Neil Howe and William Strauss's (2000) Millennials Rising had a profound effect on the ways Administrators and (many) Faculty in higher education thought about serving the generation spanning (roughly) 1980 - 1994. [See also Howe's subsequent handbook (2003), Millennials Go To College: Strategies for a New Generation on Campus—Recruiting and Admissions, Student Life, and the Classroom, and Strauss and Howe's Millennials as Graduate Students (2007)]. The authors have spurred some strong reaction to what others think is stereotyping. OK, maybe so, but nonetheless their efforts have given us a useful means for identifying key sociological factors that play into this generation's success (or not) in college.
Generally, this generation has been sheltered, feels safe, is team-oriented, has very high expectations (but often no idea how to reach them), is plugged into tech 24/7, and likewise connected to their parents as no other generation. Reality for them is no longer real. By virtue of their typing, texting, joy sticks, touch screens, and Wii, they have even given birth to a new kind of learning preference: kinesthetic. They are impatient, claim to be able to multi-task, and generally consider themselves consumers with the right to shape learning experiences by virtue of their desires, not necessarily yours. That said, even if occasionally insanely demanding, they respond pretty well to authority (provided you clearly set boundaries). And why not? For the most part they've heard from birth their parents, teachers, coaches, and peers telling them that they are special. I guess it's also easy to feel that way during a time of nearly unchecked economic growth (the 1986 Crash notwithstanding). As a by-product of their tech-savvy, they are seemingly more globally connected than any previous group. They claim to respect Diversity and demand interdisciplinary programs, but have a difficult time with sophisticated intercultural interaction. Finally, this generation feels pressured in ways that former generations have not.
I've presented dozens of workshops on how we might think about teaching this generation as undergrads. A few of them have devolved into discussions prompted by angry faculty commenting about this generation's increasing incivility, unwillingness to think, and most often, their incessant demand for wanting to know just "What's on the test?" [I must add that a lot of these comments came from Gen-Xers (Who distrust everyone and feel like they've made it by virtue of just their own efforts.) and some late Baby Boomers, like me (Whose parents were so damn glad we left the house, they often moved without telling us.).] It's the "Just-give-me-the-facts,-man" issue I'd like to address briefly today. And I'd like to focus on the new wave of Millennials as Graduate Students. [See Debra W. Stewart's fine piece describing the challenges we face educating and accommodating this group, Getting It Right: Graduate Schools Respond to the Millennial Challenge (2007).]
I see approximately 500 - 600 grad students annually in my MSU TAP workshop series, and about 100 or so when I travel. I assess these experiences formatively and summatively, and have noticed over the last four years that I'm increasingly getting participant requests just to tell them "...what they need to know." In a recent workshop, "Talking about Teaching in the Interview," five attendees (out of 60) complained that they didn't like to have to respond to questions unanticipated. 8 remarked that I should have spent more time on giving them "the answers." 10 wished that I had just told them what to do. Remember, this was a workshop focused on the interview, one in which I provide supplemental materials and a well-defined process to help them come to their own answers for the anticipated and surprise questions they are likely to get (You can take a look at the workshop template and many of the supplemental resources here, http://tap.msu.edu/workshops/resources.aspx . Scroll down.).
So, I decided to a look back at 20 workshops to see if I could spot a trend in the comments that mirrored those I glommed on to in my most recent assessment. I also took a quick look at two TA Seminar evaluations. (The TA Seminar is a type of orientation for new TAs.) Keep in mind that I think I am hearing more faculty and TAs comment about how hard it is to teach Millennial undergrads. Honestly, when I tried to track trends, nothing significant stood out. If anything, certain workshops elicited more of these types of "just give me the facts, man" responses than others. It could be that my efforts to engage new teachers reflectively on some difficult topics is falling flat in some cases. In others, it seems to work. That said, I'm thinking a little more about how to balance the "tips stuff," which I think my grads are increasingly demanding, and my reflective approach.
