In writing, there’s an adage that says, "Show don’t tell." The millennial students in my creative-writing classes are
immersed in a world that constantly tells them things, and then tells them those things are important. When I walk
into our classroom, I am just another voice telling them things.
It’s hard to differentiate my voice from the thousands of others talking at them — the 24-hour news cycle, the spam
emails, or the Twitter feed of a world leader or a pop star. Faced with such an incomprehensible volume of data, it
can be overwhelming to try separating the truly important from the things falsely labelled "important." Detachment
becomes a survival strategy.
I'm in charge of campus life at Good Little College, where we pride ourselves on working harmoniously and making everyone happy with dorm life and student activities. My assistant director, "Etta," a recent college graduate in her first professional job, is in charge of the arts program, which brings speakers, writers, and entertainers to our isolated little town. She oversees a student intern, who gets a chance to learn to do publicity, catering, and other arranging.
"Franny," this year's intern, had spectacular qualifications but has been an almost total flake. She's under the thumb of a boyfriend, "Petey," whose demands have controlled her life. ("I can't come to any meetings this week—Petey keeps texting me that he's feeling lonely. He needs me.")
Here's the last straw. Franny (who told us all this) washed Petey's laundry as usual and brought it to his room, where she found a classmate, "Germa," naked in his bed. (Petey'd gone out to buy beer.) Franny was so distraught that she didn't write the press release or contact the caterer or do anything for the appearance of Mr. Bigwig Political Figure—who wound up with an audience of 20 people. There wasn't even a microphone.
According to the World Health Organization, depression is the leading cause of disability worldwide.
If you haven’t experienced this common mental disorder, it’s likely that someone you know has, though they may not have told you. An estimated 350 million people of all ages suffer from depression, causing them to function poorly at work, at school and in the family.
Today, significant headway has been made in understanding depression and its causes, how depression can be recognized and how to treat it.
Since the founding of the United States, many Americans have recognized the “fragility and rarity” of democracy (Michelli & Keiser, 2005, p. 246). As a result, many have called for schools to inculcate the values of democracy in American youth (Barber, 1994). As one would expect, the nature of these calls has shifted over time as the perceived needs of the nation have fluctuated. This paper is yet another call for democratic education, an education that is as Ayers (2009) argues “eye-popping and indblowing”
(p. 3), an education that not only promotes and inspires democratic dispositions, knowledge, and values in students, but leads
students through and engages them in the deliberative and collaborative processes of democracy. While contemporary scholars have called for democratic education at the K-12 level in order to increase civic participation (Apple & Beane, 2007; Ayers, 2009; Collins, 2009; Mitra & Serriere, 2015), I join the ranks of those scholars who call for the democratization of teacher education programs as a means to that same end. Soder (1996) explains that while “much has been said about the importance of schools in a democracy…many of those very same people…lapse into uncharacteristic silence as to the education of educators in these matters” (p. 249). In the twenty years since Soder made this claim, more has indeed been written, but arguably the silence around democratic teacher education has been raised to barely a whisper.
Public perception has become reality -- reputations are made and destroyed overnight thanks to the power of social and online media and an emboldened public who has seen Twitter bring down corporate titans and foment socio-political unrest around the world.
Schools can no longer be certain they’ll avoid the media spotlight or trust that their hard-earned reputations will protect them. In 2015, the University of Missouri faced a maelstrom of hunger strikes by the football team, racial incidents and massive protests. “Official inaction” from the administration catalyzed the initial protests, and subsequent attempts at reconciliation, including the resignation of the chancellor and president and appointment of a chief diversity officer, came too late to appease discontented students, alumni and community members. Two years
later, as recently reported by the New York Times, the university’s enrollment is down more than 35 percent and
budget cuts have forced the temporary closure of seven dormitories and elimination of 400 staff positions.
A decade ago, few universities thought strategically about their brand. Now, as the market for academic talent, funding, and recognition heats up, the need has become acute. Universities recognize the necessity of building appreciation for what makes them unique. Yet while some universities may be regarded as “great” brands, most aren’t. And it may be because of the ways in which higher education approaches branding.
