No numbers
Posted: January 11, 2016 Filed under: Education, Opinion | Tags: authenticity, beauty, brecht, cui bono, design, education, educational research, ethics, higher education, learning, rapaport, resources, scales, student perspective, teaching, teaching approaches, thinking, tools, triage 5 CommentsWe know that grades are really quite arbitrary and that turning numbers into letters, while something we can do, is actually not that strongly coupled to evaluating learning or demonstrating mastery. Why? Because having the appropriate level of knowledge and being able to demonstrate it are not necessarily the same as being able to pass tests or produce solutions to assignments.
For example, if we look at Rapaport’s triage approach as a way to evaluate student interaction with assignments, we can then design our learning environment to provide multiple opportunities to construct and evaluate knowledge on the understanding that we are seeking clear evidence that a student cannot just perform tasks of this nature but, more important, can do reliably. We can do this even if we use “Good, getting there, wrong and no submission” rather than numbers. The duality of grades (a symbol and its meaning) degenerates to something other than numbers anyway. Students at my University didn’t care about 84 versus 85 until we put a new letter grade in at 85 (High Distinction). But even these distinctions are arbitrary scales when it comes to evaluating actual learning.

A very arbitrary scale.
Why are numbers not important in this? Because they’re rarely important anyway. Have you ever asked your surgeon what her grades were in school? What about your accountant? Perhaps you’ve questioned the percentage that your favourite Master of Wine achieved in the tasting exams? Of course you haven’t. You’ve assumed that a certification (of some sort) indicates sufficient knowledge to practise. And what we have to face is that we are currently falling back onto numbers to give us false confidence that we are measuring learning. They don’t map. They’re not objective. They’re often mathematically nonsensical. No-one cares about them except to provide yet another way of sorting human beings and, goodness knows, we already have enough of those.
Ah, but “but students like to know how they’re going”, right? Yes. Which is where critique and evaluation come in, as well as may other authentic and appropriate ways to recognise progress and encourage curiosity and further development. None of which require numbers.
Let me ask you a question:
Does every student who accumulates enough pass tokens to graduate from your program have a clearly demonstrated ability to perform tasks to the requisite level in all of the knowledge areas of your program?
If the answer is no, then numbers and grades didn’t help, did they? I suspect that, for you as for many others including me, you can probably think of students who managed to struggle through but, in reality, were probably never going to be much good in the field. Perhaps 50% doesn’t magically cover competency? If 50% doesn’t, then raising the bar to 75% won’t solve the problem either. For reasons already mentioned, many of the ways we combine numbers to get grades just don’t make any real sense and they certainly don’t provide much insight into how well the student actually learned what you were trying to teach.
If numbers/grades don’t have much solid foundation, don’t always reflect ability to perform the task, and aren’t actually going to be used in the future? Then they are neither good nor true. And they cannot be beautiful.
Thus, let me strip Rapaport back one notch and provide a three-tier grade-free system, commonly used in many places already, that is closer to what we probably want:
- Nothing submitted,
- Work in progress, resubmit if possible, and
- Work to competent standard.
I know that there are concerns about the word ‘competency’ but I think it’s something we’re going to have think about moving on from. I teach engineers and computer scientists and they have to go out and perform tasks successfully if people are going to employ them or work with them. They have to be competent. Right now, I can tell you which of them have passed but, for a variety of grading reasons, I can’t tell you which one of them, from an academic transcript alone, will be able to sit down and solve your problem. I can see which ones pass exams but I don’t know if this is fixed knowledge or swotting. But what if you made it easy and said “ok, just point to the one who will build me the best bridge”? No. I can’t tell you that. (The most likely worst bridge is easier, as I can identify who does and doesn’t have Civil Engineering qualifications.)
The three-tier scale is simple. The feedback approach that the marker should take is pretty clear in each place and the result is clear to the student. If we build our learning environment correctly, then we can construct a pathway where a student has to achieve tier 3 for all key activities and, at that point, we can actually say “Yes, this student can perform this task or apply this knowledge to the required level”. We do this enough times, we may even start to think that the student could perform this at the level of the profession.
Wait. Have we just re-invented competency-based assessment? There’s an immediate urge to say “but that’s not a University level thing” and I do understand that. CBA has a strong vocational focus but anyone who works in an engineering faculty is already in that boat. We have industry linked accreditation to allow our students to practise as engineers and they have to demonstrate the achievement of a certified program, as well as work experience. That program is taught at University but, given that all you need is to get the degree, you can do it on raw passes and be ‘as accredited’ as the next person.