So, Millennial Grads are here, and some of them seem to behave in ways that resemble the undergraduate behaviors that drive faculty and TAs crazy. Perhaps it's not surprising then that in the hundreds of class evaluations I've conducted over the years, I've been occasionally puzzled as to how completely unreflective educational experiences garner high student evaluations.
So, I'm rethinking how written and web-based materials can give participants enough of "the facts" to put them in a position to work through the reflective exercises I use. I often send out materials a head of time, but have been blamed for "...making workshop participants work." I'm not kidding. Oh, wait, did I mention that this generation reads more on-line than it does in print? And that they are chronically unprepared for class?
Tuesday, October 19, 2010
Tuesday, October 12, 2010
A USMC Veteran Thinking about Veterans and Higher Education
[Occasionally in this blog, I will include verbatim exchanges with my peers about certain issues. I like sharing my "on-time" development dialogues in hopes that they will give you a glimpse into how I work, at what my developmental philosophy is, and how tightly integrated I am with my colleagues. I definitely do not work alone. In this entry, I'm including parts of a conversation I had with a developer in another state looking to create resources for veterans. My colleague sent me drafts of programmatic ideas she had and asked me what I thought. This is what I thought. At MSU, we're moving towards creating web based resources that not only focus on service to incoming veterans, but also on key teaching/learning issues associated with educating adult learners. Many universities are beginning to create or embellish existing programs for veterans. They often use the American Council for Education's guidelines as a baseline for program development. I think the ACE's Serving Those Who Serve ... site a great start. But I wish more efforts would be devoted to helping faculty understand adult education and how those principles can solidly prepare us for working with this population.]
“Many of the solutions to accommodating (that’s not entirely the correct concept) this group can be found rooted deeply in sophisticated thinking about what constitutes good teaching: organizational and presentational reflection, serious attention to good practice, context-setting and facilitating audience awareness, and having sensitivity enough (and courage) to move in directions unanticipated. May I gently ask you to reconsider what I see generally in terms of your schedule: that is, treating my peers as “diseased?” Or somehow sick? Heaven (or whatever metaphysical space) knows, that the language of development unfortunately rests on “curing” something. Yes, yes, surely for those serving in wartime (in combat or not) things may have occurred that left lasting marks, perhaps potentially debilitating marks. But the very large majority of returning vets are ready just to get on being integrated in to the worlds they imagine for themselves. I think our roles as teachers are to help them make concrete their wishes and desires. If you’re designing programs specifically for those returning vets with issues THEY claim makes them need special accommodation, then do just that. Just as you would any population that doesn’t “fit” the imagined “norm” of 18 – 23 year old middle class college life. What’s increasingly interesting to me is that this population begs deeper discussion about long extant concerns about the psychology of our students; their origins, socialization, lives… Otherwise, I know when I stepped back into undergrad, somewhat older, somewhat scarred, but undeniably present (and scared to death that I wasn’t smart enough), all I wanted was to have a space where I could share how I thought what I’d gone through added relevantly to the classroom conversation at hand. When it wasn’t relevant, but still affected how I was relating., learning, etc., I saw a therapist.
(….), many vets carry with them issues that military service only exacerbated. In no way am I implying that this population doesn’t deserve at least serious consideration of how their experiences may have shaped their subsequent college life. If I may be frank, part of what has me concerned about the public rhetoric defining this group is that it often pushes faculty, TAs, anyone part of their classroom and lab experiences into having to be pseudo-therapists, often for ailments that never existed.
But of course, you and I know, for some the pain is there, and I would always want to be known as a teacher who had multiple ways of getting my students through school, or just getting them into their own heads in ways that they can get on. I am no therapist.
So, when I look at the proposed schedule, a few things come to mind:
1. Be very careful with the panel thing. Panels can be lovely ways for opening up dialogue; fantastically bad for conveying meaningful information unless well facilitated. May I suggest a fish-bowl panel with an experienced vet psychologist and a non-com officer and if possible, commissioned officer? The facilitator would have to be a good panel discussion facilitator, but also know how to work with military and non-military participants.
2. Counseling Center stuff: Excellent – if those talking about this stuff know what they’re talking about. I’m all for this. The problem is that this move casts relationships with VET students outside the realm of class. I can talk with you on the phone more about that.
