Conventional wisdom holds that marginal students may pay more of a price for web surfing during class than top students, who are presumed to be better multitaskers. But a study at Michigan State University challenges that belief. The study tracked 500 students in an introductory psychology course, using ACT scores to measure intellectual ability. And top students as well as others saw their performance lag if they were heavy internet users in class (for non-class reasons).
Some will immediately say this is nothing more than a semantics debate. No different than if we were discussing the contrasting meanings of, say, “soda” and “pop.”
When we use the word “pedagogy” as a catchall for all teaching methods, of course, no one is talking about little children, but we rarely stop and specifically consider what this word means and its relationship with other words.
Pedagogy: the methods and practice of teaching children.
Andragogy: the methods and practice of teaching adults.
So the question becomes: at what point is a student no longer a child, but an adult? There is no hard-and-fast rule, but for our purposes here, any college student is an adult.
Andragogy, a concept dating to the 1960s and Malcolm Knowles, is important because it recognizes that adult learners are different and that these differences are extremely important. And its importance, as a body of knowledge and approach in and of itself, is profound and vastly under-recognized.
Andragogy -- adult learning theory -- stresses that adults:
Are more independent than children when it comes to learning.
Are capable of critical thinking (unlike some children) but are still interested in the “correct answer."
Learn more slowly but just as effectively because they have more life experience and deeply ingrained stereotypes and ideas.
Must be given respect as adults and for their life experience or lack of experience.
Need classrooms that embrace active learning, including hands-on activities.
Learn material that is relevant for their needs.
Are driven less by grades (performance goal orientation) and more by understanding (mastery goal orientation).
Going back to the question of when students become adults, in some ways it does not matter per se. All learners learn best when many of the core elements of andragogy are followed. All students — whether 5, 15 or 55 — deserve respect, need room for their prior experiences, and need lessons to be relevant. That said, the idea of andragogy exists on a sliding spectrum of sorts. Whether a student is 18 or 85, he/she will enter the classroom with experience, for example, but this experience will vary based on age, interests, background, etc.
This is also where some understanding of basic human growth and development theories (e.g., Maslow’s hierarchy of needs, Erikson’s stages of psychosocial development, Piaget’s stages of cognitive development) can help professors build classrooms that are comfortable across the board. Students in their 30s will tend to have very different biologically driven needs, hopes, and fears than students in their 60s.
When students are not allowed opportunities for their feelings, especially about particularly sensitive topics or topics to which they have been vastly miseducated or undereducated, learning stops. (Please see my comments about the trigger warning or objectionable material warning and student feelings here.) Additionally, we know that for learners of any age it is very hard, even physiologically impossible without extreme dedication, to “unlearn” what have been “core truths,” whether the topic is basic physics or the causes of the Civil War.
This said, pedagogy is still important because children do learn differently and have different needs. Most notably, children need some more guidance. Likewise, children — depending on their age and experience (back to the sliding spectrum) — are physiologically not always capable of performing advanced math or demonstrating critical thinking. This is not at all to sanction the “banking method” — where teachers only lecture, metaphorically dumping information into students’ brains and then students regurgitate that information verbatim on assessments — of education that has sometimes been all too common: Active learning and student-centered learning is always best.
One note on learning styles, too: adults do tend to think they have a learning style — visual, kinesthetic, auditory — that enables them to learn more effectively. While I have read much more about andragogy than learning styles, there is some research that suggests learning styles are actually a myth. They have relevance because we give them relevance, but actually it is roughly equally possible for learning to happen visually or kinesthetically, for example, and furthermore, that ALL learners learn best when all learning styles are used. Going back to Bloom’s Taxonomy: learning that involves interactive thinking, hearing, reading, writing, touching, and creating results in the most effective learning, and naturally, much of this will requires independent learning and initiative by an adult student.