This study examines the George Coles bursary program—a financial aid plan designed to “keep residents at home” so they can attend university, by provid-ing a bursary in their first year of university following high school graduation. The study offers insight into higher education students’ financial circumstanc-es, thereby suggesting policy direction for governments and higher education institutions wishing to retain talent and support student financing. The findings show that the resident students considered in the study appeared to value the bursary. However, none of the key metrics related to participation in or conver-sion to the home institution indicated that the bursary impacted enrolment or participation. This research highlights the importance of utilizing financial aid in combination with other policies to help students access higher education.
As I've mentioned before, my 7-year-old daughter takes piano lessons. One of the biggest challenges has been getting her to play for herself, not for her parents. Often I'll ask her how she thought she played a song and I'll get a shrug in return. She plays, but she doesn't listen to herself play. That lack of listening, I fear, is a sign that she's just playing because we're making her.
Many of the teaching tips I've suggested in this column have been meant to encourage your students to take responsibility for their learning. For active-learning strategies to really work, I've argued, we need students to buy in completely to our courses. They need to want to learn for themselves — not for us or a grade. To accomplish that, we can invite students to take some control over the syllabus. We can turn course policies into collaborative projects, in which students have an equal say in determining important aspects of the course. We can encourage students to articulate their goals for the course, rather than just expect them to meet ours. And we can design our courses to make sure we haven't foreclosed any of those possibilities.
“FBI Insider: Clinton Emails Linked to Political Pedophile Sex Ring,” declared a blog post just days before the U.S. presidential election.
And earlier this year [2017], an online headline blasted: “BOMBSHELL: Trump and Putin Spotted at Swiss Resort Prior to Election.”
There was only one problem. Neither was true at all. Even the sources were suspect.
The headlines, it turned out, were part of the onslaught of fake news that has proliferated. But for Texas A&M senior Ishanee Chanda, the task of discerning between fool’s gold and gold was a no brainer.
"Critical thinking has allowed me to look at the most recent election and the phenomenon of `fake news' with a careful eye," says Ishanee Chanda
Purpose: Our study uses Remillard’s framework for characterizing and studying teachers’ interactions with curriculum materials specifically in the context of GBL. We believe that exploring the dynamic relationship between teachers and a GBL curriculum may help those involved in supporting teachers in implementing GBL to gain a deeper understanding of the complexity of the teacher/GBL curriculum relationship. This research examined teachers' GBL implementation experiences in order to answer the following research question: How do we describe and characterize teachers’ interactions with GBL curriculum materials?
Mentoring is one of the many aspects of faculty positions that are not generally taught, even though it is crucial in higher education. Faculty members are expected to advise undergraduates, graduate students and colleagues, although rarely with any support or recognition for this work. As a result, faculty members often mentor as a response to how they were mentored: a cold and distant adviser may serve as a cautionary tale or a role model.
Colleges and universities generally try to make information about mental health services accessible to students. But at Northwestern University, students may start seeing such information in a surprising place: syllabi.
Wanting the campus to be “accessible and welcoming to all students,” Northwestern’s Faculty Senate last week passed a resolution encouraging “all faculty to include language in their syllabi similar to the following: ‘If you find yourself struggling with your mental or physical health this quarter, please feel free to approach me. I try to be flexible and accommodating.’” The statement ends with phone numbers for health and student services.
In 2008, University of Manitoba professors Stephen Downes and George Siemens taught a course on learning theory that was attended by about 25 paying students in class and by another 2,300 students online for free. Colleague Dave Cormier at the University of Prince Edward Island dubbed the experiment a “massive open online course,” or MOOC.
What do my living room, the Ronald McDonald House in New Haven and the New York City subway have in common? They are all places where I have conducted professional development on a tight schedule. Professional development is the process of developing skills and gaining experience that will help advance your career. Sometimes professional development involves developing skills that are not immediately relevant to your research. My hope for this article is that you will also find professional development opportunities that do not interfere with your academic priorities.
I ended last academic year on a high induced by the pride from watching my students graduate and the appreciation communicated via hugs, selfies, gifts and cards. Yet while academic accomplishments like graduation are visible to most folks, other acts are seemingly smaller and often only noticed by students and the faculty members who supported them.
