Month: January 2020

Agency, Inclusion, Innovative Pedagogies

Here Comes the Sun

Missy Alexander

This morning I noticed the shift in the light.  It happens to me at this time every year.  I see the sun’s rays creeping over the tops of the trees as I drink my morning coffee and I take heart.  Yes, it is only mid-winter but the days are growing longer.  And even though I very much enjoy the hunkering down that the dark days of winter require (I embrace the couch by the fireplace); I confess that a little more daylight lightens my step. Just a hint of the sunny days ahead brings out my optimistic nature. It is with this sense of optimism that I am thinking about higher education this week.

Here in the Northeastern United States, we are in what some have called a “demographic winter.” Simply stated, there is a forecast for a long-term drop in high school graduates.  Lower birthrates and new migration patterns have left us a little stunned by the declining number of students available to recruit to our colleges and universities.  Elite colleges are fine.  So are the well-known colleges in destination cities (Boston, New York), but the rest of us are left to figure out what to do next.  After decades of growth, and budget practices based on ever-increasing enrollments, we are facing new realities.

This is hard.  We are making cuts in our budgets and new programs are facing heightened scrutiny about their viability.  Where we once might have assessed the value of a new major based on the ideas it would explore, we are now thinking about how it will serve our recruiting efforts.  Reflecting on the quality of ideas has not disappeared, of course.  Our nature and our review processes always focus on quality. Nevertheless, in our efforts to be financially sustainable, potential enrollments have become a critical part of how we evaluate the feasibility of a new degree.  This shift, which seems obvious to the for-profit world, has shaken public higher education to its core.

Nevertheless, I see light ahead and here is why: When we discuss finding new audiences for our university, we do not focus on marketing– we focus on student engagement. Where we were once satisfied with the notion that emerging questions in a discipline were sufficient justification for launching a new degree, we now consider barriers to student engagement with those questions.  Our curricular design processes are keeping those barriers in mind.

For example, we know that there are many great careers related to “big data.”  We also know that our students avoid math like the plague. Instead of launching a big data degree, we are weaving data analytics into some of our not so obviously math-related majors.  This helps us avoid the hazards of the stand-alone data analytics degree, which would likely have low enrollment numbers at our university.  By building the data analysis tools into existing degrees, and thinking about how to support students in learning how to use those tools in the context of their major, we are avoiding the typical breakdown of math and non-math students.  We are also increasing the value of the degrees we offer by responding to current trends in multiple disciplines. We hope that the value we have added to multiple majors will become part of our recruiting strategy.

Retention, rather than new degrees, is also an important strategy for a financially sustainable university.  Higher retention is better for students, reputation, and the bottom line.  At WCSU, we know that building community is critical to student retention.  Yet, as a majority commuter campus, we have struggled with strategies for doing just that.  There were hints, however, in several of our programs. Music majors have a weekly Convocation that brings them all together.  Nursing students develop robust study groups to support each other. Theatre students must all contribute to staging productions.  These activities are typical for these kinds of degrees. What can the rest of our degrees learn from them? Lots.

For example, who says convocation is just for music? My Biology Department decided to use their First Year Navigation course as a community building strategy as well.  They opted to bring all of their first year students together in a large group each week (rather than the more typical 25 student classes). In this structure, students meet the biology faculty, hear about the opportunities of the discipline, relevant clubs and projects, and are encouraged to attend events important to their department.  They also stage a faculty talent show, which is lots of fun.  This community-building focus makes us better at meeting the needs of commuter and non-commuter students alike.

Faculty members are also experimenting with pedagogies. In history and social sciences, several faculty have been using a reacting to the past model as a first year course.  Students take on roles of people in a particular era, learning to research characters and debate critical political issues.  This is fun, in itself, but the best part is the collaboration is leading to a new course that focuses on a locally important historical event, which may be even more engaging for our students. It has certainly been engaging for the faculty involved. Others have been trying out flipped classrooms, exploring virtual reality, employing good practices associated with mindset research, and trying out universal design.  It is exciting to see so many people really thinking about how to reach the students we are serving. This climate of innovation and passion creates an attractive teaching and learning environment–perhaps one that more students will want to experience.