Even if we recognize that adults learn differently from children, by using the umbrella term “pedagogy” for both, we unconsciously tend to view adult learners as “children” who need to be taught by the “expert,” and we miss an entire body of knowledge and research about effectively teaching. I know some professors do not like the idea of being taught how to teach — they say it sounds too much like the training required to teach K-12. I too was somewhat like this when I first started teaching college in 2007.
But, as professors in the classroom, our ultimate goal should be for our adult students to learn, and for learning to occur, we should always be aware of how to teach effectively and stay reasonably up-to-date on findings as they develop.
For further information on andragogy check out this website; Malcolm S. Knowles’s The Adult Learner (now in its seventh edition); and Sharan B. Merriam, et al.’s, Learning in Adulthood: A Comprehensive Guide.
Andrew Joseph Pegoda is completing his Ph.D. in history at the University of Houston, where he also teaches. He studies race, culture, human rights, and education. He regularly blogs here.
A panel the Aspen Institute convened on Internet learning released its recommendations Tuesday. The group, which included Jeb Bush, the former Republican governor of Florida, considered ways to ensure that online learning is both innovative and safe, for students of all income levels. The final report calls a focus on all the ways students learn, including from museums, libraries, after-school programs and at home. It also pushes for students to be at the center of new learning networks, and for learners to have the digital literacy to be able to both use online media and to safeguard themselves.
In order for colleges to function as inclusive communities of responsible and respected members, all of their adults must be treated as adults. Yet, many of my faculty colleagues habitually call their undergraduates “kids” by default. They should stop. In addition to usually being false, it is demeaning and it tacitly encourages the immature behaviors we all bemoan.
When undergraduates begin college they immediately receive warnings that high school is over and that they will now be held to adult standards of conduct. Meanwhile, hallways are filled with faculty and students talking about which of their classes have especially “good kids,” “quiet kids” or “lazy kids.” In our speech, undergraduates are demoted back to children — they are infantilized. The resulting mixed messages would confuse anyone. Undergraduates are held to high behavioral standards (“I have zero tolerance for accidental plagiarism. A college student should know better.”). At the same time, they are spoken of as children (“The kid who plagiarized in my class is asking for leniency.”).
In my state and most of the U.S., we formally recognize 18-year-olds’ right to make autonomous choices while also being held accountable for a full set of societal responsibilities. Eighteen-year-old men and women begin college having recently earned the right to sign contracts and take full responsibility for the consequences; those who are U.S. citizens have recently earned the right to vote and the duty to serve as jurors; most of the men have completed their mandatory registration for Selective Service in case a military draft is ever reinstated. These men and women who are undergraduates live with the adult consequences of their adult rights and responsibilities when they get tattoos, decide whether to seek mental health treatment, get married, sign up for credit cards and so on.
What about those still-developing young adult brains? In contrast to the rigid law, developmental psychology research paints a complex picture of how traits gradually develop over time, with features such as “psychosocial maturity” varying substantially from person to person within an age group. Appealing to the developmental psychology literature will not justify the decision to walk into a lecture hall filled with young adults one scarcely knows, each at variable stages of development for a wide array of psychological and behavioral traits, and say, “Quiet down, kids!”
By publicly referring to undergraduates as “kids,” faculty members unwittingly invite childish behaviors. Kids ask their parents to call the instructor about a bad grade. Kids whine that they were not reminded about the homework that was due. Kids giggle when a peer shares an embarrassing personal story during class. Kids make inappropriate jokes to get a laugh from the room. These behaviors then become perceived justifications for continuing to see undergraduates as kids. The vicious cycle perpetuates the behaviors that faculty members wish to prevent. You’ll have to take my word for it, but my undergraduate students do none those childish behaviors. They act like the adults they are. I contend that the key to achieving this is the radically intuitive strategy of treating them like adults.
