Teaching vs. Telling. The division is deep.
Context
From December to May, I was teaching an online class in early British literature that required me to devise ways for students to learn in an online-only environment--and really learn, or why were we going through the motions? I was concerned with making students' means of acquiring information as interactive as possible, and with assigning activities that reinforce the learning while also getting them to think a bit deeper about the ideas, and make connections--all of the things a good instructor is supposed to do.
During this time, I was involved--at my 8-5 job--in ongoing revision to a training certificate program for entry-level adminstrative professional staff. In the process, the business writing class that we teach was moved to the "II" certificate from the "I" certificate--and I took exception, because even staff who are not writing long documents spend a significant amount of time communicating by email--both internally and externally. So I proposed something like an "Email Best Practices" class, which would either be taught in person (maybe for an hour) or could be an online course.
When our director said no to a traditional class and yes to the online training, I envisioned something that would allow the user to make choices between good and bad email practices while delivering the essential information--something really interactive that would actually teach. I don't really think that the 6-hour, 1- or 2-day business writing class accomplishes much in the way of making the participants' writing better, but it does give them strategies for more effective communication. With the email training, I wanted to actually curb some bad email practies.
Dilemma/Problem
Because the online class is part of a certificate program, and there are people who need to finish in the next few months, there was a bit of anxiety among participants in the program. This led to the director of my department giving--well, more an ultimatum than a deadline. At any rate, it has a very different feel than most of my deadlines, perhaps because of how arbitrary it is. And it's not like it's the only thing on my plate--quite the contrary. So speaking to my direct supervisor, who is a reasonable person, I received a recommendation (only more forceful than a recommendation, becuase it is bound to the aritrary deadline): just throw some information into PowerPoint and we will convert it to an online class from there.
Just. Throw. Information. Into. PowerPoint. That's the elearning equivalent of an all-lecture course, and not at all what I had in mind for this course that was really supposed to teach something--to help people to communicate better via email. I protested. I bargained. I philosophized. But no. This is the task I have been given--use PowerPoint as an information dump. I co-presented at a conference earlier in the year about making PowerPoint more interactive. I have been trying to use PowerPoint to develop interactive tutorials that I can post in Blackboard to give my students an interactive, self-guided lesson. This upsets me so much.
The Crux
What I realized, speaking with my boss today, is that the contrast between what I want to do and what I have time to do taps into my conception of teaching, and my perception of myself and my role as a teacher--even in designing online materials. I want to help people to learn. I don't just want them to fill a checkbox. This isn't like the type of compliance training that only requires that the information be available, and gives you a checkbox to acknowledge that it has passed in front of your eyeballs. I wanted more from this. So my level of satisfaction from this project has just decreased dramatically. It is no longer a teaching problem; it is an efficiency problem.
Solutions and Theorizing...
I could, of course, just create this first version and then revise it and make it as great as I want... That option was offered, but I don't think that will happen. I simply don't work like that. I need purpose and momentum, and once it's up, and not really mine any more but the property of the department (all of you "#altac" people out there, take note--this is life outside of academia), I will simply feel done with it and ready to move on.
Our compromise is to call the training "Tips for," and to change what I saw as the overall purpose. Instead of teaching, we will simply be listing best practices, more or less. It won't stick. It's not designed to. So it maybe doesn't matter? *sigh* Not ideal for my original intention.
But I was thinking... There is a place and a time for giving information, and it can be accomplished in different media differently. As soon as I stopped thinking of it as a "course" and started thinking of it as an "FYI" (more or less), my purpose manifested itself in interesting ways. Sitting down to introduce the slide show (which will be without sound, because who has time for that?), I immediately asked the question, "Why do we need to write better emails?" This lead me to investigate statistics on how much we use email in a typical business day. Email is professional communiation. So my purpose became, "Let's make it professional communication--and here are some tips."
I can tell people things--I do it all the time. But I do have to have a purpose in doing so, whether or not it is well-articulated.
Then, there's elearning itself. There are the really interactive courses (some of them taking up to 30 minutes because hey--the more time you spend clicking through, the more you learn, right? or not...) and the less interactive. There are some that simply talk to you and others that have you play games. Some are literally just words on the screen. But each fulfills its purpose. Some compliance training is like the screen that you sign before picking up a prescription. Anyone know the information that they're referring to? Anyone care much? But someone needs that signature for their records. Similarly, people dealing with biohazards need to have several text-heavy screens floated past them so that they can click "acknowledge." I'm not making this up. It's scary, and I don't believe in it, but that training is fulfilling its own legalistic purpose--which is most emphatically not to teach.
So elearning, you might say, has different genres. And those different genres make distinct use of the capabilities of the software, some extremely minimal, others extensive. And maybe compliance training isn't bad training, it's simply what it is--driven by its own purpose which has eveything to do with the liability of the provider and absolutely nothing to do with the increased understanding of the user. So... genres.
It doesn't make me happy to have to shift from elearning as a teaching platform to elearning as an information dump, but at least I have a way to reconcile myself to the circumstances and something to think further about. Genres of elearning.
