Is there a hidden agenda behind all of this extra work we’re doing with Student Learning Outcomes?

Writing Student Learning Outcomes (SLOs) has recently appeared front and center on my radar screen, and the deadline is closing fast. After digging through the resources found on UC’s Semester Conversion home page, I have to say that there seems to be a hidden agenda behind all of this extra work. Crafting “approved” student learning outcomes becomes an exercise in teaching effectiveness (or lack thereof) as much as meeting the semester-conversion deadlines.

Because of Semester Conversion, now is the perfect time to rethink the way we teach our courses—which means we probably have to rebuild them from the ground up. Not only do we have to write learning outcomes for our individual courses, but these individual outcomes must carefully align with our program outcomes…which means we as a faculty must come together to review the classes we teach as a group. Ouch! Who needs all this extra work?

In my explorations, I uncovered two definitions of SLOs. One refers to the measurable and observable “knowledge, skills, abilities, and attitudes the student should have achieved by the end of the course or formal educational experience.”

An alternative SLO definition suggests that SLOs “emphasize what the students can do with what they have learned that results in a product that can be evaluated.”

In the past,  I considered the course material as the object to be served in my courses. Hey, we have to cover the course material or we’re not fulfilling our primary job requirement, right? And being good servant leaders, we must dutifully cover the material in each and every class—regardless. The syllabi and the lesson plans are the marching orders, and so we march. I have noticed over the years, however, that I end up teaching the test more and more and the “discipline” less and less—outlines, study guides, practice tests, study groups have became the culture of the course. Student learning has become secondary in the process—but our students were getting good grades!

So in implementing learning outcomes, we should focus on teaching students what we do as practicing professionals and scholars of our discipline—not simply on teaching them what we know.  This has become a revelation of sorts in how we should prepare lectures and assignment material. The process of teaching what we do takes time to be sure—but the act of digging deep can be its own reward. Once I got past the “goals-are-now-outcomes” word game, I began to think about what I think about as I prepare my course materials. It was enlightening.

I am still wading through the shallow waters of how I can turn my courses from “it’s about my experiences and what I know” to learning-outcome, student-centered perspectives …I think I am beginning to see the light. If we step back and consider our students as partners in the educational experience and not empty vessels waiting to be filled, the perspective shift seems profound and potentially revolutionary. Right now though, writing SLO’s mostly hurts. Catch my drift …

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

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.

This works most easily by providing four points out of 100 to students who submit their exams by five minutes before the end of class. This has several desirable effects:

• Many students find that it makes more sense to take those points than continue to work on questions in which they have little reasonable prospect of earning points

• A fairly uniform stream of those students turn in their exams, instead of there being a big rush as the very end

• Only a few students remain working on their exams at the end, allowing for easier monitoring of those students during the closing moments of the exam

Students have reacted very positively to this regime:

• It allows them to make honest assessments about their knowledge of the exam material as they proceed through the test

• It gives them more flexibility in trying to achieve a desired grade, especially by giving them access to some extra points if the exam is harder than expected

• It gives latecomers a chance to demonstrate knowledge for only a slight penalty relative to their classmates; I am firmly convinced that the process of giving an exam should provide every student with the chance to do this

This method takes advantage of a core principle of Economics: Rational people (yes, in this case students are behaving rationally) respond to incentives. In this instance, however, it’s exciting that self-interested behavior on the part of the students also produces socially desirable outcomes, such as the ones listed above, exactly as was first noticed by Adam Smith–the father of economics–in his discourse on how markets work. While there are other cases (our economic crisis is the perfect example) in which selfish agents can cause enormous damage to society, it’s exciting to discover a time in the classroom when Smith’s result holds true.

I related this method to a colleague recently as we boarded a Southwest airlines plane. While our desire to sit in aisle seats cut our conversation short, I couldn’t help but notice that Southwest Airlines starts boarding their flights only 20-25 minutes before departure instead of the 30-minutes prior boarding times of every other airline on which I’ve flown: Could it be that in their urgency to claim the last remaining aisle- or exit-row seat, selfish air travelers are actually helping one another? If so, then I think it’s satisfying that Smith’s observation holds true both in the classroom and behind the security checkpoint.

Benjamin Passty, PhD
University of Cincinnati
Assistant Professor
Economics

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.

 #1: We no longer need to concentrate on teaching students how to track down scarce information; rather, we need to teach them how to manage an abundance of information.

