Submitted by Anonymous on September 22, 2015 - 3:00am
Back in 2012, massive open online courses entered public consciousness accompanied by grand promises of revolution. MOOC proponents, often backed by private venture capital, promised to make higher education more nimble and accessible than ever before. Three years in, at least, it hasn’t worked out that way. Our own assessment is that MOOC mania brought lots of hype, promising technology, some compelling if nascent science and broader recognition of a huge problem that no silver bullet can solve.
Our own university began encouraging new experiments with online learning in 2012. Two of us were at Stanford then, helping to produce massive open online courses based on recorded video lectures, multiple-choice questions and audience discussion, conveyed via the Internet to millions of people at no cost to them.
Faculty members responded enthusiastically. By 2013 a new campus operation was created to support online instruction. It helped our faculty produce 171 online offerings, including 51 free public MOOCs offered repeatedly, reaching nearly two million learners.
No doubt about it, we contributed to MOOC mania. Here’s what we learned.
First, MOOCs are not college courses. They are a new instructional genre -- somewhere between a digital textbook and a successful college course. Although they can provide much richer learning experiences than a printed book alone, current MOOCs pale in any comparison with face-to-face instruction by a thoughtfully invested human instructor.
No education policy that has current MOOCs replacing quality classroom instruction should be taken seriously. That said, most MOOCs provide free or low-cost learning opportunities, so it makes good sense to view them as positive enhancements to the overall education ecosystem. Letters of praise and thanks from thousands of grateful MOOC learners from all walks of life attest to the contributions of this new genre.
Second, MOOCs are no panacea for educational inequality. Ample research now makes clear that the preponderance of MOOC users worldwide are college-educated men in highly industrialized countries. MOOCs have not provided a remedy for deep-rooted disparities in access to knowledge. Recorded video instruction based on classes at highly selective colleges cannot easily serve broader audiences of less prepared learners.
Third, simply transferring lectures online will not provide effective learning on a massive scale. As anyone who has taken one can attest, MOOCs are not Socratic wonders. Most of them rely substantially on short lecture segments in a talking-head format, replicating online the stand-and-lecture pedagogies of conventional classrooms without scaling the discussion sections, office hours, late-night dorm-room study groups, drop-in tutoring, painstakingly graded homework and other components of a successful large college class.
Instructors often complain about the inability of current MOOC platforms to facilitate creative ways of interacting with learners, and they’re right. The learning process is much more complicated than merely sitting in front of a computer screen. Successful online resources have been developed and rigorously evaluated, but they require careful learning design and engineering to engage students in meaningful activity.
Fourth, on another positive note, MOOCs have raised awareness about how online learning technology might be used to support the science of learning. Every keystroke people make when they interact with an online instructional offering leaves a data trace that can be gleaned to support learning research. Research with MOOC data has enabled us to see where people get discouraged in difficult lessons and how they can be encouraged to persevere.
As educators design more complex online tasks that scaffold and reveal learners’ thought processes, and analyze the data generated by learner interactions, we will probably improve the effectiveness of online learning and advance science generally. Since ancient times teaching has been regarded as an art: subtle, complex and hard to specify. Computational descriptions of how people interact with learning material, teachers and one another make it possible to pair that art with new kinds of empirical knowledge.
What no technology can solve is a failing business model for U.S. higher education. Citizens benefit most from education early in their lives when they are least able to pay for it themselves. Yet students and their families are now being asked to pay ever-larger proportions of the cost of higher education as government support for college has increasingly taken the form of subsidized loans.
Sticker prices for tuition and fees at residential colleges have risen faster than the rate of inflation for decades, making what was once called a “traditional” college experience, complete with dorm rooms and verdant campuses and football teams, into a luxury service. Using present technology, effective online courses are more expensive to produce than in-person classes and we do not know how to scale them to massive audiences without corresponding costs.
At the same time college completion and ongoing professional development have become more essential for success in the labor market. Students, parents, entrepreneurs and politicians alike are eagerly seeking alternative forms of higher education, and for a brief moment back in 2012 many wanted to believe that the simple Internet technologies embodied in MOOCs would be the next big thing. It’s not that simple.
MOOCs have not fixed higher education, but they are poignant reminders of the urgent problems of college cost and access, potential forerunners of truly effective educational technology, and valuable tools for advancing the science of learning. That’s progress.
