By Benjamin Passty, PhD

I never look forward to giving exams. I suspect most professors share this view. We enjoy the activity of teaching, the performance, the chance to explain our insights to our charges every day in the classroom; nevertheless, something about judging these same students seems a little unfair.

In a lecture setting, I feel as though I have complete control: The outline for the day, what goes on the board, even funny anecdotes are all things I can select, and over time–with experience–my ability to select the proper ones has almost become razor sharp. When it comes time to give an exam, I feel more like I create a monster that I then have to send out into the wild, with the students’ own inquiries representing my only opportunity to clarify and help them.

The biggest problems occur at the end of exams. Some students continue working after time is called. Others take advantage of the TA’s being distracted by those students turning in their work in order to cheat as well. The last five minutes are inevitably a zoo. For a long time, I was convinced there must be a way to regain calm and control.

As far as dealing with those last few minutes of an exam, I think I’ve found a method that works quite well: I give students extra credit for submitting their exams early.

by Todd Herzog, PhD 

When Microsoft closes the website for its digital, multimedia encyclopedia Encarta at the end of this month, few people will notice. Those who did hear Microsoft’s announcement to discontinue Encarta this summer probably reacted much as I did—with surprise that it still existed. When the first edition of Encarta appeared in 1993, this year’s freshman class was potty training. By the time they were ready to do real research, they had about as much use for Encarta as I did for that 24-volume, 100 lb. set of Collier’s Encyclopedia that my parents bought when I was born. But even though the demise of Encarta is largely symbolic, it signals a major shift in what constitutes research in the 21^st century. The era of the encyclopedia officially ends this month. For, despite its slick, multimedia interface, Encarta was based upon the same basic principles as those Enlightenment-era works were: a hierarchical, vetted, well-defined presentation of information.

In one of those wonderfully symbolic confluences of events, I was in the process of reading a set of seminar papers when I heard Microsoft’s announcement. As I scanned the bibliographies of the research papers, I noticed what I think was a first for me, but which I had known would someday happen—every source in every paper began with the letters: http://www. Now, this was a particularly engaged group of students in a course in which we read actual printed books and articles. But when it came time to write a research paper, that meant only one thing to them: the internet. I know that many professors have reacted to this fact by banning Wikipedia (or even all online sources) from being cited in research papers. But in my opinion, this is not the right move. The era of WikiResearch is here. Our task—as researchers and teachers—is to understand what this means and to harness its full potential. What follows are four basic principles to help us begin to navigate this new era in research.

by driftword

So what is the big deal about semester conversion anyway? Semesters, quarters, year-long programs…these are all just artifacts with no real inherent meaning at all. Isn’t it just another convenience? A pre-packaged collectable, consumable, ready-for-our-cost-consciousness consumption? What is this education system all about, really? And what are we asking our students to get from their educational experiences?

by Joseph F. Clark, PhD

All people have unique personalities, but what those outside of education may not fully realize is that when you put a group of people together, the group forms a personality all its own. This is clearly seen in classes meeting regularly over an academic year. It never takes long for the class’ personalities to emerge…often after only a few lectures. Some classes are quite serious, others can be playful, and others run the gamut of everything in between; rarely does a significant change in that personality occur during the term or school year.

When I began regular college lectures, it surprised me how diverse the depth of classroom personalities could manifest. I could give the exact same lecture to two different groups of students, but their responses to those lectures would be quite distinct. My observations had nothing to do with the motivation or competencies of the students even though I tried to be consistent in my presentations. Nonetheless, the classes behaved very differently.

by driftword

Professional organizations and annual conferences have long been the bastion of intellectual advance for decades. Those of us who participate in these affairs know their importance to us, our colleagues, our discipline—and ultimately our students. We come away from our annual conferences energized with new ideas and new ways of thinking. What is just as important is that we get the opportunity to conduct face-to-face networking where we can make new professional connections while strengthening established ones. Face-to-face communication IS truly networking in the major leagues—something the virtual world of the internet cannot replace.
 
What if Profpost were to become an off-line/on-line forum—of the archetype variety? What if real educators gathering for a real forum where like-minded people would plan to set aside some significant time to meet and discuss topics and issues face to face in the same room at the same time? Add just a little bit of structure by positing a thorny issue to discuss. Who knows, we might create the same atmosphere of our beloved professional conferences right here at UC —twelve months a year.
 
Imagine the cross pollination of a think-tank environment in our academic setting where wild ideas meet best practices or old ideas are thought of as new again. Think of that: cross-campus colleagues gathering in a spirit of forward thinking—just because we can. Imagine the impact of these meetings if we were able to document these potentially super-charged discussions for the academic world to experience. I am NOT suggesting that this would replace being there. Think of the possible postings on the internet as “intellectual advertising” —our contribution to the greater good. Catch my drift.
 

driftword is a pen name. This contributor chooses to remain anonymous.

by driftword

The use of technology may be holding us back. Big time. Communication technology has become such an accepted part of our lives that we no longer need “real” human contact to feel connected. iPod’s, smart phones, online gaming, and the net have become embedded into our daily lives, habits, and culture. In markets world wide, online games are often regarded as a sort of spiritual opium. And in the multiuser gaming world, virtual reality can be viewed as better than reality. It seems that real interpersonal communication is on the decline. If left unchecked, it is likely that real human interaction may be viewed as outmoded and unnecessary…sooner than later.

In 2007 China, demand propelled online-games sales to top 10.57 billion yuan ($1.46 billion), up 61.5 percent, the agency said where internet cafes are all the rage. Internet cafes, known as “net bars” in Chinese, are often crowded rooms filled with rows of computers and the bleeps of online games. China has recently banned children from internet cafes and last year ordered their owners to enforce time restrictions in the wake of several cases involving obsessive players dying of fatigue after marathon game sessions. Attempts to regulate the booming industry have been undermined by a lack of a proper rating system in China and easy access to pirated games online and on street corners.

Now this: Video gamers and online addicts are seeking intervention to help break their addictions at regional US clinics.

by Elissa Sonnenberg, MSEd

Fall has always been my favorite time of year—crisp breezes offer hints of rebirth after a long, hot, Cincinnati summer. This year, as I look forward to meeting a fresh new crop of UC students, the pre-birth contractions have already begun as talk of semester conversion and an exciting office move pull me back toward campus, anticipating new routines and pedagogical discoveries.

But as July matured, it was the whiff of independence that quickened my pulse—the independence to create new spaces for learning and growing alongside students. The independence to find ways to glimpse how the process of learning can part the curtain between the teacher and the taught, revealing extraordinary, and often unexpected, truths.

by Michael J. Sharp

I spot a back-row vantage point in my classroom from which I can critique today’s round of student speeches. I wade passed the already glazed-over eyes, ready my trusty stopwatch, pile my speech-critique sheets on the desk, and place my two blue Precise V7 Pilot Rolling Ball pens atop the pile. It’s the sixth week of the quarter and the last day of the second round of these speeches. I teach two sections of this course, which means a total of approximately 50 students: And folks, that’s a lot of speeches to sit through. I breathe deliberately, not so much out of anxiety or exhaustion but because I know what to expect spanning the next eighty minutes—not to mention the same thing all over again in the second section meeting later today. It’s going to be a long, long Thursday, and I know it.