The first lesson that a new researcher used to need to learn was how to locate information. Not too long ago, we would chase sources through card catalogs and footnotes until we gathered enough evidence to begin to build an argument. I once spent an entire year trying to locate an obscure 1940s German detective novel before I finally discovered it (accidentally) on an uncataloged shelf of a small library in Berlin. Ten years later, I can Google the author’s name (Axel Alt) and find the relevant information right there on the first page of results (which I’m pleased to see, is a link to the Google Books version of my book!). My problem a decade ago was uncovering scarce sources.

The problem for researchers today is figuring out what to do with the 1,160 results that pop up in a fraction of a second for Axel Alt. The abundance of information has transformed the process of research from detective work that seeks evidence to forensic work that sifts through and evaluates evidence. We all have a methodology course built into our majors, but how much time do we spend on the nuts and bolts of where to locate information and how to distinguish a scholarly source from other sources?

 #2: The democratization of knowledge is not only a challenge to researchers; it is one of the greatest positive developments in the age of WikiResearch.

In one of the internet-sources-only research papers that I mentioned above, a student cited an argument made in the comments to a blog by someone whose name was something like “FilmBuff2009.” I had to chuckle not only because of the carefully and properly cited forum post (“As FilmBuff2009 convincingly argues…”), but because FilmBuff2009’s argument clashed with one I had recently made in a book published by a respected university press—now hidden away on a library shelf much less convenient to and therefore unused by the student researcher (more on this below).

I’ve spent years studying German history, watching obscure silent films, and puzzling over theoretical works in order to form my arguments. How can FilmBuff2009’s thoughts be more influential than mine—regardless how many followers he or she has on Twitter! But on the other hand, isn’t this refreshing! A couple of decades ago, the subjects deemed worthy of scholarly research were quite confined. Literary scholars studied mostly a small set of canonical texts. Historians studied mostly major figures and events. Economists studied mostly traditional companies. But nowadays the scope of what we study—personal writings, minorities, small start-ups, etc.—has expanded greatly. And research is much richer for it. The same thing will happen for secondary sources.

Even as I shudder at the abundance of bad information readily available (see #1), I am excited by the prospect of a much more expansive conversation that has room for enthusiasts such as FilmBuff2009 alongside more credentialed sources. As Michael Scott, the branch manager of a paper company on the NBC TV series The Office put it so unwittingly ironically: “Wikipedia is the best thing ever. Anyone in the world can write anything they want about any subject, so you know you are getting the best possible information.”[1] The joke comes of course at the expense of the affable—but not always thoughtful—branch manager, but it gets to the heart of what is so compelling and promising about Wikipedia, even as it points out its biggest weakness: It is a non-hierarchical, massively collaborative project. And here Wikipedia stands as it does throughout this post as a symbol for all research in the information age. Whereas the move from bound encyclopedias to digital encyclopedias brought changes mostly in the presentation and speed with which information is conveyed and updated, the move to the internet as the location of information is a fundamental shift in the very notion of what constitutes evidence and intellectual authority.

 #3: We need to make our publications more public—and that means putting them on the open internet.

There is a time-honored, scholarly principle that applies to all fields of research: peer review. Scholars value the most distinguished journals and presses in their fields because they hold their writers to high standards of scholarship. We can, must, and will maintain these standards. But there is nothing about the fact that it is printed in black ink on dead trees that gives a book or journal its scholarly value. In fact, all of these writings had to be converted out of more convenient digital forms to be printed on paper at a great cost in time and money.

I know that there are complex economic considerations here, but let’s face it: The current model of academic publishing is economically unviable. Nobody seems to be making any money off of it. And if there are two things that universities have in abundance—server space and scholars who want to make their ideas heard. Let’s find the best way to put the two together. If we don’t, then future researchers will ignore us. Full-text databases are a weak compromise. Scholarship needs to be free, open, and searchable to all users. We can start by valuing online publications by junior faculty based on their quality and impact, not on the pedigree of the journal printing it. These are the people who will lead the way to new modes of publishing—modes that will take us from the research-write-archive model we currently follow and toward a more dynamic means of publishing our research.

 #4: Most of the fundamental principles of good, scholarly research remain unchanged.

