To be (in person) or not to be (in person)….
Considering the role of your unique teaching personae in sucessful online course design.
July 25, 2020
A recent class conversation broached the topic of “formality” vs. “authenticity” in the digital classroom. As some of my readers may know, I teach a required course for education majors at SUNY Dutchess Community College entitled "Performing Skills in the Classroom." One of my principal foci, at least, my interpretation of the current approved Extended Course Outlines, is the emphasis on exploring one’s intended “professional personae.”
It has probably never occurred to most aspiring educators they have a choice in the matter. I remember back to the “make sure you wear a non-form fitting navy blue suit and no-nonsense flats at all times” lectures when I was undergoing my initial classroom certification, and can assure the reader that this was not an “authentic” fit for the emphatically-gesturing, complex-feeling, unable-to-don-a-poker-face-if-a-sure-million-rested-on-it self. Now, I had the benefit of being a child actor first, only later identifying as any kind of artist-educator, but in the early oughts this was interpreted as a restraining process, milling out any controversial angles or quirks in order to place the emphasis on the content. Teachers were a blank canvas, tablua rasa, fashion models who were not to outshine the clothes they display, etc.
In short, responsible pedagogy was about diminishing the self in order to place the full emphasis on the subject. No one questioned as to how subjectivity, or the dynamic filter of the educators themselves, might be required for the fullest expression of the content.
It took decades in the classroom for me to realize that my style flourished when embracing the opposite strategy. Sometimes this took material forms, an “outside in” approach; for example, the day I found Betabrand office/yoga pants and discovered that I could now be my regular scrappy, tomboyish self in the classroom (“If y’all can figure out the answer to this word problem in the next 90 seconds, I will do a handstand for you” left an impression, I’ll tell you. Especially when they were successful). But, more substantially, I began to trust my inner algorithms in modifying a lesson plan on the spot to match unexpected outcomes. And, let’s be honest—how many of our students’ actions and behaviors 100% predictable?
At first, I ascribed this to being an overworked junior faculty member desperately trying to balance the day; however, I went, I found that the less I prepared, the more I listened. The more I listened, the more I diagnosed. The more I diagnosed, the more effectively I could model. The more I modeled, the more independent students became, and the more initiative they took. The more initiative they took, the more opportunity I had to listen, and so on, and so on.
Looking ahead to an online semester, I see two schools of thought materializing (sometimes presented in the same training seminar): 1) Have every inch of the course posted, ready to go, weeks prior to meeting the first student in order to facilitate their learning and GUARANTEE all articulated learning outcomes are met, and 2) apply constructivist, student-centered activities to allow the class to determine how learning objectives out to be met BETTER. Now, for those of you who have never taken an online course before, these don’t look any different to the student, as weekly modules are generally “revealed” one at time throughout the semester. So, I ask, where is the harm in modifying activities and content week to week based on the week prior? And, frankly, who would even know if you did?
Absolutely, you owe it to the students to have the “time-consuming” stuff mapped out, i.e., where and when the mid-terms and final exams will take place, approximately what date the long papers requiring more than a few hours to complete will be due, etc. Essentially, anything that a student can (and should) input into their Google Calendar prior to the semester should be detailed in the syllabus, so that the student can negotiate multiple timelines and (gasp) work ahead of deadlines in order to avoid all of the 20-page papers being due the same Sunday night at 11:59 PM. However, within these confines as well as a vague course outline, often dictated by the rough chronology or sequence presented in the textbook—why do readings need to be determined in advance, as opposed to being based upon fascinating directions taken in the last classroom debate? Why must final projects for courses, when only begun during the thirteenth or fourteenth of the semester, be finalized by week one? In music courses, why must I, the instructor, get be the only one to determine what videos and recordings are played—can’t I base the day’s listening repertoire, in part, upon the delighted/confused expressions of students to determine what requires further illustration? If we aim to promote self-directed learning, shouldn’t we reward initiative by saying, “Student X asked me an amazing question during office hours last week, so I decided to change gears a bit this week and ……”
I’ve commented before on the wars between asynchronous and synchronous learning to be a false dichotomy, and believe formal vs. authentic to be similarly unnecessary goals in this regard. However, for some, to be formal IS authentic, and is necessary in order to achieve the sort of confidence in the classroom that I find with extemporaneous instruction, they must plot out their entire lecture like a script. And this is fine if they master that text to the extent that their focus is on the students, not on their exceptionally skilled delivery. My main concern with the recent emphasis upon asynchronous learning is that I believe this modality requires more investment from both teacher and student than either is accustomed to doing without the social pressure of a live classroom. If instructors are willing to commit many hours to humorous videos, near-daily feedback on discussions, craft assignments to match the needs of individual students, they MUST maintain a degree of flexibility.
In fact, contrary to what I feel to be most commonly practiced, I think that synchronous classrooms, innately more dynamic/conversational/improvised, can afford to be much MORE formal than asynchronous classrooms, where the instructor must perform a great deal of “forensic” work on their own time to teach responsively.
At least, that thought is allowing me to sleep at night as I attempt to look softly upon the oncoming horizon of the next academic year. Godspeed to us all!
