by James Fortney, Instructional Developer, Reinert Center
As teachers, we have limited control over the spaces where we teach – let alone the built design of those spaces! However, we do have some control over the activities and orientations that students experience in those spaces. Room features such as furniture, lighting, acoustics, and technology each offer different innovative modes to rethink how teaching and learning happens. And while the adjustment of these features has everything to do with the physical and sensorial needs of learners, it also helps materialize the more abstract goals we set for the course itself (e.g., active learning, collaboration, engagement, dialogue, social justice, etc.). In myriad ways, it is about creating a rich, multi-sensory learning environment where all students can begin to possibly reach those goals (Hurley, 2016). Rethinking learning space as DeafSpace is one pedagogical lens or tool to support this type of instructional development.
What would learning spaces look and feel like if they were designed for the deaf and hard of hearing? This question motivates some of the pedagogical work emerging from the DeafSpace Project at Gallaudet University in Washington, D.C. DeafSpace is defined as an “approach to design and architecture that is informed by the unique sensory experiences of those who don’t hear” (Harris & Barton, 2016). For example, creating clear sightlines, minimizing eyestrain, and maximizing sensory awareness are a few ways in which deaf people alter their surroundings to support visual conversations and new forms of community engagement. Researchers at Gallaudet University (2016) believe these types of alterations offer valuable insights about the relationship between the senses and the ways we construct learning environments.
Set aside some time this week to learn more about what DeafSpace looks like in action at Gallaudet University. Then, explore how proximity, mobility, light and color, and acoustics function in the spaces where you teach. What accommodations are needed? What adjustments are (not) possible? How does the learning space matter, or come to matter, for how students learn? Finally, consider visiting the classroom before the first time you meet students there to observe its features and imagine the possible adjustments that are needed.
If you would like to schedule a consultation to discuss DeafSpace specifically, or the relationship between learning space and course design more broadly, please contact the Reinert Center. Please also consider sharing your reactions to this blog post in the comments section below.
Gallaudet University (2016). What is DeafSpace? Retrieved from http://www.gallaudet.edu/campus-design/deafspace.html
Harris, J., & Barton, G. (2016, March 2). How architecture changes for the deaf. Retrieved from http://www.vox.com/2016/3/2/11060484/deaf-university-design-architecture
Hurley, A. K. (2016, March 2). How Gallaudet University’s architects are redefining deaf space. Retrieved from http://www.curbed.com/2016/3/2/11140210/gallaudet-deafspace-washington-dc
The Reinert Center recently held two Online Teaching and Learning Institutes (OTLI) to provide an opportunity for faculty to explore effective teaching practices and pedagogy for online teaching.
Members of the Reinert Center facilitated discussions on course design, assessment and assignments, creating online course materials, and student engagement.
Although the Institute is a great opportunity to learn more about effective online course design, another benefit of OTLI is the cross-disciplinary dialogue that takes place throughout the week. Faculty gain valuable insight from colleagues in other disciplines. The conversations often help provide new insights into online and on-ground teaching as well as generate useful tips on how to engage students.
Ample time was devoted to individual course development, which provided an opportunity to address specific technical and course design questions. At the end of the Institute, attendees leave with drafts of course materials for their online courses.
Posted in Reviews on May 25th, 2016 with Comments Off
by James Fortney, Instructional Developer, Reinert Center
Reading personal narratives about teaching is a powerful way to reflect on the more visceral dimensions of our work. I am particularly drawn to narratives that attend to matters of difference in teaching, as both a topic of inquiry and an embodied presence in our classrooms. As Leda Cooks and John Warren (2011) observe, “Many scholars writing about schooling and the body do so from positions of marginality and struggle, but with the allowance that these positions provide openings into other ways of knowing that are, ultimately, pedagogical” (p. 212). I find these personal accounts challenge me to confront the limits of how I teach while also helping me develop strategies to meet these challenges.
Below, I recommend three pieces that invite this type of critical development for teaching. Included is a detailed abstract for each article and a link to the full-text. A common theme across these readings is the intersection of marginalized student-teacher identities and experiences, offering a more relational approach to how we think about (and consequently do) pedagogy. These are compelling reads for anyone wishing to deepen their understanding of diversity and practice of inclusive teaching.
If you would like to discuss these readings and how they might inform your own teaching, please contact the Reinert Center to schedule an individual consultation. Please also share your reactions in the comments section below. Happy summer reading!