Showing posts with label teaching vs. training. Show all posts
Showing posts with label teaching vs. training. Show all posts
Friday, June 19, 2015
Monday, May 12, 2014
Notes on Grading: Pacing Ourselves and Blind Submissions
In my current training position, I adminster two "certificate programs," which are a collection of classes that staff members take in order to develop a certain skill area. The ones I administer develop basic competency in Microsoft Office and more general entry-level competencies for administrative professionals (software and soft skills). The certificate program requires a final project which attempts to bring together and demonstrate the skills that were gained through the classes, while also providing an additional teaching opportunity, since unlike in the classroom, in the real world, a document is not finished until it is presentable. Recently, speaking with the person who previously administered one of my certificate programs, I confessed to her that I was rarely ever busy, and she expressed a great deal of surprise: she was always very busy with the certificate projects. This puzzled me at first. I don't get many projects at a time, and when I put my mind to it, I can get through the components and give feedback very quickly. After all--there's no grade to put on the paper. And then it occurred to me: I am used to this. Much more used to it than she was, since I taught writing, and had to give clear, focused feedback that stressed how to improve--even if the advice was never actually applied.
Thinking about grading, I remember it as the most odious task of teaching. And yet, here I am, skimming quickly through these documents created for the certificate program, giving feedback, receiving resubmissions. The one major difference is volume. There are times, like now, when I do get all three parts of the project at one time, or components from three or four different certificate program participants. But that's it. And really? It's not so bad. I look through them. I tell them what changes to make. I send them back. They get to them whenever they can. This would be the ideal model for online distance learning, though of course I would have to assign grades at some point. But then I wonder--if sitting back and giving feedback is relatively easy, what is it that made grading so odious?
The answer has to be the bulk of essays and the time pressure. I hate to feel pressured, and yet it is necessary for me to feel pressured or I will accomplish nothing but blog posts or Facebook status updates--sad though that is to write. So why not stagger deadlines or feedback sessions? (Feedback sessions were my way of justifying particularly long turnaround times for graded papers. Feedback on the previous paper and the grade would be given along with advice for the next paper during a session of office hours. There would be a sign-up sheet. Sometimes these would replace class for a couple of days.)
This stays with me. Why do we grade papers in bulk? It's the dominant method, but whom does it serve? Not the instructor, who has this mountain of intimidation to face. Even when I was interested in the topics, or looking forward to reading student responses to an assignment, anticipation of the grading marathon inevitably forced me to procrastination.
Does grading in bulk serve the students? This is a harder question, because the grading inevitably becomes sloppier, the comments less helpful, the grades more arbitrary the deeper I get into the stack. And yet, I think one reason that we would not give out papers until everyone's paper had been graded was to maintain the semblence (illusion?) of fairness. But their is always some bias. The more workshops I attend on "subtle bias," and the longer I work in an office around people who are supposed to be aware of their biases, the more I conclude what I already believed--that bias is inevitable. Most of it, however, is personal. There were students whose papers I graded harder, though I didn't mean to, because they were pushing my buttons in class, or because they thought they were smart, or because I knew (and I hated it when teachers did this to me) that they could do better. Maybe I wasn't guilty of each one of these. I certainly did what I could to avoid it, but sometimes perhaps only blind submissions would have prevented it.
Where I failed in grading was usually through the carelessness of exhanustion. The last papers came after the previous papers, and looked either a lot better... or else a lot worse by comparison. I was tired and weary of errors and repetition. My handwriting got sloppy. Inevitably, I had promised these grades by the next day and would catch hell or reproving glances if I did not deliver. My feedback got thin or harsh. And I probably didn't think as much about the grade, perhaps relying solely on my rubric to avoid the unclouded judgment that 2 A.M. (or 30 minutes before class) would not grant.
So given my insight, what would I do differently? Well, for starters, I would like to see papers come in at a trickle rather than in bulk. With a clear head and a clear idea of the objectives of the assignment and how to determine whether those objectives were met, I think the inconsistency of grading would take care of itself without having to "rank" papers and compare A to A and B to B and so on (which I never had time to do anyway, though that was the ideal).
But what about fairness and due dates? In the real world, different people have different deadlines. That's just the way of things. You can't complain of fairness forever, because at some point it breaks down. It could break down here, but there would be a lot of whining. So let's randomize it. Each student gets a number. Numbers 1-5 turn in their papers on the first day. Numbers 6-10 on the second day, and so on. Numbers change with each paper assignment throughout the semester.
And while we're randomizing, keep your name off of your paper! I'll record your name and number separately, and in the meantime, I will grade your paper blind. I won't know whether you're a male writing a feminist paper, a light-skinned person writing about minority issues, a female writing a reactionary paper, and so on; I also won't know whether you're the one who sits up front with the sandals and the ingrown toenail or the smart-aleck who amuses me until you overstep the boundaries. I won't know if you're the one who never says anything or the one who talks incessantly (to your fellow athletes) or texts while I'm talking. And that will be for the better. Unless you talk to me during office hourse about you're paper. Then, I will know you--and that will be to your advantage. So really, it will be like an online class, or like the certificate projects. I will grade gradually, as the papers come in, and I will know nothing about you, or will have forgotten everything I know. So much for bias.
