As several other bloggers wrote this week, I struggled to grasp the idea of how critical pedagogy would look in practice. I found a helpful, short piece in the Edvocate that highlighted five steps educators can take to implement critical pedagogy in their classrooms. The step that resonated most with me was number 3: present alternative views. Critical theory is focused around challenging the dominant social structures and “traditional” narratives within our society. In critical pedagogy, this could take the form of presenting “success stories” in a specific field and encouraging students to challenge their beliefs and critically assess the “success” of these stories.

This approach resonated strongly with me, because I recently listened to a conference presentation about climate justice that mirrored this sentiment. The presentation, titled- #ClimateFails: Learning from Our Mistakes to Move Forward to Justice in Seattle, didn’t follow the traditional format of providing answers and solutions to tackle climate justice. Instead, the speakers shared several stories about how the city of Seattle failed in their attempts to center equity and inclusion in their planning and development. They hoped to inspire audience members to critically assess how their own communities have failed to promote climate justice before moving forward more equitably. I found their approach refreshing but judging by the lack of engagement in the chat box afterwards, I think their message fell flat with the audience. This was very late in the day, but I suspect it wasn’t just Zoom fatigue that made for an awkward Q & A session. I suspect that audience members became lost in the conversation about failures, abundant usage of buzz words and call to do better, without any concrete examples of how to improve in the future.

I shared this example, because when I consider the critical pedagogy approach and challenging traditional narratives, I worry that the teaching could fall flat as the messaging did in this presentation. Without centering class discussions in hope and sharing some concrete ideas of how to actually improve/change these traditional narratives, I worry the conversations remain abstract, with students unsure where to go next. Or fail to equip students with the knowledge, skills, drive, passion, etc. to enact change. In addition to climate change, we are facing many complex challenges with no easy solution that require action now, but youth and students of today have a big role to play in shaping the future! As I teach about the past, present and future challenges of climate change, I believe that “critical” piece of pedagogy has a role to play, but I will place more emphasis on hope and brainstorming solutions than challenging past narratives to inspire students to take action!

Reference cited

Lynch, M. (2018). How to Implement Critical Pedagogy into Your Classroom. The Edvocate. Accessed from:

How to Implement Critical Pedagogy into your Classroom

As I was reading through the material this week, I agreed with many of the arguments made in favor of alternatives to traditional exams. Yet, I also found myself concerned by some of the criticisms proposed against alternative assessment formats. For example, Lombardi (2008) highlighted some pushback from faculty, who may be concerned with the difficulty implementing these assessments in large classrooms or potential issues with objective, consistent grading. Since I haven’t experienced these non-traditional forms of assessment in my academic career, I decided to do a bit of research into how these alternatives are implemented in practice and how students benefit.

I found a recent paper from a thermodynamics class where the professor replaced the final exam with a portfolio since students were now virtual due to COVID (Vigeant, 2021). The portfolio assignment required students to review the learning outcomes for the course, and for each outcome, “identify a situation where that concept applies, write and solve appropriately simplified and justified mathematical descriptions of that situation, and then to extend the implications of that solution in some way and reflect” (Vigeant, 2021). The author of the article reported that student achievement was similar to that on previous exams, with students reporting that they felt a higher sense of accomplishment with the portfolio. Ultimately, though, most students would have preferred an exam, but they didn’t indicate why.

There are many articles out there that emphasize the benefits of alternative assessments compared with exams. But after reading the Vigeant (2021) article, I am left wondering how students feel about alternative assessment methods compared to exams. Do they prefer these methods to traditional exams and grades? How do these methods impact their wellbeing? What are their criticisms, if any, about the way the material is graded? And most importantly, if students don’t enjoy these alternative assessments, should we still employ them if they do seem more beneficial than exams? Throughout this semester, we have learned about working together with students to adapt material to fit their learning styles or get their feedback on class material. But the material we read this week made no reference to the students’ take on these assessment methods. I agree that traditional exams aren’t the best method to assess student learning, but I would like to know more from students about their experiences using these assessment techniques. I tried searching for blogs or stories from students describing their experiences, but I couldn’t find what I was looking for. If anyone finds more information about student perspectives on this topic, feel free to share. Until then I will remain a hopeful, but skeptical student (and sometimes teacher), on replacing traditional assessment methods with the alternatives proposed!

References

Lombardi, M. M. (2008). Making the grade: The role of assessment in authentic learning. EDUCAUSE Learning Initiative, 1-16.

Vigeant, M. (2021). A portfolio replacement for a traditional final exam in thermodynamics. Education for Chemical Engineers, 35, 1-6.

I had never heard the term “wicked problems” before I started graduate school, even though many of the conservation issues I encountered while living in Indonesia fell into this category. Wicked problems are issues lacking clear scope, scale or final solution and are inextricably linked to other problems (Rittel & Webber, 1973). An example of a wicked problem within the conservation field is the extraction of palm oil, which is the most widely consumed vegetable oil. The world relies on this oil, but land clearing for these plantations is one of the leading causes of deforestation. Sustainable palm oil offers an alternative harvesting approach, but there are debates around whether this is actually feasible. This debate around the sustainability of palm oil, lack of a clear solution and links with other issues (e.g. contributing to climate change, exploitation of communities) highlights the “wickedness” of palm oil extraction.