Now, I’d be the first person to say that not only are many aspects of the University not vocationally focussed but I’d go further and say that they shouldn’t be vocationally focussed. The University is a place that allows for the unfettered exploration of knowledge for knowledge’s sake and I wouldn’t want to change that. (And, yet, so often, we still grade such abstract ideals…) But let’s take competency away from the words job and vocational for a moment. I’m not suggesting we turn Universities into vocational study centres or shut down “non-Industry” programs and schools. (I’d like to see more but that’s another post.) Let’s look at focusing on clarity and simplicity of evaluation.
A student writes an essay on Brecht and submits it for assessment. All of the rich feedback on language use, referencing and analysis still exists without the need to grade it as A, B or C. The question is whether the work should be changed in response to the feedback (if possible) or whether it is, recognisably, an appropriate response to the question ‘write an essay on Brecht’ that will allow the student to develop their knowledge and skills. There is no job focus here but pulling back to separate feedback and identifying whether knowledge has been sufficiently demonstrated is, fundamentally, a competency argument.
The PhD, the pinnacle of the University system, is essentially not graded. You gain vast amounts of feedback over time, you write in response and then you either defend it to your prospective peers or have it blind-assessed by external markers. Yes, there are degrees of acceptance but, ultimately, what you end up with is “Fine as it is”, “Do some more work”, and “Oh, no. Just no.” If we can extend this level of acceptance of competency to our highest valued qualification, what is the consistent and sound reasoning that requires us to look at a student group and say “Hmm, 73. And this one is… yes, 74.”? If I may, cui bono? Who is benefitting here?
But what would such a program look like, you ask? (Hey, and didn’t Nick say he was going to talk about late penalties?) Yes, indeed. Come back tomorrow!
The Illusion of a Number
Posted: January 10, 2016 Filed under: Education, Opinion | Tags: authenticity, beauty, curve grading, design, education, educational problem, educational research, ethics, grading, higher education, in the student's head, learning, rapaport, reflection, resources, teaching, teaching approaches, thinking, tools, wittgenstein 3 Comments
Rabbit? Duck? Paging Wittgenstein!
I hope you’ve had a chance to read William Rapaport’s paper, which I referred to yesterday. He proposed a great, simple alternative to traditional grading that reduces confusion about what is signalled by ‘grade-type’ feedback, as well as making things easier for students and teachers. Being me, after saying how much I liked it, I then finished by saying “… but I think that there are problems.” His approach was that we could break all grading down into: did nothing, wrong answer, some way to go, pretty much there. And that, I think, is much better than a lot of the nonsense that we pretend we hand out as marks. But, yes, I have some problems.
I note that Rapaport’s exceedingly clear and honest account of what he is doing includes this statement. “Still, there are some subjective calls to make, and you might very well disagree with the way that I have made them.” Therefore, I have license to accept the value of the overall scholarship and the frame of the approach, without having to accept all of the implementation details given in the paper. Onwards!
I think my biggest concern with the approach given is not in how it works for individual assessment elements. In that area, I think it shines, as it makes clear what has been achieved. A marker can quickly place the work into one of four boxes if there are clear guidelines as to what has to be achieved, without having to worry about one or two percentage points here or there. Because the grade bands are so distinct, as Rapaport notes, it is very hard for the student to make the ‘I only need one more point argument’ that is so clearly indicative as a focus on the grade rather than the learning. (I note that such emphasis is often what we have trained students for, there is no pejorative intention here.) I agree this is consistent and fair, and time-saving (after Walvoord and Anderson), and it avoids curve grading, which I loathe with a passion.
However, my problems start when we are combining a number of these triaged grades into a cumulative mark for an assignment or for a final letter grade, showing progress in the course. Sections 4.3 and 4.4 of the paper detail the implementation of assignments that have triage graded sub-tasks. Now, instead of receiving a “some way to go” for an assignment, we can start getting different scores for sub-tasks. Let’s look at an example from the paper, note 12, to describe programming projects in CS.
- Problem definition 0,1,2,3
- Top-down design 0,1,2,3
- Documented code
- Code 0,1,2,3
- Documentation 0,1,2,3
- Annotated output
- Output 0,1,2,3
- Annotations 0,1,2,3
Total possible points = 18
Remember my hypothetical situation from yesterday? I provided an example of two students who managed to score enough marks to pass by knowing the complement of each other’s course knowledge. Looking at the above example, it appears (although not easily) to be possible for this situation to occur and both students to receive a 9/18, yet for different aspects. But I have some more pressing questions:
- Should it be possible for a student to receive full marks for output, if there is no definition, design or code presented?
