Details

Several years ago I did a short stint in corporate America. Specifically, I spent almost a year in the Human Resources area of a large corporation. I did a variety of tasks during that time – from writing curriculum for the manager of Training and Development to updating job descriptions to answering phones. The “job description” element of that work was an eye opener for me.

At the time, I was quite young – basically at the beginning of my professional career. I had taught for a few years at the college level by that time. The job descriptions that I was familiar with were general – “ability to teach Public Speaking, Interpersonal Communication, Oral Interpretation of Literature and a minimum 2 years experience coaching college level Forensics.” Once hired, those were the basic duties. We were all expected to simply know the details of what was required to do these tasks effectively, and do them. And, the majority of the people I worked with seemed to know and do them.

However, there were a number of other duties that weren’t outlined in the job description. We were expected to serve on college committees, to advise students, to do department work involving curriculum offerings, to participate in the new educational initiatives that came along every 5 to 7 years. We did those things as well, just without it ever being written down as part of our job and, quite frankly, without ever being compensated for the work. It was just part of working in the academy.

Corporate job descriptions, though, were quite different. They contained a laundry list of specific tasks that an individual applying for a specific position was expected to do. They also contained an articulation of what constituted meeting those expectations – as well as what was considered falling short. Some of these descriptions were literally pages long. After working for a while in this environment I chose to go back to higher education and took my current job. The “job description” was what I had experienced in previous academic environments. And, for quite a long while, the majority of us adequately did our jobs with this minimal amount of written instruction.

As with all things, this process morphed over time. We still don’t have a corporate-type job description. However, we now have a “Professional Development Plan” – a document that we create in conjunction with our supervisor that has a 3 year shelf life. We outline in general terms what we intend to do to “develop” our professional skills over a 3 year period, and at the end of that time we submit a report that details how we accomplished this. In the past, this also formed the basis for our performance review. The process was designed to enable success. The 3 year plan was discussed at the outset with the supervising dean. It allows for growth and recognized that developing a skill set is a process. But it still is based upon the idea that everyone ‘knows’ the job description. In my opinion, it is effective and appropriate in an academic environment.

I suspect that part of the reason I am comfortable with this style is that it is what I ‘grew up’ with. When I was a college student, assignments in classes often read something like this: Prepare and deliver an 8-10 minute persuasive speech, 7 sources required, on a pertinent social issue. That was it. The entire instruction. And, we prepared and delivered the speech.

Today things have changed. The assessment movement in American education has pushed (not wrongly) the importance of articulating clear expectations and clear standards of evaluation. In essence, education has become ‘corporatized’ in this area, as well as in so many others. (Many a time we hear administrators refer to students as our ‘customers’.) So our writing of assignments has changed. They now resemble a job description. I now give my students a 14 point checklist of items required for their speeches. I clearly articulate the types of supporting material they are required to use, the pattern of arrangement for their main points, the required elements of delivery. I also articulate for them exactly how the points for the assignment will be assigned. With all these detailed instructions are students giving significantly better speeches that they did when I was a student? Quite frankly, no.

So I don’t think that this change has affected the quality of student work in any significant way for the better. What it has affected is the ability of students to work without a great deal of instruction. Unless you outline every expectation, students are often paralyzed about how to proceed. I suspect that this has worked its way into the workforce as well. It seems that many people have no idea what constitutes professionalism and courtesy, for example, or what constitutes quality work. Without clear and excessively detailed instructions, many people have no idea how to really function in a professional environment. They seem to lack the confidence and initiative to step out and take charge of a task and when they do, they often fall short.

It appears that this new and continued emphasis on the ‘corporate’ way of doing things may appease school boards, assessment officers and maybe even legislators. And maybe it’s simply the way things are so there’s no use in fighting it. But, in that corporate spirit, it might be a good idea for someone to engage in a cost-benefit analysis. For all the cost of changing to this corporate model, have the benefits to students and their skills really been worth it?

Today's image comes from:
theunemployedbride.wordpress.com

Power

The recent controversy over teacher salaries and bargaining rights in Wisconsin seems to be giving way to a renewed “discussion” (and yes, I use that term loosely) over teacher effectiveness and qualifications. It’s certainly not a new topic and most people seem to have quite a few opinions on it.

In a recent article in the New York Times, for example, Donna Foote puts in her 2 cents worth. Foote is a former Newsweek correspondent and author of a book called Relentless Pursuit: A Year in the Trenches with Teach for America. The book chronicles the experiences of four first-year teachers trained in the TFA program (that’s 5 weeks of training) who go on to work in struggling urban schools and the difficulties they encounter. In her NYT article, Foote asserts that “The single most important factor in student achievement is the quality of the teacher in the classroom.” Foote is wrong in her assertion on a dozen different levels.

