, listen, contribute, write several blogs, read just about everything I get sent, send a lot of things on and, generally, try and stay as connected as possible. Why? Because then I know what is happening in my own discipline, in my own Uni and in my own country. Very few announcements are surprises to me because the (much more informed) people I’ve been speaking to have seen it in the wind and suggested it as a possibility. Other people think that I may be able to help them, which means that they may get in touch with me later.
- I write down my ideas and what it would take to make them happen. When I have a good idea, I generally discuss it or write it up as a possible funding opportunity – or just sketch out a plan for it. If you came to me tomorrow and said “Nick, I have 10K/30K/100K/1M for a project” I can have an outline to you in about 10 minutes. Wow, that seems a bit… creepy. Why are you planning for money you don’t have? Aha, it’s because…
- I have a long term focus. Research this year turns into papers next year turns into grant applications the year after that. Teaching plans for next year have to start now. I don’t naturally have a long term focus! I like to work day-to-day like normal people but I kept finding that I ran out of time because I never really knew what to do next. I referred before to the joys of the pipeline and admitted that I’m naturally not good at this. But that leads me to point 4.
- Not being good at something isn’t an excuse. It’s not an excuse for our students (there’s a lot of difference between ‘not enough practice’ and ‘zero aptitude’) so it’s not an excuse for us. This is especially true if it’s part of the job. It’s a hard job. It’s a great job. It’s being responsible for the provision of knowledge to the next generation of scientists, teachers, educators, people, parents, children – it’s the whole human race that we’re working with here. Not being good at something is an opportunity to get better.
- I work out when I should say no. I am a hopeless overcommitter but I have now reached a level where I can’t fit any more in so I say ‘No’ more often. I have no kids and my wife is another academic so she has the same time pressures – I have a great deal of time flexibility at home. But I still need to hang out, relax, eat and sleep or I will go mad. But some things are time critical. While I was writing this a mail came in asking if I could have something (that didn’t have a solid deadline) ready in a week. I thought about it and decided to say ‘Yes’. If I work on this tonight, I can do it. It’s definitely worth it to do this and I want to do this project so I can spend a couple of hours in front of the computer instead of watching Doctor Who re-runs. It’s a delicate balancing act but some of the best opportunities have no initial load or money associated with them – they are overtime eaters until they pay off. If they pay off…
- Not everything pays off but take enough opportunities and one probably will. This is the big one so I’ll finish with it. The more things you try (which you have any chance at success with) the more likely you are to succeed. This is often demoralising, time consuming and, until something does pay off, it often makes you feel that you’re wasting your time. Look at this blog. It’s eating at least half an hour a day and for what? This has no pay off associated with it!
Or does it?
Well, it does. It forces me to focus for at least one part of a day that could be filled with admin and research on my teaching! On thinking about how I teach, how I learn, how I think my students learn and what I want to share with the world on this. Every post I write makes me a better writer. Gives me more ideas. Focuses me on teaching as I lead back in to first semester. No-one’s going to give me any cash for this, or load relief, and none of my jobs require this – but working here helps me think about how to manage other opportunities. Something here may one day head off into a seed grant idea. Some of your feedback may make me think about things in a different way.
Working on this blog prepares me for other opportunities and makes me open to share and receive new knowledge. It’s like a workout for my opportunity muscle.
What do you think? What are the best ways to prepare for an opportunity?
Teaching without technology: CS Unplugged
Posted: January 23, 2012 Filed under: Education | Tags: education, higher education, teaching, teaching approaches 3 Comments“Computer science is no more about computers than astronomy is about telescopes.” Edsger Dijkstra
“Here we are, in a school with no electricity, and no computers, trying to teach ICT. I get Charles to ask the class how many of them have seen a computer. (Answer: about a third). Then I get him to ask them how many have used a computer. Answer – none. They laugh nervously at the very thought that any of them might have had a chance to use a machine.” Bruce’s Rwanderings: the ups and downs of life as an education adviser in Rwanda.
