Blogging Pedagogy - midterms

Mid-Term Survey on Instructor Performance

Anonymous — Mon, 03 Dec 2012 16:52:41 +0000

Author:

Matthew C. Gertken

Image Credit:

Screenshot of Survey Monkey

Teaching is an art and teachers, like other artists, run the risk of valuing their performance too highly and overlooking their faults and mistakes. But as the true artist must ever abhor complacency, and tirelessly seek new angles on his or her work to spot frailities that can be avoided or improved in future, so the true teacher must resist the allure of self-sufficiency.

Teaching, even when successful, leaves no monument but in the student's mind. After the semester ends, many students we will never see again -- and if we do, rarely will we see them exercising the skills we taught. In short, our work is generally inaccessible to retrospective critique.

The worst vein of pollution I have witnessed in the graduate student experience -- and fortunately only infrequently -- arising perhaps from a combination of little sleep, long study and public irrevelance, is a kind of condescending or (in the worst cases) deprecating attitude some instructors take toward the undergraduates they teach. As if the dearth of post-modern continental theory among the undergrads were some kind of fault, rather than a token of good health and sound mind. The truth, as many of us continually re-learn, is that most of our students are delightful people, with a variety of interests and skills, and often with a fair degree of knowledge in their chosen fields, from whom, if we listen, we may learn.

Student evaluations of teacher performance have fallen under corrosive political debates about the nature of accountability and its role in the education system. Partisanship has made some teachers cynical about teacher evaluations in a society made cynical about teachers by partisanship. And even for those of us -- many of us -- who look forward to student feedback at the end of the semester, at least some anxiety about the outcome of the surveys lurks, born of the remembrance of one or two biting critiques from the past. If only we had known of that one student's gripes earlier, we could have done more to answer them, and perhaps made the class better for everyone.

Because I recently returned to teaching after three years in a different line of work, and this semester tried for the first time teaching Rhetoric and Writing, I doubted my performance perhaps more than usual. The idea of having students participate in a voluntary mid-term survey about my teaching performance struck me as a way to get a sense of students' assessments of my job at a point in the semester when time remained to correct myself if necessary. Anonymity would secure their sincerity. I went to SurveyMonkey and, with no prior experience of the site, quickly wrote up a survey with the following three questions:

1. How specifically could the instructor in RHE306 improve?

2. Is the instructor fair in leading class and grading assignments? Are assignments and the instructor's expectations clear?

3. Is RHE 306 an effective course? Are your writing skills improving? What would you change about the course, if you could re-design it?

Of eighteen students, only seven filled out the survey. The low response probably reflects the fact that the email they received said the survey was informal and optional. And I offered no incentives for taking the survey other than my gratitude, less than a pittance considering that it must be distributed anonymously. Perhaps in future I will make the survey mandatory. Nevertheless the seven responses I received were sufficient to teach me at least two important lessons, which I shall relate.

Most of the responses, whether from students' generosity or politeness, indicated general satisfaction. In response to the second question, several students said that the instructor "is fair," "does a good job," and that "assignments are very clear." To the third question, students said that the course is "effective," "a good challenging college course that makes a student think critically," and that the "workload is not excessive." One said it was becoming "easier to sit down and write papers faster and more clear" -- a positive assessment vitiated, given the purpose of the course, only by its grammar.

The teacher's duty is to smile and move on from these niceties. The purpose of surveys lies not in replenishing a self-esteem withered from excessive exposure to the Pierian Spring. Rather it is to discover our faults that we may amend them. My students' answers to the first question served this purpose. I framed the question in a way that would force a critical response: how specifically could the instructor improve? Each of the seven students concurred generally on the need for greater clarity on assignment expectations. The instructor could improve by "stating specific objectives and requirements of certain assignments," and giving "a clearer explanation of the assignments," and providing "more example essays." Though some of these comments flatly contradicted answers in the second question, the fact that they came first gave them priority -- students must have felt no need to repeat the same criticism in question two.

This survey therefore provided me with a student consensus that I needed to provide clearer explanations, examples and expectations for assignments. Because I already devoted what I considered excessive class time to explaining assignments, "teaching for the test," I felt some annoyance after reading these comments. But upon more mature consideration, a means of resolving the problem occurred to me. It was a low-fi, low-tech solution.

