Hard to teach

The Hardest Students to Teach

Maryellen Weimer, PhD

The Student Who’s Cruising – The one who is just going through the motions, doing coursework with the least amount of effort. Often these students are polite, sometimes even apologetic, but they’re fundamentally uninterested in learning what’s being taught in the course, and one strongly suspects they’re not interested in any of their courses. Can personal attention make a difference? Can showing you care inspire even a modicum of motivation? What about choice? “Is there a way you could do this assignment that would make it more interesting?” What about challenge? “Study hard for one exam—put your brain to the test so you know what it can accomplish.” What about confrontation, constructively framed, but still in the student’s face? “Why isn’t coursework part of your agenda in college?”

Some students are more challenging to teach than others. They require pedagogical skills of a different and higher order. Sometimes it’s easier to sigh and just turn away. And that’s legitimate in the sense that students (indeed, people of all sorts) have to figure things out for themselves. But many of us were such “works in progress” when we were in college, and a teacher (or several of them) ended up being instrumental in moving us in more productive directions. It’s for that reason I’d like us to consider some of these challenging students, each one a unique individual, but many displaying the same counterproductive attitudes and actions. Descriptions of these students come much more easily than solutions to what’s holding them back. Said more directly, my goal here is to start this conversation and ask for your wisdom, insights, and experiences with students who are tough to teach.

The Entitled Student – The one with the consumer orientation to education. The credential is all this student wants—that ticket to the good job, that’s what matters. Courses outside the major or program are a waste of time and should be treated as such. These students shop for the “easy” courses, and if the prof doesn’t deliver what’s needed, course evaluations are used to get even. What about a focus on the skills needed in every profession—listening, teamwork, critical thinking, problem-solving—that can be in learned in any college course?  What does paying for college entitle students to? Anything beyond the opportunity to learn?

The Student Who Can’t Do It – The one who can’t write, can’t do math, can’t sing, just doesn’t have the ability and believes that without the “gift” there’s not much point in trying. These are students with detailed stories of defeat, a litany of experiences all adding to the “can’t do it” conclusion. Does providing these students with a different narrative work? Does having a teacher who believes in you can make a difference? Can assignments be designed so that students discover what they can do? Will demonstrations of progress help convince them?

The Student Who Cheats – Lots of students cheat, so even if you aren’t sure about the actions of any given student, you can be sure there are those in your course who do. They feel grade pressure and the need to please parents. They justify their actions with the “everybody does it” argument. They don’t think cheating hurts them, particularly if they’ve decided the course content is irrelevant. But cheating stunts the growth of personal integrity, and it’s that conversation we should be having with students.

The Student Who Only Cares About the Grade – These are the students you can get to do anything for a point or two. They frequently struggle to separate themselves from how they scored on a test, so any grade implicates their worth as a human being. And they happily accept a good grade whether or not there’s any learning associated with it. Could we be talking more about learning and less about grades? Are there ways to show that learning matters more than grades?

Two points in summary: Maybe the best we can offer these challenging students is our vision of their potential, unclouded by their behaviors. And we may never know that we made a difference. Writer T. C. Boyle had three college teachers who were instrumental in his discovery that he could write. Of one of them, he observes, “He saw something in me—in my writing and my intelligence—and he tried to promote and encourage it.” Boyle says of this teacher who became his mentor, “I hurt him. I didn’t attend classes. I hung with the losers.” But that teacher’s vision caused Boyle to move in a new direction. He started to read books.

What students do you find difficult to teach, and how can we better reach them?

Geração Y

Desafio e oportunidade no ensino da geração Y 

Kodi E. Kojima

 

 

Engagement

Participation Points: Making Student Engagement Visible

By: Stephanie Almagno, PhD

As I contemplate my syllabi for a new semester, I possess renewed hope for students eager to discuss anything at 8 a.m., yet I have taught long enough to know that I will simply appreciate clean clothes and brushed teeth. As reality sets in, I add to my grading criteria an element that I hope will encourage engagement from even the most timid learners.

Often labeled “participation points,” this topic has been explored from myriad perspectives in any number of books and articles published in the last 20 years. Some approaches to participation include using discussion to facilitate teaching and learning, implementing standard-based grading to eliminate participation points, or creating rubrics for participation to make standards visible to the students.

Here I must acknowledge that my 8 a.m. courses are usually populated by freshmen; many of these students, educated during the NCLB era and fresh from standardized tests and state-mandated EOCTs here in Georgia, struggle to adjust to rigorous college expectations. Most can’t comprehend or articulate our expectations for participation and thus often don’t participate fully.