Now, about grading and returning papers--basically, workflow. What would this look like? Ideally, the grading would begin as the papers are submitted. If 5 are submitted on Monday, those 5 should be read and comments written by Wednesday's class--or even by Tuesday. If the grading stops, the papers pile up and the system doesn't work. Since this system is based on an online process, it is well-suited to online feedback, though it could work with paper as well. But stacks of papers bother me more than quantities of email, so I would eschew paper and opt for electronic communication.
And yes, classes go on, and someone still has to teach them. But in between the classes are the office hours, when perhaps someone will grade me with their presence--but perhaps not. And I will grade. Because after all, when you're working 40-hours a week, you're pretty much expected to be productive while the clock is ticking. There would certainly be additional opportunities for flexibility in an academic job as compared to an office job--grading/office hours in the library, for example. The loss would be working in place. The gain would be time to research or write, or do the more pleasurable parts of the job, like reading or prepping, or even *gasp* time to spend with friends and family outside of the grading-teaching time frame (whatever it might be). This is how I would do it.
If it sounds rather like I would be tricking myself into doing work, that's probably accurate. But might there be good pedagogical reasons for this approach?
Let's take grades. So far, I have not mentioned them. Grades could be assessed at the reading and commenting stage. But why? So that I would not have to read another round of the same papers? That is a compelling reason. But it is not making use of the pedagogical potential of the writing assignment. As I mentioned, the certificate projects are additional teaching and learning opportunities. Because, while some people are able to make the leap and apply the concepts and use the tools that they have acquired--or even remember the information--most, in my experience, are not. Why? Because they are lost in their own minds, in their own obligations and job duties. They sit through the classes. They might pick up a thing or two. But if, when they return to their desks, they do not use what they learned, they forget. And so with students. Particularly nontraditional students.
So let's make the first round a learning opportunity. You submit. I read. I comment. I make suggestions. Corrections. I am your boss. This is what I want. You comply, or you will not receive a good evaluation. That is the bottom line. But of course, you are expressing yourself, at least in part, so the liberal educator in me (liberal in the classical sense) will allow for that individual expression insofar as it represents a coherent part of the essay. And then, you will show what you have learned. And I will grade according to what I have seen and according to your final project. I will assess your learning along with your paper. You will move forward. We will move forward together. Ideally, you will receive your paper and your grade at a conference appointment, where we can discuss what else it might take for you to improve. Outline goals. Performance objectives. Blending the workplace with the classroom. Did you know that many human resources degrees are housed in education departments?
I've been working in a department under human resources for too long. It may be that my ideas about teaching are becoming sanitized. Certainly, I only have the leisure to think about this because I am *not* grading 75-150 papers at a time. Undoubtedly. But of the things that are wrong with teaching, I think the utter dread and resentment of grading is a big one. Papers represent an opportunity to teach, and an opportunity to see into the minds of our students. Everyone could stand to take them more seriously. I also know that this model is better for those who are teaching 2-3 classes rather than 5-6. But--isn't that true of every thorough, student-centered method? Not the ones that are designed to take the pressure off the instructor under the guise of a decentered classroom. You know the ones I mean. And yet, I really am thinking about how I would like to do things. I would make the workweek a little bit more like the 8-5 crowd, in order to get what I need to do done more efficiently.
Because you know what? Right now, I would give just about anything to be sitting in an office grading 5 or 10 papers, preparing students for future successes and considering how their minds and their methods are developing in response to what I have set before them. If I could fit that into my 8-5 day, and reflect at home on how I can improve the next day, or the next week, or the next semester... I would gladly be tied to an office 40 hours a week in service of my real vocation.
Thinking about grading, I remember it as the most odious task of teaching. And yet, here I am, skimming quickly through these documents created for the certificate program, giving feedback, receiving resubmissions. The one major difference is volume. There are times, like now, when I do get all three parts of the project at one time, or components from three or four different certificate program participants. But that's it. And really? It's not so bad. I look through them. I tell them what changes to make. I send them back. They get to them whenever they can. This would be the ideal model for online distance learning, though of course I would have to assign grades at some point. But then I wonder--if sitting back and giving feedback is relatively easy, what is it that made grading so odious?
The answer has to be the bulk of essays and the time pressure. I hate to feel pressured, and yet it is necessary for me to feel pressured or I will accomplish nothing but blog posts or Facebook status updates--sad though that is to write. So why not stagger deadlines or feedback sessions? (Feedback sessions were my way of justifying particularly long turnaround times for graded papers. Feedback on the previous paper and the grade would be given along with advice for the next paper during a session of office hours. There would be a sign-up sheet. Sometimes these would replace class for a couple of days.)