Before I started this class, I had never heard the term “case-based learning.” I felt ecstatic to put a name to something that is my go-to teaching method and lies at the core of my teaching philosophy. The environmental/conservation field wasn’t mentioned in the readings as somewhere where this teaching style has been commonly employed. However, I will make the case here for case-based learning to be used in most, if not all, conservation-related courses to work through wicked environmental problems like the one I discussed above.

I believe in the power of field-based, experiential learning where students apply the skills/knowledge they learned in the classroom to real-life situations. I do realize, though, that students can’t be flying all over the world to experience what they learned in the classroom and most institutions lack the resources to facilitate these experiences. Case-based learning provides a way for students to consider and work through current, historical and fictional case studies without ever having to leave the classroom. In my own teaching, I have always created fictional case studies to help students think critically about solutions (which may or may not exist with those wicked problems!) to environmental problems. These have always been based on actual events, such as thinking about whether ecotourism might be a feasible alternative to manta ray hunting. Many environmental/conservation issues involve multiple stakeholder groups, who often have conflicting interests or positions on the issue at hand. To get students to think about these diverse perspectives as they consider the issue, I usually have them each embody the role of the different stakeholder groups involved. As I have trialed out more and more case-based approaches, I have included more background information on the situation, various stakeholder perspectives and potential solutions.

Next week, I am using fictional scenarios about three animal-related issues (hunting, medical testing and meat eating) to have students consider how they can talk about animal rights with others and justify the decisions they make that may violate animals’ rights. For all three of these scenarios, there is no right or wrong answer to the issue. The group members will be asked to take on the role of either government officials, PETA activists or interested community members. They will be presented with three different solutions to their issue, which will all impact the various groups in different ways. Together, they will try to reach an agreement on a solution that will work for all of them…with the main point being that it is difficult to do and involves compromising!

One criticism of case-based learning is that students may not always learn the important points you want to get across in this format. In the case of my animal rights session, I realize this point, but I try to resolve it by touching upon the learning objectives before they review the cases and summarizing the main learning takeaways at the end. I can’t control everything related to how students learn and trust that the freedom to critically think through these issues is more beneficial than what they might be missing from another format.

All my experiences with case-based learning have been short exercises, but I am interested to experiment with long-term case study analysis throughout a semester with students. Before I try this out in a different format, I have some lingering questions for you all about case-based learning. With fictional case studies, I have tried to make them as realistic as possible based on information from actual situations. Should you always use real life cases when possible? Or are there some situations when fictional case studies would be more suitable? I also struggle when debriefing these cases to not bias the discussion with my own opinions. I try to assume the role of neutral facilitator, but are there situations when teachers should take a more active role? I would love to hear your thoughts on these questions and your own experiences with case-based learning! Gosh, again, it feels good to have a name for it!

Reference Cited

Rittel, H. W., & Webber, M. M. (1973). Dilemmas in a general theory of planning. Policy sciences, 4(2), 155-169.

While reading about inclusive pedagogy this week, one of my first thoughts strayed to the challenges the Zoom teaching environment might pose for inclusion within the classroom. Zoom in its most basic form isn’t the most inclusive. Many people, including myself, often struggle to navigate the screen sharing feature, let alone annotating someone else’s shared slides! I thought back to most of the classes I have taken while in Zoomlandia, and with the exception of this class and Communicating Science, the majority of students have had their videos turned off and mics muted the entire time. How does this environment help students feel safe to discuss difficult topics or feel comfortable sharing at all? How can the instructor ensure students are abiding by ground rules when they go off into the virtual other world during breakout groups?

I figured that someone had considered some tips for improving inclusive pedagogy in the Zoom classroom and found this article in the Chronicle of Higher Education addressing just that. The author first acknowledges that everyone is still trying to understand the “hidden curriculum” of Zoom, or the unwritten rules/expectations that we’re expected to know but were never taught. They then highlight eight tips to incorporate into remote teaching to keep inclusivity in mind as you structure your lessons. They first suggest to ask students to consider the settings for their names on Zoom to choose how they would like to be addressed, which could include students’ preferred pronouns. Similar to in-person classes, the author also recommends establishing ground rules for each Zoom session. They acknowledge that all students may not feel comfortable or are unable to keep their videos on, but they recommend asking students to keep their videos on when possible. Instructors should explain their rationale behind their requests and could also ask the students for rule suggestions.

To ensure you are catering to different types of students in your classroom (e.g. extroverts, introverts), the authors recommend employing different methods to encourage students to “speak up”, such as using the hand raising feature, typing in the chat or just good old fashioned talking! The authors also emphasize careful consideration to the way you start and end the Zoom lessons. We’ve all been there- the professor and students are awkwardly staring at each other in silence as they wait for other students to join. To help create a comfortable atmosphere at the start of class, the authors recommend posing a question to the group, like, “what’s one thing you’re grateful for today?” To end the class in a more structured way, they recommend also posing a question, such as, “what was the most confusing part of class today?”