Even the most basic examination of the research into student achievement would have shown Ms. Foote that the single most important factor in student achievement is family income and parental educational level. And while socio-economic status and parental education level are the most significant issues, they are also not the only factor in student achievement. “The single most important factor in student achievement is the quality of the teacher in the classroom.” Would it be that I, the teacher, had that amount of power. I don’t. But someone else does have that power – the parent.

So, let’s talk about parental involvement, or rather, the lack of it. No matter how well trained, how well supported, how experienced, how caring and involved a teacher is in their profession, none of that can possibly make up for what happens outside of the classroom. The teacher has no power over whether or not the student eats breakfast or the quality of that breakfast. They have no power over whether the student sleeps or how much. They have no power over the time the student spends on homework. They have no power over the amount of time the child was read to during their formative years. The parent, though, has the power over all those things.

I am not a parent, so I am not here to tout my own expertise in that arena. Instead, I’ll showcase the expertise of some of my friends who are parents – who do everything in their power to make it possible for their children to achieve academically. For example, in one friend’s house during the academic year there are rules that everyone follows. There is no television during the school week. You read that right – NO television. Of any kind. Not the news. Not Glee. No television. Not for the kids – not for the adults. It just doesn’t get turned on between 6 pm on Sunday through 6 pm on Friday. Computers are in the living room, including laptops. There is no watching TV online. There is no Facebooking or YouTubing until 2 am. At bedtime, all cell phones remain in the living room. There is no texting of friends throughout the night. If grades fall below acceptable levels, extra-curricular activities are at risk. Are my friends’ children gifted? No. Are they all performing well in academically rigorous schools? Yes. Why? Parental involvement.

Reports say the average American student spends over 9 hours per day in front of some form of media. Imagine what student achievement might look like it they spent that 9 hours reading – or even half of it. It isn’t up to the teacher – it’s up to the parent. A very unscientific survey of my own students last semester revealed that a full 85% of my students had a television in their bedroom before the age of 12. It isn’t up to the teacher – it’s up to the parent.

Foote goes on in her article to state that “we should attack the real problem: the quality of our teachers.” No one would probably argue that a good teacher is better than a bad one. I realize that not all teachers are exceptional or even good. But the message from Foote and others seems to be that anyone can teach well with only 5 weeks of training – anyone, that is, except a veteran teacher.

Lest you think I’m trying to defend myself and declare what a great teacher I am, let me assure you that I am fully aware of my own shortcomings as an educator. I shudder to think of the students I “taught” during my first year as a teacher. I was horrible. Really. I was slightly less horrible during my second year of teaching and in each subsequent year after that. (If any of my students from those first 5 years are reading this, please accept my sincere apologies.) After quite a few years, I actually began to think that someday I might even be good. Even now, though, I realize that I am a better teacher today than I was 10 years ago, than I was five years ago, than I was one year ago.

Would I have been a better teacher at the beginning had I gone through TFA’s 5 week intensive training program before I started? Maybe. I’m not here to bash TFA and I certainly don’t know enough about their training program to either praise or condemn it. But I would hazard a guess that after 25 years of honing my craft I am a better teacher than any of the TFA teachers in their first year. And, even by their own reports, the difference in impact on student success their teachers make compared to traditionally trained teachers is minimal at best. From a report posted on their website:

The average control class students scored in the 15th percentile in the fall and remained in the 15th percentile at the end of the year. In contrast, the average TFA class students increased their ranking from the 14th percentile to the 17th percentile over the same period.

For reading achievement, we found that the average student in TFA and control classrooms experienced the same growth rate. The average sample member increased by the equivalent of about one percentile point during the study year.

I think you would be hard pressed to find someone who doesn’t believe that we should have exceptional teachers. We should. Our students deserve the very best of effort in helping them to achieve learning. But blaming teachers for things that are absolutely out of their control gets us nowhere. And it takes the conversation and attention away from dealing with the real issues that plague educational achievement in our society. For students to achieve educationally, they need a home environment that puts education in the forefront. They need parents who are willing to do everything in their power to support and create an environment that makes learning important. We all need to lose our sense of entitlement that makes us demand something for nothing. And we need well-trained, experienced teachers, giving their best.