Good, scholarly research has always been about (1) asking an interesting question, (2) acquiring evidence to answer that question, (3) building an argument based on an evaluation of that evidence, and (4) publishing our findings. The era of WikiResearch changes none of that. But it does expand the potential for each step: There are more questions, there are more sources of evidence, and the conversation is larger than ever. It will be a challenge to adapt these core principles to the new modes of research, but it can be done and it must be done. Once we do it, our research will be stronger and more relevant.

 And finally:

Despite the cocksure and pedantic prescriptions above, I don’t claim to know how the era of WikiResearch will evolve.  We’ve already begun by transferring older models of research and publishing (databases and papers) to online sources. But like Encarta, this is little more than translating older structures into new media. Eventually new models will develop that will likely be increasingly collaborative and increasingly dynamic. And I know that there are already people who are doing this. I invite readers to post examples of this—positive and negative. Or maybe you want to argue in favor of other models (I still buy, read, and occasionally even write books!) It wouldn’t be WikiResearch if we didn’t turn this into an evolving conversation that begins here but will end somewhere very different. So let’s do that.

Todd Herzog, PhD
University of Cincinnati
Associate Professor
German Studies

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?

Funny that we never have enough time, even though people around us act as if we have all the time in the world. Wasting time is one of the greatest blunders in the history of the human race. The human race indeed. Racing to what, I ask? We hurry from one thing to the next all the while complaining that we can’t seem to connect in meaningful ways. The vast majority of people simply don’t spend their time wisely. We’re after that quick fix, the next sound bite, the fast-edit reply montage, the gain with no pain—the “hurry-up-with-that-instant-gratification, why-don’t-you?…I’ve-been-waiting-five-minutes-now” mindsets. It’s embarrassing. So few people seem to care.

The problem with time in academia seems just as profound. Our academic calendar dictates that we run the scheduled, pre-packaged programs in spite of the net effect. Too-much information packed into a too-small container offered to students who don’t have the experience to appreciate the gravity of the moment. Add to it no-penalty, unexcused absences—two minimum, courses served up with pre-formatted outlines and notes peppered with test-dropping options to counterbalance “poor performance” or “test anxiety.” Top all of this with unspeakable grade inflation to keep our “clients” happy. Tell me…how does this prepare our students for the real world?

Speaking of grades—too often we grade our students on a standard that often has little relevance to the 20th century, let alone relevance to the 21st century. Granted, some facts and figures are what they are—but our relationship to them has changed…and will continually change…over time. Yet we use these same “time-tested” approaches year after year. In case you haven’t noticed, we are not getting the same results as we did in the past. We are devolving—we are becoming increasingly disconnected to present times. And the future—forget about it! Evolution is not best observed in a test tube or in fossilized rock. Look around. It is happening right under our noses. Take a good look at our students. They are not like we are. They do not view time as we do. They simply cannot do it!

We are becoming more irrelevant and consequently losing more of our audience every year. We are failing to connect with this generation because we are their enemy. We think about time and spend time differently than our students. Consider this: What if we measured time in minutes and counted by sensation, and not by calendars as Benjamin Disraeli recommended. What if we measured time in the classroom in moments where each moment had the opportunity to expand into meaningful experience. As educators, we think we get it (the subject matter we teach in our classes) because we profess our wisdom as deep truth. But it is our truth—not their truth. Our “wisdom” was gained over the course of years, forged in the fire of trial and error, and is made evident to us from these deep experiences. But this experience takes time. Learning takes time. Seems to me that semester conversion can help us gain control over time…not by looking to extend our curriculum calendar but by measuring time through active, meaningful, classroom engagement and experiences. Why ARE we in such a hurry anyway? Catch my drift.

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

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.

Eventually I came to realize that I needed to modify my teaching style and my own personality to match that of the class. Initially I believed that if I had a playful class I might be more playful to energize them. Well, that behavior might work for some classes and even on particular days, but as the premise of this post states, “every class has its individual personality;” therefore, we can’t be formulaic in getting the students engaged.

Thus my current strategy is to identify the personality of the class and then try to see which of my behaviors resonates with it. A morose class may be stimulated to engage by dramatics on my part. For example, I teach biochemistry and metabolism to medical students. If a patient’s metabolism gets out of whack it often leads to seizure, coma, and death. In my more morose classes, the endpoint phrase of  “seizure, coma, and death” became a kind of mantra to my questions about metabolic anomalies. The fun begins when I receive enhanced participation from the class—I asked questions poised for the usual (but wrong) answer, “seizure, coma, and death.” After students resp0nd with the wrong answer, I would then explain why it was wrong; I believe that keeping them off guard like this would lead them to pay better attention.