This stays with me. Why do we grade papers in bulk? It's the dominant method, but whom does it serve? Not the instructor, who has this mountain of intimidation to face. Even when I was interested in the topics, or looking forward to reading student responses to an assignment, anticipation of the grading marathon inevitably forced me to procrastination.
Does grading in bulk serve the students? This is a harder question, because the grading inevitably becomes sloppier, the comments less helpful, the grades more arbitrary the deeper I get into the stack. And yet, I think one reason that we would not give out papers until everyone's paper had been graded was to maintain the semblence (illusion?) of fairness. But their is always some bias. The more workshops I attend on "subtle bias," and the longer I work in an office around people who are supposed to be aware of their biases, the more I conclude what I already believed--that bias is inevitable. Most of it, however, is personal. There were students whose papers I graded harder, though I didn't mean to, because they were pushing my buttons in class, or because they thought they were smart, or because I knew (and I hated it when teachers did this to me) that they could do better. Maybe I wasn't guilty of each one of these. I certainly did what I could to avoid it, but sometimes perhaps only blind submissions would have prevented it.
Where I failed in grading was usually through the carelessness of exhanustion. The last papers came after the previous papers, and looked either a lot better... or else a lot worse by comparison. I was tired and weary of errors and repetition. My handwriting got sloppy. Inevitably, I had promised these grades by the next day and would catch hell or reproving glances if I did not deliver. My feedback got thin or harsh. And I probably didn't think as much about the grade, perhaps relying solely on my rubric to avoid the unclouded judgment that 2 A.M. (or 30 minutes before class) would not grant.
So given my insight, what would I do differently? Well, for starters, I would like to see papers come in at a trickle rather than in bulk. With a clear head and a clear idea of the objectives of the assignment and how to determine whether those objectives were met, I think the inconsistency of grading would take care of itself without having to "rank" papers and compare A to A and B to B and so on (which I never had time to do anyway, though that was the ideal).
But what about fairness and due dates? In the real world, different people have different deadlines. That's just the way of things. You can't complain of fairness forever, because at some point it breaks down. It could break down here, but there would be a lot of whining. So let's randomize it. Each student gets a number. Numbers 1-5 turn in their papers on the first day. Numbers 6-10 on the second day, and so on. Numbers change with each paper assignment throughout the semester.
And while we're randomizing, keep your name off of your paper! I'll record your name and number separately, and in the meantime, I will grade your paper blind. I won't know whether you're a male writing a feminist paper, a light-skinned person writing about minority issues, a female writing a reactionary paper, and so on; I also won't know whether you're the one who sits up front with the sandals and the ingrown toenail or the smart-aleck who amuses me until you overstep the boundaries. I won't know if you're the one who never says anything or the one who talks incessantly (to your fellow athletes) or texts while I'm talking. And that will be for the better. Unless you talk to me during office hourse about you're paper. Then, I will know you--and that will be to your advantage. So really, it will be like an online class, or like the certificate projects. I will grade gradually, as the papers come in, and I will know nothing about you, or will have forgotten everything I know. So much for bias.
Now, about grading and returning papers--basically, workflow. What would this look like? Ideally, the grading would begin as the papers are submitted. If 5 are submitted on Monday, those 5 should be read and comments written by Wednesday's class--or even by Tuesday. If the grading stops, the papers pile up and the system doesn't work. Since this system is based on an online process, it is well-suited to online feedback, though it could work with paper as well. But stacks of papers bother me more than quantities of email, so I would eschew paper and opt for electronic communication.
And yes, classes go on, and someone still has to teach them. But in between the classes are the office hours, when perhaps someone will grade me with their presence--but perhaps not. And I will grade. Because after all, when you're working 40-hours a week, you're pretty much expected to be productive while the clock is ticking. There would certainly be additional opportunities for flexibility in an academic job as compared to an office job--grading/office hours in the library, for example. The loss would be working in place. The gain would be time to research or write, or do the more pleasurable parts of the job, like reading or prepping, or even *gasp* time to spend with friends and family outside of the grading-teaching time frame (whatever it might be). This is how I would do it.
If it sounds rather like I would be tricking myself into doing work, that's probably accurate. But might there be good pedagogical reasons for this approach?
Let's take grades. So far, I have not mentioned them. Grades could be assessed at the reading and commenting stage. But why? So that I would not have to read another round of the same papers? That is a compelling reason. But it is not making use of the pedagogical potential of the writing assignment. As I mentioned, the certificate projects are additional teaching and learning opportunities. Because, while some people are able to make the leap and apply the concepts and use the tools that they have acquired--or even remember the information--most, in my experience, are not. Why? Because they are lost in their own minds, in their own obligations and job duties. They sit through the classes. They might pick up a thing or two. But if, when they return to their desks, they do not use what they learned, they forget. And so with students. Particularly nontraditional students.