It is the structurally and institutionally marginalized students whose successes often require substantial emotional labor on the part of faculty and staff members. Experience shows that these students feel most comfortable with those of us who are also minoritized, as well as those of us who teach about injustice and communicate solidarity in the classroom.
Students returning to class after the longest strike in the history of Ontario’s college system must wait awhile longer before cracking open their books: OPSEU has suggested its 12,000 unionized instructors start the day with a 20minute talk about their walkout before restarting any teaching.
It’s understandable that teachers want to speak their mind after walking the line these last six weeks. It’s debatable whether nearly 500,000 students will be of a mind to hear them out, or feel very understanding when forced to listen to a labour lecture from the front of the class.
This article explores for a broad audience the changing landscape of education in the digital age, the changing roles of teachers in a technologyrich education system, and the skills, knowledge, values, and ways of thinking that teachers will need to have to support students’ social, emotional, and intellectual development in a digital learning environment.
Abstract
Canadian students have academic and non-academic obligations, and their ability to balance them may impact university experience. Involvement in academic and non-academic activities, and the perception of balancing them was compared between students with and without disabilities. Results revealed that both groups of students participated in employment, social activities, and family obligations. Furthermore, perceived ability to balance academic and non-academic activities was associated with higher academic self-efficacy and resourcefulness in all students. Relative to non-disabled peers, students with disabilities spent fewer hours participating in non-academic activities, had fewer course hours, but studied as many hours. Students with disabilities who had difficulties balancing their multiple roles were less adapted to university. The time to access accommodations for learning may act as a barrier to adaptation. Creating university policies around accommodations for learning would benefit students with disabilities, and the incorporation of resourcefulness and time-management into university curriculum would benefit all students.
Résumé Les étudiants canadiens ont tous des obligations scolaires et parascolaires, et leur capacité à les équilibrer entre elles peut avoir des répercussions sur leur expérience universitaire. La participation à des activités scolaires et parascolaires, et la perception d’arriver à les équilibrer entre elles a été comparée entre étudiants avec handicap et étudiants sans handicap. Les résultats ont démontré que les étudiants avaient tous des obligations professionnelles, sociales et familiales, peu importe s’ils étaient affligés d’un handicap ou non. En outre, la perception de pouvoir équilibrer entre elles les activités scolaires et parascolaires a été associée à une meilleure efficacité scolaire autodidacte et à un meilleur esprit d’initiative chez tous les étudiants. Comparativement à leurs camarades sans handicap, les étudiants avec handicap consacraient moins d’heures à des activités parascolaires, disposaient de moins d’heures de cours, mais étudiaient autant d’heures. Les étudiants avec handicap qui avaient de la difficulté à équilibrer leurs multiples rôles étaient moins adaptés à la vie universitaire. Comme le temps nécessaire pour accéder aux installations d’apprentissage peut constituer une barrière à l’adaptation, l’élaboration de politiques universitaires autour des installations d’apprentissage serait bénéfique pour les étudiants avec handicap. De même, l’intégration de l’esprit d’initiative et de la gestion du temps dans le programme d’études universitaires profiterait à tous les étudiants.
Recently, McGill University adopted its policy against sexual violence (PDF). While celebrating this development, I admit that well before this policy was drafted and adopted, I was skeptical about its utility. As a law professor who assesses rules and authority from a feminist critical perspective, I was doubtful about the potential of an institutional policy to address campus sexual violence. To my mind, a policy seemed like a naive and simplistic way of responding to the broad and complex challenge of sexual violence, which is rooted in forces that lie well beyond any single university’s control.
What would happen if you were to arrive to your classroom, unplug the devices, turn off the projector, and step away from the PowerPoint slides … just for the day?
What would you and your students do in class?
This was the challenge I presented to 100 faculty members who attended my session at the Teaching Professor Conference in St. Louis this past June. The title of the session was, “Using ‘Unplugged’ Flipped Learning Activities to Engage Students.” Our mission was to get “back to the basics” and share strategies to engage students without using technology.