I recently attended the annual Society for Teaching and Learning in Higher Education STLHE 2014 Conference in beautiful Kingston. It was a week of great learning and connecting with colleagues from across Canada and beyond. The theme of the conference was Transforming our Learning Experiences and in his welcoming address Alan Harrison, Provost and Vice-Principle Academic of Queen’s University told a story about an event that transformed his thinking. While travelling on a plane he struck up a conversation with a young man sitting next to him who, it so happened, was a recent graduate of his university. The response of the young man when asked about his experience at university, which stuck in Alan’s mind and now mine, was: “You never taught me to tell people what I know”. I was reminded of a Higher Education Quality Council (HEQCO) meeting in November: Beyond the Buzzwords where the skills gap question was being discussed and an employment recruiting specialist commented that it was not that young prospective employees did not necessarily possess the skills they were looking for, but they did not recognize that they had them, or know how to articulate them. Often these skills that are talked about more and more in academe, the media and the population at large are non-subject specific skills but rather transferable cognitive skills, such as critical thinking, communication, problem solving, team work, professionalism.
When we work with Departments on curriculum mapping exercises the list of so called “soft skills” and values that we desire of our graduating students is often the longest, and I admit sometimes most contentious. Part of that dissention, I believe, arises from the fact that these skills are much harder to define and I would argue, have been implicit in higher education. The question as I see it is: How do we make these expectations explicit and how do we effectively guide assess their development? And perhaps even more challenging, how do we help the students recognize that these skills or attributes were indeed the desired outcomes of the activity, course or program?
At another excellent conference down that road at Wilfred Laurier University in May (yes – I have been blessed with attending a number of these brain filling events lately!) this question was partially answered. I had the pleasure of hearing Robert Shea, Provost and Associate Vice President Academic, Marine Institute at Memorial University give a keynote address entitled “A National Call to Action: Do We Need a New Discourse on Learning?”, in part discussing the Career Integrated Learning project let by MUN. The key take away for me was the idea to clearly define these life skills as learning outcomes on our course syllabi as the first step to making them explicit. Simple but brilliant and more often than not overlooked. We cannot stop at stating these skills as outcomes, however, but need to help students identify where they are being introduced, practiced, assessed and ideally to allow time for reflection on their development. In doing this not only will our students (hopefully) be able to recognize that they are attaining these skills but will be able to then “tell people what they know” once they leave our doors.
Take a moment to think about the number of stories we encounter in an average day; think about the anecdotes told by friends, the prime-time dramas we watch, the mini stories on our Facebook news feeds, the advertisements we see. It’s a wonder we get any work done at all. The human mind loves stories. Even where no “story” exists, we often make one. For example, most people will tell a selective account of the events in their lives that led to their chosen career or educational field.
Given the human propensity to tell stories, and the equally fascinating desire to consume them, I want to discuss why stories belong in the classroom and how they can be an effective teaching tool. Earlier this year, CTE co-op student, Zahra Razavi discussed the role of storytelling in the classroom from the perspective of a student. In this post, I want to talk about storytelling from the perspective of the teacher. My research is on the psychology of narrative, and there are some intriguing findings that have come out of labs around the world on the topic recently that speak to the power of stories to move us (almost literally).
The neuropsychology of story processing
On uWaterloo posters around campus, you may see the Benjamin Franklin quote, “tell me and I forget, teach me and I may remember, involve me and I learn.” As Mr. Franklin alluded to and as more and more evidence is suggesting, direct lecturing isn’t the most effective way to teach our students. However, many instructors are faced with large class sizes and limitations in time and resources that make methods like demonstrations or debates difficult to implement. Stories, however, are a quick and simple way of involving your students.
Through neuroimaging studies, researchers have found that when we read or hear about a particular action, corresponding motor and perceptual areas of our brain are activated that would also be activated if we were actually carrying out the described activity (here and here). So if we read a passage like the following,
“There was no sign of the bus and the instructor was going to be late for her first day of class. She knew she wouldn’t make a good impression with the second years if she arrived 15 minutes late. She started sprinting for the lecture hall. She breathed in the crisp, autumn air as her feet struck the sidewalk. As she neared the university, her bus passed her by.”
our mind really plays along. Motor areas corresponding to running and olfactory areas perhaps corresponding to that crisp autumn smell will be activated in the brain. This activation isn’t strong enough to actual get our legs running, but is more of a simulation of running.
Other studies, not involving brain imaging, have also shown that our minds do become active participants in events we read about or hear. Adults are faster to respond to a blurry image of an animal when a character sees it through foggy goggles. Children process a story more slowly when the main character is walking compared to driving. Adults’ pupil diameters adjust in response to imagined luminance or brightness.
For these reasons, stories have been described as a flight simulator for the mind. Although students would undoubtedly get a richer experience by going out into the field and collecting soil samples, for example, hearing a story about another individual collecting soil samples (and potentially encountering an unexpected obstacle) is a sort of “experience lite” for the budding soil scientist.
A quick and relatively simple way to involve your students, then, is to tell them a story related to the content they are learning.
How stories may be used in the university classroom
Many instructors inject the odd story into their teaching, whether intentionally or not. However, most academic writing, presentations, and lectures do not include stories. Anecdotes are often contrasted with evidence; fiction with fact.
As I’ve described above, when we hear or read a story, our minds play along. The consequences of the engagement – much greater engagement than one would see when just presenting facts or data – are deeper processing, and often greater retention. Experimental studies (here and here) have found that undergraduates’ learning from stories can be quite robust – a pro if the story information is correct, but a con if the information is truly fictional.
Here, I present three possible ways in which instructors may intentionally incorporate storytelling into their teaching:
Story as example. The instructor may decide to use a story as a way of introducing or reinforcing concepts. In Teaching Economics with Short Stories, Philip Ruder suggests using stories such as Proulx’s New Yorker piece, What Kind of Furniture Would Jesus Pick? to help reinforce economic concepts of supply and demand, and externalities. In this respect, stories can be used to contextualize abstract concepts. Story types include anecdotes, fictional short stories, current or historical events, and analogies.
Story as evidence. In some cases, the instructor may be able to use events in the world to get students to build hypotheses or refute prevailing or previous theories. This may be by telling students about the story of a scientific discovery (an aha! moment), or by recounting a historical or current event. In psychology courses, instructors often present the news story of the 1964 murder of Kitty Genovese to get students to generate hypotheses about why, even though so many witnesses were present, no one acted or intervened. Story types include current or historical events, personal experiences, or science stories.
Story as practice/experience. The instructor may wish to use stories to engage general skills, such as problem solving, or more discipline-specific skills. The website sciencecases.org contains a wealth of case studies from various disciplines that can be used for this purpose. In addition to case studies, story types include role play, videos, or any form of story with reflection/discussion.
A cautionary tale…
A few things to consider in the selection and delivery of stories in the classroom:
Be careful with the types of stories you present. If any incorrect information exists in them, students may integrate it into their knowledge-base. Integration of knowledge is often robust.
Stories can be more compelling than facts and data. Certain psychological biases often cause us to use anecdotal evidence to refute factual statements (e.g., “Well, all the people with younger siblings that I know have really good social skills!”). Students may approach stories less critically and cynically
Selecting the right stories can be difficult/time-consuming. Delivery can also be time-consuming.
Whether telling a story to encourage students to generate hypotheses, or simply to provide a comic aside during an otherwise dry lesson, stories are an effective way to captivate one’s audience and engage them in ideas and practices in the field from the “comfort” of their seat.
This past year I had the opportunity to teach my first university course. Not only was I the sole instructor, but I was also permitted to re-design the course. As a recent participant in both the Fundamentals of University Teaching and the Certification in University Teaching programs, I was extremely excited to apply the information I had obtained throughout the experience. Not surprisingly, I eagerly set to work to incorporate a variety of interactive activities, planned in-class mini assignments where I imagined that groups would work together on the whiteboards or in small pods of desks and even planned to spice up the course material by adding media teaching methods and resources. I was so excited and proud of my new course design. These students were in for the most interactive and engaging learning experience they have ever had, complete with all the bells and whistles.
Boy, was I ever in for a surprise.
No media center…
No moveable tables on wheels…
No white boards…
Instead, I walked into a classroom with an old overhead projector, fold-able chairs with squeaky armrests about the size of a single piece of paper and a worn out chalk board that was so well used it was nearly impossible for students to read off of. And to make matters worse, this “classroom” was an old fitness/yoga studio with mirrors. Yikes.
Cue a mini panic attack.
What was I going to do!?!?!! How was I going to implement everything I had planned and practiced in such an amazing classroom before?!?! This was going to be horrible. But as I stood at the front of the classroom, slightly defeated, wishing and hoping that maybe by slim chance nobody would show up… the door opened and my students walked in. No escape now. So I improvised.
Miraculously, things didn’t go so bad. Sure, there were some bumps along the way and a few friendly laughs at our “ideal” situation but I realized that it’s not the fancy equipment and swanky technology that makes for a good lecture, it’s the quality of the delivery, the time and care put into the planning and the motivation of the students. I didn’t need the desks and chairs on wheels to make discussion groups, or five white boards to demonstrate a topic. I didn’t need PowerPoint to delivery information or a funny video clip to get student’s motivated to participate. All I needed was the skills that I had obtained during my training (and a bit of creativity). Sure, having all these resources available to me would have been helpful and I hope that my teaching situation changes in the future. But for now having some flexibility, a willingness to adapt, a bit of creativity and confidence in my own teaching skills will do just fine.
This year’s Opportunities and New Directions (OND) 2014 Conference took place on Thursday, May 1st. We were excited and humbled by the participation of over 200 people, mainly from the University of Waterloo, but also from other local universities. This made it clear that, as teachers at Waterloo, we are part of a growing, thriving community of people dedicated to teaching and learning. The day began with an enthusiastic welcome by Vice-President, Academic and Provost, Geoff McBoyle.
The theme of this year’s Conference was “Rethinking and Reframing the Assessment of Learning.” A diverse array of panels, workshops, and presentations explored the many facets of assessment – from assessment practices in different disciplines, such as Math and English, to assessment in online, blended, and face-to-face environments. Assessment at the course level, program level, and on work-terms was also explored by presenters who included faculty and staff members, as well as graduate and undergraduate students from across the disciplines.
There was an unmistakable and enduring excitement about the ideas presented by Presidents’ Colloquium Keynote Speaker, Dr. John Bean. During his session, John explored how students’ growth as disciplinary thinkers can be enhanced by integrating problem-based writing assignments into our courses, whether we teach in the humanities, sciences, or social sciences. John also explored how using writing can be useful for assessing not only learning outcomes related to writing, but also for assessing skills that are critical in the formation of disciplinary thinkers – skills, such as inquiry, research, critical thinking, and problem-solving. If you’re intrigued by these ideas, you are welcome to download the handouts from the keynote session, available through the Conference website: https://uwaterloo.ca/centre-for-teaching-excellence/research-teaching-and-learning/university-waterloo-teaching-and-learning-conference-ond/keynote-speaker-dr-john-bean-seattle-university . In her lead article in the CTE Newsletter coming out later in May, Donna Ellis, Director of CTE, also explains and reflects on John’s session.