So let's make the first round a learning opportunity. You submit. I read. I comment. I make suggestions. Corrections. I am your boss. This is what I want. You comply, or you will not receive a good evaluation. That is the bottom line. But of course, you are expressing yourself, at least in part, so the liberal educator in me (liberal in the classical sense) will allow for that individual expression insofar as it represents a coherent part of the essay. And then, you will show what you have learned. And I will grade according to what I have seen and according to your final project. I will assess your learning along with your paper. You will move forward. We will move forward together. Ideally, you will receive your paper and your grade at a conference appointment, where we can discuss what else it might take for you to improve. Outline goals. Performance objectives. Blending the workplace with the classroom. Did you know that many human resources degrees are housed in education departments?
I've been working in a department under human resources for too long. It may be that my ideas about teaching are becoming sanitized. Certainly, I only have the leisure to think about this because I am *not* grading 75-150 papers at a time. Undoubtedly. But of the things that are wrong with teaching, I think the utter dread and resentment of grading is a big one. Papers represent an opportunity to teach, and an opportunity to see into the minds of our students. Everyone could stand to take them more seriously. I also know that this model is better for those who are teaching 2-3 classes rather than 5-6. But--isn't that true of every thorough, student-centered method? Not the ones that are designed to take the pressure off the instructor under the guise of a decentered classroom. You know the ones I mean. And yet, I really am thinking about how I would like to do things. I would make the workweek a little bit more like the 8-5 crowd, in order to get what I need to do done more efficiently.
Because you know what? Right now, I would give just about anything to be sitting in an office grading 5 or 10 papers, preparing students for future successes and considering how their minds and their methods are developing in response to what I have set before them. If I could fit that into my 8-5 day, and reflect at home on how I can improve the next day, or the next week, or the next semester... I would gladly be tied to an office 40 hours a week in service of my real vocation.
Monday, August 19, 2013
Let's Communicate like Adults: Styles and Types
I have been fascinated by personality styles for a while now, owing in large part to my own introspection and the abundance of online "tests" for this or that. While I am working on how personality types can help us to understand our own reading preferences, including what narrative strategies of engagement we prefer, on my Booknotes blog, I am also interested in other ways in which personality types and communication styles might speak across the teaching-training divide.
I would argue that the most prominent classification system for personality types is the Meyers-Briggs classification system, which relies on the categories of Introversion/Extroversion, Intuitive/Sensing Feeling/Thinking, Perceiving/Judging. From these categories, we get 16 "types":
In my training department, rather than talking about personality types, which are more the realm of psychology, we talk about communication styles. And communication intersects neatly with teaching, training, and rhetoric. Not only does our department (but not me personally) teach these communication styles so that people who take the class can learn how to communicate more effectively with others in their offices, communication is intrinsic to training and to teaching--and, well, rhetoric (an erstwhile specialty of mine) is communication, and knowing how to communicate to/with an audience. Adding a self-reflective layer and a way to understand one's intended audience can only be helpful, particularly for Freshman comp and for students who do not already have a knack for targeting a specific audience effectively. The communication styles that we discuss in our training department are called "the four bird mode" or, quite ridiculously, "DOPE," which stands for
The bird designation is both useful and very annoying, because the classification system attempts both to use and to distance itself from the traditional associations with the birds. Dove does, in fact, mean peacemaker; Owl does not precicely mean wise, though it does have to do with collecting information; Peacock isn't really supposed to mean a strutting performer--except that it sort of does, and Eagle isn't actually a bird of prey, just an ultra-direct leader type. Sadly, the one I find the most offensive, with the least explanatory power at face value, is my own: Peacock. More on that in a minute...
There are some good explanations of this system online. It has the benefit of being simpler than Meyers-Briggs, and of dealing specifically with one aspect of personality--communication. Here is a paper-based (PDF) test, which includes descriptions of the birds; this site has a self-assessment questionaire. Here are two more sites with good explanations of the types:
The latter, in particular, has a comparative chart that tells you how to recognize each of the types and what their strengths, weaknesses, and bottom line are. I tested firmly as a Peacock, but I have more than a few Owl traits. On the whole, I am less happy with this schema than the Meyers-Briggs, which in some ways supports and in some ways contradicts the DOPE classification--the INFP "Idealist" could be an emotional Peacock who gets excited about ideas, and might be a "performer" in some ways, but is not necessarily a pushy attention-seeker...
What is interesting about the birds is the diagram on page 5 of this PDF (also above), which shows how controlling or supportive, direct or indirect each type is. I like to think I am direct, but also supportive--Peacock. This model substitutes "Assertiveness" for "Controlling." And this discussion translates the whole thing into practical terms--what you need to know in order to be able to communicate effectively with each of the types. Something to remember when doing a self-evaluation is that this schema is geared specifically to the workplace. So while this chart probably represents how I come across in meetings (as a Peacock):
I have more than a few Dove and Owl characteristics (INFP).
So how is all this useful? Well, in Training and Organizational Development, teaching people how to communicate effectively in an office environment is simply one of the services we offer. People don't know how to communicate. They butt heads. They misunderstand one another. They work inefficiently in groups. Aha--wait! There is the common ground I was looking for.