And here’s the rub—first-year students often don’t know why engagement is important either in their classroom or their learning. They’ve yet to learn that participation is an investment in themselves. We know that engaged learners are active learners, but how do we help our students shift from grade seekers to knowledge seekers? Even college students need to be reminded that they are building intellectual and personal skills that will serve them well in all future professional and personal endeavors.

In order to help students become aware of the need for a new level of academic performance, let’s change our own strategies concerning participation points.

1. Use a new moniker

• Instead of participation points, call them engagement points
• The goal is to move students from grade seekers (passive regurgitation of information—written or verbal) to knowledge seekers (independent, engaged learners who see, reflect on, and share their thoughts on the complexity of problems/situations)
• Balance preparation and participation

2. Lead with preparation

• Engagement = Preparation + Participation
  • Create opportunities for students to share homework or research
  • Make homework vital to class conversation and student learning, not simply a formative check preceding a summative assessment

3. Share and review your Engagement Rubric from Day 1 (below is a version of the rubric I created for my 2000- and 3000-level students)

• Make the balance of preparation and participation part of your classroom routine in independent daily writing or group work by encouraging students to reference their notes and research.

4. Students must score themselves against the Engagement Rubric

• Metacognitive exercises help students understand their responsibility in their own learning
• Make this a quick two minute monthly activity
• Repetition allows students to reacquaint themselves with the desired behavior
• A monthly check allows you to praise, schedule conferences, or recommend tutoring while the semester is still salvageable. 

Engagement Rubric

ENGAGEMENT	PREPARATION (outside of class)	PARTICIPATION  (in class)
I am fully engaged	Exemplary Preparation I read carefully and research background information on the author/topic ahead of time. I research social, cultural, historic, economic, political connections to the text/topic. I consider the course’s Essential Questions as I prepare.	Animated Participation I attend class and I speak daily. I try to advance the conversation by presenting evidence to support my ideas. I present related research, implications, or complexities in the text/situation/topic.
I am occasionally engaged	Novice Preparation I read assignments ahead of time. I do basic research to understand the material, but I do not go beyond the obvious. Sometimes I consider the course’s Essential Questions as I prepare.	Occasional Participation I attend class daily. I speak occasionally—mainly when called upon by the professor. Sometimes I present general evidence to support my position.
I’m not sure how to be engaged; I need some direction	Inadequate preparation Sometimes I do the reading. I don’t research to understand the material, nor do I go beyond the obvious.	Inadequate participation My attendance is inconsistent. I participate only when prompted.
I am Disengaged	No Preparation I neither read nor research before class.	No Participation My attendance is inconsistent. I do not speak in class.

5. Recognize quiet learners (during and after class)

• Accept e-mail responses from quiet students
• Accept reflective e-mails—after class discussion has occurred
• Ask permission to share their ideas (with attribution) in the next class session

6. Re-direct garrulous students who don’t full engage with the content

• Reinforce preparation by encouraging “talkers” to support their ideas with research, articles, quotations from the text as hand, homework, etc.

Engaged students are agents in their own education. Of course, the sole responsibility for engagement mustn’t fall squarely on the students’ shoulders; professors can prepare the classroom and create daily activities to support knowledge-seeking, engaged students. Take a look at your syllabi and lesson plans to ensure that you provide opportunities for students to share their preparation, research, and new knowledge gleaned, even early in the morning. 

Dr. Stephanie Almagno is a professor of English at Piedmont College, Demorest, GA.