One playful class might respond extremely positively to some of my playful antics in a lecture. It is equally possible, however, that another playful class could get out of hand if I behaved too jovially. So, each class needs to be gauged individually and cogently.

There is no simple formula to figuring out what strategy will resonate with a class. My experience is entirely empirical, but I try to cycle my repertoire of lecture methods to see what interests and involves the students. How to reach the students is a ceaseless battle that requires an armament of methods—methods that need to be tailored to address the students’ personalities as well as the group dynamics. The group will respond; and it is the personality of that group that dictates what it will respond to and how.

Find an earlier version of this post on Joseph F. Clark’s blog. A link to Dr. Clark’s blog is located on his website at http://www.josephfclark.com/.

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.

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.

Thirteen miles from the Microsoft headquarters in Washington, an internet, texting, and online video game clinic has opened to help users heal from patterns of addiction. The program, entitled reSTART Internet Addiction Recovery Program, provides a 45-day intensive-care program for game, internet, and texting addicts.

Similar recovery programs serve as inspiration for this US-based clinic. Amsterdam and China already have clinics that treat addiction for internet and online video games (games such as the ever popular World of Warcraft). World of Warcraft was blamed for an increase in college drop outs by the FCC Commissioner and the college board.

An August 2009 study by the US Center for Disease Control found that gamers had a higher chance of being overweight and suffer mental health problems. A British psychiatrist announced plans to create an addiction team and going “in-game” to treat addiction and gamer ills.

The digital gaming world has much to offer. Problem-based learning, group and peer-to-peer mentoring and social-networks structures such as Second Life show great promise. Unfortunately Pandora’s Xbox lid is unhinged and entertainment gaming may never be eclipsed by less egocentric educational experiences. Perhaps we can be proactive in using educational gaming in the classroom. I know from experience that young children get hooked on gaming just as easily as young adults do. So let’s be ever watchful in our classrooms, offer reality checks by supplying real-world contexts when possible, and—above all—have personal interactions with today’s at-risk gamers in meaningful ways. Our shared realities may depend on it. Catch my drift.

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

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.

I found that curtain opened for me in an unexpected place last summer, during a one-night-a-week introductory journalism course. I confess that these three-hour classes terrify me. I teach in 15-minute increments much of the time, trained to keep track of my students’ attention span like a television script writer poised for commercial breaks.

And I’ll admit, I find it difficult to create, much less sustain, a sense of community with a group of strangers who gather just once every seven days for a stretch of time that either seems overwhelming or not quite long enough.

In classes that meet weekly, I feel inordinately under pressure. Here are the thoughts that typically run through my mind before class: One muffed lesson means one-tenth of a course gone wrong. One off-the-mark assignment means a wasted week and no learning at all. One misstep means there’s no chance of rebuilding a fractured community.

So I approached last summer determined to face my fears, or at least try a few new ways to transform my classroom into a place where students could learn about the widely diverse world of journalism as they safely explored our media culture.

What better way to start a new journey than with sustenance? A friend suggested I move beyond occasionally bringing snacks to class and create a sign-up sheet for students to assemble weekly treats. It was the best kind of friendly suggestion: brilliant in its simplicity, smack-my-forehead obvious in its directness.

Despite our differences (this class of 12 boasted 10 different majors), food gave us everything from common conversations (who knew Busken’s frown-face cookies cost the same as the smiley face cookies?) to communal problem-solving (when one student forgot to bring food, we had to make do with a hodge-podge of leftover Valentine candies and a half-empty bag of pretzels). As the weeks wore on, a near competition broke out to see who could bring the most healthy yet tasty snacks. There were watermelon slices and vegetable cookies.

An unexpected side effect emerged. The more students grew used to sharing during our break, the less time they spent out of the classroom—and yes, I mean during the break. They spent less time huddled in the hallway making cell-phone calls, preferring to talk with each other instead. While they weren’t always talking about class—the vegetable cookies caused quite a flurry of shared baking tips—they were connecting. Scratch that. We were connecting.

One of the most conscious changes I made in this summer course stemmed from a training session I attended last spring. While the course focused on college journalism education, one component dealt with setting classroom ground rules in a purposeful and inclusive way I’d not seen before. Program facilitators showed examples of teachers who made personal commitments to inclusion as they defined their classroom environments. I liked the idea so much, I took it and made it my own.

