Educationemily

Really looking forward to presenting next week at the Kaleidoscope Annual Graduate Student Research Conference at the Faculty of Education, University of Cambridge. I am experimenting with writing my talk as a speech rather than a presentation which is something quite new compared to my experiences at practitioner conferences. Mainly, I am doing it to constrain the amount I am likely to waffle on over my 20 minutes!

This is the abstract (which also summarises where I am with my research so far): 

Critical thinking for what? An exploration of undergraduate students’ experiences of thinking at university

Critical thinking is closely aligned with the ‘higher’ in higher education. It is both a core element of graduateness and a cornerstone of the mission of higher education institutions. Yet Evans (2004) argues that higher education has shifted from a world where critical thought was valued to a world where universities are expected to fulfil the roles of the marketplace, leading to the ‘death’ of critical thinking. This doctoral research explores the ways in which undergraduate students define, experience and demonstrate critical thinking. It will reflect on whether their individual starting points at university and social characteristics (such as social class, gender, race and culture) affect their engagement with critical thinking. This research will use mixed qualitative research methods (longitudinal interviews, emails, observation and a reflexive diary) to study two cohorts of first-year students at the University of Sussex - a professional and an academic social-science course. A feminist critical realist theoretical framework will inform the research design. In particular, Archer’s (2000) concept of the internal conversation will inform discussion of how critical thinking can be theorised as both a personal and social act and the impact of students’ personal motivations on their critical thinking. Ahmed’s (2010) concept of feminist killjoys and the affective implications of becoming critical will also be used to consider whether critical thinking is at odds with our (gendered) desires for sociability and the extent to which critical thinking is an emotional, as well as an intellectual act. The intended outcome of the research is to socially contextualise what it means to be a ‘critical’ student as well as consider whether critical thinking remains a value of a 21^st century higher education. In this paper, I will reflect on my research journey so far, focusing in particular on the illuminating role of theory in formulating my research.

I attended a really interesting talk on Wednesday about ‘MOOCS and the Future of Higher Education’ by Jon Dron from Athabasca University. Massive Open Online Courses are a growing phenomena in the international higher education market and, more recently, 21 UK Universities, along with a number of museums, have signed up with FutureLearn which promises to be the UK’s first, free, open online platform for higher-level short course. 

That evening after the talk, I continued my reading of Ranciere’s The Ignorant Schoolmaster where he argues that educators can channel the equal intelligence in all learners to facilitate their intellectual growth in virtually unlimited directions.

This got me thinking about the links between such emancipatory pedagogies and the MOOC phenomenon. Whilst I recognise that the relationship between education and empowerment is complex and even problematic (e.g. are educators emancipating based on their own moral code?), I wondered what potential MOOCs have in terms of empowering learners and what educational freedoms they create. 

The following two discussion points present my work in progress on this idea:

MOOCs have huge potential in terms of widening access. Allowing people in rural India to learn programming from MIT is undeniably a powerful thing. However, MOOCs appear indifferent to retention criteria and whilst huge numbers sign up, far less complete. This made me consider what kinds of students would be more or less likely to complete a MOOC. As an experienced learner, confident with educational technologies, a MOOC may be a successful model for me. I have the intellectual capital to know how to behave in an online space. I also am confident in accessing other forms of support to inform my MOOC study such as professional networks, academic reading and informal discussions with fellow researchers. But how would the ‘average’ undergraduate student fare? For example, research into widening participation in higher education shows the importance of fostering a sense of student belonging, particularly for those from non-traditional backgrounds to higher education.  What avenues of support are there if you get stuck and need to ask for help? Can the 100,000 other students on your MOOC constitute a supportive community? My concern is that the MOOC model appeals to a certain kind of confident, experienced learner and that this may not have the widening access potential that it should.

MOOCs are designed to be flexible in terms of the way they are designed, delivered and assessed. In terms of providing alternative spaces that go beyond the traditional confines of higher education, that seems to be a positive thing. In theory, anyone can design, deliver and participate in a MOOC. In practice, I wonder whether MOOCs reconfigure knowledge as something exclusive in the hands as the few that as learners we are invited to discuss but never to challenge. For example, the majority of MOOCs are designed by elite universities where the ‘knowledge’ delivery is fairly fixed and didactic e.g. in the form of videos and other online content. The learners are, in the more constructivist MOOCs (but not all), then given opportunities to discuss. As an educational space, I think this provides limited freedoms for learners to shape the learning environment or the context of the knowledge that is delivered. I cannot see how they offer the potential for the democratization of knowledge as Ranciere suggests.