Prior knowledge

Prior Knowledge as an Unexpected Obstacle to Learning

By Janet G. Hudson, PhD Prior knowledge is essential for learning because it helps us make sense of new ideas and information. But when that prior knowledge is incomplete, confused, or flawed, it can create barriers to learning. Consider the following scenarios. I. Novice travelers’ experience: Awaiting the city bus in Tokyo, an American couple fumbled through their foreign currency to create various combinations of unfamiliar coins to pay the yet unknown fare. Their prior knowledge taught them that city buses require exact change upon entrance; moreover, they were aware that riders and drivers don’t patiently tolerate the uninitiated. Why wasn’t the fare posted? Were tickets purchased in advance? Their anxiety to discover the mysterious cost of this public transportation adventure rose as the bus approached. Missing piece of expert local knowledge: Bus fares in Tokyo vary by distance traveled. The fare is paid upon exiting. II. Novice student’s experience: “I took notes, studied them, and thought I did well on the history test until my professor wrote: ‘You misunderstand one of the most basic principles of this historical era. Plantation tobacco slavery was a defining characteristic of the southern Chesapeake colonies (Maryland and Virginia). Plantation slavery was NOT a feature of the northern economy as you indicated.’” Student’s prior knowledge stumbling block: This student came of age in the 21st century, and Maryland is not commonly perceived as a southern state today. So if plantation tobacco slavery existed in Maryland, as her professor indicated, then apparently plantation slavery existed in “the North,” a conclusion she drew from unknowingly linking her 21st century understanding of Maryland’s regional identity with the expert’s content. Guiding novice learners New knowledge builds on existing knowledge, and this strongly agreed-upon principle is imbedded in our education system and culture. For example, algebra builds upon mastery of multiplication, and similarly, at the K-12 level, numerically ordered grades imply that mastery of the third grade precedes entry to fourth grade. Colleges design prerequisite courses to scaffold disciplinary expertise. Pervasive agreement that new knowledge builds upon prior knowledge, however, rests on the unstated assumption that one’s prior knowledge is accurate and complete. Yet evidence abounds that this assumption is wildly optimistic if not frequently flawed. As the examples above illustrate, whether you are a novice with the Tokyo bus system or a novice in an introductory history course, your prior knowledge can become an obstacle rather than a conduit for new learning. Even with all the necessary prerequisites met, students commonly begin courses with inadequate prior knowledge or, more problematically, with prior knowledge that is confused and that includes misunderstandings, flawed thinking, and misplaced assumptions. What’s an expert to do? Step 1: Diagnose For prior knowledge to accelerate rather than hinder learning, flawed thinking, misunderstandings, confusion, and misplaced assumptions MUST be diagnosed. Only when novices recognize their confusion can it be explored and reconsidered. This is easier said than done, however, because: Novices are often unaware of their own flawed thinking or misunderstanding. Novices who recognize their lack of understanding may be too confused to form questions that experts readily understand. Novices who risk expressing their confusion with inarticulate questions that vaguely reference this, that, and the thingamabob are commonly greeted with blank stares, rolled eyes, impatient gestures, or worse—public ridicule. Novices frequently bristle at new information or ideas that experts share, especially when these contradict novices’ understanding or challenge their worldviews, political identities, or life experiences. This in turn may lead novices, consciously or unconsciously, to resist or reject the ideas. Step 2: Construct an “anatomy of confusion” Rather than expecting novices to always take the initiative, lead with their confusion, and willingly make themselves vulnerable, as disciplinary experts we can strategically bring a sense of curiosity to novices’ perspectives. We can imagine their misunderstandings, errors, and flawed assumptions as evidence for analyzing and data for constructing our discipline’s “anatomy of confusion.” How do we begin? Gather data for your anatomy of confusion: Reflect on your teaching experiences in search of common misunderstandings. Speak with colleagues about patterns of confusion they’ve noticed. Interview advanced students who may recall recent breakthroughs and remember their earlier confusion. Brainstorm with novices to increase your insights into their “flawed” understanding of your expertise. (Remember, colleagues in other disciplines, family, and friends may be willing novices ready for experimentation.) Conduct novice brainstorming exercises: Invite novices to brainstorm all the associations they make with a word, phrase, or core concept that is vital to your expertise. Note false associations and omitted ones. Invite novices to ask questions regarding a core concept you’ve identified from your discipline. The questions are your data, so look for imbedded assumptions and note vague references and missing vocabulary. Classify your data. Common misunderstandings reveal that novices tend to: Apply familiar-word meanings when discipline-specific meanings are needed Extend analogies too far or too literally Apply generalizations erroneously to specific situations Assume that rules and forms that fit one context or discipline apply equally in a different context or discipline Miss crucial concepts Finally, with the addition of self-assessments to link particular confusion with particular concepts or levels of mastery, an anatomy of confusion can become a valuable tool for constructing pathways for novices to follow away from arrays of misunderstandings toward improved and increased understanding. Reference: Ambrose et al. (2010) How Learning Works: Seven Research-Based Principles for Smart Teaching. San Francisco, CA: Jossey-Bass. * Dr. Janet G. Hudson is the Faculty Associate Director for Innovative Teaching at the University of South Carolina Center for Teaching Excellence.