Image: jones.k12.ms.us

Wake

I’ve been dreaming of summer – the green grass, the warmth of the sun, the smell of summer wafting in through the window on the slightest hint of a breeze as you’re drifting off to sleep with only a sheet to cover you. Last night in my dream it was summer and I was on a boat. I was sitting at the back of the boat, watching the wake billow out behind us. It rippled – big waves at first, which got smaller and smaller the further they got from the boat. Later in the dream I was on the shore, standing at the edge of the water as the wake of a passing boat made its way to shore and splashed up over my feet, again and again, each splash getting smaller and smaller.

Of course, I know this was a dream. There was the fact that I was sitting at the back of the boat watching the wake. In reality I would be more likely to be at the back of the boat hurling into the wake as the waves of motion sickness washed over me. There is the other reality of the sight out my window as I write -- the mountains of snow still covering the ground with more promised to come today.

But since I woke up I have been thinking about the wake.

There are people who go through life leaving a path of absolute destruction in their wake -- a series of bad choices repeated over and over, failed attempts at jobs or education, damage done, failed relationships. I wonder what they see when they look back – if they ever do – and contemplate their path. I wonder what impact their wake has on their future choices.

We are ephemeral. We pass through. We are here for a while, but ultimately we all go. We all have an impact on someone or a series of someones. I am looking at my wake. I am contemplating what I see there. What is it that splashes onto people’s feet as I pass by? What washes up on the shore and remains? And, I continue to dream of summer.

Image: web.me.com

Extra

Credit, that is. It’s what people want. And, apparently, I’m supposed to give it.

I don’t remember having a lot of options for extra credit while I was in school. I’m sure that could be a case of selective remembering. I know that there were certainly times I wanted it. But my memory says it was a bit of a rarity and I even recall one of my college instructors writing it into the syllabus – “There is no
such thing as EXTRA credit!” I remember thinking him a little bit of a hard you-know-what but didn’t give it much thought beyond that.

These days, extra credit seems to be the expectation – and not just from students. We get emails from various people pushing their particular special interest on campus and wanting us to encourage our students to participate. They are helpful enough to give us a list of ways to do this including, inevitably, “offer your students extra credit to…” We want them to participate in a campus conference – offer extra credit. We want them to attend a campus speaker – offer extra credit. We want them to attend Success day – offer them extra credit. We want them to participate in the campus food drive/book drive/coat drive – offer them extra credit.

In the beginning of my teaching career, I admit I didn’t give this much thought. I occasionally offered students the option of earning extra credit by attending a campus speaking event and writing something (evaluation, response) that related the speaking event to the course theory. I quickly learned, though, that the extra work was not worth the extra credit – for me or for my students.

More significantly, I once gave students the opportunity to earn extra points by donating to a campus food drive. Many did, but many didn’t. One of the ones who didn’t, was gracious enough to come talk to me privately. Our conversation changed my approach. She told me that she would have loved to have earned the extra points and would have loved to give to the food drive, but that her family had to actually make use of the food shelf so she couldn’t give. I realized that my ‘extra credit option’ actually amounted to selling grades to the wealthier of my students. Ouch.

This experience caused me to step back and really evaluate the notion of ‘extra credit.’ Having done so, I’ve eliminated it from my teaching. I arrange my courses so that grades are earned based on a number of assignments worth smaller amounts of points. Doing poorly on or missing any one assignment won’t kill anyone, nor will it make the difference between any two grades.

I’ve determined that to be in line with my own philosophy of education, grades should not be based upon sheer volume of work. If I give enough ‘extra credit’ options, anyone should be able to get enough points to earn an ‘A’. But grades and evaluation should be about more than simply amassing points. They should be about quality as well, and they should distinguish between students operating at different levels of expertise, effort and ability. Not everyone should get an ‘A’. Not everyone is exceptional. And, for me, if that ‘A’ isn’t earned outright but given away through a process of ‘extra credit’ makes the concept of grades essentially meaningless.

I’m sure that many of my students will disagree with me. I’m sure that many of my colleagues will as well. However, I’m content with grading the work that has been assigned, and evaluating my students’ performance on that basis, and leaving the ‘extra’ to others.

Image from: blogs.edweek.org

Excuses

It’s the first day of Speeches. Let the excuses begin!!

My students deliver 4 researched and prepared speeches in my Public Speaking classes in addition to 5 limited preparation speeches. We’ve been preparing for this day since the first week of class. Every day we have covered another concept to help make students ready for this speech – organization, supporting material, outlining, introductions, conclusions, research. The course is designed very carefully to build up to this first speech. We cover all the material in order and I require students to hand in work along the way – first a thesis statement, then main point ideas, then a rough outline, then a finished outline.

Students are allowed to choose their speech day. We have 3 days of speeches this round, and students volunteered to go on specific days. They have chosen when they wanted to give their speech. There’s absolutely no reason to not be prepared.