My definition looks like this: “As an individual and member of this academic community, I am strongly committed to sensitivity concerning gender, race, religion, sexual orientation and disability. Should you feel embarrassed or hurt by any sexist, racist or otherwise offensive remarks or behavior by an instructor, guest speaker or student in this class, please let me know right away.”

While we reviewed all of the guidelines during the first class, we didn’t linger over this verbage. Instead, I stumbled upon lessons that reinforced them.

One of the first ways I get to know students, no matter their majors, is to ask where and how they get news and information about the world. As these students shared their favorite news sources, from The New York Times to The Catholic Telegraph, they spontaneously explained their attraction to these sources. The fans of NPR said they liked the depth of coverage and appreciated what they called a liberal bias. Fox News proponents respected the honesty of the channel’s open bias.

In less than an hour, they had sensed each other’s distinctly different worldviews. That led to open discussions about the inevitability of personal biases and the role of journalism to move beyond them. We talked about how personal histories impact what “news” we do and do not trust.

There was no shortage of opportunities to explore the validity of our personal biases, and at times stretch our personal comfort zones. For example, was a controversial cartoon on the cover of The New Yorker an expression of free speech or libel or treason? Do war reporters unconsciously support their own countries in their news coverage? Can a homogenous staff at a media outlet capture the stories that define its surroundings—if people in those surroundings don’t look like anyone at the assignment desk?

I updated course readings and viewings to illustrate up-to-the-minute best (and not so best) practices in journalism. We watched a documentary about the Arab news outlet Al Jazeera, discussed the legitimacy of a “60 Minutes” segment that compared a Guatemalan immigrant’s journey to America to a “trail of tears” and the “Underground Railroad,” and read a book that traced the impact of media—print and broadcast—on the Civil Rights movement. Students found diverse sources and points of view in every story we read and every piece of news we viewed.

And in response, they responded. Conversations reached out of class and onto the web via a course-specific wiki website where students regularly posted and responded to each other.

The course evaluations reinforced my sense of the strength of the class overall, but the best part for me has been that some of the students from that class have kept in touch with me all year long. I remember the connections we forged as the dog days stretch toward September and that familiar sense of rebirth hovers in the air. And I’m excited about whatever new truths lie just out of reach, ready to be uncovered.

-Elissa Sonneberg, MSEd
Assistant Director of Journalism Program
Field Service Assistant Professor
McMicken College of A&S, English & Comparative Literatures
University of Cincinnati

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.

Several uninspired speakers later, John Doe shuffles his way to the front of the class and limps into his “Buy my Condo” speech. Only minutes into it and his words fade into what reminds me of the muffled, trombone-like Wa Wa conversation from a Peanuts cartoon in which Charlie Brown is berated by his teacher. I snap out of my cross-eyed daydream and shuffle in my seat in an attempt to stay awake and interested. But I’m bored, and I find myself looking around the room. I see several students gazing out the window. Others fiddle with their phones. John Doe seems about as interested in his “Buy my Condo” speech as his audience is to hear it.

This is the thirty-fourth speech I’ve heard in two days, and only a few have been more riveting than this one. After realizing that we still have seven more speeches to go (in this class alone!), I leap up, clutch a blue pen in each hand, and—as John the amateur condo salesman continues to Wa Wa about buying his make-believe abode—I scream out in agony while jamming a blue pen, cap-deep, into each of my ears. I rip open the front of my collared shirt, run toward the window, knocking desks and chairs over as I go, and leap with abandonment through the glass. Plunging six stories to my death, with a ballpoint pen sticking out of each ear, seems my only way out. The robotic applause indicating the conclusion of John Doe’s speech snaps me back to reality. I had still been daydreaming.

For several years, I taught speech courses in this traditional way, and while nothing as horrific as the above ever took place, the boredom and monotony that underlies the spirit in this scenario was palpable. UC offers nearly 30 courses designed to teach “effective public speaking.” Ironically, however, these speech courses are almost all taught in the private quarters of a classroom, focused with fabricated topics, and delivered to an audience present for no reason other than to get a grade. And the results are often less than inspiring, not only for the teacher, but for also the students.

In short, no one wins in such a situation, so I began looking for alternatives. As we all know, students “light up” when talking about those things important to them, and so I construct a way for these young, energetic, and often passionate young people to take what they were learning in “Effective Public Speaking” and do the unthinkable: To Speak Effectively In Public! And guess what happened? Students became “learners,” I became a “teacher,” and we all became “engaged citizens.”