The obvious tip that finally appeared in the article- use those breakout rooms! The authors do note that instructors should provide as much structure as possible when creating these groups, equipping the students with the instructions and resources they need to complete the breakout group activity and report out afterwards. Due to the unpredictable nature of Zoom, they also emphasize providing recording of the sessions with audio transcriptions when possible, as well as creating online, asynchronous discussion interfaces. Finally, and I believe most importantly, the authors highlight that we’re all learning this new teaching environment together and we’re all in the same boat!

While some of these tips may seem obvious, I found the ideas for starting and ending classes to be especially helpful. I TA for a class where we “banter” about sustainability related topics for several minutes prior to class. The instructor hopes this will encourage students in this large lecture to join in, recreating that pre-class chatting that often happens organically in-person. However, I find it is more isolating and sets this tone for the remainder of class of us (TAs and instructor) vs. them (the students). I realize this isn’t the intention of the instructor, and I have done little to change this, but it could be time to change things up and make banter feel like, well actual banter again…

Article referenced-Hogan, K. A. & Sathy, V. (2020). 8 ways to be more inclusive in your zoom teaching. Chronicle of Higher Education. Retrieved from:

https://www.chronicle.com/article/8-ways-to-be-more-inclusive-in-your-zoom-teaching/?cid=gen_sign_in

Photo by Masahiro Iijima

I stumbled into teaching, as I’m sure many of you also did. I never planned to be a teacher. Teaching wasn’t on the exhaustive list of careers I came up with throughout my childhood, which ranged from artist to astronaut. When I first moved to Indonesia after my undergrad, my intention was to study the behavior of wildlife and conserve them by convincing everyone else how awesome they were. Still, the thought failed to cross my mind that teaching was a way to do this. In my second job studying orangutans, there would often be schools groups or film crews visiting the research site that were interested in learning more about our orange ape relatives. As the resident orangutan researcher, I was often asked on the fly to speak with the group about orangutan behavior and take them out to observe the animals in the wild. After one of these visits, I remember a coworker offhandedly commenting on how well I spoke and interacted with the group. At the time, I equated this with teaching, which in hindsight was really just the tip of the iceberg, but I reflect back on this moment as the introduction to my “teaching self.”

I soon developed a role within this organization in which I designed, coordinated and lead high school excursions, volunteer programs and university field courses that focused on learning about tropical ecology through immersive experiences. I learned as I went along, through trial and error, adjusting what didn’t work based on the feedback I received from students. This was possibly the most authentic my teaching self ever was, blissfully unaware of all that I didn’t know regarding pedagogy or learning theories. Well the fairy tale ended abruptly when our organization started running field courses with an external recruiting agency. The head of the agency basically crushed my dreams of teaching the course, by saying, “you’re nice, but you don’t have the credentials to teach this course…you don’t have a PhD.”  I have probably dramatized this story over time, but his sentiment stuck with me. Instead of brushing this off and moving on, I decided that if I wanted to teach at the level of higher education I needed formal training. How could I know what I was doing was effective? These were intensive, immersive experiences for these students, what if I was leading them astray? I resolved to do this PhD thing, but I vowed to seize whatever opportunities I could to learn about pedagogy and improve my teaching!

And…here I am now. Two years in and, prior to this class, definitely questioning my decision. When I arrived at Virginia Tech and started Taking my first course, it was not the excitement charged, fulfilling experience I remembered. For one thing, the course (Dendrology) involved instructing students how to identify trees, and I couldn’t tell an oak from a maple. This was not the same world where I could comfortably identify a gorkum from a grumph (both orangutan vocalizations that sound disgusting if you decide to check them out). Nor were students that excited to hear what I had to say. I had forgotten about the world of undergraduate degrees and the begrudging nature of students completing required courses. I was spoiled by students embarking on these trips of a lifetime in Indonesia. I learned and developed a passion for tree identification during the course, but most importantly, I learned that many early career professors and graduate teaching assistants will have to teach material which they have little knowledge or experience with. I was out of my comfort zone and failing at portraying a confident, prepared TA.

This has still been a challenge for me to overcome, as I came from a place where I felt so comfortable sharing my knowledge of tropical forests. Instead of embracing the challenge, I feel my teaching self has morphed into this inauthentic, “fake it til you make it” alter ego. I keep waiting for some class or piece of advice from a mentor that will help me stumble back into my authentic teaching self. But after reading one of the readings for this week, I realized that there is no magic book or course that is going to help me overcome this challenge of being authentic (although this course has already re-inspired my passion for teaching). I will be uncomfortable at times and I will falter, but that’s ok. I should use these opportunities to learn and improve from trial and error. I should focus on my strengths and not force myself to teach the way the previous instructor taught the course if that doesn’t suit my style. I also shouldn’t limit myself to the confines of earlier syllabi, but let my imagination run wild with new ideas and improvements. Formal pedagogical training is important, but I am now realizing that allowing yourself time to reflect, explore and innovate in your teaching is even more crucial. Hopefully by following these principles and giving myself that freedom to learn and explore, I’ll stumble into my authentic teaching self at some point along this PhD journey.