Among the trickiest decisions teachers make is whether to round up the final grade for a student who is just a few points shy
of a passing score.
Although some students need a “second lap” to master academic skills needed for later coursework, repeating courses makes it harder for students to progress toward a degree. Time is money (literally, in higher education), and when students are asked to spend more of both on a class they already took, they may get discouraged or drop out. This is a consequence we need
to take seriously, as nearly half of students do not complete a bachelor’s degree in four years.
So, how should we decide what to do?
Interviews for campus-leadership positions have shifted entirely to video, in our Covid-19 era of travel bans and social distancing. Many of the clients I work with as a campus search consultant expect that shift to remain a trend, even after our shelter-in-place era passes. Video interviewing has its advantages — it saves money, for one — but it also creates a unique set of stresses for candidates.
In more than 100 administrative searches, I’ve seen an array of video snafus: cameras angled to focus on shiny foreheads, cameos by pets and naked toddlers, unmade beds clearly visible in the background. I’ve seen candidates — thinking they were on mute — shout at a spouse to be quiet and tell a child to "go pee." I’ve seen committee members — thinking they were on mute — talk about a candidate. I’ve watched candidates put on their eye makeup, sneeze into the screen, and bring in their kids to help manage the technology.
Information for international students interested in attending college or university in Ontario.
“Are you keeping us for the whole time today? Because I need to leave in 20 minutes,” asked a student with a baffled expression on his face. As I looked at him, I wanted so badly to explain: Of all the ways you could have chosen to introduce yourself on the first day of class, that was not the optimal one.
The way kids these days dance is, quite frankly, indecent and without any modesty. It’s a reflection of the times, and
how the world and its governing morals are degrading.
The above is not about the year 2017, but rather is paraphrased from The London Times’ description of the
introduction -- and growing popularity of -- the waltz, more than 200 years ago.
“We remarked with pain that the indecent foreign dance called the ‘waltz’ was introduced (we believe for the first
time at the English Court on Friday last),” The Times wrote in its warning about the new, crass dance which involved
“the voluptuous intertwining of the limbs and close compressure of the bodies.”
The prevailing statistics on cheating are disheartening. Some put the rate at 75%. That means three out of every four students admit to some kind of academic dishonesty at some point during their higher education.
We all know that this is not a new phenomenon. Cheating is as old as higher education itself. Older, really, if you look outside the classroom. Classicists tell us that cheating scandals occurred even during the ancient Olympic Games.
So is there really a way to solve a problem with such ancient roots?
When I think about my highest goal as a teacher, it is to help create responsible citizens who take care of each other and their world.
And the best way that I can help form human beings who do good is to teach them empathy. I’d like to think that the ability to
understand and share the feelings of others is something that everyone is born with, but I also think that it is important enough to
be explicitly taught just in case.
Engaging with students – both inside and outside the classroom – who are continually linked in to social media and online devices presents a range of opportunities, challenges and pitfalls.
To some of my students’ displeasure, I have my office hours on Friday afternoons. I prepare for this ancient tradition of face-to-face, pen-and-paper pedagogy by tidying my office, purging unwanted scraps of paper, removing half empty coffee cups, and sometimes even plugging in an air freshener. Then I sit in my swivel chair, arms crossed, and wait for the barrage of undergraduate students to arrive with their genetics questions.
The Ontario government has indicated its intention to negotiate individual mandate statements with each of Ontario’s public postsecondary institutions and to amend funding formulas to focus resources on what each institution does best. These actions signal the government’s desire to pursue a policy of greater institutional differentiation within the Ontario public postsecondary system. The purpose of this paper is to inform and assist the development of a differentiation framework for the university sector by describing the diversity of Ontario universities on variables that other jurisdictions have used to differentiate their university systems. These variables are important to consider first because they are globally accepted, and therefore influence the way the rest of the world will judge the Ontario system and its quality.
Here's an unsettling fact. One of Canada's most-renowned universities, with a student population the size of a small city, is chronically reliant on philanthropic donations to meet the demand for on-campus mental-health programs.
Let's think about that for a second.
Imagine having to scramble every year for donations simply to meet a minimum service standard. Now imagine being an institution without the luxury of a large rolodex of donors – relying only on tuition fees or internal funding.
Do you really believe that watching a lecturer read hundreds of PowerPoint slides is making you smarter?
I asked this of a class of 105 computer science and software engineering students last semester.
New research has revealed students’ preferences for their lecturers’ personalities, and if you are neurotic,
disagreeable, closed off and unreliable, you may want to look away now.
We have heard recently of lecturers rating students; now students have got their own back. Looking at five
personality traits -- openness, conscientiousness, extroversion, agreeableness and neuroticism -- a survey of more
than 260 students, from three London universities, found that conscientiousness was the most desired trait in
lecturers.
Across academe, the conversation about career diversity for Ph.D.s has cracked wide open up in just a few years.
That’s equivalent to the blink of an eye in academic (read: glacial) time. The proposition that graduate programs
should prepare students for the actual jobs that they’ll get — not just for professorships — no longer receives the
fierce pushback that it did even five years ago. We’ve gone from "Why should we?" to "How should we?" in a
remarkably short time.
The question has two sides: how to prepare students for diverse career paths and how to prepare employers. Most
of the attention up to now has gone to the former — debating and adopting reforms to train graduate students (and
their teachers) for what amounts to a new reality. We’ve got to change graduate school so that doctoral education
can support students who pursue a range of careers. That’s a big job, and it’s still under way.
Research shows that women perform better than men on four out of five traits of effective leaders, says Øyvind Martinsen
Stemming from a series of discussions at recent women's academic conferences in the U.S. and abroad, Women Interrupting, Disrupting, and Revolutionizing Education Policy and Practice is born of the frustration many scholars have expressed over the stagnation of the study of women in educational leadership. Whitney Sherman Newcomb and Katherine Cumings Mansfield
have brought together the works of a broad range of feminist scholarsseasoned and newer academics and studentsto address the questions: in what ways is feminism in the field of educational leadership stalled? What can we do to move ahead?
In August, a report by Rand Europe confirmed what many had long suspected: that academics face a greater mental
health risk than the population at large. About two in five scholars have common mental health disorders, such as
depression or stress-related problems. Among the reasons behind this, the report, which was commissioned by the
Royal Society and the Wellcome Trust, identified environmental risk factors such as heavy workloads and lack of job
security and management support. But is there anything that academics themselves could do to boost their wellbeing?
Here, scholars from disciplines ranging from philosophy to neuroscience share their insights into how the
search for happiness should be conducted – if it should be conducted at all
Movie stars are supposedly nothing like you and me. They're svelte, glamorous, self-possessed. They wear dresses we can't afford and live in houses we can only dream of. Yet it turns out that—in the most painful and personal ways—movie stars are more like you and me than we ever knew.
In 1997, just before Ashley Judd's career took off, she was invited to a meeting with Harvey Weinstein, head of the starmaking studio Miramax, at a Beverly Hills hotel. Astounded and offended by Weinstein's attempt to coerce her into bed, Judd managed to escape. But instead of keeping quiet about the kind of encounter that could easily shame a woman into silence, she began spreading the word.
As the number of faculty members whose position lies outside the tenure system continues to rise at American universities, college deans, department chairs and program directors must consider how to support the careers of these colleagues. The differences that commonly exist between the opportunities available to tenure-system faculty and those offered to other academics can be a recurring source of friction. That not only erodes unit cohesion and climate, but it may also impede efforts to retain valued long-term employees who are not in the tenure system.
Since the configurations and names of these people and positions vary widely across disciplines and institutions, I will denote them collectively as “academic staff.” At Michigan State University, we have several categories of faculty members who work outside the tenure system -- including outside professionals in business, law, medicine or media who teach an occasional career-oriented course in their specialty; instructors with full teaching loads and short-term contracts; and individuals with a mix of teaching, advising or other duties who have long-term appointments. As a dean, I have seen that as my college hires more faculty members outside the tenure system, identifying ways to support such academic staff professionally is an increasingly common topic of conversation. And as an associate provost, as well, charged with advancing the careers of all MSU faculty and academic staff, I am finding support for academics outside the tenure system to be an area of institutional concern.
In 2012, Mohawk College solicited the support of the Education Policy Research Initiative (EPRI) to collect and use administrative and other data on students held by Mohawk as part of a broad initiative to improve student success based on the principle of evidence‐based decision making.
The first project involved analyses to better understand student retention at Mohawk using both descriptive and statistical modelling approaches. This work led to the development of a predictive model to identify students at risk of leaving college early.
In 2015, Mohawk and EPRI applied to and became part of the Higher Education Quality Council of Ontario’s (HEQCO) Access and Retention Consortium (ARC) to undertake a project that would build on this earlier work. The purpose was to update, refine and extensively test the predictive model, which would then be used to inform and assess a set of alternative advising interventions put in place for students entering Mohawk College in Fall 2015.
Dear parent of a university student,
You might want to sit down because I’ve got news you’ve dreaded for some time: your child has enrolled in a creative writing course.
I know it’s scary. As the course’s instructor, I’ve heard the same stories you have. On the street, they call creative writing the most potent of the humanities’ gateway drugs. Students get their first hit, and before you even have time to threaten to cut them out of the will, they’re writing every text message as a haiku and studying Soviet film.
Your child might have already hinted to you that creative writing was a possibility. They might have mentioned something called a “workshop.” You probably laughed, because the poets and novelists whose photographs you’ve seen in newspapers seldom look like they know how to work much of anything, never mind a drill or power saw.
You might be angry with the university for allowing your child to take a creative writing course. You might be angry with me for teaching it. Let me assure you: in class, I do everything possible to pull back the curtain on creative writing. We talk about how hard it can be put anything on the page without lapsing into clichés. I explain just how much there is to learn about things like form, style and genre. I tell them what a misery it can be to sit alone at a keyboard for hours, moving words around.
I say these things, but every year, students keep signing up for the course. They just seem to love writing. They seem to love it even though it involves struggle. Maybe because it involves struggle. They seem to relish the challenge of describing the world closely; of imagining how it could be different; of treating language as a puzzle and a game; of discovering new things about themselves. Sometimes, getting the right words in the right order feels impossible, but they seem to think that it can be important work.