If there is one thing I have learned from teaching controversial philosophical subjects (e.g., the ethics of health care policy) to undergraduates, it is that a good classroom environment is the product of an explicit and consistently applied ethos. On the first day of class I tell my students that I will treat everyone in the room as adults whose contributions are valued, and that I expect them to do the same. They are not allowed to use the words “kid,” “idiot,” “bleeding heart,” or any other disparaging language to describe each other, as this is incompatible with a classroom that is inclusive of its diverse members. In a recent course evaluation from a senior seminar, a student expressed gratitude that I did not treat the class members as “inferiors.” It upsets me that such a thing bears mentioning. A roughly 22-year-old man or woman was so accustomed to being treated as a child or a second-class citizen that he or she felt obliged to mention it when treated otherwise.
Thinking of and speaking of undergraduates as “kids” can manifest in class policies ill-suited for adults. Perhaps the clearest examples of this are some of the faculty responses to poor undergraduate behavior. There is undeniable appeal in some of my colleagues’ approaches, such as publicly shaming students caught looking at Facebook in class or confiscating any cell phones used for texting during a lecture. However tempting it might be, this is not appropriate behavior between two adults. This is how an adult treats a kid.
If a dean did such things to faculty members during meetings then he or she would rightly be called a tyrant (and would likely have a large collection of cell phones). Strategies responding to an adult’s childish behavior must work within a framework of adult-adult interaction. If students use their cell phones in class then the instructor can easily initiate a brief classwide conversation about the classroom policies and penalties, as well as the reasons for them. An instructor can also speak candidly and politely with an individual student after class ends about any violated policies.
Every adult has moments of childish behavior. It is one thing to criticize an individual adult for a specific childish behavior, but quite another thing to indiscriminately call a whole group of adults “kids.” There are indeed cases where it might be appropriate to refer to an individual student as a “kid” or “child,” much like it occasionally might be appropriate to refer to an individual student as a “jerk.” Faculty members need to privately grumble and blow off steam just like anyone else — call it the Happy Hour Exemption. This does not make it acceptable to use “kid” (or “jerk”) as one’s default term for undergraduates. Even when used as a term of endearment, “kid” still devalues undergraduates as autonomous agents. It is no more appropriate than saying “good boy” to a graduate student who wrote a strong paper, or describing a junior faculty member as a “nice girl.”
Whether they grew up listening to the Everly Brothers or the Jonas Brothers, adults deserve to be spoken of and treated as respected and accountable human beings. Many undergraduates are new adults, and unsurprisingly most are not yet very good at acting like adults. This does not excuse faculty members who casually refer to these men and women as “kids.” In anything, the infantilizing language sends the misleading message that undergraduates are permitted to act like children. Unfortunately, the undergraduate-as-kid mindset is deeply ingrained in campus culture, making change difficult. We even have the audacity to reserve the term “adult learners” for undergraduates over the age of 25. This status quo is unacceptable. The adult men and women in our undergraduate courses deserve better.
Sean A. Valles is assistant professor in the Lyman Briggs College and department of philosophy at Michigan State University.
The Association of American Medical Colleges on Tuesday released new guidelines on the skills and knowledge that medical students should have by the time they graduate and start their residencies. Darrell G. Kirch, president of the association, said in a statement that "these guidelines take medical education from the theoretical to the practical as students think about some of the real-life professional activities they will be performing as physicians."
The teaching of introductory economics at the college level remains substantively unchanged from the college classroom of the 1950s, more than 60 years ago. The teaching of other introductory courses, from psychology to biology, has changed dramatically -- with new knowledge and, more importantly, new pedagogical techniques. Today's students are also very different, not accustomed to sitting through 50-minute lectures, taking detailed notes of material and techniques, the value of which has yet to be demonstrated to them.
Thus, it is little wonder that more students do not elect introductory economics or, following the course, do not take more economics. Grades tend to be lower in introductory economics, discouraging many students from taking additional courses. The concern is paramount. In today’s complicated world, the design of sound policy requires an understanding of economic principles. Yet, so many who are deciding on policy, particularly voters, as it is they who elect policymakers in democracies, are frequently ignorant of economic principles. Now many students do major in economics, but frequently for what is perceived to be enhanced employment practices in the business world. Love of the study of economics does not seem to be manifested by many students. If a school has an undergraduate business major, the number of economics majors fall precipitously. Fewer and fewer graduates of liberal arts colleges go on into economics Ph.D. programs that are increasingly populated by very able international students.