- Can a student receive full marks for everything else if they have no design?
The first question indicates what we already know about task dependencies: if we want to build them into numerical grading, we have to be pedantically specific and provide rules on top of the aggregation mathematics. But, more subtly, by aggregating these measures, we no longer have an ‘accurately triaged’ grade to indicate if the assignment as a whole is acceptable or not. An assignment with no definition, design or code can hardly be considered to be a valid submission, yet good output, documentation and annotation (with no code) will not give us the right result!
The second question is more for those of us who teach programming and it’s a question we all should ask. If a student can get a decent grade for an assignment without submitting a design, then what message are we sending? We are, implicitly, saying that although we talk a lot about design, it’s not something you have to do in order to be successful. Rapaport does go on to talk about weightings and how we can emphasis these issues but we are still faced with an ugly reality that, unless we weight our key aspects to be 50-60% of the final aggregate, students will be able to side-step them and still perform to a passing standard. Every assignment should be doing something useful, modelling the correct approaches, demonstrating correct techniques. How do we capture that?
Now, let me step back and say that I have no problem with identifying the sub-tasks and clearly indicating the level of performance using triage grading, but I disagree with using it for marks. For feedback it is absolutely invaluable: triage grading on sub-tasks will immediately tell you where the majority of students are having trouble, quickly. That then lets you know an area that is more challenging than you thought or one that your students were not prepared for, for some reason. (If every student in the class is struggling with something, the problem is more likely to lie with the teacher.) However, I see three major problems with sub-task aggregation and, thus, with final grade aggregation from assignments.
The first problem is that I think this is the wrong kind of scale to try and aggregate in this way. As Rapaport notes, agreement on clear, linear intervals in grading is never going to be achieved and is, very likely, not even possible. Recall that there are four fundamental types of scale: nominal, ordinal, interval and ratio. The scales in use for triage grading are not interval scales (the intervals aren’t predictable or equidistant) and thus we cannot expect to average them and get sensible results. What we have here are, to my eye, ordinal scales, with no objective distance but a clear ranking of best to worst. The clearest indicator of this is the construction of a B grade for final grading, where no such concept exists in the triage marks for assessing assignment quality. We have created a “some way to go but sometimes nearly perfect” that shouldn’t really exist. Think of it like runners: you win one race and you come third in another. You never actually came second in any race so averaging it makes no sense.
The second problem is that aggregation masks the beauty of triage in terms of identifying if a task has been performed to the pre-determined level. In an ideal world, every area of knowledge that a student is exposed to should be an important contributor to their learning journey. We may have multiple assignments in one area but our assessment mechanism should provide clear opportunities to demonstrate that knowledge. Thus, their achievement of sufficient assignment work to demonstrate their competency in every relevant area of knowledge should be a necessary condition for graduating. When we take triage grading back to an assignment level, we can then look at our assignments grouped by knowledge area and quickly see if a student has some way to go or has achieved the goal. This is not anywhere near as clear when we start aggregating the marks because of the mathematical issues already raised.
Finally, the reduction of triage to mathematical approximation reduces the ability to specify which areas of an assessment are really valuable and, while weighting is a reasonable approximation to this, it is very hard to use a mathematical formula with more and more ‘fudge factors’, a term Rapaport uses, to make up for the fact that this is just a little too fragile.
To summarise, I really like the thrust of this paper. I think what is proposed is far better, even with all of the problems raised above, at giving a reasonable, fair and predictable grade to students. But I think that the clash with existing grading traditions and the implicit requirement to turn everything back into one number is causing problems that have to be addressed. These problems mean that this solution is not, yet, beautiful. But let’s see where we can go.
Tomorrow, I’ll suggest an even more cut-down version of grading and then work on an even trickier problem: late penalties and how they affect grades.
Getting it wrong
Posted: January 7, 2016 Filed under: Education, Opinion | Tags: advocacy, authenticity, design, education, educational problem, educational research, higher education, john c. dewey, learning, pragmatism, principles of design, reflection, teaching, teaching approaches, thinking, tools, william james Leave a commentIt’s fine to write all sorts of wonderful statements about theory and design and we can achieve a lot in thinking about such things. But, let’s be honest, we face massive challenges in the 21st Century and improved thinking and practice in education is one of the most important contributions we can make to future generations. Thus, if we want to change the world based upon our thinking, then all of our discussions have no use if we can’t develop something that’s going to achieve our goals. Dewey’s work provide an experimental, even instrumental, approach to the American philosophical school of pragmatism. To briefly explain this term in the specific meaning, I turn to William James, American psychologist and philosopher.
