Racializing The Bird. And Creating an Organizational Culture of Happiness.

Whew.  The last 9x9x25 post of the semester.  What to write about?  So many topics, so few sentences.

So, I choose to briefly discuss two discoveries I made this week.

DISCOVERY #1

While browing my phone, I discovered one could "emoji" the finger (aka, the bird).  But to my chagrin and perturbation, I saw that this crude symbol has also been racialized--that is, you can flip off someone on the internet in a variety of skin tones, which could take on a number of meanings, none of which could be good.  This is what my research turned up:

"The Reversed Hand With Middle Finger Extended emoji supports skin tone modifiers. A yellow (or other non-human) skin tone should be shown by default, unless an emoji modifier is applied."

I share this not to be provocative (ok, maybe a little...but I got your attention!), but to draw attention that bigotry is alive and well, and unfortunately on the rise.  We--the human race--have found yet another way to denigrate each other, based on nothing other than the color of our skin (over which we have no personal control).  This discovery--and its potential to stir up hatred and turmoil, at both a group and personal level--truly saddens me. 😢

DISCOVERY #2

This month's (November 2017) issue of National Geographic features "The Search for Happiness."  In it, persons from Costa Rica, Denmark and Singapore (the happiest places on their respective continents) are highlighted.  (Interestingly, the U.S. is the only country in North America where less than 75% of the population experiences "daily happiness," as measured by social scientists.)

The article, which dissects the "science of happiness," reports the following:

"The researchers who publish the annual World Happiness Report found that about about three-quarters of human happiness is driven by six factors: [1] strong economic growth, [2] healthy life expectancy, [3] quality social relationships, [4] generosity, [5] trust, and [6] freedom to live the life that's right for you.  These factors don't materialize by chance; they are intimately related to a country's government and its cultural values.  In other words the happiest places incubate happiness for their people."

What if, I wondered, an organization (such as Yavapai College) would take the "happiness" of their students, staff and faculty seriously?  We know (also from research) that persons with a positive "approach" attitude learn more!  

What if the leadership and culture of the college was reshaped with the well-being of its constituents in mind (rather than some other motive--finances, enrollment, ego, getting on the latest educational band-wagon, etc.)?  What would these six characteristics of national life look like at the institutional level?  Allow me to speculate.

[1]  Fair, equitable and regular economic compensation of employees (something like a commitment to a salary schedule that was a part of our college culture a decade ago).

[2]  Job security, at ALL levels (including an appeals/greivance process for administrators).

[3]  A highly collaborative planning, teaching and learning environment (shared governance).

[4]  Loyalty to the institution (based on the above 3 environmental traits) that creates a culture of going "above and beyond" instead of "tit-for-tat."

[5]  Transparency at all levels of the organization, resulting in mutual trust and respect.

[6]  As much professional autonomy as practically possible.

One of the main takeaways for me was that the citizens of these happiest countries actually trusted their governments to look after and encourage their well-being.  In analyzing 500,000 surveys of immigrants who had moved to Canada, social scientists found that within a few years of arriving, the happiness of those immigrants increased.  "Seemingly their environment accounted for their increased happiness."

I believe It is possible to create a flourishing college environment.  But it would require a high degree of intentionality and attention to human factors, even over programs, curricula, personal agendas and so many other things on which we tend to see as highly important.  A "happy" college would no doubt be a productive and welcoming place for teaching and learning.

Failure to Read... What Am I Doing Wrong?

A few weeks ago, I expressed to one of my classes that I was concerned that they were not reading the material listed (by date) on the course syllabus, re-emphasizing that this was important information.  I also announced that within the next week or two, I was going to give an in class quiz on the reading assigned for that week.  "Like a good Boy or Girl Scout, BE PREPARED," I admonished them.

    So two weeks later, I gave a quiz over the reading for that week.  The first question on the quiz was:

   I ___________ read Articles #12-14 on Poverty."  
     a.  did
     b.  did not

There were three other short answer questions on the quiz, each on asking for the gist of the article.  I didn't ask any "picky" questions, or any detailed "trick" questions.  All I wanted to know is if they'd read the articles and had a basic comprehension of the main ideas of each.  The reading totalled less than 25 pages.