Also, our traditionally underrepresented groups are truly underrepresented as students of economics. Women, though more than a majority of today’s college students, still shy from economics, as shown by a recent study done by Professor Claudia Goldin of Harvard University. African Americans and Latinos also are not well-represented in college economics classrooms. Why? Different hypotheses, each of which probably has some significance, include a particular alienation from the teaching methods, lack of role models in the classroom, difficult material and low grades combined with the additional challenge of being a minority student or a first-generation student. Also, normative issues such as poverty and discrimination are frequently marginalized, reducing the relevance of the course to many students.
Recently I chaired a meeting that had faculty members from over 60 undergraduate economics programs to discuss both Advanced Placement economics and the future of the college introductory course. There was consensus that the course seemed to be structured and taught, consistent with the first edition of Paul Samuelson’s famous and dominating textbook, Economics: An Introductory Analysis in 1948 (to continue toward 20 editions!). Texts and the course seem to mirror the major theoretical components of basic microeconomics and macroeconomics. Much has been added (e.g., game theory and rational expectations) with little subtracted (maybe labor unions and Keynesian fixed price case). The result is a rather encyclopedic textbook with 30 or more chapters.
Faculty race through as much of this material as is possible. With such breadth of material, depth is frequently sacrificed. Students are more frequently memorizing and not as frequently learning. Grades tend to be among the lowest in introductory college courses and student satisfaction highly variable. Most distressingly, students are not necessarily learning to think like economists and understand the power of economics as an explanatory tool for human behavior.
Thus, there is momentum to address the deficiencies of this extraordinarily important introductory course. More faculty are aware of these problems and recognize some lack of student enthusiasm. The College Board has initiated the discussion that I mentioned with groups conveyed to look at both introductory microeconomics and introductory macroeconomics. Under the guidance of respected economist John Siegfried (of Vanderbilt University) and a blue-ribbon committee of university economists, the National Council for Economic Education has developed 20 standards for economic understanding and literacy, applicable to differing levels of education. Textbook companies are now offering customized books so that a faculty member need not present 30-plus chapters to a student, but rather can customize 10 or 20 that will form the basis of a streamlined course, one in which students can truly learn economic concepts.
With such positive momentum, will the worthy objective of a newly inspired and improved economics courses become a reality any time soon? Obstacles still exist. Tradition and lethargy can be powerful brakes on new methods and ideas. Also, a course with less breadth means the elimination of some topics. Which will they be? For some economics faculty, labor markets can be eliminated; for others, labor markets form the heart of both microeconomics, and certainly macroeconomics. Yet the payoff is potentially so high.
From my perspective, students who take introductory economics should complete the course with some understanding of 1) why income inequality exists and how to address it, 2) the means by which negative externalities like pollution should be addressed, 3) international economic exchanges can be mutually beneficial, 4) what were causes of our most recent Great Recession, 5) how to address long-term unemployment, and 6) the causes of global inequality. Such a course would be of greater interest to our students in 2014.
In a world full of excruciatingly complex and dangerous problems (from income inequality to environmental degradation), economics, as a discipline, must be a central player as orderly resolution is sought. As mentioned, students might actually study in an economics course the causes and consequence of the Great Economic Recession of 2008. Today, such a topic is often too esoteric and not part of the mainstream cannon of economics. A generation of students, from varying backgrounds and experiences, should be taught to appreciate and even admire the power and the logic of economic analysis. Parents, students, and voters, you all must help to ensure that this opportunity for important educational analysis is not lost.
Clark G. Ross is Johnston Professor of Economics and dean of faculty emeritus at Davidson College.