“Many critical pedagogy scholars claim that agency and dialogue in the classroom can only be achieved through students’ engagement in verbal deliberation to ‘voice’ against oppressive actions. As current discourses in the critical pedagogy literature tend to consider silence as a negative attribute in the classroom, I argue that they privilege a western construct and a very particular way of being and thinking. By using performative pedagogy as a theoretical framework, it is imperative to discuss the macro and micro implications of how discourses in the critical pedagogy literature affect how we understand silence theoretically and pedagogically” (p. 267).
“Disability has become a pervasive and contested issue on college campuses, and instructors and students find themselves occupying physical and discursive spaces that hold great pedagogical potential. This essay pursues such a consideration. It examines one physically disabled student’s staged performance of a personal narrative, her ethnography of a university’s disabled student services office, an in-depth interview with the student, and the author’s family experiences with disability to illustrate the ways a performative pedagogy offers insight into (dis)ability in the classroom. The analysis illustrates the classroom as a site for identity negotiation, performance as a tool to deconstruct and reconstruct notions of ability, and family relationships as an integral part of a critical communication pedagogy” (p. 285).
“This essay provides a space for understanding the experiences of the undocumented college student. Following Moraga and Anzaldúa’s “theory of the flesh,” a student and professor come together as allies to recognize and honor an enfleshed voice that is often unheard or ignored. In three separate parts, the writers provide a space for the readers to grow through deeply understanding the daily reality of students across the US who deal with the fears and frustrations of being undocumented and the ways that academia might exacerbate those fears and frustrations” (p. 303).
Cooks, L., & Warren, J. T. (2011). SomeBodies(‘) in school: Introduction. Text and Performance Quarterly, 31, 211-216.
Posted in Reviews on May 19th, 2016 with Comments Off
by Chris Grabau, Instructional Developer, Reinert Center
Best Practices for Flipping the College Classroom
by Julee B. Waldrop & Melody A. Bowdon (Eds.)
Although there are a number of resources to offer tips and strategies for implementing the flipped classroom instructional method, evidence to show how the flipped approach can support college-level learning outcomes can be difficult to find. The book, Best Practices for Flipping the College Classroom (2016), provides faculty with an excellent overview of the flipped classroom method in higher education. Edited by Julie Waldrop and Melody Bowdon, the book showcases qualitative and quantitative case studies and supporting pedagogical theories to help articulate how the flipped classroom approach can appeal to a variety of college-level academic disciplines, physical environments, and student populations.
While the book illustrates many of the benefits, challenges, and considerations of incorporating the flipped method, it also offers several useful suggestions for faculty who are new to flipping or who are investigating how to improve their flipped course. A concise and resourceful read for anyone interested in flipped classroom course design, this book could be a nice addition to a list of pedagogical texts to read over the summer.
If you are considering flipping your course, or if you want to learn more about successful strategies to improve your course design, contact the Reinert Center at email@example.com.
Waldrop, J. B., & Bowdon, M. A. (Eds.). (2015). Best Practices for Flipping the College Classroom. Routledge.
Dr. Tom Landy speaks to SLU faculty, staff, and grad students
by Debie Lohe, Director, Reinert Center
Last week, at our annual May event, Dr. Thomas Landy (Director, Rev. Michael C. McFarland, S.J. Center for Religion, Ethics and Culture at the College of the Holy Cross) talked about the importance of seeing as a foundational aspect of Ignatian spirituality and Jesuit education. He explained that the act of seeing deeply – of paying attention – is at the heart of Jesuit traditions. It’s important to see the world and one another and ourselves as we really are, both the good and the bad, if we are to bear witness to the created world and the possibility of the divine in that world. As Dr. Landy explained, the notion of seeing, in this way, is fundamentally a theological proposition for Jesuits, whether or not we (as members of a pluralistic university) encounter it as one.
As Dr. Landy talked about the importance of teaching students to see deeply, he expressed a common frustration many of us feel at Jesuit institutions: the idea that the magis – the “more” – can often be experienced as a “do more” mindset, wherein we pile more and more mission-focused aspects of our work onto our existing stack of professional responsibilities and duties. In deepening our understanding of Jesuit values and traditions, and in thinking about how we will do the work of Jesuit education more intentionally, it is important, Dr. Landy said, to figure out what we will leave behind as we apply new understandings. He spoke not of legacies but of letting go. In one poignant anecdote, he described handing each student in a class a stone, and asking them to leave it on an altar, let it symbolize one thing they will leave behind, let go of, in order to do something else.
As you complete your grading for this semester, as you contemplate what more you will do in your teaching next term; in your research; in your service commitments to campus and community – I invite you to identify one thing you will leave behind in order to create space and energy for a new commitment. What no longer serves your passion? What no longer serves your students, or your course goals? What no longer advances your scholarly inquiries?
Find one thing – if only a small stone – that you can leave behind to create space for something new.
by Lenin Grajo, Assistant Professor, Occupational Science and Occupational Therapy
The reflections shared in this post were edited from the reflection I gave during the recently concluded Spring Certificate Ceremony of the Reinert Center for Transformative Teaching and Learning. At the end of this month, I will conclude four amazing years teaching in the Department of Occupational Science and Occupational Therapy. I wanted to capture and share some of the valuable lessons I have learned as an educator at SLU.
“Dear Dr. Grajo…… You have a gift for teaching and keeping your students both engaged and challenged. Your classes taught me so much about occupational therapy. And if I ever go to academia, I hope to be at least half of the professor that you are to your students…. Thank you and enjoy New York City.”
After teaching my very last class at Saint Louis University this past Monday, I tried very hard to keep my composure and emotions when I said my last words of wisdom to my students. I received this hand-made card and note on my way back to my office. After reading this message, I finally gave in and cried. I love being an educator. I love the big and small ways that we are able to impact and influence the knowledge, beliefs and attitudes of our students. I love how we are able to transform them to a different, hopefully better, version of their selves. In my field and profession, I particularly love how we are able to shape future occupational therapists that will someday change the lives of countless patients who typically seek our services during a challenging period of change, transition and many times despair.
Today, I have been asked to share a few reflections and thoughts about my journey to teaching and offer some tips to all of you, new and seasoned educators, who are here today because you all want to be transformative educators. I hope I can give this honorable task some justice.
I wasn’t a typical child growing up. When I was five, when most of my playmates’ symbolic play often involved being a doctor, housekeeper, policeman or firefighter, I already knew I wanted to become a teacher. In a quiet corner with a blank wall divider at our consanguineal home in the Philippines, I would gather up three to five of my cousins and neighbors, scribble on the wall using small pieces of chalk that my father would buy for me, and I would teach them lessons from the children’s bible. That afternoon, while they all imagined being naughty and silly students, I was seriously envisioning myself being in a huge classroom and being a great teacher. If I did not become a pediatric occupational therapist and educator, I would have been a first grade teacher.
There are many ways to become a great educator, an effective educator, a transformative educator. I want to share with you some thoughts and ways that I have learned and valued as an educator here at SLU.
1. Consider that every teaching and learning moment counts. Like everyone else, we educators have our bad days too. Despite these bad days, please do not forget that every opportunity to teach and learn with your students count. I always think of my every teaching moment as my first and my last Broadway performance. I have to deliver. I have to elicit great responses. I need to make it a moment that my students will think as a good and inspiring class. It doesn’t matter what you teach, you have to make it count, always.
2. Trust begets trust. If you want your students to trust you, you have to trust them in return. They maybe the naïve freshman, or the know-it-all doctoral student, or the whiny and “I need some help, actually a lot of help” master’s student, you need to cultivate a climate of trust in your classroom so students also trust you. You have to trust that your students want to do good, that they are not just in it for the easy A, and that the paper they submitted is work that is original and a product of real hard work. It is not easy, especially during a time when access to information is just one click, one app, one copy and paste away. But trust me, you have to trust your students.
3. Listen and give your students undivided attention. We all have the tendency to spread ourselves thinly and overcommit: an extra meeting, appointment to a new committee, tons of research data waiting to be analyzed and written, grants to be submitted, and long pages of student reports that need to be graded. However, one of the greatest joys I have as an educator is when I know, that even for 5, 10 or 15 minutes, I listened to a student, understood his/her struggles, and offered how I may be of assistance. Those small nuggets of time, even if they take so much of your finite energy and resources, are valuable nuggets of time. Our students may or may not express how they appreciate it all the time, but I know my time is something they always find valuable. So even when it’s the craziest time of the semester, please give them some time.
4. Do not feel complacent and get stuck in old, usual, tested ways of doing. These days our students are evolving faster than we could ever imagine. Student attention spans are getting shorter and their study methods are becoming more interesting and unconventional. Commit yourselves to constant re-assessment and reinvigoration of your teaching methods. Try a new technology. Try new and interesting methods of delivering material. Try a new testing method. Try a new way of getting your students interested. Try a new collaboration with a co-faculty, department, program or university. Try something new, and try it often.
5. Lastly, express to your students how you care. Students who know that you genuinely care about how they think, what they think, how you want them to learn and grasp material, and how they will use this material are students who can and will make a difference after your class has ended. Just like many professions, teaching is an art and science. With the emergence of evidence-based practices, many ways of looking at teaching have evolved more into the science of teaching – the what to do and how to measure- and less about the art of teaching. Translate knowledge to practical applications, help students bridge concepts to the real world, and allow students to ask questions, regardless of how silly those questions may seem to be. Share a story, ask your students to share a story, and add humor. Please, add humor. Give your teaching style your own personal flair and do not be afraid to be creative.
The Reinert Center is such a great resource and I am so happy to have utilized and have collaborated with the Reinert Center during my days here at SLU. I have evolved into a better educator because of all the rich experiences and resources available here. I hope that you will continue with your journey towards becoming truly effective and transformative educators. Thank you for this opportunity to share some reflections, congratulations and I wish all of you good luck and happy teaching!
The Reinert Center for Transformative Teaching and Learning will honor 18 Certificate in University Teaching Skills recipients and 10 Foundations Certificate in University Teaching Skills recipients at our spring ceremony on Friday, April 29, 2016 from 3:30-5:00 in the Boileau Hall.
Reinert Center Faculty Fellow and assistant professor in the Department of Occupational Science and Occupational Therapy, Dr. Lenin Grajo, will begin the ceremony by sharing a reflection on teaching with the recipients, friends, and family in attendance. All faculty and graduate students are invited to join us Friday as we celebrate our shared commitment to teaching and learning.
This semester’s Certificate in University Teaching Skills recipients are Elizabeth Brennan, Thu Do, Madeline Ericson, Ummu Erliana, Edward Holt, Rachel Hughes, Alan Johnson, Shannon Kispert, Allison Kittleson, Sang Bong Lee, Steven Liu, Fnu Meiliana, Melissa Mendez Valladares, Shannon Nicks, Annie Rues Niedel, Lauren Stein, Ranya Taqieddin, and Zhan Wang. The recipients of the Foundations Certificate are Crystal Botkin, Amy Estlund, Brenda Kichoff, Julia Lopez, Samantha Marquard, Kelly McEnerney, Alexander Ocasio, Matthew Parker, Brittany Robinson, Austin Turner. We will also celebrate the dedication to teaching and learning shown by those faculty members who served as teaching mentors to the certificate recipients.
The requirements for the Certificate in University Teaching Skills are themselves learning experiences that help participants to make deliberate and intentional choices about teaching. Friday’s ceremony will acknowledge the time and commitment these participants gave to earning one of the Certificates.
by Kenneth L. Parker, Steber Professor in Theological Studies
In October 1985, I entered a Benedictine monastery in the Mojave Desert to prepare for a life of prayer and reflection. The previous 25 years had been spent in some kind of structured education. I had been formed to earn grades, complete requirements for degrees, and master concepts and content teachers and professors assigned. I had replicated this pattern in my brief career as a high school instructor and in my one year of university-level teaching. I understood the rules and played the game. I knew what the system required of me, and I bent my will to its demands. In that process I learned a lot. But I did not love learning.
My life changed when I became a monk. My PhD from Cambridge University did not matter there. My degrees did not mark me out for privilege. During those years of monastic formation, I followed the routine of five periods of community prayer a day, and two work periods filled with manual labor. We had one period of formal monastic instruction for an hour each day. Superiors oversaw our labors and assigned tasks. In the early months those routines seemed familiar … because I approached them as I had systems of education. I thought I understood instructional “systems” and how to bend my will to mastering their demands. Indeed, I excelled at keeping the new rules. But I did not find joy in them.