What if John Doe the Condo Salesman had an opportunity to speak on behalf of a real organization dealing with real social issues? What if he were able to take the skill sets and theoretical constructs he learned in class and make them come alive within his community? Might he be more inspired to utilize the theories underpinning the class? Would this mean that the other students in the class would be more eager to listen? Would this mean that I would teach with more energy? When faculty and students both see how teaching and learning can directly effect the welfare of their communities, it’s not hard to argue that the answers to all these questions is “yes.”

“Learning must be Rigorous”

No kidding. Really? I’ve heard voices within the academy criticize Community Engaged Learning as not rigorous, not meaningful, not “academic” enough. Some say that it sacrifices perhaps the main function of any university, which is to teach and learn. I believe those voices are wrong. UC’s definition of Service Learning is certainly rigorous:

Service Learning (SL) is a specially designed learning experience in which students combine reflection with structured participation in community-based projects to achieve specified learning outcomes as part of an academic course and/or program requirement. By participating in academic community-partnerships at the local, national or international level, students gain a richer mastery of course content, enhance their sense of civic responsibility, and ultimately develop a more integrated approach to understanding the relationship between theory, practice, ideas, values, and community.

How I Do Service Learning

During the first weeks of class, instead of standing lecturing about the theories of public communication and persuasion, I invite representatives from the community who actually DO public communication and persuasion for a living. (I didn’t stop lecturing. I just supplemented my riveting talks with real-life exemplars.) Some of my partners include The National Underground Railroad Freedom Center, Project Connect/Faces Without Places, Honor Flight, Big Brothers/Big Sisters, and the Animal Friends Humane Society.

Following our community partners’ presentations, my class discusses their presentations in light of what the students are learning in the textbook and lectures. We consider the theories and skills recognizable in the presentations, and we talk about which elements of the presentations are effective and what could be improved. This gives students an opportunity to see some of the theories underlying communication and persuasion in practice.

Students soon begin delivering “warm-up” speeches. Throughout these first weeks, students learn from the textbook, from classroom lectures, and in group activities while always keeping an eye on their final “public” speech—a speech through which they will advocate for one of our community partners. I encourage students to visit the organizations as they research and plan their final persuasive presentation.

During the last two weeks of the quarter, each student delivers a persuasive presentation on behalf of their chosen community partner. They do this in class, but we invite the partners to attend the speeches and to offer feedback. Then comes the hook: If students choose to deliver the same speech in public—yes, actually outside of the confines of a UC classroom—then those students receive clemency on the final written exam (which I have persuasively chalked up as one of the most miserable experiences a human could endure).

Students freely choose the public place and the audience to which they speak, which means that many opt for speaking to their sororities, fraternities, students groups, churches, or in their other classes. And because they are empowered in these choices, a funny thing happens: They come to care about the speech topic…because they care about their community partner…which means they come to care about applying the theories and the skills they’ve been learning …and they want to persuade their chosen audiences because they care about what the speech purpose and the cause for which they advocate… which means they find their voice within community…which means that they “buy into” community advocacy…which means that they become engaged citizens. Doesn’t that sound like rigorous learning to you?

Why I Do Service Learning

I believe that an important part of what students should learn at an institution of higher education is how what they learn can impact their communities and cultural realities. This is especially pertinent for a major urban university like UC where we pride ourselves on diversity, community collaboration, and social justice. Many of our courses can create an occasion for Service Learning, which then become prime opportunities for students to engage with local organizations, communities, and causes. Service Learning offers students an opportunity to serve their community by taking the theories and skills they learn in the classroom out of the box and, as one of my mentors would say, “Take them for a walk around the block.”
And it works! They learn better! You teach better! But don’t take it from me, take it from one of my student’s reflections:

“It took me out of my comfort zone. That is not something I would normally speak on. So I think it challenged me to think outside of the box slightly different than I normally would. When you first assigned this, I thought,…man this is too much work, …this is gonna suck. But that changed. I see why it’s important. It really made me work hard … made me care. I think even for the self-awareness it brings to you, it’s good…and just how it makes you reflect on the issue, or it opens your eyes to something else, …this is what we are learning about.”

By Michael J. Sharp
Associate Director of Academic & Community Partnerships
Office of the Senior Vice President and Provost
University of Cincinnati’s Center for Community Engagement
Cincinnati, Ohio