I think that in teaching, personality types and communication styles could be productively discussed with undergraduate students and employed in the classroom. Throughout the 1990s and forward, the mode of teaching has been shifting to prefer so-called "active learning," when it is in fact active learning and not simply a search-and-find activity by which the student receives the same information that would be handed out in a lecture. Active learning can be tricky, and involves more questioning than is typically permitted--at least at the secondary level. But what active learning means more often than not is more group work--projects and whatnot--which I hated when I was in school. Loathed. Because often there was someone else competing with or sabotaging my vision--which meant that I was inclined to take charge and cut the other person out. The PBS Kids show Arthur actually has a great episode on exactly this topic. Group work is difficult to manage as an inexperienced student negotiating one's own ego in relation to others. And it is equally difficult to negotiate as a teacher--at least, as a teacher who is trying to facilitate student success. And yet, as much as I hate to admit it, it really is a useful skill to be able to work with others on projects. But all of the group work in the world won't make students better prepared for group projects in the workplace--unless they are taught a little bit about how people work together, group dynamics, and how to negotiate the roles they are required to fill.
Enter communication styles.
With the resources online, it would be simple for a teacher to devote some time at the beginning of a class, or of the first group project, to a discussion of communication styles. While an Eagle might one day, under the constraints of a job title, be forced to subsume his or her personality in order to placate a boss, it might help a group of students to complete a project on time to have them assign a leadership role to the person who is the clear leader. Having a group of 4 Doves or 4 Owls (4 Eagles seems unlikely...) working on a project might be ill-advised--or it might be treated as a problem to acknowledge and strategize to overcome. Have the Owl of the group do the research (Owls love information-gathering); let the Peacock exert some creative control. Working together according to the students' natural inclinations is bound to produce a stronger product, teach them about themselves, and prepare them for the eventuality of higher-stakes group work. Add a self-reflective writing exercise at the end, and voila! You have some good pedagogy. And something to build on:
I would argue that the most prominent classification system for personality types is the Meyers-Briggs classification system, which relies on the categories of Introversion/Extroversion, Intuitive/Sensing Feeling/Thinking, Perceiving/Judging. From these categories, we get 16 "types":
- INFP
- INTP
- INFJ
- INTJ
- ISFP
- ISTP
- ISFJ
- ISTJ
- ENFP
- ENTP
- ENFJ
- ENTJ
- ESFP
- ESTP
- ESFJ
- ESTJ
In my training department, rather than talking about personality types, which are more the realm of psychology, we talk about communication styles. And communication intersects neatly with teaching, training, and rhetoric. Not only does our department (but not me personally) teach these communication styles so that people who take the class can learn how to communicate more effectively with others in their offices, communication is intrinsic to training and to teaching--and, well, rhetoric (an erstwhile specialty of mine) is communication, and knowing how to communicate to/with an audience. Adding a self-reflective layer and a way to understand one's intended audience can only be helpful, particularly for Freshman comp and for students who do not already have a knack for targeting a specific audience effectively. The communication styles that we discuss in our training department are called "the four bird mode" or, quite ridiculously, "DOPE," which stands for
- Dove
- Owl
- Peacock
- Eagle
The bird designation is both useful and very annoying, because the classification system attempts both to use and to distance itself from the traditional associations with the birds. Dove does, in fact, mean peacemaker; Owl does not precicely mean wise, though it does have to do with collecting information; Peacock isn't really supposed to mean a strutting performer--except that it sort of does, and Eagle isn't actually a bird of prey, just an ultra-direct leader type. Sadly, the one I find the most offensive, with the least explanatory power at face value, is my own: Peacock. More on that in a minute...
There are some good explanations of this system online. It has the benefit of being simpler than Meyers-Briggs, and of dealing specifically with one aspect of personality--communication. Here is a paper-based (PDF) test, which includes descriptions of the birds; this site has a self-assessment questionaire. Here are two more sites with good explanations of the types:
- "Are you. . . an Eagle, Peacock, Dove or Owl when you communicate?"
- "Team Communcation: Birds of a Feather"
The latter, in particular, has a comparative chart that tells you how to recognize each of the types and what their strengths, weaknesses, and bottom line are. I tested firmly as a Peacock, but I have more than a few Owl traits. On the whole, I am less happy with this schema than the Meyers-Briggs, which in some ways supports and in some ways contradicts the DOPE classification--the INFP "Idealist" could be an emotional Peacock who gets excited about ideas, and might be a "performer" in some ways, but is not necessarily a pushy attention-seeker...
What is interesting about the birds is the diagram on page 5 of this PDF (also above), which shows how controlling or supportive, direct or indirect each type is. I like to think I am direct, but also supportive--Peacock. This model substitutes "Assertiveness" for "Controlling." And this discussion translates the whole thing into practical terms--what you need to know in order to be able to communicate effectively with each of the types. Something to remember when doing a self-evaluation is that this schema is geared specifically to the workplace. So while this chart probably represents how I come across in meetings (as a Peacock):
- The Dove is sympathetic, moderate, people-focused.