Most of the class finished very quickly.  This worried me.  And when I graded the quiz right after class, my fears were confirmed.

100% of the class answered "b." to the first question--not one student had read the articles.

The "answers" (read "excuses") I got from my students were pretty typical.  I heard these before.

• I really don't have time to read all my school assignments.
• I didn't think the articles were that interesting.  
• (Students who read them last semester said they were very interesting.)
• I couldn't find my book. (Seriously??!!!!)

And while these answers didn't thrill, the one that broke my heart--the one I hear most often--was:

• I don't really like to read.  (Often accompanied by the qualifier, "That is, books.  I avoid them if at all possible.")

Even as I write this, my heart is heavy and I get discouraged.  Am I failing as an instructor?  What is going on?

There are a number of reasons, I think, why students don't read.  Here's my beginning list, and I would invite any of the readers of this blog (if there are any out there) to add to the list or elaborate on these:

• Students don't feel competent or confident in their own reading skills.
• Students weren't really required and held accountable for reading in high school.
• What students HAVE read in school has been boring, so they assume ANY school (even college) reading is boring.
• The reading is too complex for their current reading level.  (For college transfer courses at YC, we require only a 9th grade reading level.  It's almost impossible to find books in sociology and psychology that are written at that level.)
• Perhaps the biggest reason is that, for many of our students, technology (that is, entertainment technologies, including smart phones) have replaced text as the primary medium of communication.  Books (even e-Books) and reading is seen as "old fashioned" and unimportant in todays tech society.

The research is clear:  Reading engages and develops the human brain in a much different and deeper way thnt visual images alone.


I see getting students to read as one of the foremost challenges for professors.  Yet developing a love of reading--which goes hand in hand with a love of learning--is perhaps our primary task.

                        
Thoughts, anyone?

To Canvas or Not To Canvas: A Rebellion Against Sameness (Part 4... the last one)

"What you've all been waiting for!" (I seriously doubt it, but I can indulge in this delusion.)

What do I do if I don't use Canvas?  (I'm referring here to face-to-face courses, and some hybrids.  While you could apply some of these techniques to online teaching, obviously not all are applicable).

In nutshell, here it is:

1.  I use paper everything (almost).
Every assignment, every announcement, every handout... anything I would put on Canvas I give to students in paper format.  "Hard copy."  Our print shop is great--timely and efficient (they even deliver close to my office!), so I can produce paper copies almost as efficiently as I can post stuff on Canvas.  This accomplished several things:  *I know my students actually SEE the assignments or materials.  *They can manage these things in a real, physical way (it seems to be slightly harder to ignore something on paper than in the Canvas shell).

2.  All assignments are turned in "hard copy" in class.  I get between 30-100 emails a day (some of then junk, but I still have to delete them).  I spend a lot of time each day on the computer just managed "stuff" outside my courses.  When I don't require things turned in on paper, I find students frequently use the "email option" to turn in papers late, etc.  (Then I have to have strict policies, etc., to help students be responsible.)  I find students turn in more assignments on time when it has to be in paper at the beginning of class.  And students are forced (theoretically) to pay more careful attention to their work, rather than banging out something on the computer and submitting right before class.  Granted, it doesn't work perfectly.  I still get "my dog ate it" and "my printer ran out of ink."  But it seems to breed a bit more conscientiousness.  Two advantages I find in grading:  1)  I can be more "creative" in the way I mark papers--can circle,

highlight, make frowny faces, write comments between the lines, etc.  And students comment that this seems more "personal" than typed comments (although, admittedly, Canvas has some nice grading features).  2)  My grading is more portable.  I don't have to have my laptop or desktop computer to grade.  I can sit by the lake and contemplate the wisdom of my students.  I can grade a paper or two when waiting for a meeting or appointment.  My "office" becomes portable without my computer.