At the moment these points are critical niggles that I am hoping to develop into something wider. MOOCs have the potential to reach the unreachable learner and, most fundamentally, they are free. I want to be wholly in support of them for these two reasons alone. However, I have concerns about their ethical responsibility in terms of the retention of learners and their ability to support non-traditional learners. I also worry that certain MOOCs present exclusive forms of knowledge practices that deny opportunities for the learner to shape their learning experience and, most fundamentally, to critique!

In preparation for my first-year viva I have to write a research proposal of 10,000 words - and it is almost over! I’ve basically had this document open in some form since November and come Monday I’ll finally be pressing print. I’m pretty much done now but I’m hoping that another weekend could bring another brainwave. Plus, getting things in way before the deadline is a bizarre trait and one I never intend to experiment with.

I’ll sum up academically where I’ve got to next week but these are the main research lessons I’ve learnt:

1) The things you agonise the most over are the ones that somehow just fall into place. I was confused about my methods for ages and then on the bus to uni a couple of weeks ago it all fell into place and I knew exactly what the plan should be. It can’t be something magic about the number 25 bus so I’ll put it down to the need for regular thinking space.

2) I would lose the plot if I had to do this alone. Though writing is incredibly isolating, research doesn’t have to be. I’ve called on a huge number of people’s advice, not least my supervisors and PhD buddies - but also friends and family who know nothing about my topic. From explaining my research to people socially or asking detailed advice from those in the know, everything helps.

3) Having a reality check is a good idea. When I’m up to my neck theorising about students as being this amazing source of research material, they start to feel so exotic,complicated and terrifying. Yet walking past them in the canteen or talking to friends I know who are studying makes you realise that they are human too. I don’t think it can be a good thing to just experience your participants theoretically!

I’ve also rediscovered knitting as a new form of procrastination along the way. Knitted wonders to follow in good time. But here are my celebratory research proposal new shoes!

As part of my first-year PhD assessment to check that I haven’t just been looking at cats on the internet, I have to submit a research proposal and present to my peers.I wrote the research proposal quickly and slowly grew embarrassed by it.

This is not a lack of confidence in me thing. In fact, the past few weeks I’ve felt more than ever like a real and quite capable PhD student, wearing my bookbag with pride. It’s not a lack of confidence in my ideas thing either. I think my topic is really interesting to me and probably to quite a lot of other people. A good test is that I think my proposed research participants, undergraduate students, will be interested in it. In fact, I’m finding it useful to see them as a target audience for this - with everything I write I think - would they get out of bed to hear what I have to say?

The problem is its permanency. I write it down and by virtue of it being in print, somehow it becomes so very real. I know I should see the process as a guide, an administrative hurdle even, but I can’t help but feel it is captured in a moment of time that I will look back on and be knocked down by its naivety.

It is happening already. I read Beverley Skeggs a couple of days ago and it made me think about the social context of the interview as a method and how, probably nervous, first-year undergraduate students will engage with this. Will they think it is like a meeting with their tutor? Will they see me as an authority figure? Would the results be different if I recruited the students outside the campus and met them in a cafe? Will boys react differently to me than girls? Will it matter that, for example, one of my participants is a fan of TV interview panel shows and is familiar with a certain trope of how the interview goes? Will it matter that another has never even had a job interview? How do I deal with the situatedness and partialness of the interview whilst at the same time see its importance and its potential for revealing something about students’ lives?

Ultimately, what I’m grappling with is how do I incorporate all this uncertainness into a proposal that says to my examiners that I’m a competent human being that you should give approval to. Also, how do I press ‘send’ or ‘print’ when I know that tomorrow I’ll have new questions? Is this all part of the chaos?

I have written the powerpoint for my talk though and that makes me feel amazing. Once I accept that all this questioning is probably a good thing, I’ll feel like this all the time right?

Here’s the link if you want to come too http://www.srhe.ac.uk/events/details.asp?eid=75

phdstress:

It’s hard to believe I’m 2 months in already and all the intentions I had to blog regularly went awry, as did the plan to have interesting hobbies, run on the beach and get a ridiculous puppy.

The first 2 months were a haze of putting theories to ideas and ideas to theories and piles and piles of reading. This was, and still is, the best bit! The hardest part is adjusting to the identity of ‘PhD student’. It goes something like this…If I tell people I’m a PhD student, will they assume certain things about me and will I be able to live up to that and do I want to? I wasn’t comfortable telling my hairdresser, tried to dress it up as something ‘practical’ and ‘useful’, which was patronizing to her (and to me). It’s a lot of privilege to get used to. Yet at the same time, I’m accepting that I’m no longer the head of department, the expert, but in fact I know very little. It’s a lot like moving from being the prefect in primary school to suddenly being the little one in secondary school, except for the unflattering uniform, pimples and having crushes on boys with curtains.

