When it comes to teaching and tutoring, I'm pretty old-fashioned. I make good use of whiteboards, chalkboards, pads of paper, anything I can use to write, doodle, and demonstrate my way through a lesson. I heavily rely on PowerPoint to show pictures and animations, and occasionally will use YouTube clips. It was effective, but if I had to make slides from scratch, like I did when teaching community college, it could be a real pain to gather the necessary sources (pictures, text, video) and put them in a logical order.
I've never even heard of Blendspace until last week, when I had to do a small presentation on it and how I could use it in my future classroom. I could upload files from my computer onto the site (called a "canvas"), or I could drag and drop videos, links, photos, and other resources straight from the web, which meant no more opening a gazillion windows trying to gather all the necessary media. Furthermore, since I synced Blendspace with my Google and DropBox accounts, I could drag and drop files from my Google Drive/DropBox onto the canvas. It also meant I could watch YouTube clips right on the canvas, instead of clicking on a link and getting transported to a new window. Much easier.
Blendspace also has an assessment feature, which allows instructors to make multiple choice questions right on the canvas. Although I would not substitute this feature for written exams and quizzes, I think it would be an excellent way to poll students' understanding during class, like many of my college professors did.
That being said, Blendspace can also be used to goof off. When toggling around with mine, I uploaded a presentation on cell respiration and then proceeded to fill the rest of the canvas with video clips from the Dark Knight trilogy and Season 4 of Archer.
I will admit that Blendspace definitely breaks up the monotony of a chalk talk.
Sunday, July 27, 2014
Integration
We recently had a group project called "Connections Across Disciplines" where we created a lesson plan based on our specialties. My group examined the use of games, this time a protein-folding computer game called Fold-It, to introduce students to protein structure, protein function, and scientific research. The original idea was to have students explore this game on their own devices -- a laptop, tablet, or smartphone -- until we realized that Fold-It only worked on a computer and had to modify our lesson plan accordingly.
I was introduced to Fold-It in grad school when we were discussing current topics in protein research. From a scientist standpoint, Fold-It generates useful new information about how proteins fold and contributes to current research. From a high school student's stance, the game could potentially teach them about the importance of protein structure and function in biological systems. It also gives students a better picture of what proteins look like, instead of staring at a blob and trying to make believe it's an enzyme. Looking back, I wish I had a chance to use this game in my own AP Bio class; it would have made more sense to me to play around on the game and manipulating protein side chains on the computer instead of memorizing the definition of secondary and tertiary structure.
It wasn't until college when I started seeing more connections between my science classes, as well as across disciplines, like in science and non-science courses. I think it's unfortunate that we don't teach classes in a more integrated manner and help students better understand the purpose and application behind the things they're learning. The protein-folding game, for instance, uses computers and a game-like modality to teach students about macromolecule function. It also exposes students to the research side of things, making it clear that there is much to learn beyond of what is in the textbook. On the flip side, sewing different pieces together may make it confusing for students who like to compartmentalize information, and I can certainly anticipate students complaining about me putting a research twist on practically everything. I'll justify it with "We're learning about it because it's awesome!" Enough said.
I was introduced to Fold-It in grad school when we were discussing current topics in protein research. From a scientist standpoint, Fold-It generates useful new information about how proteins fold and contributes to current research. From a high school student's stance, the game could potentially teach them about the importance of protein structure and function in biological systems. It also gives students a better picture of what proteins look like, instead of staring at a blob and trying to make believe it's an enzyme. Looking back, I wish I had a chance to use this game in my own AP Bio class; it would have made more sense to me to play around on the game and manipulating protein side chains on the computer instead of memorizing the definition of secondary and tertiary structure.
It wasn't until college when I started seeing more connections between my science classes, as well as across disciplines, like in science and non-science courses. I think it's unfortunate that we don't teach classes in a more integrated manner and help students better understand the purpose and application behind the things they're learning. The protein-folding game, for instance, uses computers and a game-like modality to teach students about macromolecule function. It also exposes students to the research side of things, making it clear that there is much to learn beyond of what is in the textbook. On the flip side, sewing different pieces together may make it confusing for students who like to compartmentalize information, and I can certainly anticipate students complaining about me putting a research twist on practically everything. I'll justify it with "We're learning about it because it's awesome!" Enough said.