3.  I use Excel to post grades.  Ok, so I've taken a little bit of heat for this by some (not students).  I use the last four digits of students' Y numbers and have a running total of their grades.  It's very easy to read.  Yes, students can see how others in the class are doing (not by name, just the grade).  It let's students know how they are doing relative to others.  I've had no complaints.

4.  I use a course website (actually a blog site) as a repository for course documents.  Students are never "required" to go online.  They could successfully complete the course without ever going to the website.  However, everything I give out in class--including PowerPoints and videos I use (which I don't give out as paper copies) are all housed on the website.  If students lose the paper copies, I direct them to the website, where all the course materials (including assignments) reside.  I either link things like videos directly to the site, or I upload them in Google Docs and provide links on the course website (students never have to go to Google Docs).  There are lots of privacy and link options that I didn't find difficulty to learn how to manage.  One big advantage is that the material doesn't disappear, ever, as it tends to do in Canvas.  Students have access to it (theoretically) forever.  I try to keep it simple.  An actual live example of my course website is https://soc142fall2017.blogspot.com/.

My primary motivation in this is to limit the dependence on technology while increasing human interaction in my classes.  I am grateful that other faculty are immersing students in more of the technology--it's definitely a skill they need to know.  But in my disciplines--Psychology and Sociology--which are all about human behavior, I choose to emphasize the human-ness.  And at the same time conduct my own mini-rebellion against sameness.  A rebel, I like to think, with a cause.

To Canvas or Not To Canvas: A Rebellion Against Sameness (Part 3)

I have made a choice.  My choice has been (drum roll, please) not to use Canvas in my classes.

Before you start throwing rocks, or report me to the TELS Police, let me explain.

The Feared TELS Police!!!

I have nothing against Canvas.  It has a lot of nice features.  And some of my choice involved the difficult decision to forgo some of those features, like the Gradebook and the ability to automatically email my classes in one fell swoop of my finger.

I have nothing at all against those who choose to use Canvas.  Some of my best friends use Canvas! J  And some of them are some of the best professors I know.  So, no, I’m not out to get Canvas.  (I bet, after that last sentence, it is breathing a big sigh of relief!)

I’m not a Dinosaur.  I do know how to use Canvas.  I have used Canvas, for online, face-to-face and hybrid courses.  My decision was not arrived at out of technophobia or total incompetence.  (Although I do despise new versions of any computer program—Windows, Word, Canvas… I’m equal opportunity update hater!)

I made my decision based on a few (what I consider) important factors.

First, I listen to my students.  The complaint I hear the second most in regards to their academics is the cost of textbooks.  The major complaint I hear is about Canvas, and the time they spend trying to figure things out.  Trouble they’ve gotten into because they thought they submitted an assignment, but somehow it got “messed up” and they lost points (sometimes a lot of points).  How they struggle to navigate the different classes.  How they “hate” the technology.  (Again, it may not be the technology’s fault, but I still listen to my students.)  My perception is that,more often than not, the technology impedes or distracts many students—especially first generation or not-the-top-of-the-class students—from actually LEARNING the material.  To them, it is more about surviving the technological environment.  (Occasionally I get a student who mildly complains about me not using Canvas, usually at the beginning of the semester.  By the end, no one’s complaining.  And I get a lot of thank you’s.)

Secondly, I have seen the tech environment reduce professor/student interaction.  Instructors are not on campus as much.  Communication over email or other electronic forms lose much (some say up to 80%) of how we communicate in ways other than words—the human part of the interaction.  With our traditional students, reduced interaction limits the opportunity we have to help them mature and think critically.  With our non-traditional student, we miss chances to discuss life issues and support them as they reinvent themselves.  Much of what is learned—and taught—in college is outside our teaching disciplines.

Thirdly, I witness that technology is making some (many?) students “lazy.”  Technology is about “speed” and “efficiency.”  The “get it done, and get it done quickly” mentality pervades.  It may help our students learn if we can slow down the pace of learning a bit.  (I fully realize that this doesn’t translate into dollars for the institution, but may result in future dollars for students who learn better.)