Telltale fast clicks of laptop arrow keys gave away my distracted student from 30 feet off.
So engrossed was he in a 1980s role-playing game that he barely noticed when I leaned in to whisper how entirely inappropriate his behavior was during my digital humanities class at Dartmouth College. As a noted visiting technology and culture speaker held forth on participatory culture and Wikipedia — in which my students had expressed an avid interest — I was shocked as he and many others openly engaged with their Facebook pages.
Why would he play a game in a class he insisted he enjoyed? He had been playing the game before he went to bed, so when he opened his computer in class, "the game was just there, so I started playing," he explained to me during office hours. He didn't intend to check out from a class he likes.
But he did.
This incident is particularly ironic as we had discussed in the previous class the myth of multitasking and dialogued about the Stanford University professor Clifford Nass. Now, some class members can handle themselves with their technology; about a third cannot. Multitasking makes us poor learners, studies show. It not only hurts the perpetrator by splitting their focus and attention, but it hurts those sitting around the multitasker and lowers everyone’s overall performance on each task. While millennials may think they have better multitasking chops than older generations, data show this assumption to be false. Unfortunately, science tells us the human brain is not meant to multitask and succeed — even if people truly believe they are good at it.
As a digital humanities professor, I spend many waking hours communicating and creating on a computer. I deeply understand the exciting possibilities offered by digital tools because I spend a great deal of time designing them: in fact, I’ve designed a class that minimizes lecture time to create engaging activities involving mapping, making diagrams and hosting debates on virtual experiences. I also know there's a time and place to engage with actual people. There is a rising concern among faculty members across the country on the need to investigate classroom culture regarding technology so students might actually benefit.
Clearly, the lure of the laptop is too compelling to resist.
Some people might say we should use technology for activities that “flip” the traditional lecture class. In line with this thinking, I have run hands-on activities one to two times a week with great success. During those activities, students are focused and use technology to further learning.
But most days, there will come a time where faculty or guest speakers actually speak, or dialogue happens or provocative points are raised. It is then that students with technology-control issues immediately check out and check into Facebook or online games or shoe shopping. Unless they are directly involved in a hands-on activity for which they will be accountable in public by the end of class, it is much easier to give in to the presence of technology and lose the experience of direct engagement.
Is this chronic narcissism? Or is this phenomenon a desire to escape the confines and taxing nature of concentration? Does this "checking out to check in" represent an insatiable need for immediate news in the "fear of missing out"? In 2013, an international team of researchers designed a way to measure fear of missing out and found people under age 30 were more affected, as were those who reported low levels of connectedness, competence and self-autonomy. This research supports earlier findings that the lonely and bored were more apt to rely on social media and feel left out if they miss out.
Yet students also miss out if they cannot listen and engage with the world in front of them. The presence of technology in a class may not work unless the active learning is active all of the time or, I would suggest, our culture changes such that the live, in-person exchange is more valuable than whatever the student is doing with his or her own technologies.
In higher education, themes of dialogue, listening and presence are a core part of the college experience. We know from research that employing "embodied cognition" -- that is, learning from all of the senses-- is a more holistic and effective way to learn. There is so much to the human experience that is reflected in a face to face meeting, where body language, expression, tone of voice, and others around create a whole-body experience. If higher education continues its mission to support experiential learning, this may mean we must reestablish forms of learning centered back in bodily experience, and lean a little less on technology to transform ourselves.
We need a culture change to manage our use of technology, to connect when we want to and not because we psychologically depend on it. Enough is enough. We need strategies for unplugging when appropriate to create a culture of listening and of dialogue. Otherwise, $20,000 to $60,000 a year is a hefty entrance fee to an arcade.
Mary Flanagan is a distinguished professor of digital humanities at Dartmouth College and a fellow of The OpEd Project.
A Vermont college's new curricular venture enables students to self-publish books -- a project officials hope will aid a largely first-generation student body and give humanities students a "deliverable" for the future.