From the end of October, I’ll be a PhD student at CHEER http://www.sussex.ac.uk/education/cheer/. 

While I am sad to be leaving Brunel and Learning Development behind, I’m looking forward to the challenge (and the house by the sea).

My PhD topic is ‘Critical thinking in student’s learning journey in HE’. It will investigate undergraduate students’ understanding of the role of critical thinking in their learning journey. It will explore how students define critical thinking within their discipline, questioning whether a generic definition can be achieved and will address when and how students develop a sense of criticality.  In particular, it will discuss how we might theorise critical thinking in terms of whether it acts as a threshold concept relating to changed perspectives stemming from a specific moment(s) or whether it develops as part of a more gradual transition throughout student’s undergraduate education or indeed, whether a combination of both approaches would enhance our understanding of student learning in higher education.

Well, that’s the plan. Wish me luck! Here’s a picture of Brighton to make you all jealous ; )

Paul Mason’s article and the associated comment feed has promoted an interesting debate about the value of a higher education in a climate of rising debt and decreasing prospects for young people. Depressing it sure is, true, I’m not certain but I can see evidence of everything he is saying almost daily.

It rings true when thinking about the students I work with who are so focused, blinkered almost, to the destination job at the end (rather than the learning on the journey). It rings true when thinking about the students I work with persuading them that a higher education is ‘for the likes of them’ - from mature students to care leavers; my promises and encouragement of a developed sense of criticality are underlined by employment statistics and the cost value of a placement year. It rings true for me too. I am unlikely to pay off my student loan before getting on the housing ladder. And I was one of the lucky ones on relatively low fees. 

I think the final point and its positive spin on the need for graduates to be creative does signal hope. I don’t think the sole responsibility of a HE system is/should be to produce a graduate assembly line. However, it is responsible for developing criticality and creativity to ensure that its graduates are able to respond to the changing nature of the UK and world economy. I think Paul Mason is saying what we’ve all been thinking. This is essential reading. Follow the debate!

I attended a 2 day conference in York, organised by the Higher Education Academy, looking at the results of funded projects that investigate ways to retain students in Higher Education, especially those from underrepresented backgrounds. It was a beautiful, sunny campus (with geese and everything) and offered a great opportunity to catch up with existing colleagues and meet new ones. I presented a poster on the work we’ve been doing with ‘Headstart’ looking at successful transition for widening participation students and this was really well received. There was also representation from the great and the good, Estelle Morris (former labour education secretary) and Vincent Tinto (a key figure in US educational theory and policy) so I felt very privileged to be a part of it.  I thought I’d share with you some of the initial findings.

In the UK only 1 in 12 or 8% leave HE during their first year of study but surveys undertaken by the What Works? project teams across 4 institutions found that between 33% and 42% of students think about withdrawing from HE.

High rates of withdrawal may have reputational, ethical and legal implications for universities and colleges, as well as personal and financial disadvantages for individuals.

In terms of economics, when a student leaves, this represents lost income for the institution. From 2012/3 if a full-time student withdraws from an institution charging £7,500 feeds, this would be equivalent to a lost income of £24,300 (not to mention the lost residential costs)

At the heart of successful retention and success is a strong sense of belonging in HE for all students and the academic sphere is the more important site for nurturing this sense of belonging and this is achieved through:

o   Supportive peer relations

o   Meaningful interactions between staff and students

o   Developing knowledge, confidence and identity as successful HE learners

o   A HE experience relevant to students’ interests and future goals

 At Brunel, the current figures for under-represented groups (mature, care leavers, first in the family, disabled, those from vocational courses e.g. Access, BTEC) who do not complete their programme stands at 15.7% and the University plan to  lower this to 11.7% by 2016/17.

The one thing everyone at the conference was in agreement over is that this is the responsibility of the whole university and that professional services have a key role to play in developing belonging and ensuring student retention and success, particularly amongst underrepresented groups.. In the words of Vincent Tinto ‘access without support is not opportunity’!  I have all these ideas now – I just need to do something about it!

Finally, I’ve found a news story that combines two great things - education and food. A professor at California State University is being investigated after insisting students brings snacks to his classes. If students fail to bake, not only do they go hungry, but he refuses to teach; the lesson being that students must learn the consequences of their actions.

He argues that there are sound pedagogical reasons for doing so. Firstly, the labs are 3 hours long and it is hard for students to concentrate when they are hungry. Secondly, these students are in large, depersonalised classes and the act of sharing food makes the class more informal and strengthens the bond between tutor and students and amongst students. Finally, he argues he is building time and team management skills which will have value for these students in the wider world. I think he’s right on all three.