The next day in class I gave a pop quiz about the requirements for the upcoming assignment. Students had received warning from time to time since the beginning of the term that I might give pop quizzes, but to this point no occasion had arisen, as I had thought to spare them. Now I gave a quiz testing their comprehension of the essay soon due. After they took the first quiz, we graded it in class, giving students a chance to ask questions and learn answers from each other. Then I told them this surprise would not count toward their grade, but that the next one would count.

Few performed well on the pop quiz. Exposing their apparent lack of attention to the details of the approaching assignment must have stung them into paying more attention, since the essay results bore a much closer resemblance to the prompt, and similarity in form to each other, than previously. Before the next essay came due, I quizzed them again. Most students performed very well on the quiz -- they had studied the assignment -- and the essay's results corroborated this evidence. Most of the students even seemed to enjoy the quiz this second time -- they seemed to relish what they viewed as earning easy points.

Thus I learned of a danger of my own teaching style -- lack of clarity, and sometimes downright confusion, about the nature of assignments -- and students learned of their responsibility to understand assignments and to ask for clarification if they do not.

I shall quote only one other student's comment in the anonymous survey: "Make the course a little more interesting. I know that's every student's dream, but that's all we can ask for a class that early." This I have attempted to do by introducing more multimedia into lesson plans than previously, though I still resist any drift toward college class as variety show.

Digital Midterm

Rosen — Tue, 14 Aug 2012 03:05:05 +0000

Author:

Stephanie Rosen

Image Credit:

David Bonner

In the week or two before Spring Break, it’s customary for lab chit-chat to turn towards what we look forward to on break. This spring, as my colleagues told me how they anticipated getting out of town or getting some writing done, I told them that I was looking forward to my students’ midterm. “I’ve never given a midterm,” was the repeated response. Before this semester, neither had I. So I’ve decided to write here about why I gave the midterm and how I used the Lab resources to enhance it.

The midterm I gave was a standard open-book essay exam. Students were required to write one essay in which they advocated a position, engaged the position in one foundational article, and incorporated three additional sources from our reading list. The essay prompt was available to them from day one (it was printed in the syllabus) and students were allowed to refer to the required readings, as well as any notes they made in their course-pack, during the exam. (The complete Digital Midterm lesson plan is available on the DWRL site.)

One major reason behind my midterm was my own curiosity. I often incorporate in-class writing so students have a low-stakes context in which to explore their ideas through writing and to synthesize major ideas, concepts, and connections of the course. I believe that these writing assignments allow students to grasp major trends in the course and that they better prepare them to move forward with the material. But I never get to see the writing assignments. Part of the “low-stakes context” is the promise that students don’t have to turn the work in — or show it anyone, although they’re often asked to speak afterwards, using the writing as an aid to their spoken response.

The midterm gave me a chance to see how students were synthesizing ideas, grasping major trends, and understanding the course concept. My curiosity was satisfied. Students put texts together in interesting and unexpected ways, using several readings to support their own arguments, or using one text to support their reading of another. Furthermore, they consistently demonstrated that they understood the basic argument of the course, “Health Rhetoric”: that “health” is a problematic term in argument because rhetors agree on its value but not on its definition. And students supported (or complicated) that argument in a variety of fascinating ways.

Another reason I gave the midterm was to let students craft a written argument earlier in the semester. In my syllabus, students complete several writing assignments — a summary, a rhetorical analysis, a synthesis, a bibliography, a proposal — before they finally write a persuasive argument in their final paper. However, I often encourage students to argue for their positions in class discussion, and I wanted to give them a chance to do that in writing before the semester’s final weeks.

As I fielded questions the week before the midterm, I realized that the prompt was confusing to students, precisely because it asked them to write an original persuasive argument — something they had not done before. They needed extra explanation and encouragement to employ the rhetorical figures and appeals we had been analyzing. But that explanation and encouragement paid off in their writing. They made strong cases for their positions, using the appeals and figures they had studied appropriately and to great effect.

Although my midterm was similar to every essay exam I’ve proctored as a Teaching Assistant or taken as a student, I modified the template in one important respect: no Blue Books. I had students write their essays on the Lab computers. They were therefore able to revise, or at least edit, on the fly and submit more polished, better organized writing. This system also eliminated the grading bias that I know I’m subject to when I read a barely legible student essay. Every essay looked the same. I believe that this made the midterm grades more objective. And it certainly made me better enjoy reading them over my Spring Break.