So what have I chosen to do instead?  Stand by for the next blog…

To Canvas or Not to Canvas: A Rebellion Against Sameness (Part 2)

So, last week I tried to convince you that NOVELTY forms the basis of learning—if something is “new” we pay attention to it.  We can’t help it, that’s just the how the brain works!

But on the other hand routine, standardization, automation and sameness work well for us as teachers—it makes our professional lives a lot easier!  But it also may prove a disservice to our students.  It may metaphorically (or literally) put our students’ brains to sleep.

So what are we to do?  

Here’s the bottom line:  We choose.  As harsh as it may sound, we choose our own ease and comfort, or we choose to prioritize student learning.  Ouch.  But this is what excellent teaching is all about.  I can be a mediocre or even a good teacher, or I can choose to strive to be an excellent teacher.  And the result of that choice is the kind of learning experienced by my students.

A short aside:  I hear (and you do, too) people who are non-teachers complain about how “easy” teaching is (and how overpaid teachers are).  It angers me and drives me nuts (er, more nuts that I already am).  But sometimes I’m chagrined because if I choose, it can be fairly easy, especially with the “tools” that are available to me these days!  The difficult part of teaching is the creative aspect—keeping things novel and fresh and alive for students (and myself!)

So I make a choice.  I make a choice to attempt to have students experience something different and unexpected every class.  I try to make entering the classroom “novel” each period.  (The greatest compliment I get is when I overhear students say, “I never know what to expect when I come into this class!”  I am fairly confident that they are probably going to learn something that day.)  I consciously and conscientiously attempt to switch between the whiteboard, Powerpoint presentations, discussions, lectures, YouTube videos and movies.  I change up the seating arrangement, or have students move from “their own” seats to a different location in the classroom.

Students don’t always like this, at least initially.  They have been conditioned for more than a dozen years to sit in rows, stay quiet and let someone else do much of their thinking for them.  But over the course of the semester, I hope they begin to recover a genuine love of learning.  I’m convinced the only way to accomplish this is to “shake things up.”  It may be good pedagogy, but for sure it’s good neuroscience.

NOTE:  I don’t do this perfectly.  Or consistently.  Speaking candidly, I just get tired.  My brain doesn’t function and my “creativity” runs out.  But after I quit feeling sorry myself, and get revived, I strengthen my resolve to teach excellently.  It’s a process that’s been going on for over 30 years, and isn’t finished yet.

Next week I’ll share another way I have tried to introduce novelty in my courses—a rebel with a cause!

To Canvas or Not To Canvas: A Rebellion Against Sameness (Part 1)

Sameness is the enemy of learning.  In fact, “sameness,” in the neuropsychological sense of the word, is the exact opposite of learning!

Before you go postal, please read on and let me explain.  We know that the only time the brain 

registers anything is when there is change—change in movement, change in sound, change in lighting, change in odor, change in sensation, change in thought.  You get the idea.  The brain is the ultimate “change detection” machine.  Our perception is always the perception of something changing.

If that is true (and it is J), then it stands to reason that the more things are “familiar” and “ordinary,” the less we perceive things as “novel,” consequently less real or new learning will take place.  We know this from everyday experience:  We drive somewhere and don’t have any recollection of things we experienced along the way; we think we misplaced something, but find it where we would “expect” it—because of our repetition (what we’ve already learned), our habit.  This is not to say that these are bad things—they aren’t!  Our “prior learning” saves us all kinds of brain and physical energy.  But when it comes to learning something new however, NOVELTY works for us while SAMENESS works against us.

I sense students fall into a routine of “sameness” when all their courses “look alike,” when they know what to expect every class.  Maybe it’s:  “Come in.  Sit down.  Listen.  Take Notes.  Pack up.  Leave.”  Or, “Log on.  Watch Video.  Discussion Board.  Take Quiz.  Log out.”  Class after class after class.  The same goes for how the course actually “looks”—that is, how the presentation of our material “appears.”  For instance, if all our courses are on Canvas, and all our Canvas shells literally “look alike,” then that routine works against generating novelty and change, which is the basis for

perception and learning.  (I’m not speaking of things not unorganized, inaccessible and unclear to students, but a sense students may have of things being “cookie cutter” or “mechanical.”)