These examples of the work we are doing at WCSU tell me that we are going to be okay.  We are not waiting for something to happen; we are getting better. Here is the thing about this numbers conundrum: there are fewer high school students in total number, but there is also a heightened need for college education.  As I do the math, this means we need to set the stage for a higher proportion of those high school graduates to attend college.  To do so is to focus on engagement so we can better serve those graduating seniors, many of whom may require us to examine our assumptions about good learning environments. That is exactly what we have been doing.

We are still going to be working with less.  We are going to have to rethink how we develop our budgets for the enrollments we have, and not count on growth. That will present a challenge, and there will be hard decisions to make. But if we keep leaning into innovation and engagement, I feel confident that we will figure it out. It’s not all sunshine yet, but I can see the rays peeking in.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

equity, Inclusion, Martin Luther King, Jr.

Equity in the Co-Curricular

Missy Alexander

It is Martin Luther King Day, so of course I’m thinking about equity in higher education.  In the many years since King’s March on Washington, and the continuing efforts to achieve equity–Sheff v. O’Neill,  Title IX, the American with Disabilities Act, and Affirmative Action, to name a few–all areas of employment and education have improved. We have not reached equity yet, but we are moving in the right direction. These efforts, though, focus on the body (race, gender, ability).  Today, I’m thinking about the equally important role of socio-economic status in college success.

In recent years, higher education has turned its focus to the experiences of first-generation college students. These students have pushed us to consider the hidden rules that make moving from start to finish in a college environment somewhat mysterious.  Like many others, my university has added courses that are essentially extended orientations (FY) to help level the playing field for students of all backgrounds.  From the simple things (like the extremely baffling R means Thursday on one’s schedule), to how to find an academic advisor and what to expect when meeting with them, to making four year plans, reading transcripts, and getting academic or financial support, this course is meant to demystify the secret codes of the college environment. It is our acknowledgement that universities are complicated and if you have no prior experience of them, assistance is required.

The FY effort is important, to be sure, and we are seeing a positive impact on our graduation rates since implementing this course.  But there’s something else we are missing, and it is very hard to manage.  Simply put, our awards and recognitions (beyond those generated by GPA) are built on the premise that students have time to participate in all sorts of activities beyond the classroom. That time is a cost that many students cannot bear.

Consider honor societies, for example.  Almost all of them start with GPA as a minimum criterion for admission, but then they expect something else. That something else generally requires uncompensated hours to complete.  The same is true for most student government awards.  Awards for great clubs generally mean someone had to have time to organize activities for that club.  And of course, there is research.  Students who conduct research with faculty may or may not receive any compensation.  Those who do receive compensation, are unlikely to receive enough to cover the lost wages of a part-time job.

All co-curricular activities require a lot of time.  Time is a precious commodity for all of us, but even more so for students who are working to support themselves while in college. Time for participation is time away from work.  Factor in the time necessary to study for classes, and these hard working students are likely to opt out of clubs, honor societies, and research opportunities. This means they’ve opted out of a lot of opportunities to be recognized for excellence.  There goes that line on the resume.

For students who live on campus, it may be easier to engage in the many clubs and activities, while holding a part-time job.  They are likely to be around at the hours that events may occur or be able to dash into a lab for a research project, between classes. In the best scenario, they may even have an on-campus job to support them. This is great and I applaud their participation.  But for those students who commute, the cost of the time commitment is magnified by travel time and the cost of transportation.  Add to that the odd hours at which many clubs meet, and these students will frequently just give up on participating. Unfortunately, our focus on participation does not factor in these barriers, and some students may feel discouraged or devalued as a result.

Now, sometimes those are just the breaks.  We figure out how to juggle our workloads and resources and some of us are luckier than others in terms of our college finances. Barring big changes in how we fund public higher education, this is just the way things are. Students who cannot participate in the co-curricular still win by completing a degree and advancing their opportunities post-graduation. If we focus on funding for their tuition, and not on potential prizes, we’ll have done something to assist them and their futures will benefit from their education. But this something is not equity.