Pragmatism asks its usual question. “Grant an idea or belief to be true,” it says, “what concrete difference will its being true make in anyone’s actual life? How will the truth be realized? What experiences will be different from those which would obtain if the belief were false? What, in short, is the truth’s cash-value in experiential terms?”
William James, Pragmatism (1907)
(James is far too complex to summarise with one paragraph and I am using only one of his ideas to illustrate my point. Even James’ scholars disagree on how to interpret many of his writings. It’s worth reading him and Hegel at the same time as they square off across the ring quite well.)

Portrait of William James by John La Farge, circa 1859
What will be different? How will we recognise or measure it? What do we gain by knowing if we are right or wrong? This is why all good education researchers depend so heavily on testing their hypotheses in the space where they will make an impact and there is usually an obligation to look at how things are working before and after any intervention. This places further obligation upon us to evaluate what has occurred and then, if our goals haven’t been achieved, change our approach further. It’s a simple breakdown of roles but I often think as educational work in three heavily overlapping areas: practice, scholarship and research. Practice should be applying techniques that achieve our goals, scholarship involves the investigation, dissemination and comparison of these techniques, and research builds on scholarship to evaluate practice in ways that will validate and develop new techniques – or invalidate formerly accepted ones as knowledge improves. This leads me to my point: evaluating your own efforts to work out how to do better next time.
There are designers, architects, makers and engineers who are committed to the practice of impact design, where (and this is one definition):
“Impact design is rooted in the core belief that design can be used to create positive social, environmental and economic change, and focuses on actively measuring impact to inform and direct the design process.” Impact Design Hub, About.
Thus, evaluation of what works is essential for these practitioners. The same website recently shared some designers talking about things that went wrong and what they learned from the process.
If you read that link, you’ll see all sorts of lessons: don’t hand innovative control to someone who’s scared of risk, don’t ignore your community, don’t apply your cultural values to others unless you really know what you’re doing, and don’t forget the importance of communication.
Writing some pretty words every day is not going to achieve my goal and I need to be reminded of the risks that I face in trying to achieve something large – one of which is not actually working towards my own goals in a useful manner! One of the biggest risks is confusing writing a blog with actual work, unless I use this medium to do something. Over the coming weeks, I hope to show you what I am doing as I move towards my very ambitious goal of “beautiful education”. I hope you find the linked article as useful as I did.
Dewey’s Pedagogic Creed
Posted: January 6, 2016 Filed under: Education, Opinion | Tags: aesthetics, authenticity, beauty, design, dewey, education, educational problem, educational research, ethics, higher education, in the student's head, john c. dewey, learning, pragmatism, reflection, teaching, thinking Leave a commentAs I’ve noted, the space I’m in is not new, although some of the places I hope to go with it are, and we have records of approaches to education that I think fit well into an aesthetic framing.
As a reminder, I’m moving beyond ‘sensually pleasing’ in the usual sense and extending this to the wider definition of aesthetics: characteristics that define an approach or movement. However, we can still see a Cubist working as both traditionally aesthetically pleasing and also beautiful because of its adherence to the Cubist aesthetic. To draw on this, where many art viewers find a large distance between them and an art work, it is often attributable to a conflict over how beauty is defined in this context. As Hegel noted, beauty is not objective, it is our perspective and our understanding of its effect upon us (after Kant) that contributes greatly to the experience.

John C. Dewey. Psychologist, philosopher, educator, activist and social critic. Also, inspiration.
Dewey’s Pedagogic Creed was published in 1897 and he sought to share his beliefs on what education was, what schools were, what he considered the essential subject-matter of education, the methods employed, and the essential role of the school in social progress. I use the word ‘beliefs’ deliberately as this is what Dewey published: line after line of “I believe…” (As a note, this is what a creed is, or should be, as a set of beliefs or aims to guide action. The word ‘creed’ comes to us from the Latin credo, which means “I believe”.) Dewey is not, for the most part, making a religious statement in his Creed although his personal faith is expressed in a single line at the end.