3. The stress thing is real; but not so real GENERALLY as to be hugely different as one of my inner city Detroit students trying to integrate into predominately white, middle-class MSU. Here’s what I was stressed about: being older, feeling like I was “heavier,” wondering if and how all the powerful things I learned as a Marine would translate into academic contexts; negotiating age similarity with faculty; negotiating feelings of ineptitude because I felt like I wasn’t part of some imagined undergrad educational mainstream. In short, how could I connect my day to day understandings of my life to school? Could I make of my recent life something intelligible to my faculty? Might I be able to weigh in occasionally (and appropriately – classroom rules are huge to this group) with how what I knew, had experienced was relevant? Could I just be part of a well facilitated, caring, challenging, and acknowledging classroom experience? And occasionally, could I just disappear, and not be the “problem” student?
4. Yes on the disability/SPED – I can never get as deeply integrated into those support services as I want. Personally, that frame is very important to me, but not just because of vet issues.
5. The brain thing is something altogether different than most other disability issues. I’m afraid you’ll need someone more experienced than me to sort out why…
We can talk more about what it means to socialize faculty to this group – but this group is widely, and wildly diverse. Get XXXX out there as a place that recognizes this. Program accordingly. How many vets does the state have? How many are there at your institution? What are their social, racial, cultural origins pre-military service?
Otherwise, my recommendation to your instructors is that serious investigation into who your students say they are, powerfully attentive listening, and authentic care for one’s charges ameliorates so much. For those that need more help. We’re there; not alone, but in concert with all the supports that schools can offer now."
{NOTE: It's apparent that Iraq and Afghanistan veterans' experiences are unique in US military history. They often serve successive tours, making the transiion back to civilian life difficult for many. }
“Many of the solutions to accommodating (that’s not entirely the correct concept) this group can be found rooted deeply in sophisticated thinking about what constitutes good teaching: organizational and presentational reflection, serious attention to good practice, context-setting and facilitating audience awareness, and having sensitivity enough (and courage) to move in directions unanticipated. May I gently ask you to reconsider what I see generally in terms of your schedule: that is, treating my peers as “diseased?” Or somehow sick? Heaven (or whatever metaphysical space) knows, that the language of development unfortunately rests on “curing” something. Yes, yes, surely for those serving in wartime (in combat or not) things may have occurred that left lasting marks, perhaps potentially debilitating marks. But the very large majority of returning vets are ready just to get on being integrated in to the worlds they imagine for themselves. I think our roles as teachers are to help them make concrete their wishes and desires. If you’re designing programs specifically for those returning vets with issues THEY claim makes them need special accommodation, then do just that. Just as you would any population that doesn’t “fit” the imagined “norm” of 18 – 23 year old middle class college life. What’s increasingly interesting to me is that this population begs deeper discussion about long extant concerns about the psychology of our students; their origins, socialization, lives… Otherwise, I know when I stepped back into undergrad, somewhat older, somewhat scarred, but undeniably present (and scared to death that I wasn’t smart enough), all I wanted was to have a space where I could share how I thought what I’d gone through added relevantly to the classroom conversation at hand. When it wasn’t relevant, but still affected how I was relating., learning, etc., I saw a therapist.
(….), many vets carry with them issues that military service only exacerbated. In no way am I implying that this population doesn’t deserve at least serious consideration of how their experiences may have shaped their subsequent college life. If I may be frank, part of what has me concerned about the public rhetoric defining this group is that it often pushes faculty, TAs, anyone part of their classroom and lab experiences into having to be pseudo-therapists, often for ailments that never existed.
But of course, you and I know, for some the pain is there, and I would always want to be known as a teacher who had multiple ways of getting my students through school, or just getting them into their own heads in ways that they can get on. I am no therapist.
So, when I look at the proposed schedule, a few things come to mind:
1. Be very careful with the panel thing. Panels can be lovely ways for opening up dialogue; fantastically bad for conveying meaningful information unless well facilitated. May I suggest a fish-bowl panel with an experienced vet psychologist and a non-com officer and if possible, commissioned officer? The facilitator would have to be a good panel discussion facilitator, but also know how to work with military and non-military participants.