- The Owl is technical, analytical, process-focused.
- The Peacock is expressive, persuasive, recognition-focused.
- The Eagle is bold, confident, results-focused.
I have more than a few Dove and Owl characteristics (INFP).
So how is all this useful? Well, in Training and Organizational Development, teaching people how to communicate effectively in an office environment is simply one of the services we offer. People don't know how to communicate. They butt heads. They misunderstand one another. They work inefficiently in groups. Aha--wait! There is the common ground I was looking for.
I think that in teaching, personality types and communication styles could be productively discussed with undergraduate students and employed in the classroom. Throughout the 1990s and forward, the mode of teaching has been shifting to prefer so-called "active learning," when it is in fact active learning and not simply a search-and-find activity by which the student receives the same information that would be handed out in a lecture. Active learning can be tricky, and involves more questioning than is typically permitted--at least at the secondary level. But what active learning means more often than not is more group work--projects and whatnot--which I hated when I was in school. Loathed. Because often there was someone else competing with or sabotaging my vision--which meant that I was inclined to take charge and cut the other person out. The PBS Kids show Arthur actually has a great episode on exactly this topic. Group work is difficult to manage as an inexperienced student negotiating one's own ego in relation to others. And it is equally difficult to negotiate as a teacher--at least, as a teacher who is trying to facilitate student success. And yet, as much as I hate to admit it, it really is a useful skill to be able to work with others on projects. But all of the group work in the world won't make students better prepared for group projects in the workplace--unless they are taught a little bit about how people work together, group dynamics, and how to negotiate the roles they are required to fill.
Enter communication styles.
With the resources online, it would be simple for a teacher to devote some time at the beginning of a class, or of the first group project, to a discussion of communication styles. While an Eagle might one day, under the constraints of a job title, be forced to subsume his or her personality in order to placate a boss, it might help a group of students to complete a project on time to have them assign a leadership role to the person who is the clear leader. Having a group of 4 Doves or 4 Owls (4 Eagles seems unlikely...) working on a project might be ill-advised--or it might be treated as a problem to acknowledge and strategize to overcome. Have the Owl of the group do the research (Owls love information-gathering); let the Peacock exert some creative control. Working together according to the students' natural inclinations is bound to produce a stronger product, teach them about themselves, and prepare them for the eventuality of higher-stakes group work. Add a self-reflective writing exercise at the end, and voila! You have some good pedagogy. And something to build on:
- From what you have learned about your personality type, discuss your approach to interaction in your classes or your approach to education in general.
- From what you have learned about your particular communication style, analyze the tone of your first argumentative paper.
Friday, August 16, 2013
The Difficult Questions - Nonacademic to Academic Career Recovery
Against my better judgment, I emailed my former mentor. I think he sees me as very needy, and so has been really reluctant to reach out at all since I graduated. I think he just wants to move on--perhaps because he can't account for my failure. I'm not sure. But anyway, I sent him an email, and asked about the "shelf life" of a Ph.D., and about whether he might have any strategies for reintegration into academia. In the past, he has helped his male students and former students with their careers when they didn't follow the usual straight-into-tenure-track path. But maybe he's just tired now. I can understand that.
I am feeling stale and unfulfilled. Stale, because I have no connection to anything that relates to my degree. And that's not a good place to be. I understand why there is a shelf-life for Ph.D.s. While you're in a graduate program, you're caught up in the currents of what everyone is talking about. There's something vital about that environment, even when you sort of hate the things that people are talking about--still, there's an intellectual energy. And teaching! Ideas come from teaching. And there is also energy in helping someone to see something new, or to be able to figure something out for the first time. There is an energy that comes with being around people who are young--who are becoming--who are not yet there, and not yet in a holding pattern (because I know working adults are not yet there, but they are where they have to be; like I am). Teaching is helping someone to move forward. Training is helping someone to make the most of where they are now--at least, the kind of training I do. Professional development has more to do with moving forward, but even so--they're moving forward on a much more limited trajectory. I want to be in the realm of open possibility, not of settling, or of stasis, or of closed doors and glass ceilings.
So I emailed. And I got a very stock response--keep trying, spin your work experience as positive. As I said, I think he is tired. *sigh* So am I.
So I emailed back, because I know that my first questions were nebulous. And I asked three big questions:
I'm also worried that I am losing the knowledge that I used to possess--that it's tucked so far back into my head that it's increasingly inaccessible. I see my boxes of books that I haven't unpacked, and when I look in them, I see books that I love--that I used to love--with which I have no connection currently. I could read them again, but why? Some books are for me, and some books are for jumping into conversation, and inspiring others. I'm not going to revisit the History of British Literature on my own behalf. There's simply no point. Or is there? No... I really don't think there is.