To my reading, and you know that I seek characteristics that I can use to form some sort of object to guide me in defining beautiful education, many of Dewey’s points easily transfer to characteristics of beauty. For example, here are three lines from the work:
- “I believe that education thus conceived marks the most perfect and intimate union of science and art conceivable in human experience.“
- “I believe that with the growth of psychological science, giving added insight into individual structure and laws of growth; and with growth of social science, adding to our knowledge of the right organization of individuals, all scientific resources can be utilized for the purposes of education.“
- “ I believe that under existing conditions far too much of the stimulus and control proceeds from the teacher, because of neglect of the idea of the school as a form of social life.“
Dewey was very open about what he thought the role of school was, he saw it as the “fundamental method of social progress and reform“. I believe that he saw education, when carried out correctly, as being a thing that was beautiful, good and true and his displeasure with what he encountered in the schools and colleges of the late 19th/early 20th Century is manifest in his writings. He writes in reaction to an ugly, unfair, industrialised and mechanistic system and he wants something that conforms to his aesthetics. From the three lines above, he seeks education that is grounded in the arts and science, he wants to use technology in a positive way and he wants schools to be a vibrant and social community.
And this is exactly what the evidence tells us works. The fact that Dewey arrived at this through a focus on equity, opportunity, his work in psychology and his own observations is a testament to his vision. Dewey was rebelling against the things he could see were making children hate education.
I believe that next to deadness and dullness, formalism and routine, our education is threatened with no greater evil than sentimentalism.
John Dewey, School Journal vol. 54 (January 1897), pp. 77-80
Here, sentimentalism is where we try to evoke emotions without associating them with an appropriate action: Dewey seeks authenticity and a genuine expression. But look at the rest of that list: dead, dull, formal and routine. Dewey would go on to talk about schools as if they were prisons and over a hundred years later, we continue to line students up into ranks and bore them.
I have a lot of work to do as I study Dewey and his writings again with my aesthetic lens in place but, while I do so, it might be worth reading the creed. Some things are dated. Some ideas have been improved upon with more research, including his own and we will return to these issues. But I find it hard to argue with this:
I believe that the community’s duty to education is, therefore, its paramount moral duty. By law and punishment, by social agitation and discussion, society can regulate and form itself in a more or less haphazard and chance way. But through education society can formulate its own purposes, can organize its own means and resources, and thus shape itself with definiteness and economy in the direction in which it wishes to move.
ibid.
Choosing a direction
Posted: January 5, 2016 Filed under: Education, Opinion | Tags: beauty, education, higher education, learning, philosophy, teaching, thinking 1 CommentA comment on yesterday’s post noted that minimising ugliness is a highly desirable approach to take for many students, given how ugly their worlds are with poverty, violence, bullying. I completely agree that these things should be minimised but this is a commitment that we should be making as a society, not leaving to education. Yes, education is the best way to reduce these problems but that requires effective education and, for that, I return to my point that a standard of acceptable plainness is just not enough when we plan and design education. It’s not enough that our teaching be tolerable, it should be amazing, precisely because of the potential benefits to our society.
If, in education, we only seek a minimum bar then the chances of us achieving more than that are reduced and we probably won’t have a good measure of “better” should it occur. We can’t take intentional actions to change something that we’re not measuring.
Many of the ugliest problems in society have arisen from short-sighted thinking, fixes that are the definition of plain instead of beautiful or inspiring, and from not having a committed vision to aim for better. That’s why I’m so heavily focused on beauty and aesthetics in education, to provide a basis for vision that is manageable sized yet sufficiently powerful.
I won’t (I can’t) address every equity issue, every unfair thing, or every terrible aspect of modern educational practice in these pieces. But I hope to motivate, over time, why this rather philosophical approach is a good basis for visionary improvements to education.
Exploring beauty and aesthetics
Posted: January 3, 2016 Filed under: Education, Opinion | Tags: aesthetics, beauty, education, educational problem, educational research, hegel, higher education, Kant, learning, reflection, suits, teaching, teaching approaches, The Grasshopper, thinking, tools, wittgenstein Leave a comment
“Nothing great in the world has ever been accomplished without passion.” Hegel
- the ability to state the goal of any educational activity as separate from the activity,
- the awareness of evidence-based practice and its use in everyday teaching, and
- a willingness to accept that it is correct goal setting and using techniques that work, and can be shown to work, that will lead to better outcomes.
Learning Analytics: Far away, so close.
Posted: November 5, 2015 Filed under: Education, Opinion | Tags: blogging, community, data, data analytics, education, educational problem, educational research, focus, higher education, learning, learning analytics, measurement, resources, support, teaching, teaching approaches, thinking, universal principles of design 2 CommentsI’ve been thinking about learning analytics and, while some Unis have managed to solve parts of the problem, I think that we need to confront the complexity of the problem, to explain why it’s so challenging. I break it into five key problems.
- Data. We don’t currently collect enough of it to analyse, what we do collect is of questionable value and isn’t clearly tied to mechanisms, and we have not confronted the spectre of what we do with this data when we get it.