Feedback

Hacking Feedback: Seeking And Receiving Feedback From Students

 

By Sean McComb 

One of my favorite education books is The Courage to Teach. In that text, Parker Palmer explores teaching as a daily exercise in vulnerability. As teachers, we expose ourselves, and often the content we love, to an at-times unforgiving world. Difficult students, dud lessons, doubting colleagues, short-sighted initiatives, all exacerbated by the challenges of our lives outside the classroom, can eventually harden a teacher. And that skepticism can make it a lot harder to take the risks necessary to get better.

So finding the courage to continue to care deeply, to continue to seek feedback, can be challenging. But I’ve found, as scary as it may be, that student feedback has been an important catalyst for reflecting on and improving my practice. Hearing directly from students also aligns with my own deepest motivations. More than test scores, or my desire to introduce students to great novels and great questions, I teach so that students feel someone believes in them and they feel empowered to learn, grow, and succeed. Measuring success on that mission requires hearing directly from students.

Student Survey

My first venture into gaining feedback from students took the form of an end-of-course survey. To select the questions, I drew on Kathleen Cushman’s Fires in the Bathroom and my own curiosities. The students’ feedback was helpful. I didn’t have to guess how they felt the course went; they were able to tell me. I was impressed by the specificity with which students could recall individual lessons and incidences from class, and the value of their suggestions for improvement. It was wonderful food for thought as a reflective practitioner.

I had students respond anonymously, so they could be more honest, but this year I’ll give students the opportunity to provide their name. I hope that knowing the source can help me contextualize the feedback for specific responders, but I also want to offer anonymity if they prefer.

About half the questions were open response and the other half asked students to respond with their level of agreement across a likert scale. It’s no surprise that I gained much more actionable feedback from the open response items. The levels of agreement provided a good snapshot, but I was left wanting. For the outlier students in either direction, I wanted to know why. What was it that made a positive or negative difference for that individual?

The survey was definitely a step in the right direction, but reading them in June was also a little sad. I could make changes for the next group, but I was left thinking, what if I had known earlier? What if I had known and been able to engage in conversations about alternatives?

Student-Led Focus Groups

My desire for more of a conversation — a back-and-forth exchange of perspectives with students — led me to the decision to have students lead a focus group on my instruction and debrief the feedback with me.

Toward the end of the first quarter, knowing I would be out for the next class, I briefed my classes on the plan. I told them that I was interested in hearing from them about how class was going, that I wanted to keep improving and become a better teacher for them, and that their thoughtful input was vital. Then I asked for volunteers to lead conversations with their classmates the next day, when I would be out. I spoke briefly with the volunteers and answered questions about the process: I directed them to collect student-responses, look for trends in the conversations, and during their conversations push for suggestions and solutions from their peers.

I left the substitute with a half-sheet to give students to complete before beginning their other tasks. It had the following questions:

• What is something that’s been going well for you in this class?
• What is something that hasn’t been going well for you?
• Has there been a time in class when you felt disrespected? What happened? How could it have been handled differently?
• Have you found anything about this class frustrating? Can you think of a way that it could be improved?
• Do you feel that you are becoming a better learner in this class? Explain.

I left directions to allow the student-leaders, halfway through the period, to group up and lead conversations around these questions. The student-leaders led their conversations and collected their peers’ responses. A few days after my return, we met during a lunch period to discuss their feedback.

The conversation was extraordinary. That’s not to say that it was all positive. There were a lot of positives, and there were questions, there were challenges, and there were moments of surprise, when I could have and should have been better, that were disappointing. It was honest. It was real. And it was invaluable towards helping me become a better teacher. Thankfully, Teaching Channel was in the house to capture it, so video snippets will soon be available.

What was, perhaps, most impressive was the maturity and insight with which the students handled the conversation. They were nuanced in delivering feedback from the many and the few. They were sensitive to competing pressures. And as I explained my reasoning and choices, they were understanding, but still pushed me to seek solutions. A few times I was truly at a loss for how to address an issue, and they were creative and stepped in to provide solutions that I have since put into action. I shudder to think about what it would be like if the class train kept rolling down the tracks without me having this insight into the student experience the student-led focus group strategy offered.

Not to be overlooked is the importance of modeling. One student noted the impact of my simply being open and asking for feedback from the students, and what that said to them about continuing to learn and grow.

Do you tap students to gain feedback on your instruction and classroom environment? What strategies do you use? Could you implement a survey or focus-group into your practice?