And yet, the excuses come. “I won’t be in class today. I know I’m supposed to speak, but…” A full one-fifth of the students scheduled to speak made an excuse as to why they couldn’t.

I often joke (as do many Public Speaking instructors) that taking a Public Speaking class is hazardous. It results in the death of untold grandparents, aunts, uncles and cousins as well as numerous family pets. It fosters all manner of illness from the general malaise of ‘I’m just not feeling well at all,’ to the flu, to laryngitis, to fevers and chills of unknown origin. It results in various family members having to go out of town for various emergencies, and they must take flights that require them to be taken to the airport during the scheduled speech time. It even has been known to send friends, sisters, and boyfriends’ sisters into labor requiring the immediate attendance of a speaker at the hospital for the event.

While all these are certainly valid life events, it is fascinating to me how much more likely they are to occur if the student is enrolled in a Public Speaking course.

It’s not like there aren’t consequences for not speaking as assigned. It’s an automatic letter grade deduction and then another letter grade for every missed speaking opportunity. The highest grade most people who give a late speech end up earning is a C. Many end up with a D or an F. And, the reality is, that many people who aren’t ready to speak on their assigned date are never ready, and end up not giving the speech at all – a 0. Failing to give one of the 4 major speeches, generally results in a course grade no higher than a C, often lower. That’s not a pre-determined policy – it’s simply the results I’ve seen over and over through years of teaching this course.

Of course, excuses abound, even outside of the Public Speaking classroom. We see them in our workplace, with colleagues, in our friendships and family relationships. There’s something almost instinctive in the self-protective nature of the excuse. It’s not really my fault – it’s beyond my control. That allows me to convince myself that I wasn’t lazy or unorganized. It’s not that I’m irresponsible or unprofessional. It’s not that I was thoughtless or purposely disrespectful. I have an excuse.

Listening to my students’ excuses makes me painfully conscious of my own. And that awareness, while it doesn’t change or erase the consequences of my students’ choices, does give me a greater understanding of what they’re experiencing, and a greater compassion as well.

(I tried to create my own image, but couldn't figure out the software... so I snagged this image from this site: ashleybolivar.com)

Magic

We are at the end of the second week of the semester. Enrollment in classes has more or less evened out. The students who are coming to class have, more than likely, the intention of finishing out the semester. Whether they are able to do so successfully, though, will depend on any number of factors. Unfortunately, the majority of those factors are absolutely out of my control.

Yesterday we had our first quiz in one of my courses. First quizzes can be difficult. You don’t know how the instructor writes questions, what type of information they’re looking for, how to read the questions. In this particular course, I provide a study guide for my students in advance. I create the study guide from the actual quiz, making sure that I indicate the topics that will be covered.

I also allow students to use a note card - a ‘cheat sheet’ if you will - during the quiz. I don’t do this in my other courses. I question the wisdom of doing it in this course as well. I wonder if I’m being too easy on them, too indulgent. I justify my choice because of the fact that the material in this course is very foreign to many students and the textbooks are really written at the 3000/4000 level as opposed to the 2000 level where this course, of necessity, resides on our campus. Even with the study guide and the note card – many students average a solid ‘C’ on quizzes throughout the semester. In the past I have attributed this to the difficulty of the course material and the ‘newness’ of the topic to most of my students. Today I am questioning those assumptions.

After the class a student approached me to talk about the quizzes. He admitted he didn’t think he had done well on the first quiz – earning 6 out of 15. He is correct in his self-assessment. He asked whether the remaining quizzes would be as hard. I assured him that they would. I then went on to give him advice about how to study. My comments went something like this:

When you sit down to read the chapter, be sure to have the study guide with you. As you are reading, take notes on the concepts that are listed on the study guide, summarizing the ideas in your own words. Check off each item as you come to it, to make sure you don’t miss anything in the reading. Then, study the notes you’ve made on the study guide. After that, condense the ideas down into more concise wording to put the concepts on your notecard. If you do this, you should be pretty well prepared to do well on the next quiz.

This student looked at me as though I had grown a second head. His response was, “I don’t have time for that.”

My student asserted that he had other classes and life obligations and that he just wasn’t going to spend that much time on this. When I suggested that he should consider whether he should be taking the class this semester, that maybe 4 classes was too many for him, he was quick to assert that he wasn’t going to drop the course. He just doesn’t have the time to do the basic studying required. When I
reminded him that there were assignments other than the quizzes - group projects, papers – he simply repeated that he doesn’t have time for this.