- Mechanisms linking learning and what is produced. The mechanisms are complex. Students could be failing for any number of reasons, not the least of which is crap staff. Trying to work out what has happened by looking at outputs is unlikely to help.
- Focus. Generally, we measure things to evaluate people. This means that students do tests to get marked and, even where we mix this up with formative work, they tend to focus on the things that get them marks. That’s because it’s how we’ve trained them. This focus warps measurement into an enforcement and judgment mechanism, rather than a supportive and constructive mechanism.
- Community. We often mandate or apply analytics as an extension of the evaluation focus above. This means that we don’t have a community who are supported by analytics, we have a community of evaluators and the evaluated. This is what we would usually label as a Panopticon, because of the asymmetrical application of this kind of visibility. And it’s not a great environment for education. Without a strong community, why should staff go to the extra effort to produce the things required to generate more data if they can’t see a need for it? This is a terribly destructive loop as it requires learning analytics to work and be seen as effective before you have the data to make learning analytics work!
- Support. When we actually have the data, understand the mechanism, have the right focus and are linked in to the community, we still need the money, time and other resources to provide remediation, to encourage development, to pay for the technology, to send people to places where they can learn. For students and staff. We just don’t have that.
I think almost all Unis are suffering from the same problems. This is a terribly complex problem and it cannot be solved by technology alone.
It’s certainly not as easy as driving car. You know that you make the car go faster by pushing on one pedal and you make it go slower by pushing on another. You look at your speedometer. This measures how often your wheels are rotating and, by simple arithmetic, gives you your speed across the road. Now you can work out the speed you want to travel at, taking into account signs, conditions and things like that. Simple. But this simple, everyday, action and its outcomes are the result of many, many technological, social and personal systems interacting.
The speedometer in the car is giving you continuously available, and reasonably reliable, data on your performance. You know how to influence that performance through the use of simple and direct controls (mechanism). There exists a culture of driver training, road signage and engineering, and car design that provides you with information that ties your personal performance to external achievement (These are all part of support, focus and community). Finally, there are extrinsic mechanisms that function as checks and balances but, importantly, they are not directly tied to what you are doing in the car, although there are strong causative connections to certain outcomes (And we can see elements of support and community in this as we all want to drive on safe roads, hence state support for this is essential).
We are nowhere near the car scenario with learning analytics right now. We have some measurements of learning in the classroom because we grade assignments and mark exams. But these are not continuous feedback, to be consulted wherever possible, and the mechanisms to cause positive change in these are not necessarily clear and direct. I would argue that most of what we currently do is much closer to police enforcement of speed. We ask students to drive a track and, periodically, we check to see if they’re doing the correct speed. We then, often irrevocably from a grading sense, assign a mark to how well they are driving the track and settle back to measure them again later.
Learning analytics faces huge problems before it reaches this stage. We need vast quantities of data that we are not currently generating. Many University courses lack opportunities to demonstrate prowess early on. Many courses offer only two or three measurements of performance to determine the final grade. This trying to guess our speed when the speedo only lights up every three to four weeks after we have pressed a combination of pedals.
The mechanisms for improvement and performance control in University education are not just murky, they’re opaque. If we identify a problem, what happens? In the case of detecting that we are speeding, most of us will slow down. If the police detect you are speeding, they may stop you or (more likely) issue you a fine and eventually you’ll use up your licence and have to stop driving. We just give people low marks or fail them. But, combine this with mechanism issues, and suddenly we need to ask if we’re even ready to try to take action if we had the analytics.
Let’s say we get all the data and it’s reliable and pedagogically sensible. We work out how to link things together. We build community support and we focus it correctly. You run analytics over your data. After some digging, you discover that 70% of your teaching staff simply don’t know how to do their jobs. And, as far as you can see, have been performing at this standard for 20 years.
What do you do?
Until we are ready to listen to what analytics tell us, until we have had the discussion of how we deal with students (and staff) who may wish to opt out, and until we have looked at this as the monstrous, resource-hungry, incredibly complex problem that it is, we really have to ask if we’re ready to take learning analytics seriously. And, given how much money can be spent on this, it’s probably better to work out if we’re going to listen before we invest money into a solution that won’t work because it cannot work.
Educator’s Statement: Nick Falkner
Posted: October 11, 2015 Filed under: Education, Opinion | Tags: advocacy, authenticity, blogging, community, education, educational problem, ethics, higher education, learning, teaching, thinking Leave a commentAn artist’s educator’s statement (or artist educator statement) is an artist’s educator’s written description of their work. The brief verbal representation is for, and in support of, his or her own work to give the viewer the student/a peer/an observer/questioning parents/unconvinced politicians/citizens/history understanding. As such it aims to inform, connect with artistic/scientific/educational/societal/intellectual/political contexts, and present the basis for the work; it is therefore didactic, descriptive, or reflective in nature. (Wikipedia + Nick Falkner)
Fear thrives in conditions of ignorance and deprivation. Ignorance is defeated by knowledge. Deprivation is defeated by fairness, equality and equity.