Another highlight of the day was the “Igniting Our Practice” session. Kelly Anthony, AHS’s Teaching Fellow, and Hamid Jahed, Professor in the Department of Mechanical and Mechatronics Engineering, drew us into the learning spaces they create for their students by teaching us a concept from their own courses. As Hamid noted when he began his session, both he and Kelly addressed the idea of “structural stability,” but did so from very different perspectives. Kelly explored the stability – and fragility – of some of our social structures, and took us on an emotional journey of the experience of youth in foster care. She discussed how collaborating with members of the wider community can be a powerful teaching tool. Hamid also explored the idea of structural stability, this time from an Engineering perspective. Through engaging demonstrations involving broken rulers and crushed pop cans, Hamid brought to life the concept of how structures behave under load. Hamid and Kelly’s session was inspiring and moving, generating thoughtful questions from the audience.
The Conference closed with a wine and cheese reception. It was time to connect with colleagues over a drink and some food. Associate Vice President, Academic (AVP-A), Mario Coniglio closed the Conference, thanking the many people who had contributed to the Conference, including the participants, the Teaching Fellows, members of CTE, the people who had provided technical support, CTE’s Co-op students, as well as FAUW for generously sponsoring the delectable breakfast following the Presidents’ Colloquium. At CTE, we’re particularly grateful for the vision and support of the current AVP-A, Mario Coniglio, and Vice-President, Academic and Provost, Geoff McBoyle.
And now, it’s time to pursue the ideas that were sown at the Conference. We look forward to learning about the ways in which those ideas have developed at OND 2015.
Our work days get packed with various tasks – giving lectures, running discussions, holding meetings, getting caught up on the latest research literature. What part of your work day do you look forward to most? Continue reading What Inspires You? — Donna Ellis, CTE Director
Every year, I teach 600-900 students a “Fundamentals of Microbiology” course (Biol240). Three years ago, I wore a skull-print tie to class on October 31st. Afterwards, a student expressed disappointment that I had not worn a costume. The following year, I decided to wear a more… *impressive* Halloween costume to my lectures. I rented a replica Darth Vader costume and gave both of my back-to-back lectures fully suited. The reception for these lectures was nothing short of extraordinary. The university promoted the costume (http://www.bulletin.uwaterloo.ca/2012/nov/01th.html), students’ photos went viral (even making the front page of reddit; http://www.reddit.com/r/funny/comments/12eqaz/my_microbiology_professor_did_the_entire_lecture/), and I posed for many pictures with thrilled students after both class sections. Last year, I rented another replica costume: The Dark Knight. Again, student photos of the lecture circulated widely through social media and the costume was profiled in the Daily Bulletin (http://www.bulletin.uwaterloo.ca/2013/oct/31th.html). In a completely unexpected way, these costumes seem to have left their “viral” mark on Biol240.
Josh Neufeld darkens the day on two Hallowe’ens
But why? Many students wear costumes to campus on Halloween. Why is it so worthy of comment when a faculty member dresses up?
Student appreciation of these Halloween costumes reminds me of other classroom responses that I’ve noticed at seemingly unrelated moments. For example, when I show a picture of my kids and quote them in relation to the course, the room responds warmly and audibly (“awwwwww”). When I told the class how a particular episode of Swiss Family Robinson (involving a creeping white mat spreading over the island and killing its animals) instilled a lifelong phobia of fungus in me, students sat rapt on the edge of their seats. When I recorded a message for students in my basement and as part of a narrated video animation of a class concept, course evaluations tell me that this was very much appreciated.
It occurs to me that all of these teaching elements are linked. They convey unique messages to the class. These personal moments communicate that “I trust you”, and that trust is strong enough for me to be vulnerable in costume and risk looking silly, enough to show you my kids, enough to share my quirky personal foibles, and enough to let you see what my basement looks like (i.e., not pretty). In addition, I suspect that the simple personal things that we do send another message that is possibly even more important than trust, they communicate that we *like* our students. Our actions reflect that we like them enough to let our guard down in the classroom, just a little more than they would expect.