And then, there's the fact that the current is leaving me behind. I don't know how people on the inside are talking about things any more because I'm not there. And reading it in a journal is simply not the same. It's the teaching. How are we presenting these authors? What are we highlighting? And even if I go against the grain, it's stimulating to be able to borrow from or work against what other people are doing. Instead, I'm rereading Harry Potter. And I'm pretty tired of it. But I have to keep reading, because Voldemort isn't dead yet. If I worked fairly hard, I could probably make that into a career metaphor. But I won't just yet, because I'm feeling lazy.
So... How do you find intellectual community? Or intellectual validation? I have a small community, for which I am very grateful. If you are reading this--thank you. You keep me going. Literally. But I have always hungered for more--for publication. To have my ideas out there--influencing... someone. And right now, I just have no idea how to get there. My most recent abstract, which I thought was very good, was rejected, but part of me isn't surprised--every time I have an idea, the academically trained side of my brain can see what's laughable about it. I was accepted to a conference that sounded fabulous, but a conference right now is no more than an expensive vacation, and I don't like to travel alone. I have never found community at a conference--not really. Once or twice I came close. Generally, I feel very alone--a complete wallflower. So no community there. But I need the community for stimulus, for support, and for resources. What makes a good book? Who might be interested in the half-baked ideas I do have? And most of all, why should I write them down if there is no guarantee of an audience, of publication, or of a change in career?
These, my friends, are the questions I need to answer.
I am feeling stale and unfulfilled. Stale, because I have no connection to anything that relates to my degree. And that's not a good place to be. I understand why there is a shelf-life for Ph.D.s. While you're in a graduate program, you're caught up in the currents of what everyone is talking about. There's something vital about that environment, even when you sort of hate the things that people are talking about--still, there's an intellectual energy. And teaching! Ideas come from teaching. And there is also energy in helping someone to see something new, or to be able to figure something out for the first time. There is an energy that comes with being around people who are young--who are becoming--who are not yet there, and not yet in a holding pattern (because I know working adults are not yet there, but they are where they have to be; like I am). Teaching is helping someone to move forward. Training is helping someone to make the most of where they are now--at least, the kind of training I do. Professional development has more to do with moving forward, but even so--they're moving forward on a much more limited trajectory. I want to be in the realm of open possibility, not of settling, or of stasis, or of closed doors and glass ceilings.
So I emailed. And I got a very stock response--keep trying, spin your work experience as positive. As I said, I think he is tired. *sigh* So am I.
So I emailed back, because I know that my first questions were nebulous. And I asked three big questions:
1) Teaching - can you lose it?The first two are crucial. I am in such a different world. In training, we don't ask probing questions. Even in the "soft skills" classes, in which they seem to ask big questions about diversity, for example--they really don't. The questions are designed to help people accept the answers that the strategists have already set forth. I'm in technology training, which means the answers are always closed: "How would you make use of this in your job?" "Have you ever hit 'Enter' in Microsoft Word, only to have all of your formatting change? Well, I can help you with that." There's no creation or discovery; only demonstration and repetition. So I worry that I am losing the ability to ask the probing questions--to make people think.
2) Intellectual community - how do you find it?
3) Strategies I've considered - are they worth it?
I'm also worried that I am losing the knowledge that I used to possess--that it's tucked so far back into my head that it's increasingly inaccessible. I see my boxes of books that I haven't unpacked, and when I look in them, I see books that I love--that I used to love--with which I have no connection currently. I could read them again, but why? Some books are for me, and some books are for jumping into conversation, and inspiring others. I'm not going to revisit the History of British Literature on my own behalf. There's simply no point. Or is there? No... I really don't think there is.
And then, there's the fact that the current is leaving me behind. I don't know how people on the inside are talking about things any more because I'm not there. And reading it in a journal is simply not the same. It's the teaching. How are we presenting these authors? What are we highlighting? And even if I go against the grain, it's stimulating to be able to borrow from or work against what other people are doing. Instead, I'm rereading Harry Potter. And I'm pretty tired of it. But I have to keep reading, because Voldemort isn't dead yet. If I worked fairly hard, I could probably make that into a career metaphor. But I won't just yet, because I'm feeling lazy.
So... How do you find intellectual community? Or intellectual validation? I have a small community, for which I am very grateful. If you are reading this--thank you. You keep me going. Literally. But I have always hungered for more--for publication. To have my ideas out there--influencing... someone. And right now, I just have no idea how to get there. My most recent abstract, which I thought was very good, was rejected, but part of me isn't surprised--every time I have an idea, the academically trained side of my brain can see what's laughable about it. I was accepted to a conference that sounded fabulous, but a conference right now is no more than an expensive vacation, and I don't like to travel alone. I have never found community at a conference--not really. Once or twice I came close. Generally, I feel very alone--a complete wallflower. So no community there. But I need the community for stimulus, for support, and for resources. What makes a good book? Who might be interested in the half-baked ideas I do have? And most of all, why should I write them down if there is no guarantee of an audience, of publication, or of a change in career?
These, my friends, are the questions I need to answer.
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