Tuesday, July 22, 2014
Games and Learning
UM's Center for Research on Learning and Teaching (CRLT) has a graduate teacher certificate, and one of the requirements was to attend a series of seminars. One of the seminars I watched was one about the use of games in the classroom setting. Not playing video games or anything like that, more like the use of the gaming model in the classroom. The professors seemed to focus on two things:
a. all players (students) starting from the same level and earning points with missions (participation and homework)
b. good grades on quizzes and exams meant that the student could "level up" (i.e earn more points toward a better grade and possibly get opportunities for extra credit)
Under his model, all students started off at no points and they structured class so it seemed like students were earning more points toward their goal grade. They contrasted it to the "traditional" class structure, where all students seemed to start at an "A" and they'd lose points due to not turning in homework, failing exams and quizzes, or not participating.
I think the presenters were onto something about remodeling the classroom to engage their students, but I'm not sure if I would take it as far as they did. For instance, their model made it seem like quizzes and tests should be optional, but not taking it would mean a loss of data on student learning. That being said, there are quite a few things we can take away from gaming, like teamwork, determining your own fate (to a degree), and strategy.
***
I'm seeing an increased use of games in learning; I'm working in an 8th grade math class this summer, and our mentor teacher uses a mix of games and worksheets to make students learn. Most computer games I've seen this summer have been Minute-Math type problems -- the more problems you solve, the faster your spaceship/bike/moving object goes toward the finish line. Or you solve similar problems to blast away evil robots. My favorite ones involve strategy and math, like a card game the teacher called "Fraction War". We had a full deck of cards, where all face cards were worth 10 and aces were worth one. Each player drew two cards and had to pick which one was going to be numerator and which one would be denominator. My student quickly realized that he could make improper fractions and win the game. I saw this as a welcome twist on the standard games that I had in school, mostly similar to Jeopardy or solving math problems to get the answer to a corny joke. This just seemed so much better.
Under his model, all students started off at no points and they structured class so it seemed like students were earning more points toward their goal grade. They contrasted it to the "traditional" class structure, where all students seemed to start at an "A" and they'd lose points due to not turning in homework, failing exams and quizzes, or not participating.
I think the presenters were onto something about remodeling the classroom to engage their students, but I'm not sure if I would take it as far as they did. For instance, their model made it seem like quizzes and tests should be optional, but not taking it would mean a loss of data on student learning. That being said, there are quite a few things we can take away from gaming, like teamwork, determining your own fate (to a degree), and strategy.
***
I'm seeing an increased use of games in learning; I'm working in an 8th grade math class this summer, and our mentor teacher uses a mix of games and worksheets to make students learn. Most computer games I've seen this summer have been Minute-Math type problems -- the more problems you solve, the faster your spaceship/bike/moving object goes toward the finish line. Or you solve similar problems to blast away evil robots. My favorite ones involve strategy and math, like a card game the teacher called "Fraction War". We had a full deck of cards, where all face cards were worth 10 and aces were worth one. Each player drew two cards and had to pick which one was going to be numerator and which one would be denominator. My student quickly realized that he could make improper fractions and win the game. I saw this as a welcome twist on the standard games that I had in school, mostly similar to Jeopardy or solving math problems to get the answer to a corny joke. This just seemed so much better.
Thursday, July 17, 2014
On Student Achievement and Standardized Tests
Apparently the new fad is making standardized tests computer-based instead of on paper. I can see how computer-based testing would be faster and easier to score, and allow for a wider flexibility in testing dates, but it would also mean ensuring there are enough computers for all Xth graders across the nation on testing day. Furthermore, the test interface may not be the most user-friendly and would require schools to take an extra day to teach students how to use the program. While devoting an entire day to making sure students are clicking the right buttons and using the correct text box sounds excessive, some test interfaces are extremely cluttered. We took an assessment called Smarter Balanced in class, a standardized test in competition with other achievement exams in Michigan like the ACT/ASPIRE and MEAP. Like the latter two exams, Smarter Balanced tests students on math and reading skills.