John Mitchell, Mitchell Stevens and Candace Thille are professors and co-directors of the Lytics Lab at Stanford University.
Submitted by Randy Best on January 9, 2015 - 3:00am
As the hype around MOOCs has subsided, a frequently asked question in university circles today is: Who have massive open online courses helped or hurt?
Providing free and open access to content from revered institutions is laudable. But enrollments at elite colleges’ MOOCs do not translate into revenue at the vast majority of colleges and universities, many of them already cash-strapped. And learning that fails to deliver credit that leads to a credential may not yield much for students, even if they enjoy the courses. MOOCs may have been more faddish than altruistic.
For MOOCs to be important long term, they must be more than a curiosity. A 2014 study from the University of Pennsylvania’s Graduate School of Education found that only 4 percent of those who had registered for a MOOC actually completed it. The curious are obviously much less likely to see a course through to completion than are serious students seeking a credential to help them advance in their lives.
Studies like the one out of Penn suggest that MOOCs may have little long-term utility for students. And for institutions, the risks of issuing credit for MOOCs could have a serious impact on their operating income. Most of those who have created MOOCs have invested a lot of sweat equity in return for relatively little, and no meaningful income for provider universities that contributed their brand and reputation to support the concept.
Higher education needs to be affordable, but it cannot be free. As aptly observed by Michael Cusumano of the Massachusetts Institute of Technology, the software, music, video, book publishing, newspaper, and magazine industries are “still struggling to recover from the impact of free,” and many companies within those industries never did. In fact, two-thirds of the public software product companies operating in 1998 had shuttered by 2006. While a variety of factors may have contributed to their demise, the proliferation of free products was chief among them, points out Cusumano, a fact that should be kept in mind as we evaluate the impact of MOOCs on higher education.
At a time when many colleges and universities are struggling to justify their value proposition and find financial sustainability, marking their core product to zero seems to be misguided, an observation that is gaining currency among higher educators worldwide. This practice also raises a question whether free implies little value.
Giving away education can make sense in some cases. For instance, the country of Colombia, which has offered MOOC-like courses through SENA, its agency focused on providing practical and technical educational courses to increase employment, and India, which is considering putting high-demand courses online for workforce training may prove that free and open courses online can be effective in up-skilling societies. It is important to keep in mind, however, that these initiatives are seen as a public good and, as such, are fully funded by the government and not by institutions that need to find their way to self-sufficiency.
Using technology to deliver relevant, affordable, and credential-bearing education from top universities to help more citizens progress in their lives is within the incredible potential of the Internet and can be done inexpensively and at scale, as MOOCs have demonstrated.
While the participation of top universities in the delivery of MOOCs has helped further legitimize online learning and infuse higher education with much needed innovation, it has not proven to be the anticipated game changer for either students or universities. History has shown us that giveaways are a gambler’s game and not a strategy for a sustainable future.
Randy Best is the chairman and CEO of Academic Partnerships.
Much to the consternation of my wife, I'm not a big fan of apologies. I'm not interested in hearing public figures apologize. And I don't generally want people to apologize to me: if you've done me wrong, well, just don't do it again. The damage is done and we all need to move on. Even with my kids, I'd rather have them promise to try not to do something again, than apologize for doing it. (Note to parents: The jury is still out on this as a parenting strategy.)
My personal anti-apology bias aside, though, there really is one thing that you absolutely don't need to apologize for: dropping out of my MOOC.
One of the concerns heard from faculty, back when MOOCs were a new idea (all of two years ago), was that they couldn’t possibly keep up with the barrage of emails that would result from having thousands of students. But my experience has been that a MOOC actually results in surprisingly few emails, given that my baseline was the email-to-student ratio from my “traditional” classroom courses. Of the emails I receive from students in my MOOC, however, one of the most common types is the apology for dropping out.
In these emails, complete strangers introduce themselves to me, explain that they were taking my MOOC and enjoying it very much, but that they had to drop out. These individuals were always very apologetic, and expressed regret, remorse, and not a little guilt over having to drop the course.
One student had taken on new responsibilities at work. One student’s family life had become too busy to accommodate time for the course. One student was going to be traveling to a remote part of the world with limited Internet access for several weeks in the middle of the course. One student had a parent who died. Work-life balance was invoked by several students. In other words: life intervened, as it does.