Here’s the rub:  “Sameness” works well for us teachers!  It reduces the amount of work we have to do.  Like assembly production.  Once we’ve got a system “down,” then we can go (more or less, and in online classes it’s often more) “automatic.”

The whole goal of education, I think, is not to make teaching “easier,” but to help students “learn better.”  Hence, we find ourselves in a conundrum—be less novel and more efficient (which results in less effective learning for students, but less stress and work for us), or be more novel and creative (which means we have to work harder so that students learn better). 

To be frank, over the last decade—with the exponential spread, adoption and reliance on electronic learning systems, I’ve witnessed a lot more of the former.  This correlates with multiple measures of decline in student learning, both at the secondary and college levels.  So what are we to do?  (Stand by for Part 2 next week!)

What Students Don’t (Yet) Know

I really hope my expression of shock and disbelief wasn’t visible to the class.  I literally was having a hard time believing what I was hearing.

We had just completed watching the motion picture, The Great Debaters, starring Denzel Washington and Forest Whitaker.  Set in the 1930s at Wiley College in the east Texas town of Marshall and Harvard University, the film tells of the journey of the Black college’s debate team.  There are some disturbing scenes, including one of a Negro being tarred, feathered, hung and set on fire.  (But the ending is feel-good, as the Wiley debate team bests Harvard’s speakers on the topic of Civil Disobedience.)

We were in the midst of answering the question I often ask when I expose students to new perspectives or ideas through movies: “What did you learn that you didn’t already know?”  A student who is one of the better performers in the class raised her hand and shared,

                               “I never knew they lynched Blacks in the South.”

I was speechless.  While I don’t expect my students to know a lot of details about race relations in the past (even the recent past), it never dawned on me that anyone would not be aware that violence against African-Americans in the South was commonplace.  (As I write this, a story is breaking about an 8 year old mixed-race boy who survived an attempted lynching by older boys two weeks ago in New Hampshire.)

Ok.  I totally understand that one of the major objectives (and, at community colleges, maybe THE major objective) is preparation for employment and economic development.  But what kind of society are we creating if our students don’t understand where we’ve come from and where we are (or aren’t) in terms of important social issues?

Yavapai College’s “Pathway Initiative” has some very positive dimensions, but as I listen to the talk of curtailing the general education requirements--including critical thinking and historical awareness--from our degrees, I wonder if we’ve really thought through the long term implications as to what kind of world we might live in if our students don’t know ever know what they don’t (yet) know.

Numbers. I wonder...

I teach statistics.  Have for years.  And not just any kind of stats.  I teach "social and behavioral statistics"--I've spent a good deal of my career trying to figure out how to measure and analyze the way people think, act, feel and learn--as individuals, in groups, societally, globally.

We can learn a lot from numbers.  But I wonder.  I wonder if we have gone "quantifiably crazy."

I received one of those “freebie” books in my mailbox a few months ago.  You know, the book that the companies desperately HOPE will become your next text.  The titled intrigued me:

Everybody Lies:

Big Data, New Data and What the Internet Can Tell Us About Who We Really Are

After 252 pages exploring everything from baseball to sex, the author—Seth Stephens-Davidowitz, a big data economist—writes,

                Numbers can be seductive.  We can grow fixated with 

                them, and so doing we can lose sight of more important 

                considerations.

He caught my attention.

      While the desire for more objective measures of what happens in

      classrooms is legitimate, there are many things that go on there

      that can’t readily be captured in numbers. . . . 

      The problem is this:  The things we measure are often not 

      exactly what we care about.  We can measure how students 

      do on multiple-choice questions.  We can’t easily measure

      things like critical thinking, curiosity, or personal development.

      Just trying to increase a single, easy to measure number. . . 

      doesn’t always help achieve what we are really trying to

      accomplish.

It is a good thing to be “data aware,” but maybe not such a good thing to be “data driven.”  By allowing data to “drive” us, we may miss a good deal of what the educational journey is all about.

I wonder. . .