I chose to work on the math section during our practice run in class. While the math was doable, I found myself scrambling to find scratch paper, which was not provided. Many other students said they were confused by the vast array of icons on the screen, and that it took a while before they could find the one marked "next question". Students taking the reading section of the test found it irritating that they couldn't underline/hilight/write notes on the given passage, making information hunting for answering questions difficult, and everyone noticed that they couldn't skip questions.
Don't get me wrong, I think if we have to take standardized tests, then computer-based is the way to go. However, several items need to be taken into consideration:
1. Give students a brief intro to how to use the testing interface. At the very least, tell them where the buttons for "next" and "previous" are located.
2. Allow hilighting and underlining in the reading comprehension portion.
3. Provide scratch paper for the math section.
4. Change the program so that students can skip ahead in a given section, but cannot skip sections.
5. Make the test computer-adaptive. It minimizes cheating since there's no guarantee that two students will have the exact same question.
I see why the general public values standardized tests; it serves as a benchmark for measuring student achievement and one can use the data to measure achievement across counties, states, and regions. However, using standardized tests as the main or only way to measure student achievement and teacher efficacy is a lousy idea. Test scores will be making up 40% of teacher evaluations in Michigan starting this year. Most of the students I've worked with are diligent and conscientious, but may be bad test takers. Standardized tests ignore this and give everyone the same amount of time. Furthermore, we place so much value on exam scores that we forget the nuances in the classroom -- student interest in the subject, student improvement in the class throughout the year, student-teacher interactions, and students' nonacademic life, among others, that could influence test scores.
Unfortunately we still have to follow the laws written by a bunch of empty suits with absolutely no teaching experience.
I chose to work on the math section during our practice run in class. While the math was doable, I found myself scrambling to find scratch paper, which was not provided. Many other students said they were confused by the vast array of icons on the screen, and that it took a while before they could find the one marked "next question". Students taking the reading section of the test found it irritating that they couldn't underline/hilight/write notes on the given passage, making information hunting for answering questions difficult, and everyone noticed that they couldn't skip questions.
Don't get me wrong, I think if we have to take standardized tests, then computer-based is the way to go. However, several items need to be taken into consideration:
1. Give students a brief intro to how to use the testing interface. At the very least, tell them where the buttons for "next" and "previous" are located.
2. Allow hilighting and underlining in the reading comprehension portion.
3. Provide scratch paper for the math section.
4. Change the program so that students can skip ahead in a given section, but cannot skip sections.
5. Make the test computer-adaptive. It minimizes cheating since there's no guarantee that two students will have the exact same question.
I see why the general public values standardized tests; it serves as a benchmark for measuring student achievement and one can use the data to measure achievement across counties, states, and regions. However, using standardized tests as the main or only way to measure student achievement and teacher efficacy is a lousy idea. Test scores will be making up 40% of teacher evaluations in Michigan starting this year. Most of the students I've worked with are diligent and conscientious, but may be bad test takers. Standardized tests ignore this and give everyone the same amount of time. Furthermore, we place so much value on exam scores that we forget the nuances in the classroom -- student interest in the subject, student improvement in the class throughout the year, student-teacher interactions, and students' nonacademic life, among others, that could influence test scores.
Unfortunately we still have to follow the laws written by a bunch of empty suits with absolutely no teaching experience.
Tuesday, July 15, 2014
Education as a Social Experience
I always thought that getting an education was preparation for my future job. At least that's what my parents, teachers, and society told me, as if once you found a job, you could stop going to school. It wasn't until high school when I figured out the difference between "going to school" and "learning", and I spent most of college trying to figure out how to learn properly. Once I started the biology graduate program, I was hardly taking classes - going to school - but continued to learn by hands-on experience and data analysis.