On the day of the exam, students arrived in class to find a printed midterm prompt in front of each lab computer. They logged on and opened the word processor (opening other programs or using a web browser would result in a failing grade). And they printed and stapled their finished exam essay for me before they left. Some students will need accommodations or prefer Blue Books. I had a private conversation with a student who has a learning disability; I gave them the option to write the essay by hand (they chose to do so). I also made an announcement that anyone with a legitimate reason for preferring a Blue Book instead of the word processor could see privately me to make that request. In my class, no one did.

Overall, the midterm was a success. The grades were high, the essays were interesting and well-written, and the students took the process very seriously. I didn’t realize, when I included the exam on my syllabus, how much a midterm would mean to the undergrads. I got the sense, however, that the inclusion of a midterm gave my course more weight in their minds. On the one hand, it took up more of their study time and gave them more anxiety. On the other, the studying and anxiety led to quality writing, though which they came to a fuller understanding of what the course is about and why it is important. This is what made the midterm most worthwhile. By synthesizing ideas through writing in a high-stakes context, my students “got it” fairly early on in the semester. And having done that, I’d like to think they especially enjoyed their Spring Break.

First-Year Writing and the Learning Record: At Midterm

Kendall Gerdes — Tue, 14 Aug 2012 02:44:53 +0000

Author:

Kendall Gerdes

Image Credit:

Adapted from Openclipart

It’s just past midterm and my students in first-year rhetoric and writing (RHE 306) have just submitted Learning Record portfolios. I adopted the Learning Record model as developed by UT’s own Peg Syverson, outlined at http://www.learningrecord.org.

I have thoroughly enjoyed giving comments on student writing without having to weigh it carefully on the letter grade scale. Once at the midterm, and once again at the final, students will be asked to write short arguments citing evidence from other parts of their Learning Record portfolios. They may cite interviews they conducted with someone close to them on the topic of their own literacies; they may cite a journal of observations they’ve been keeping throughout the semester on what they learn from class and course work; they may cite comments I’ve given or that they have received in peer review; finally, they may cite their own work, comparing early drafts and revisions, to show evidence of specific improvement.

I asked students to organize the evidence they select in terms of the goal-domains of our course: rhetoric, the writing process, research, presentation and digital literacy. And, I ask them to analyze this evidence in terms of several dimensions of learning (from Syverson’s framework, http://www.learningrecord.org/dimensions.html): skills and strategies, knowledge and understanding, use of prior and emerging knowledge, reflection, and creativity and imagination. I showed my students an exhaustive sample focused on a single course strand and asked them to be much more highly selective than the sample: only choose to include the most persuasive analyses in your work.

On the basis of their evidence and analysis, students must request from me a single grade (not a range), making reference to a set of evaluation criteria that describe student performance in each letter grade range. Students are permitted to mix criteria and ask for plus/minus grades, and I think this gives them a chance to see how their strengths and weaknesses span several grade levels. It points out what they are already good at, what they ought to work on, and what seems to be holding them back. I also ask them to include a plan for improving their performance in the remainder of the semester.

The first blush of grade requests are fascinating. Students have tended not to blow up their self-evaluations; most are honest and modest about their own performance. I encouraged them to think of honesty as an appeal to ethos, designed to get me to trust their judgment. Though some requests offered minimal justifications in terms of the evaluation criteria for the course, most were extremely careful. Even students whose writing has been unsatisfactory, and who have displayed frustration trying to understand my comments, produced insightful reflections on their own performance that illustrate a capacity to write arguments that certainly exceeds the capacity portrayed in earlier papers.

I’m excited to sift through them all and write my responses to students because I believe that the midterm exercise is equipping them with rhetorical skills that will pay dividends on their remaining assignments. I also believe that most students have succeeded at diagnosing their own challenges and articulating both a desire and a plan for improvement. They are learning to think about their course work rhetorically, as arguments toward their final grade. And best of all, they’re learning to think of their grades as directly related to what they learn about rhetoric and writing—not as the subjective result of a soft or harsh teacher, but as the earned product of their own best efforts and estimations.