2. Counseling Center stuff: Excellent – if those talking about this stuff know what they’re talking about. I’m all for this. The problem is that this move casts relationships with VET students outside the realm of class. I can talk with you on the phone more about that.
3. The stress thing is real; but not so real GENERALLY as to be hugely different as one of my inner city Detroit students trying to integrate into predominately white, middle-class MSU. Here’s what I was stressed about: being older, feeling like I was “heavier,” wondering if and how all the powerful things I learned as a Marine would translate into academic contexts; negotiating age similarity with faculty; negotiating feelings of ineptitude because I felt like I wasn’t part of some imagined undergrad educational mainstream. In short, how could I connect my day to day understandings of my life to school? Could I make of my recent life something intelligible to my faculty? Might I be able to weigh in occasionally (and appropriately – classroom rules are huge to this group) with how what I knew, had experienced was relevant? Could I just be part of a well facilitated, caring, challenging, and acknowledging classroom experience? And occasionally, could I just disappear, and not be the “problem” student?
4. Yes on the disability/SPED – I can never get as deeply integrated into those support services as I want. Personally, that frame is very important to me, but not just because of vet issues.
5. The brain thing is something altogether different than most other disability issues. I’m afraid you’ll need someone more experienced than me to sort out why…
We can talk more about what it means to socialize faculty to this group – but this group is widely, and wildly diverse. Get XXXX out there as a place that recognizes this. Program accordingly. How many vets does the state have? How many are there at your institution? What are their social, racial, cultural origins pre-military service?
Otherwise, my recommendation to your instructors is that serious investigation into who your students say they are, powerfully attentive listening, and authentic care for one’s charges ameliorates so much. For those that need more help. We’re there; not alone, but in concert with all the supports that schools can offer now."
{NOTE: It's apparent that Iraq and Afghanistan veterans' experiences are unique in US military history. They often serve successive tours, making the transiion back to civilian life difficult for many. }
Monday, October 4, 2010
Threats, Lies, and Videotaping
I received a cryptic e-mail last week from a TA wondering whether it was illegal for a student to video record an instructor without consent. My first thought was, “Ugh Oh.” My second thought? Something probably unmentionable here, but akin to how I feel when someone is being treated unfairly. My third: was there a legitimate reason to surreptitiously video this TA? And how should I handle that? A follow up with the individual concerned exposed several deep rooted issues he held about classroom interaction, student preparedness, departmental leadership, and what constitutes effective pedagogy. My conversation with him also poignantly touched on his notions of himself as a teacher, as a mentor, and as “one” with the population he teaches.
Video (and audio) recording others without their knowledge has been in the news lately, and certainly YouTube is full of unknowing subjects caught on tape. Many states have restrictions against various types of recording without consent. Resembling language used to describe illegal wire tapping, most are as confusing as Virginia’s statute. This summer’s case involving video recording of an arrest prompted nationwide discussion about what state or civil entities could legally refuse witnesses’ requests to tape certain actions. One could, in the case of a Maryland motorcyclist, even be arrested for taping surreptitiously. In Michigan, there are laws governing rights to use recordings made without consent; most claim that one cannot use them for commercial purposes. A 2007 case at Central Michigan University, limiting the rights of a student to videotape a visiting politician without consent, spurred the ACLU into action, protesting that University restrictions of the CMU junior’s right to record in a public space were unconstitutional. There are no policies at my university for recording secretly for purposes other than commercial distribution.
Of course, several appropriate reasons exist for video or audio-recording (or both) in a classroom setting, which if not a legally defined private space, is considered private by most instructors. Faculty increasingly record lectures for podcasts and “shoot” themselves using software like Camtasia to record classes and make them available to students for later perusal. Many faculty and TAs allow audio recording of classes for students needing extra exposure to a class. Of course, all of these situations rest on consent of the parties involved. Things get tricky when someone feels like they need (?) or desire to record surreptitiously. In truth, a student could be recording simply for the fun of sharing a good lecture with friends and family. So why wouldn’t one ask if it was okay?