I find it interesting that John Dewey sees education as a social process, stating that the school should serve to expand on values that children learn at home. I only partially agree with that statement; I was born overseas and emigrated to the United States when I was 3. My parents were first-generation Asian immigrants, and many of the values that we had at home were vastly different from the values I learned at school. Asia has a rather collectivist outlook, while the US pushes children to be their own individual. As I tried to do the latter to fit in, the more my parents seem to disapprove. Secondly, as I mentioned above, education was not a process of living for me until I went to college. From kindergarten to senior year, I had a very compartmentalized view of school -- go in, learn a bunch of stuff I may or may not remember, go home, do homework, repeat. It wasn't an ever-changing process, it was autopilot. In college, I started to realize that social collaboration was an important component for effective learning, and my favorite college classes were heavily based on discussion. Education, therefore, became that fluid process Dewey wrote about, and I became aware of several other ways to acquire information aside from rote learning.
It took me a while to understand education as a social process, and I wonder why nobody ever mentioned that to me. It was always "you'll need to do X in the future" or "because you'll gain skill Y, which you'll find useful in the future". But what these people didn't realize (and I just realized it myself) is that having an education forces us to be better people... for the most part anyway. I despised group work in elementary school because it meant I had to work with people I didn't necessarily like, and I tried really hard to avoid recess because it meant I couldn't hide in a corner with a book. As I passed through high school, college, and grad school, I realized that (a) even the people I didn't like initially grew on me, (b) while group work meant more opinions, but it also meant more collaboration, and (c) hiding in a corner all the time with a book is horrendously depressing.
On a parting note, I think education really forced me to transform. I've usually taken the role of the observer, because playing any other role in the classroom meant that I would have to voice my opinion. What if I embarrassed myself? What if I was wrong and everyone thought I was dumb? I eventually became comfortable with voicing my opinion and risking looking stupid in college, and in graduate school found out that research is all about the risk of looking/feeling dumb. Yes, I would have a hypothesis, but there was never a guarantee that it was the right answer. The only thing I could do was to discuss with my advisor, and it took me over a year to realize that he didn't care about the "correct" answer, only that I had sufficient evidence for my argument....and so going back to where I learned to propose my opinion and speak up. Through an education.
I find it interesting that John Dewey sees education as a social process, stating that the school should serve to expand on values that children learn at home. I only partially agree with that statement; I was born overseas and emigrated to the United States when I was 3. My parents were first-generation Asian immigrants, and many of the values that we had at home were vastly different from the values I learned at school. Asia has a rather collectivist outlook, while the US pushes children to be their own individual. As I tried to do the latter to fit in, the more my parents seem to disapprove. Secondly, as I mentioned above, education was not a process of living for me until I went to college. From kindergarten to senior year, I had a very compartmentalized view of school -- go in, learn a bunch of stuff I may or may not remember, go home, do homework, repeat. It wasn't an ever-changing process, it was autopilot. In college, I started to realize that social collaboration was an important component for effective learning, and my favorite college classes were heavily based on discussion. Education, therefore, became that fluid process Dewey wrote about, and I became aware of several other ways to acquire information aside from rote learning.
It took me a while to understand education as a social process, and I wonder why nobody ever mentioned that to me. It was always "you'll need to do X in the future" or "because you'll gain skill Y, which you'll find useful in the future". But what these people didn't realize (and I just realized it myself) is that having an education forces us to be better people... for the most part anyway. I despised group work in elementary school because it meant I had to work with people I didn't necessarily like, and I tried really hard to avoid recess because it meant I couldn't hide in a corner with a book. As I passed through high school, college, and grad school, I realized that (a) even the people I didn't like initially grew on me, (b) while group work meant more opinions, but it also meant more collaboration, and (c) hiding in a corner all the time with a book is horrendously depressing.
On a parting note, I think education really forced me to transform. I've usually taken the role of the observer, because playing any other role in the classroom meant that I would have to voice my opinion. What if I embarrassed myself? What if I was wrong and everyone thought I was dumb? I eventually became comfortable with voicing my opinion and risking looking stupid in college, and in graduate school found out that research is all about the risk of looking/feeling dumb. Yes, I would have a hypothesis, but there was never a guarantee that it was the right answer. The only thing I could do was to discuss with my advisor, and it took me over a year to realize that he didn't care about the "correct" answer, only that I had sufficient evidence for my argument....and so going back to where I learned to propose my opinion and speak up. Through an education.
Monday, July 14, 2014
The Past Year
I haven't worked on this in over a year, during which I took a 4-month leave of absence from the lab to decide whether or not I wanted to continue in the doctoral program. My leave started in May 2013, and I immediately started looking into education volunteer opportunities and faculty openings at community colleges. I spent most of June volunteering at the Hands-on Museum, while playing phone tag with the public school administrators, who helped me land a volunteer spot in summer school. I worked with high school kids taking Algebra and Geometry from late June to July, and in the meantime got hired as an adjunct science instructor at a community college and an academic mentor in the athletic department. All this happened while I was looking into teaching certification programs and doing private tutoring, so it was safe to say I had a very productive leave.
In August I went back to lab to tell my advisor that I decided to leave the PhD program and pursue a Masters in education. He didn't seem surprised, and was glad to see that I found a better-suited field of study. When September rolled around, I started working for athletics, prepped lessons for my community college class, and did private tutoring while writing my personal statement for graduate education programs. Summer school and private tutoring experiences made the statement easy to write, and although I had to take two math classes since I declared a math minor for teaching, the whole application process was relatively problem-free.
Although I had no doubts about the application process to the School of Education, I often thought about the (perceived) ramifications of leaving the doctoral program. What did my advisor think? What about my friends and potential employers? I felt like I broke a promise to my advisor, and didn't want to think about the investment he makes in any given student, just to have them leave without their PhD. I thought my five-year Masters was going to be difficult to explain to potential employers. Most importantly, I kept hearing voices, specifically that of H, a so-called grad student mentor who was not supportive at all, telling me that people who leave the doctoral program are "losers" and should be condescended upon. In reality, my advisor was very supportive in my decision and wrote a letter of recommendation to the School of Education, giving me a chance to attend on fellowship. Employers didn't seem to care about how long I was in school, as long as I had a valid reason for leaving; my friends were glad that I found a field I enjoyed, and as for H, he's somewhere else and we're no longer speaking.
I started my new education program about a month ago, and will be done in June of next year. Incidentally, I have to keep a blog for one of my classes, so I'd thought I'd write a transition post between programs. I originally started The Eastern Blot as a personal project while I moved forward in graduate school, documenting the excitement, optimism, isolation, and change (among others) that I felt on a monthly basis. I'm hoping to continue writing as a combination of class requirements and personal reflection.
In August I went back to lab to tell my advisor that I decided to leave the PhD program and pursue a Masters in education. He didn't seem surprised, and was glad to see that I found a better-suited field of study. When September rolled around, I started working for athletics, prepped lessons for my community college class, and did private tutoring while writing my personal statement for graduate education programs. Summer school and private tutoring experiences made the statement easy to write, and although I had to take two math classes since I declared a math minor for teaching, the whole application process was relatively problem-free.
Although I had no doubts about the application process to the School of Education, I often thought about the (perceived) ramifications of leaving the doctoral program. What did my advisor think? What about my friends and potential employers? I felt like I broke a promise to my advisor, and didn't want to think about the investment he makes in any given student, just to have them leave without their PhD. I thought my five-year Masters was going to be difficult to explain to potential employers. Most importantly, I kept hearing voices, specifically that of H, a so-called grad student mentor who was not supportive at all, telling me that people who leave the doctoral program are "losers" and should be condescended upon. In reality, my advisor was very supportive in my decision and wrote a letter of recommendation to the School of Education, giving me a chance to attend on fellowship. Employers didn't seem to care about how long I was in school, as long as I had a valid reason for leaving; my friends were glad that I found a field I enjoyed, and as for H, he's somewhere else and we're no longer speaking.
I started my new education program about a month ago, and will be done in June of next year. Incidentally, I have to keep a blog for one of my classes, so I'd thought I'd write a transition post between programs. I originally started The Eastern Blot as a personal project while I moved forward in graduate school, documenting the excitement, optimism, isolation, and change (among others) that I felt on a monthly basis. I'm hoping to continue writing as a combination of class requirements and personal reflection.
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