Yet as the months progressed, other aspects of the monastic routine did begin to change me. We had twelve hours of “Grand Silence” everyday. Our evening meal was eaten while one of us read a text assigned by the superior of the monastery. Every morning and every evening, I spent 30 minutes in the chapel with a text of my choice, the only requirement being that I must read no more than two or three sentences, and reflect on their meaning. In the routine of monastic prayer—especially praying the psalms—words and small phrases stuck in my head and wove themselves into my interior life as I did simple tasks. I began waking up earlier in the morning to enjoy more of the Grand Silence, and discovered the pleasure of spending time with my own thoughts. I learned to cherish the short unstructured moments in my day, and filled them with little projects of my own devising, or reading a page or two of books I had never had time to read. In short, I discovered a love of learning and found joy in that experience.
When I returned to academic life in 1991, it was impossible to engage undergraduate and graduate education in the same way. Twenty-five years later I retain a suspicion of institutional structures that prioritize rules over the cultivation of a love of learning. When the “standards” of the discipline are valued over the life-giving joy of curiosity and discovery, something has gone wrong, and as educators we have lost our way. My happiest moments in the classroom have been when students embrace the freedom to bring their insights into our common learning experience—and when they find pleasure in the knowledge that they can teach me new things.
As educators, we must realize that our primary task is the empowerment of learners. We must not fall into the trap of merely dispensing systems of knowledge and guarding the gateways to our academic disciplines. Even if our students master these, we may have failed them; for while these structures may facilitate formal adherence to standards of our devising, these may become systems that destroy the love and joy of learning. We must never forget that students do not exist for universities; rather universities exist for students.
Our students will not look back fondly on the curricula we devise, but will remember our joy in their discoveries and our pleasure in their successes. Our passion for learning will inspire them. Cultivating spaces where a love of learning can flourish will nurture joy and feed the core of our humanity. As educators, we must always remember this simple truth—and act on it.
My first teaching assignment fell into my lap unexpectedly at the institution where I received my Master’s degree. This seemed like good fortune and a great opportunity to gain some teaching experience. I was excited to transition from student to teacher but, after a brief period of elation, reality began to set in. I only had a few weeks to prepare, and I had so many questions!
To get started I did what I imagine many first time teachers do: find someone who has taught the class and steal graciously borrow their materials. I now realize that there are various approaches to thoughtfully designing a course, but at the time I was less concerned with content and more concerned with how I could convince students that I was a credible and qualified instructor. I had just received my Master’s degree, but what did I REALLY know?
This type of self-doubt reflects what has been called the imposter syndrome: feelings of being unqualified or incapable of a task, leading to lower self-esteem, negative mood, and less goal-directedness within the workplace (Brems, Baldwin, Davis, & Namyniuk, 1994). Being grumpy and less motivated to work certainly isn’t going to help establish credibility. With this in mind, what can be done to establish credibility? Dannels (2015), who devotes an entire chapter to this topic in 8 Essential Questions Teachers Ask, offers a variety of helpful suggestions.
Establishing Credibility on Day One
Explain your connection to course content
Share your relevant experience with your students in order to establish your qualifications while also providing some personal insight into you as an academic. You can also use the opportunity to explore students’ experience in the subject area, helping to establish credibility while also demonstrating an interest in what your students bring to the class.
Provide a rationale for assignments, policies, etc.
You have likely given some thought to why assignment A is necessary, why your attendance policy is so strict, why you require X comment paper, etc. Sharing these explanations with your students provides insight into your motivations and how you imagine each decision fulfilling your goals for student learning.
Provide a course-relevant example not available in the textbook
Sharing an interesting piece of knowledge related to the course that is not covered in the text book, and accompanying it with a relatable demonstration (e.g., video, activity), is a great way to establish credibility while also ramping up interest in the course (did you see that example today?! Oh wow this class is going to be so awesome!).
These examples are only the starting point! Credibility is built over time and a great first day can only go so far if there is a failure to continue demonstrating credibility throughout the semester. The openness and clarity suggested in these day one strategies can serve as the basis for continuing to build credibility within a single class and across semesters. Hopefully, these strategies will help assuage impostor concerns so you can focus on helping your students learn effectively.
Brems, C., Baldwin, M. R., Davis, L., & Namyniuk, L. (1994). The imposter syndrome as related
to teaching evaluations and advising relationships of university faculty members. The Journal of Higher Education, 183-193. doi: 10.2307/2943923
Dannels, D. (2015). Eight essential questions teachers ask: A guidebook for communicating with
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