Education shares knowledge and provides the basis for more knowledge. Education attacks ignorance, fights fear, champions equality and saves the world.
If I am always learning then I can model learning for my students and adapt my practice to reflect changes in education as my knowledge increases. Who are my students? What do they need to know? How can I teach them? When will I know if they have the knowledge that they need? What do I need to do today, tomorrow and the day after that?
I have made mistakes but I will try not to make the same mistakes again. The essence of education is that we pass on what we have learned and keep developing knowledge so that we do not have to make the same mistakes again.
That is why I am an educator.
Musings of an Amateur Mythographer I: Islands of Certainty in a Sea of Confusion
Posted: June 23, 2015 Filed under: Education, Opinion | Tags: advocacy, authenticity, blogging, Claude Lévi-Strauss, design, education, educational problem, educational research, evidence, higher education, Karl Popper, Lévi-Strauss, learning, moocs, myth, mythographer, reflection, resources, scientific thinking, teaching, teaching approaches, thinking, tools Leave a commentI’ve been doing a lot of reading recently on the classification of knowledge, the development of scientific thinking, the ways different cultures approach learning, and the relationship between myths and science. Now, some of you are probably wondering why I can’t watch “Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D.” like a normal person but others of you have already started to shift uneasily because I’ve talked about a relationship between myths and science, as if we do not consider science to be the natural successor to preceding myths. Well, let me go further. I’m about to start drawing on thinking on myths and science and even how the myths that teach us about the importance of evidence, the foundation of science, but for their own purposes.
Why?
Because much of what we face as opposition in educational research are pre-existing stereotypes and misconceptions that people employ, where there’s a lack of (and sometimes in the face of) evidence. Yet this collection of beliefs is powerful because it prevents people from adopting verified and validated approaches to learning and teaching. What can we call these? Are these myths? What do I even mean by that term?
It’s important to realise that the use of the term myth has evolved from earlier, rather condescending, classifications of any culture’s pre-scientific thinking as being dismissively primitive and unworthy of contemporary thought. This is a rich topic by itself but let me refer to Claude Lévi-Strauss and his identification of myth as being a form of thinking and classification, rather than simple story-telling, and thus proto-scientific, rather than anti-scientific. I note that I have done the study of mythology a grave disservice with such an abbreviated telling. Further reading here to understand precisely what Lévi-Strauss was refuting could involve Tylor, Malinowski, and Lévy-Bruhl. This includes rejecting a knee-jerk classification of a less scientifically advanced people as being emotional and practical, rather than (even being capable of) being intellectual. By moving myth forms to an intellectual footing, Lévi-Strauss allows a non-pejorative assessment of the potential value of myth forms.
In many situations, we consider myth and folklore as the same thing, from a Western post-Enlightenment viewpoint, only accepting those elements that we can validate. Thus, we choose not to believe that Olympus holds the Greek Pantheon as we cannot locate the Gods reliably, but the pre-scientific chewing of willow bark to relieve pain was validated once we constructed aspirin (and willow bark tea). It’s worth noting that the early location of willow bark as part of its scientific ‘discovery’ was inspired by an (effectively random) approach called the doctrine of signatures, which assumed that the cause and the cure of diseases would be located near each other. The folkloric doctrine of signatures led the explorers to a plant that tasted like another one but had a different use.
Myth, folklore and science, dancing uneasily together. Does this mean that what we choose to call myth now may or may not be myth in the future? We know that when to use it, to recommend it, in our endorsed and academic context is usually to require it to become science. But what is science?
Karl Popper’s (heavily summarised) view is that we have a set of hypotheses that we test to destruction and this is the foundation of our contemporary view of science. If the evidence we have doesn’t fit the hypothesis then we must reject the hypothesis. When we have enough evidence, and enough hypotheses, we have a supported theory. However, this has a natural knock-on effect in that we cannot actually prove anything, we just have enough evidence to support the hypothesis. Kuhn (again, heavily summarised) has a model of “normal science” where there is a large amount of science as in Popper’s model, incrementing a body of existing work, but there are times when this continuity gives way to a revolutionary change. At these times, we see an accumulation of contradictory evidence that illustrates that it’s time to think very differently about the world. Ultimately, we discover the need for a new coherency, where we need new exemplars to make the world make sense. (And, yes, there’s still a lot of controversy over this.)