It was a fascinating experience. I could literally see the magical thinking going on in this student’s head. I “shouldn’t” demand so much of him. I “shouldn’t” expect him to read or study. I “shouldn’t” advise him to reconsider his decision to take this course. I “should” change my standards and make my course easier. I “should” ask less. I “should” reduce the course expectations. He ‘should’ be able to get a good grade in the course without actually doing any reading, writing or studying.

So where does this thinking come from? Have we watered down our educational system so much that even the most basic expectations of reading and taking notes are now considered ‘too demanding?’ Is any expectation of prioritizing school, homework, and studying above socializing or personal life simply an archaic notion that doesn’t recognize modern life and its demands? Do we really expect that we can learn a new concept without any effort on our part? Do we really expect to have a college degree handed to us in exchange for a swipe of our credit card?

Maybe it’s the consumer mentality that has taken over much of academia. Maybe it’s the sense of entitlement that we hear talked of so much in reference to this particular generation. Maybe it’s simple, old-fashioned laziness. Whatever it is – the result for my student is grave disappointment. The quizzes won’t get any easier, the demands of the class won’t get any lighter. I’m sticking to that old-fashioned standard that you do have to read, you do have to write, you do have to study.

today’s image - flickr.com

Boundaries

In December I was in conversation with a couple of my colleagues and the topic of technology came into the discussion. Both of these colleagues teach on-line, one entirely and one partially. They were making the point that I just didn’t understand the demands of such work – that they were forced to work more and harder in order to teach in that particular environment than I do in a traditional, face-to-face classroom. Hmmm.

I know that one of the difficulties of the working world is the comparisons. We have been raised in a competitive culture – where it is rewarded to do better than the person next to you. One of the things that engenders, then, is the tendency to compare ourselves to others. We look at others to make sure that they are working as hard as we are – putting in the same effort, the same time. I think that it is also human nature to assume at some level (perhaps unconscious) that we work harder, better, longer than others around us. It certainly is consistent with that tendency in perception that we teach in the Interpersonal classes – “we see ourselves in the best possible light.” I know that I succumb to this tendency as well. I think (hope) I’m just not quite so quick to say that thought out loud to one of my colleagues!

I admit that I didn’t react all that well. I suggested that we all work hard and I didn’t really believe that they worked any harder than the rest of us – they just worked ‘differently.’ One of them then asserted that I just didn’t understand the demands and expectations that have been put on them – answering emails at 3 am, for example. That’s where I really lost it. I asserted that they were feeding me a line of crap and that I didn’t believe a word of it! How’s that for direct? I told them very clearly that in my opinion they both needed to get a life and set some boundaries! (And yes, I know I could have said it a little more gently.) I answer student emails from home. I answer student emails on weekends. I do NOT answer student emails at 3 am. And, if any administrator ever tells me that I need to be answering student emails at 3 am, then it’s time for a chat with my union grievance representative!

This morning when I logged on to my Facebook page there was a posting from the college’s Humanities and Fine Arts page. It contained a link to an article in today’s edition of The Chronicle of Higher Education that focused on some of the latest technologies that can enhance our teaching. In this article, the author makes reference to a professor at the University of Texas at Dallas who keeps his syllabi loaded on a hand-held device so that “when a student emails to ask about an assignment deadline while Mr. Parry is at the grocery store, he knows.”

Really? Now I’m expected to answer a student email while I’m at the grocery store?

Please don’t misunderstand. I believe in being available to my students to answer questions. If a student wants me to look at a rough draft or an outline, or has a question about a concept that they are trying to understand as they study for the next exam, I am more than happy to respond to those questions, even at home, even on the weekend. But carrying my syllabi around so that I can tell a student when a paper is due while I’m buying my groceries seems beyond a reasonable expectation to me. That student was given a copy of the syllabus when they enrolled for the course. They can just as easily look up that information as I can. Why on earth should I be responsible for taking charge of that student’s calendar or schedule? This hardly seems like helpful help to me. One of the skills we all need to learn is the ability to track and manage our own deadlines and responsibilities.

It seems to me that with this increasing encroachment of technology into all our lives we all need to be more diligent about setting some boundaries. You don’t have to answer your cell phone every time it rings. You don’t have to respond to a text message the moment it comes in. You don’t have to reply to an email at 3am. We all need down time – private time. We need time to breathe, time to think, time to relax, time to imagine. Not putting boundaries on the technology demands in our lives eats away at the margin- the white spaces in our lives that allow us to do that necessary regrouping.

So, we’re gearing up to start a new semester. I intend to be available to my students. I intend to be responsive and flexible. I intend to do my job well. I intend to do so with clear boundaries about where my work life ends and my personal life begins.


Today’s image comes from
corbisimages.com