Well, because recording occurs for other reasons, as my colleague painfully discovered.
Apparently students in the course video-taped secretly to record what they construed as poor teaching. They took what they recorded to the department head, meetings ensued with all parties concerned, and the department head visited the class and pronounced my colleague’s teaching better than acceptable. (Suffice it to say that the chair's willingness to look at the video breaks cardinal rules about proper administrative/supervisor behavior.)
Of course, none of this made things any easier on my friend, and in a conversation that nearly broke my heart, he exclaimed that “These are my people, Kevin. Why would they do this?”
This situation has brought into powerful collision several ideas I have about what constitutes appropriate classroom behavior, what’s ethical, what’s fair, and what students occasionally think is necessary. Addressing the latter, I have heard descriptions of teaching so poor as to make me wonder why this doesn’t happen more often. As to the former, I am reminded how important it is to set clearly defined expectations and to make sure your students understand them. I do encourage faculty and TAs to record themselves if they are comfortable doing so. I use video recording as a key element of my classroom consultation program, but the videos are nearly confidential (The exception being that tapes can be subpoenaed if something illegal occurs in class.).
Hmm, imagine me taping a student secretly taping the instructor I’m taping? Whew! What would I do with that?
Video (and audio) recording others without their knowledge has been in the news lately, and certainly YouTube is full of unknowing subjects caught on tape. Many states have restrictions against various types of recording without consent. Resembling language used to describe illegal wire tapping, most are as confusing as Virginia’s statute. This summer’s case involving video recording of an arrest prompted nationwide discussion about what state or civil entities could legally refuse witnesses’ requests to tape certain actions. One could, in the case of a Maryland motorcyclist, even be arrested for taping surreptitiously. In Michigan, there are laws governing rights to use recordings made without consent; most claim that one cannot use them for commercial purposes. A 2007 case at Central Michigan University, limiting the rights of a student to videotape a visiting politician without consent, spurred the ACLU into action, protesting that University restrictions of the CMU junior’s right to record in a public space were unconstitutional. There are no policies at my university for recording secretly for purposes other than commercial distribution.
Of course, several appropriate reasons exist for video or audio-recording (or both) in a classroom setting, which if not a legally defined private space, is considered private by most instructors. Faculty increasingly record lectures for podcasts and “shoot” themselves using software like Camtasia to record classes and make them available to students for later perusal. Many faculty and TAs allow audio recording of classes for students needing extra exposure to a class. Of course, all of these situations rest on consent of the parties involved. Things get tricky when someone feels like they need (?) or desire to record surreptitiously. In truth, a student could be recording simply for the fun of sharing a good lecture with friends and family. So why wouldn’t one ask if it was okay?
Well, because recording occurs for other reasons, as my colleague painfully discovered.
Apparently students in the course video-taped secretly to record what they construed as poor teaching. They took what they recorded to the department head, meetings ensued with all parties concerned, and the department head visited the class and pronounced my colleague’s teaching better than acceptable. (Suffice it to say that the chair's willingness to look at the video breaks cardinal rules about proper administrative/supervisor behavior.)
Of course, none of this made things any easier on my friend, and in a conversation that nearly broke my heart, he exclaimed that “These are my people, Kevin. Why would they do this?”
This situation has brought into powerful collision several ideas I have about what constitutes appropriate classroom behavior, what’s ethical, what’s fair, and what students occasionally think is necessary. Addressing the latter, I have heard descriptions of teaching so poor as to make me wonder why this doesn’t happen more often. As to the former, I am reminded how important it is to set clearly defined expectations and to make sure your students understand them. I do encourage faculty and TAs to record themselves if they are comfortable doing so. I use video recording as a key element of my classroom consultation program, but the videos are nearly confidential (The exception being that tapes can be subpoenaed if something illegal occurs in class.).
Hmm, imagine me taping a student secretly taping the instructor I’m taping? Whew! What would I do with that?
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