However, while I can’t fault his intentions, this sits uncomfortably as we move towards a service orientated higher education system. Can we make demands on students, especially those paying £9,000 in fees, and then protest if our demands aren’t met? I would argue we can, and we must, as long as they are reasonable.

If we argue, as the professor has done, that the said demand is part of the learning outcomes for that class and funding was available (he insists snacks must be homemade, which given Jamie Oliver’s humongous ingredients list isn’t cheap) then setting such a task wouldn’t be unreasonable. But refusing to teach is another matter. You couldn’t refuse to teach if say, half the students failed their assignment, for example. The consequences for the students who failed to meet the learning outcome is a poor mark. It wouldn’t be fair on the students that passed, or those who failed who arguably need the teaching much more, to refuse to teach as result.

I’m not suggesting he grades their baking of course, although that would be interesting. However, he would need to justify that the provision of snacks is a learning requirement to colleagues and students, which seems not to have happened here; clearly, fault lies with the faculty administration, as well as with the professor.

Increased student fees won’t mean we can’t make demands on our students. It may just mean that we need to be even more open to discuss, and justify, the decisions we make with colleagues and more crucially, with students.

All I know is I’d like to take his class.

The details of the story can be found here.

I’ve spent the afternoon being very cruel with a pen, battling the bloated sentence, making the sluggishly passive suddenly active and deleting dense adverbs and adjectives. This is gleefully easy with someone else’s writing but next week I’m supposed to be telling students how to do it for themselves. So this is what I have so far: 

1. Writing is supposed to be hard. That’s why it is so satisfying when you get it right. There is no such thing as a perfect first draft. Do not attempt it. Write. And then edit ruthlessly. 

2. Simple writing is always best. Whenever students come to me about their writing I ask them to tell me, in plain English, what it is they are trying to say. I almost always reply with ‘write just what you’ve said’. What they say is what they really mean and what is on the page is what they think their idea should sound like and it’s always over-complicated. You shouldn’t need to try and sound clever. If your point is clever, then you should be able to express it clearly.Your authority comes from the argument you construct and the evidence you use, not your understanding of how to use the thesaurus.

3. Clear writing is clear thinking. Over-complication is a sham disguise for lack of understanding. If I asked you to talk to me about your favourite hobby. There would be no ‘it is questionable the extent to which I enjoy this’ or ‘one could perhaps conclude that this is a useful thing to do’. You’d simply speak clearly and with passion. Then contrast this with a situation when you’ve tried to pretend that you understand something when you really don’t. Chances are there would be repetition, waffle and a lot of ‘erms’. I know what I’d prefer to listen to.

Readers can see waffle and you can only write clearly when your thoughts are in order. It might be that you’ve started writing too soon - go back to the books if you need to. Spend more time thinking and planning. When challenged, you should be able to summarise each idea you write in a sentence. If you can’t how do you expect the marker to know where your ideas are and given you credit for them?

That should take up an hour, right?

I recently attended a university summit on ‘employability’ which looked at all the fantastic things academic schools and central services are doing to make our students stand out from the crowd in the queue for graduate jobs. I was impressed. Group projects, volunteering opportunities and specialised career development modules were all designed to recognise that our students are fantastic but that they just need to learn how to put their skills into practice and, more crucially, learn to shout about them! We’re heavily involved in the design and delivery of these modules and doing this has forced us to explicitly consider the role of learning development and employability.

From a learning development point of view, ‘employability’ initially seemed a problematic concept. I see our role as supporting (even empowering on a good day) students to develop their skills in order to approach their learning with confidence. Our focus has always been on academic learning. However, putting aside the political agendas behind ‘employability’, it is clear that successful students make successful graduates. Those students that work on their confidence to speak in seminars will be able to express themselves clearly at interview and those who work on developing their academic writing will impress employers in covering letters, not to mention with their dedication in having proactively developed an important skill.

Einstein handily provides a quote here ‘education is what remains after one has forgotten what one has learned in school’. If we develop intellectual curiosity, motivation and confidence through academic programmes and everyday teaching and learning, students should, by osmosis, become more employable. This is not to say that grand gestures aren’t worthwhile; embedded workshops on learning and career development have a positive impact on students’ confidence and ability (as shown by discussions at the summit). Rather, it’s saying that employability does not have to be a separate agenda to good teaching and learning practice. The example of the quiet student in the seminar is a good one. We all know how easy it is to let more confident students lead the discussion but actively ensuring everyone has room to speak is of benefit to the whole class. For example, scaffolding discussions (pairs, to small groups, to whole class) may just be the thing that gets the quiet student talking. Ultimately, the skills needed to develop confident, talented graduates do not need to be entirely separate from those needed to develop confident, talented students.