There are some really interesting and clever projects that deal with teaching parts of information and communications technology without using any technology. You may have heard of the CS Unplugged website. If not, check it out because it has a whole lot of fun and interesting CS projects that don’t require a computer or any other supporting technology. Well, ok, some projects do require string. I’ll concede the point.
It always bothers me when I end up doing something that has an implicit price barrier on it. There’s a world of difference between “not having enough knowledge to proceed” and “not having the resources to even be able to get to the knowledge, so don’t proceed”. I don’t want to set up a resource constraint that limits my students to “only those people who can afford technology x”. What I often forget is the level of privilege that I enjoy which gives me a choice of technologies in the first place. That’s why things like CS unplugged are great because they remind you that Computer Science is often implemented on computers but, as the quote implies, they’re just tools. Knowledge can be transferred in many ways and the lessons learned through enjoyable activities away from the computer can be more meaningful and far less confrontational than staring at the vast unfriendliness of a blank screen.
CS unplugged is active, it doesn’t need a big box of computers, it can be done anywhere, it works when the power is out. It’s free. A lot of the activities are what I refer to as contagious knowledge – you show someone, they like it, they someone else. It’s like an amusing picture of cats with a caption in Impact, except, well, useful.
Every so often, rarely these days, a student transfers in who has a degree from a place where they studied Computer Science without any computers at all. There wasn’t one in the school or, if there was, it was so valuable that the students weren’t allowed near it! It’s obvious when another teacher has taken the wrong approach: depending on memorisation of algorithms or characteristics as an indication of knowledge, rather than trying to come up with techniques to apply and extend knowledge. Why didn’t the previous teacher do something better? The science of computation and algorithms should always be more than just a tool course.
But that is so easy for me to say, with all of the resources that I have. It’s ignorant and arrogant for me to try and apply intention to the outcomes that I perceive. The right thing for me to do is, as always, think “How can I fix this?” Increasing knowledge reduces ignorance. How can I help people who may not have access to some of the resources I take for granted?
How did I find out about CS Unplugged? Someone told me about it, then explained how it was being used in places like small schools, or in underfunded districts, or where student numbers had grown but labs hadn’t, or where people thought that it was a great way to teach Computer Science without having to worry about “Ok, now right click on the third tile on the left hand side of the second screen.” Imagine that, teaching CS without having to worry about whether all the logins have been created, the network is up, if all the patches have been applied. Teaching CS without wondering who is secretly Facebooking or IMing in the middle of your lessons.
As always, this approach is part of your tool box. You look at the problem, think about it and then pull out an appropriate tool. Sometimes, of course, we have to wander off and forge a new tool – exciting, arduous and rewarding all at the same time. If you haven’t heard about CS Unplugged, welcome to a new tool. If you have, but you haven’t used it, maybe it’s time to trot it out somewhere to see how it could work for you. If you like it, pass it on!
Fiero! The joy that makes you want to punch the air.
Posted: January 22, 2012 Filed under: Education | Tags: education, fiero, games, higher education, reflection, teaching, teaching approaches Leave a commentAfter a fun couple of hours writing the previous post, I’ve decided to hunker down and read some more books on data visualisation. However, I wanted to update you on my Summer Research Scholarship student – the one who was developing the game. Well, he demo’d the basic computerised version on Friday and, simply, it works, it’s fun, and he’s got a simple text display going. Next week it’s GUI + networking design and build, then two more weeks of coding and wrapping it up for week 6 with API documentation, extensible framework and a plan for porting it to Android and iPhone.
Let me remind you that he started two weeks ago, was given some books, a brief, and a lot of access to me and my time, as well as my planning skills and overall management. In that time, he has learnt about an entirely new way of presenting information, come up with six ideas, found the best one and chased it with an amazing passion. In two weeks he has a simple working game that could be played right now. The more I work with students, the more I realise that my fears about what they can’t achieve often become constraints on what I allow them to achieve. I (implicitly or explicitly) tell people that This is enough when it sets a false level of achievement for the struggling and it bores the gifted. Yes, there are varying levels of ability and we must educate all of our students, but I’ve seen so many people soar when I’ve given them open skies and a jet pack, that I can spend the time to help those who are still walking, or have fallen once or twice. My belief is that most, if not all, will fly one day. If I don’t believe that, then what am I doing?
It’s the weekend and I’m blogging this because I want you to know how much we can do, as educators, as people, as mentors and, sometimes, as the ones who stand back and let people try. We have to build our world in a way that it’s possible to fly but it’s not fatal to fall.
It’s an enormous challenge and I love it. Fiero is a word that we use for that feeling of achievement and joy that makes you raise your fists into the air and punch out to the sky because you can’t contain how good you feel. My student had such a moment when he worked out one of the core design issues that turned his game from dull to fun. He told me about it, using terminology he’d picked up on this project to describe that joy. Now, I have that feeling because I think that good things are happen. What more can any of us ask for in our jobs, once the mundane issues are settled?
Have a great weekend! Find the joy! Punch the air!
Bad Summaries Ruin Good Reports: Generation Why?
Posted: January 21, 2012 Filed under: Education, Opinion | Tags: education, Generation Why, higher education, measurement, MIKE, reflection 2 CommentsA media release came around on Friday from Universities Australia called “Generation WhY? (sic) Students question point of science and maths“. You can read the media release, key findings and the associated report here. The key findings, for students who are both STEM and non-STEM, are published with a series of pull quotes and explanations underneath them. For my own purposes, I’ve removed those because I want you to read the key findings in the raw:
- More than 40% of students surveyed did not feel encouraged to do well in maths and science by their teachers at high school
- 1 in 3 students were influenced by past teachers in their university choices
- 1 in 5 STEM students somewhat or totally engage in the stereotype that science is for nerds.
- Students sometimes felt (that) STEM subjects do not align with other interests and abilities.
- Some students interviewed saw no positive value from pursuing STEM as a career.
- An inability to understand or work with the precise black-and-white nature of science, as opposed to less structured processes, turned some students away.
The report itself is 144 pages long but from page 88 it’s an appendix containing the survey so it’s not too long a read. However, those 6 statements above are, well, in the politest way possible, not very precise. Finding 2., for example, has accompanying text that implies the influence was negative – that 1 in 3 students were discouraged, rather than influenced. Finding 3 is interesting but how many non-STEM students feel the same way? Finding 4 – sometimes? Let’s look at the questions to get an idea of how the survey was framed. The initial questions are all basic demography, then we get to the meat.
Question 19. As a person are you primarily?
- More socially outgoing and like being the centre of attention
- More a quiet and private person and like being with your own thoughts
- Not sure/can’t answer
Urm. I’m socially outgoing but I like time alone with my thoughts. I’m sure of that, however. But this is a quibble. Not many people will have a problem with this. Let’s look at another one.
Question 21. As a person do you primarily?
- Go with your gut instincts
- Focus on cold hard facts
- Not sure/Can’t answer
Urm, again. COLD HARD FACTS. M’lud, I think that we’re leading the witness a tad. How about “Go with your instincts/Focus on the facts”? (Still lots of room for improvement)
You can read the rest of the survey yourself – because I don’t want you all to die of boredom. First thing is that, yes, of course, survey design is hard and I’m sure that a lot of thought went into this survey. However, the press release that came out from this survey makes some claims that, if true, mean that we in the higher edu sector are pretty much stuffed in some ways, because we just won’t get the students here to work with in the first place. Once a student gets into STEM, I can work with them. If, as the survey suggests, I’m losing 33% to teacher discouragement, or 40% to not doing well, or 20% to the nerd factor, I’ve lost a vast number of potential students.
Reading the survey, rather than the keypoints, is far more illuminating. It turns out that teacher influence can be either way, which should have been obvious in the summary. It paints teachers in a much fairer manner. That whole ‘science is for nerds’ is in the middle of a question with lots of opinion options and a 5 point rating scale for agreement. So 20% of STEM students ticked the Totally or Somewhat agree box.
Hang on. That means that 80% of the people in STEM either can’t answer or don’t think it’s for nerds. Page 69 of the report talks on this. I quote: “A higher proportion of STEM respondents somewhat agreed with the statement science is for nerds than did non-STEM respondents.”
They then show the results table. 1364 students in total, 730 non-STEM, 634 STEM. 96 of non-STEM thought it was for nerds, 124 of STEM thought it was for nerds. All other results were disagreers. They’ve already removed the can’t answer people from the survey. That’s 13% of outside STEM people and 19.6% of STEM. Now all of these students are currently enrolled, at University, so the people who are more likely to think science is for nerds are already inside our borders. So, the actual finding is:
“Around 1 in 10 students outside of STEM have a negative image of science as being for nerds, and the number increases slightly to just under 1 in 5 for students inside STEM. Overall, roughly 1 in 6 first-year students surveyed have a perception of science as nerdy.”
That’s surprisingly positive to me. I’d always thought that everyone thought we were enormous dorks. Hooray! Checking the figures, only 5% of STEM students totally agree anyway, compared with 3% of non-STEM, but we have a lot more ‘somewhat agrees’ which really drives the numbers up in STEM.
Here’s the quote that was underneath the 1 in 5 figure in finding 3: “Also if you see scientists on the news like, there’s kind of a stereotype that you will see… Like kind of wearing glasses… They never dress well.” That seems pretty damning. Not only do people think we’re nerds, they took the time to write this down.
But that quote doesn’t come from the survey. That pull quote is not from the same source as the survey data, it’s an anonymous student comment from the Phase 1 pre-survey focus group. In fact, there is no text box associated with that question (Question 80) – Question 81 is a question with a text box, but it’s for comments about the survey itself. Associating that quote with that finding makes a very strong implied linkage that is very. simply. not. there. The initial focus group at University of Sydney was composed of 8 people, a 5/3 male/female split, all first-year, with five B.Sc and three B.A. students. What they admitted that they felt about stereotyping was used to build the survey question at the end. But putting their pre-survey thoughts together with a post-survey result is something that, well, ok, maybe it’s done all the time, but I wouldn’t do it myself.
Those two entities have no linkage – unless it is to say “Hey, the focus group thought everyone would think that science was for nerds but they turned out to be wrong – it’s less than 20% on average and we’re harder on ourselves in STEM, about being cool, than other people think we should be. Woo!” because that recognises the data origin and what the result means. The way that it is presented in the key findings is misleading.
Finding 4 is a curious one (Students sometimes felt (that) STEM subjects do not align with other interests and abilities.) because there is a question, Q50, that asks about why you chose a particular degree. However, the report does not clearly show the detail of the responses and the question just lists ‘Best fit for my interests and abilities’ as one of the options for “What are the reasons for your choice of University degree/course/program”. Searching for the words “interests” or “abilities” in the text brings up some earlier quotes and I must be missing something because I couldn’t find anything to support finding 4, beyond a brief quote from the pre-focus group again. The word ‘align’ doesn’t occur in the report. I’ve read all the questions and can’t see where that finding could be derived. I must be missing something because I can’t find a single solid point in the report, or a summary, that supports this key finding. So, dear reader, if you can find it, please help me out and show me where it is! (I’m a bit tired, so forgive me if I’ve missed the obvious.)
I can’t help but feel that this media release, focusing on negative interpretation and using contextualising quotes that reinforce that interpretation, is doing a disservice to the interesting data contained within the report. Check it out for yourself to see how else things have been reported one way in the actual report and then projected out through the media release. If nothing else, it’s a teaching example in itself of how you can present data accurately but in a way that will very definitely channel someone’s interpretation – especially if they don’t bother to read the original article. If you read the report, you can see that the writers are concerned about the statistical validity because only 12% of their target group responded.
It’s a reminder that all the work you put into your survey design and data analysis process is nothing if that message is lost or adulterated in the search for an easy message. The message matters more than the medium. Once again, the medium is important, but the message is paramount.
Finally, it’s a reminder that we always must read the primary source, to at least calibrate the secondary and tertiary reports.
Your cheating heart will do you wrong
Posted: January 21, 2012 Filed under: Education | Tags: education, higher education, teaching, teaching approaches 3 CommentsOne of the most unpleasant things I have to do is dealing with students who cheat. We have a pretty thorough and fair process for handling this and, most of the time, we catch someone once for basically being lazy or stupid, they lose the marks for the assignment and they never do it again. Even so, the number of people who write “this lecturer is the worst person in the Universe” on their end-of-semester assessment forms is generally the same number of people as I caught cheating – it has an impact on both of us.
When I see someone again, or someone comes up for a second or third offence, that’s sad. It’s sad for so many reasons. It’s sad because, this time, they risk a penalty of getting zero for the course. Or getting kicked out of Uni. It’s sad because they haven’t taken in what I was telling them about knowledge being more important than cramming or copying. But, for me, it’s sad because now I feel that I’ve failed the student. Somewhere along the line, they got the message that 75/100 cheating is somehow better than 50/100 fairly earned.
That a pass by any means is better than a fail.
Of course, pragmatically, it is. Student are paying, directly or indirectly, to study and they want to be in the workforce as soon as they can, with the best marks possible. But what that means is all those talks on ethics, on professional practice, on honesty, on integrity, have missed these students entirely. Students aren’t buying a degree, they have an opportunity to earn a degree. (Ideally, I’d like everyone to have the opportunity to go to the college and course of their choice. Real world factors jump on my head really quickly there.)
Even if a student sneaks through with undetected cheating, they still have a problem, because their lack of knowledge will probably get found out once they hit the job market. They may get one job, or two, but once it becomes obvious that they don’t know what they’re supposed to, people’s estimation of them will drop. People’s ideas of what our degrees our and what our school does will drop. Everyone loses.
I’m up front about my dislike of cheating. But I’m also fair in my reaction. When it’s dealt with, that’s it. Records leave me to go elsewhere and I try my hardest to forget the details so that I don’t stare at that student for the rest of their time and wonder what they’re doing. Give me 6 months and I’ve achieved it. The student is back in the pack and, if it doesn’t happen again, it never gets mentioned again. It’s a trap to immediately scrutinise everything as if the student is cheating again. Has action been taken? Yes? Is it over? Yes? Move on. Ok, they might do it again but that’s what you have Turnitin and MOSS for. If they do it again then, yes, it may be systematic and more action has to be taken but, while cheating is not anything that should be condoned or excused, I can almost understand why a confused, rushed 17-year old might thing it was not the worst idea in the world to save themselves some effort.
But it is the worst idea in the world, because it can damage the learner-teacher relationship and risk a student’s entire career. In a harsh school, it can be an inescapable sentence for the rest of someone’s career.
This is a G-rated blog, so I can’t tell the joke about “I kiss one goat” here but those of you who know the joke know that the punchline is that the teller is a man of great merit, has done many things, but he kissed one goat and he is henceforth known as Henri the Goat Kisser. So, yes, I don’t like cheating, and I wish people would stop, but I try not to categorise someone by actions that they may only take once in their life, and regret for the rest of it, because part of my job is making new and better people. Well, that’s over-stating it really. Part of my job is helping people to make themselves new and better.
When I’m teaching, I’m often thinking about how I can structure assignments to reduce the temptation and opportunity to cheat. I think about how I can make students interested enough to take part, to be involved – this often involves other students, using neighbour techniques. But, when cheating happens, I try to be as understanding as I can – while still having a firm line that cheating doesn’t fly here. It’s hard and I welcome comments from other people who’ve had to deal with this.