Let me attempt to bring this all together, finally. We, as humans, live in a world full of information and some of it, even in our post-scientific world, we incorporate into our lives without evidence and some we need evidence to accept. Do you want some evidence that we live our lives without, or even in spite of, evidence? The median length for a marriage in the United States is 11 years and 40-50% of marriages will end in divorce yet many still swear ‘until death do us part’ or ‘all of my days’. But the myth of ‘marriage forever’ is still powerful. People have children, move, buy houses and totally change their lives based on this myth. The actions that people take here will have a significant impact on the world around them and yet it seems at odd with the evidence. (Such examples are not uncommon and, in a post-scientific revolution world, must force us to consider earlier suggestions that myth-based societies move seamlessly to a science-based intellectual utopia. This is why Lévi-Strauss is interesting to read. Our evidence is that our evidence is not sufficient evidence, so we must seek to better understand ourselves.) Even those components of our shared history and knowledge that are constructed to be based on faith, such as religion, understand how important evidence is to us. Let me give an example.
In the fourth book of the New Testament of the Christian Bible, the Gospel of John, we find the story of the Resurrection of Lazarus. Lazarus is sick and Jesus Christ waits until he dies to go to where he is buried and raise him. Jesus deliberately delays because the glory to the Christian God will be far greater and more will believe, if Lazarus is raised from the dead, rather than just healed from illness. Ultimately, and I do not speak for any religious figure or God here, anyone can get better from an illness but to be raised from the dead (currently) requires a miracle. Evidence, even in a book written for the faithful and to build faith, is important to humans.
We also know that there is a very large amount of knowledge that is accepted as being supported by evidence but the evidence is really anecdotal, based on bias and stereotype, and can even be distorted through repetition. This is the sea of confusion that we all live in. The scientific method (Popper) is one way that we can try to find firm ground to stand on but, if Kuhn is to be believed, there is the risk that one day we stand on the islands and realise that the truth was the sea all along. Even with Popper, we risk standing on solid ground that turns out to be meringue. How many of these changes can one human endure and still be malleable and welcoming in the face of further change?
Our problem with myth is when it forces us to reject something that we can demonstrate to be both valuable and scientifically valid because, right now, the world that we live in is constructed on scientific foundations and coherence is maintained by adding to those foundations. Personally, I don’t believe that myth and science have to be at odds (many disagree with me, including Richard Dawkins of course), and that this is an acceptable view as they are already co-existing in ways that actively shape society, for both good and ill.
Recently I made a comment on MOOCs that contradicted something someone said and I was (quite rightly) asked to provide evidence to support my assertions. That is the post before this one and what you will notice is that I do not have a great deal of what we would usually call evidence: no double-blind tests, no large-n trials with well-formed datasets. I had some early evidence of benefit, mostly qualitative and relatively soft, but, and this is important to me, what I didn’t have was evidence of harm. There are many myths around MOOCs and education in general. Some of them fall into the realm of harmful myths, those that cause people to reject good approaches to adhere to old and destructive practices. Some of them are harmful because they cause us to reject approaches that might work because we cannot find the evidence we need.
I am unsurprised that so many people adhere to folk pedagogy, given the vast amounts of information out there and the natural resistance to rejecting something that you think works, especially when someone sails in and tells you’ve been wrong for years. The fact that we are still discussing the nature of myth and science gives insight into how complicated this issue is.
I think that the path I’m on could most reasonably be called that of the mythographer, but the cataloguing of the edges of myth and the intersections of science is not in order to condemn one or the other but to find out what the truth is to the best of our knowledge. I think that understanding why people believe what they believe allows us to understand what they will need in order to believe something that is actually, well, true. There are many articles written on this, on the difficulty of replacing one piece of learning with another and the dangers of repetition in reinforcing previously-held beliefs, but there is hope in that we can construct new elements to replace old information if we are careful and we understand how people think.
We need to understand the delicate relationships between myth, folklore and science, our history as separate and joined peoples, if only to understand when we have achieved new forms of knowing. But we also need to be more upfront about when we believe we have moved on, including actively identifying areas that we have labelled as “in need of much more evidence” (such as learning styles, for example) to assist people in doing valuable work if they wish to pursue research.
I’ll go further. If we have areas where we cannot easily gain evidence, yet we have competing myths in that space, what should we do? How do we choose the best approach to achieve the most effective educational outcomes? I’ll let everyone argue in the comments for a while and then write that as the next piece.