Sean McComb teaches English at Patapsco High School and Center for the Arts in the Baltimore County Public Schools System. Sean also supports the development of teaching and learning for Baltimore County’s STAT Initiative. He is affiliated with the Maryland Writing Project, NCTE, Learning Forward, National Network of State Teachers of the Year, and ISTE. Sean is the 2014 National Teacher of the Year and a Teaching Channel Laureate. Connect with him on Twitter: @Mr_McComb.

The Joy of Teaching

 

Cheer up, my academic colleagues! We're so lucky to do this job

Everybody loves a moan, but we must temper our negativity. Here are nine things I love about this profession

By Anonymous academic

   

Don’t worry, be happy – there may be difficulties, but academia is still worth celebrating. Photograph: Alamy

 

As a tribe, we academics enjoy complaining. There’s too much teaching, too many committees, not enough funding. The reviewers are too mean, the houses too expensive, the wages too low. But I would like to stick my head above the parapet (anonymously) and propose a new idea for 2016: let’s celebrate academia for a change.

We need to remember that this profession is fun. We need to rekindle the fires that got us here in the first place. Yes, there are some rubbish bits. But when I take a break from complaining and reflect, there are lots of things that make me happy – and should make you happy too. Here are nine of them:

1 Everyday People

 The longer you work in academia, the wider your global network becomes. We have the privilege of working with brilliant, interesting people from around the world. Many are fascinated by the same obscure minutiae we are and will happily discuss them late into the night, often over a beer, in an interesting exotic place, or Brussels. We should bask in the company of our peers.

2 My Generation

Working with students allows you to reflect on the joys of youth through the mirror of their experiences. Undergraduates have a limitless capacity to imagine that they are pioneers; that their ironic fashion is the first of its kind; that no one else has ever pulled an all-nighter to complete a assignment because they were too busy organising an ironic fashion show.

Celebrate your acquired wisdom and maturity (while missing grant deadlines because you are too busy organising your children’s fashion show).

3 Getting Better

I don’t have much experience of the world outside academia, but compared with my short time as a night cleaner in a refrigerated yoghurt warehouse, working in a university is exciting. The job presents endless chances, particularly when it comes to learning.

You learn more because you are teaching a new course, you learn more because it drives your research. But most of all you learn more because it’s fun, because you love your subject and because it’s the essence of what we are all here to do.

4 Heal the World

Our work has societal value (measurable value, if you believe the research excellence framework). That is clearly a good thing. It is also a shield for your ego when faced with friends from your undergraduate days who are now earning millions in the City.

Remember this higher calling. It will take the sting out of the fact that your peers can afford houses in Oxford/holidays/Waitrose.

5 Money, Money, Money

We get to be the experts in our fields. We may not get to spend as much time as we would like on our research, and we may not get as much funding as we want to support it.

But we are extremely privileged to be given money, most of which comes from other people’s hard work – taxes, charity, benevolence – to indulge our personal curiosities, which, when you stop to think about it, is amazing.

6 Time is on my Side

As an academic, you are more or less your own boss. That means you can find the things you enjoy and do them: I get deep joy from taking a break to play football during the working day, for example.

There are disagreeable tasks: admin, marking, grant-writing. But the bad bits shouldn’t take all of your day – if they do, drop some. It is acceptable to say no. And where it is not, it is normally possible to shape courses and committees to reflect your research interests.

7 Under Pressure

Remember, there are far more stressful jobs out there – some involve people shooting at you (soldier), shouting at you (police) or dying on you (doctor).

There are others that involve horrible hours, terrible working conditions and repetitive tasks, but luckily I stopped being a post-doc.

8 The Kids are Alright

If my relentless optimism isn’t enough for you, think of the children/students.

Complaining about the stress of an academic job may be a cunning plan by established faculty to stop newer, smarter people snapping at their heels. But it isn’t fair on the next generation and it is a waste of the time, energy and money we have invested in getting them across the line.

9 Don’t Worry, Be Happy

In conclusion (and for the sake of balance), I do accept that there are problems with the system. There are fewer entry-level posts, and those that do exist come with considerably less job security than they used to. The demands of the career have changed significantly and it is much harder to get that critical break-in grant than it was 20 years ago. But dwelling on the negative doesn’t actually help anyone.

Happier people are healthier, more productive, and have better hair (Consider Donald Trump – he is really angry and has terrible hair). So, in 2016, let’s turn the tea room discussion around and celebrate what we have.

This week’s anonymous academic is a senior lecturer in biomedical sciences in London.