In some ways, building rapport with a class is very similar to relationship building. When we trust and like someone, we do extra things for that person, we even act silly at times. And, if all goes well, we end up… learning about microbiology. We enjoy the classroom experience that much more. We want to keep coming back. Could this be the very spoonful of sugar that makes course content go down?
Importantly, this isn’t about parlour tricks for simple entertainment, it is about building trust and relationships as a precondition for effective learning. I am thrilled that students respond positively by cleaving to course content and exploring microbiology with enthusiasm in the classroom. These in-class experiences may also influence future course selections and career choices, steering interests a little closer to micro than they might have done otherwise. It’s a win win.
Although wearing a costume can help foster trust and mutual appreciation in the classroom, there is an important unanswered question that lingers for me… what to wear for Halloween 2014?!
Josh Neufeld (Twitter: @JoshDNeufeld) is an Associate Professor in the Department of Biology, studying the microbial ecology of terrestrial, aquatic, and host-associated communities. For several years, Josh has taught a large second year course (600-900 students) as well as a small upper year course (18 students).
As students get farther along in their program, they are often streamed by discipline or sub-discipline. This creates an environment where the students know each other well and are entering the class with very similar pre-requisite academic experiences. They’ve taken many of the same classes, from the same instructors and will even have many shared experiences from outside of the classroom. However, when students first begin their post-secondary education, they come from all different types of schools and varied academic backgrounds. Furthermore, the larger introductory classes pool different programs, departments, and even faculties together. This makes for a potentially difficult teaching and learning experience.
How can an instructor best prepare themselves to deliver course content to very varied students? How can one ensure that the material is at the appropriate level when some students are far more advanced then others? How does one even tailor examples, projects, tests and other materials to be relevant and captivating to students with a wide range of academic interests?
I have had the good fortune to teach a class of this sort for the past two years. An introductory, (mainly) first-year statistics class for the entire Environment Faculty. This means that there are students from Geography and Environmental Management, Planning, Knowledge Integration, Environment and Resource Studies, Environment and Business, Geography and Aviation, Geomatics, and International Development. Among the slew of differences these programs boast, entrance pre-requisites is one that looms large. Will a student in Geography and Aviation really want to concentrate on the same examples as one from International Development? Maybe. But in my experience, it has not been the case.
The first year I taught this course, I concentrated on the conceptual material and then simply used easy-to-grasp but not overly provocative or discipline-specific examples. Basically, I shot for the middle ground. Something that everyone could understand but that, perhaps, no one would be writing home about. This strategy worked, but only in the sense that the students comprehended the material (more or less) and could relate somewhat to the examples used to get across the concepts. I wanted more than that. Being a first year student is an exciting time to be discovering new knowledge, sharing with others and beginning to forge your way into academia. I wanted to be able to harness this more.
To do so, I put the material into the hands of the students. The overarching concepts and methods remained the same, however, they controlled the specifics of their work. The course was restructured around a group project (rather than midterms and exams) and the students worked with TAs to develop their own research areas, research questions, hypothesis, and methods. Instantly, there was an overwhelmingly positive response. Attendance at optional tutorials went up, office hours had lines down the hall, I could overhear students excitedly talking about their topics and debating the merits of different approaches. In short, they were excited. And so was I. By giving them the ability to steer their education, it demonstrated my confidence in them, even in first year, to get motivated and engaged in their studies and in their field. It was at times difficult for myself and the TAs to provide topic-specific feedback on their reports, but even this barrier had its benefits as it encouraged them to become ‘experts’ in their chosen topic. They developed the research question, they performed the literature review and then found the sources.
We even took the creative element one step further. We allowed them to create stories for where their data (which was distributed without labels or metadata at random) came from, what the variables were, how it was collected, when it was collected, etc. This proved to be a fun exercise as students debated the potential bias or accuracy of different fictional data collection techniques.
In short, rather than trying to find a safe middle ground, the students streamed themselves and then taught each other. We provided the conceptual and course-specific content and techniques and they filled in the rest. And boy was it exciting.