It nags at me that we have structured things in a way that rewards students who are already at an advantage.  Like admissions criteria that are stacked in favor of the lucky few, perhaps we should reimagine the other rewards and opportunities, that are systematically unavailable to the less fortunate.  Is it time to re-imagine how time and opportunities are structured at the university so more people can be included in the things outside of the classroom?  Is it time to figure out a way to recognize the efforts of students who are holding down jobs, caring for family members, and figuring out how to succeed in college with little to no family support? Is it time for yet another look at how we inadvertently build barriers to equity? Yes, yes, it is.

 

Innovative Pedagogies, Orientation

Simple Steps with Big Potential

Missy Alexander

I am always on the lookout for some easy strategies to improve student success as they transition from high school to college.  Last week, I read a wonderfully straightforward book by Lisa Nunn called 33 Simple Strategies for Faculty: A Week-by-Week Resource for Teaching First-Year and First-Generation Students. It is exactly as described and I urge anyone teaching first-year courses to give it a read.

Nunn has worked with students from three different types of universities (public, private, and religiously affiliated) to develop this list of strategies. She organizes the text around steps to take each week of the semester and then supports her arguments with comments from students at each of those schools.  Their comments are compelling and the strategies suggested are convincing. Best of all, they do not require a big curricular overhaul, just a little re-thinking of the structure of a course.

While I liked everything Nunn suggested, I will just highlight a few here in the hope that there is still time to weave these into next semester’s courses.

“Give Pedagogic Rationales for Everything You Do; Write Them in Your Syllabus.” 

So many times, I have heard students describe assignments as a waste of time or busy-work.  Some wonder why creativity is counted in a science class or why writing matters in a math class. Then there is the oft-used phrase “I just have to memorize the things the professor thinks is important” (usually uttered by a student taking a class we are sure is teaching critical thinking).  While our reasons may be clear to us, they are not that clear to our students. Perhaps a little communication is in order.

 Although it might seem a little much to have to justify our pedagogies, we might consider that this suggestion is for first year students who have never considered the why of their teacher’s practices. As we ask them to take on a more adult role in their learning, they should be encouraged to consider that there is a strategy and how it might (or might not) work for their own learning processes.  If we start this conversation in the first year, perhaps we will help students align their own expectations and outcomes with our plans. Then, in the second year, we can feel fine about just letting them figure things out.

“Give a Mini-Midterm in Week 2 of the Semester.”

This is a great idea. When students transition from high school to college, they frequently have trouble sorting through which information is important and which is peripheral. Creating a mini-midterm for week 2 (or 3) is a great way to help them see if they are on track.  It can help students figure out how to study and how to take notes.  Given the large amount of research on the importance of many assessments (as opposed to a midterm and final of days past), this fits right in. It is a bit of an effort, but it has the potential to benefit students greatly.

Nunn goes on to advocate for a true review session for this mini-midterm, to help students see how to prepare. For me, that means at least week three, but I love the idea.  Both of these strategies offer students a good preview of how to sort through and prioritize information in their classes.  A little guidance in first-year courses can serve as a fabulous foundation for years 2-4.

“Share a Story in Class of Some College Woe that You Experienced as an Undergraduate Student.”

Or, to put it another way, be human.  Many students, whether first-generation or not, have preconceived notions that faculty were always good at school.  Many of us were not.  Certainly, none of us was good at everything.  Telling a story of a time you struggled communicates a feeling that you have empathy for your students’ struggles. It also communicates that we can succeed despite those struggles.  While I have heard students comment on faculty sharing too much of their personal lives, a little relevant information here and there is an important way to bond.

Most importantly, we want to help students get past those moments of self-doubt and invite them to be open about their own struggles.  Too many do not seek the help we want to offer.  Too many wait to reach out for assistance until too late in the semester.  If we talk about our own struggles, we can then talk about the path out of them.  We can let our students know that needing help is not about being a lesser student.

These are just a few of Nunn’s delightfully easy to follow strategies.  What I love about it is the simplicity of it all. There are no spreadsheets, no new technologies, and no buzzwords. These are just some good teaching strategies that come from listening to students.  Now that is a simple plan I can work with.

 

Engagement, Higher Education

Practical vs. Liberal Arts Education

Missy Alexander

Well, I am back from my respite in the tropics, where I had time to read several books, some of which were about education.  In an interesting history of higher education in the United States, I found myself laughing aloud, as I read that the demise of liberal arts education has been railed against since at least the 1860s.  Charles Dorn’s, For the Common Good: A New History of Higher Education in America (2017), flags the Morrill Act as a pivotal moment in this argument.  The Library of Congress describes it here:

“An Act Donating Public Lands to the Several States and Territories which may provide Colleges for the Benefit of Agriculture and the Mechanic Arts,” the Morrill Act provided each state with 30,000 acres of Federal land for each member in their Congressional delegation. The land was then sold by the states and the proceeds used to fund public colleges that focused on agriculture and the mechanical arts. 

Largely celebrated as an act that represented a commitment to education as a public good, it is about as clear a commitment to practical/applied education as there could be.  Even before this act was established, alarms about practical education were being raised. Dorn recounts a speech by John C. C. Hamilton on this very issue.

The numerous schools and colleges scattered over the vast expanse of our country, the liberal encouragement which they receive from the public, and the munificent patronage lavished on them by the various States, amply attest to the value which the American people place on their system of general instruction. And yet, whilst the importance of the subject is recognized in this practical and substantial manner, and whilst we fully understand the great agency which the enlightenment of the citizen is to exert on the progress and final success of our peculiar form of government, it is surprising to see how great a prejudice exists against the liberal studies. The pursuit of them is regarded as a waste of time. We are told that they contribute nothing towards what are vaguely called the practical purposes of life; that they are too tedious to suit the active spirt of the American youth. [An Address Delivered before the Philodemic Society of Georgetown College, D.C., by Joh C.C. Hamilton Esq. of Washington, D.C. (Washington, DC: Henry Polkinhor, 1862), 3-4.]  (as cited in Dorn, p. 68)

So, there it is.  We have always been torn between learning things that are good for us and learning practical things. But Hamilton does not just reflect a sense of longing for liberal arts; he is also recounting a public sentiment about the temperament of the learner. Well, if the liberal arts were “too tedious to suit the active spirit of the American youth” in 1862, then it is the “same as it ever was” (apologies to Talking Heads).

What strikes me is this: with the exception of those very few people who get to spend their lives thinking about one area of study, uninterrupted by commerce or teaching, we are always juggling the love of pure inquiry with the practical use of that inquiry.  For most of us in higher education, the juggle is not practical vs. liberal arts.  It is really about dividing our thinking between our field of study and how best to teach about it.  Frequently, the best path to that teaching is helping students see the value of what they are learning.  Guess what? They frequently find that value when they understand how it might be useful to them.

Whether we are teaching about nursing, accounting, art, philosophy, or history, most of us spend a lot of time considering where the points of engagement might be.  You see, after we get over the notion that everyone finds our discipline exciting (usually in one’s first semester of teaching), we get obsessed with how to help our students feel the excitement that we feel. We usually stumble through many strategies, testing out assignments of various types, trying to get our students to understand what is important or interesting about the subject at hand.  Whatever the assignment, that moment of understanding often comes when students can connect the knowledge to something tangible in their own lives.

So, our nursing students endure anatomy and physiology because they know it is a means to success in their profession.  But what about that art history course?  Can we help them see a purpose for this knowledge without demeaning the pleasure of just encountering some of the great works of art? For those who are pursuing degrees in literature, can we help them see the poetry in math, or at least connect it to their daily realities?  For the psychology major, can we offer a music class that fully engages them with the role of music in our culture, without turning it into preparation for future trivial pursuit games?

I guess what I am trying to say is this; it is all practical or useful in some way.  Indeed, much of what we teach is downright magical in the ways in which it can help us build an understanding of our lives.  Some things are directly useful in particular professional contexts. Others are a different kind of useful as they help us process cultural and emotional responses to all sorts of things. And those much maligned symbols of the true liberal arts, philosophy and history, have never been any more or any less useful than they are at this exact moment in history.  They are filled with opportunities to understand the world around us.

So, let’s not spend another minute arguing about practical vs. liberal arts education. If we continue to commit to a balance of major and general educational experiences, we will be just fine.  Instead, let’s think about how to create learning experiences that help our students discover the practical value that every discipline provides. After all, we don’t actually want them to find this stuff “tedious.”