The first two or three emails like this that I received, I thought: “Boy, these students really don’t get it. If they’d just dropped out and not said anything, I would never have noticed. They’re fundamentally misunderstanding how MOOCs work.”
And it’s true, I would never have noticed, not with north of 14,000 active students.
I received emails like this once or twice a week throughout the duration of the first offering of the eight-week course, and the same is holding true for the second. And while that amounts to a vanishingly small percentage of the students in the course, I’m sad that these particular students dropped out. In part this is because, out of the faceless sea of students, these individuals suddenly emerged with names and life stories and tragedies. But in part it’s because, if it weren't for these life stories and tragedies, I feel certain that these students would have completed the course, and done well in it.
MOOCs are a relatively new development in online teaching and learning, and research on them is still emerging. But a very interesting research agenda is evolving to articulate a classification of student “engagement trajectories.” This work shows that the largest group of those registering for a MOOC are “no-shows”: people who register for but never login to the course. The smallest group are those who actively participate in and complete the course. There’s also a large group of students who “disengage”: students who start the course, but whose level of engagement (viewing videos, participating in the discussion forums, etc.) decreases throughout the course. Some of these students disengage completely, and can be considered “dropouts.” Some students simply “audit”: watch videos, but don’t participate in the discussion forums or do the assignments. These categories emerge as a result of each individual student’s engagement decisions.
A common (and I believe justified) criticism of MOOCs, and of online courses in general, is that they favor the self-motivated student. Most MOOCs are free, so money is not on the table. Most MOOCs are not for credit, so a grade is not on the table. Most MOOCs are not part of a larger program of study, so graduation is not on the table. The external motivations traditionally embedded in postsecondary education do not, for the most part, apply to MOOCs. And in the absence of external motivations, only the internally motivated will thrive.
And those for whom life did not intervene.
The absence of external motivations is one of the best features of MOOCs. What instructor wouldn’t want a class full of internally motivated students? What student wouldn’t want to be free from grades and tuition, and the pressures that come along with them?
Before I taught my MOOC, I took one as a student: Introduction to Astronomy, taught by Ronen Plesser at Duke University, through Coursera. I stopped doing the homework after week three, because my algebra is, let’s just say, a little rusty and the homework simply became too time-consuming for me. I do not apologize for auditing Dr. Plesser’s course; I got out of it what I wanted, which was eight weeks of intellectual enjoyment. I do not believe that Dr. Plesser needs to apologize for the students that disengaged or audited; every individual student makes their own engagement decisions. And I do not believe that Coursera or any MOOC provider needs to apologize for low completion rates of the MOOCs that they host; the absence of external motivations is one of the best features of MOOCs.
Though I disengaged from the homeworks for Introduction to Astronomy, I watched every video for the course, and I believe that I got a lot out of it. Could I have gotten more out of it? Certainly. Did I get enough out of it to satisfy me? Yes. Given the absence of external motivations, there was no penalty for me to disengage and audit the course. So it’s ironic that in thinking like an instructor while teaching my MOOC, I forgot to think like a student.
Here’s part of what I wrote in reply to these first few students’ emails: “MOOCs aren't graded or for credit, so there's absolutely no penalty for dropping out – you won't fail, you just won't receive a certificate of completion.”
But after receiving a few more emails like this, I realized that I was the one who really didn’t get it. It wasn’t these students who were fundamentally misunderstanding MOOCs, it was me. These students were never in it for the certificate of completion; they were in it for the personal edification. These students weren’t concerned about receiving a failing grade; they felt that they had failed themselves.
Perhaps I’m reading too much into these emails from students. But I don’t think so.
You don’t need to apologize for having a life. You don’t need to apologize for getting a new job; congratulations. You don’t need to apologize for your parent dying; my condolences. You don’t need to apologize for traveling to a remote part of the world with limited internet access for several weeks; I’m envious.
So I say unto these students, and all students enrolled in a MOOC: you don't need to apologize for dropping out. If you started a MOOC intending to engage with it, then I, as an educator, have nothing but admiration for you. You started a course for the personal edification, in the absence of the traditional external motivations of postsecondary education. Even if you don’t complete it, I have nothing but admiration for you. I think I speak for all educators everywhere when I say: we wish we had more students like you in our traditional courses.
Jeffrey Pomerantz teaches in the School of Information and Library Science at the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill.