Lisa’s (Online) Teaching Blog

Waaay back in 1999, a colleague and I offered hybrid History classes. We met with our students for an hour a week, and the rest was online. We each pulled in about 20 students the first time, and the students we had were very happy. But the next semester the dean said she couldn’t see what population we were serving, and hybrids disappeared.

Now they are back. I have had a couple of colleagues do some, and most warned me not to. They spoke of student confusion, high attrition rates, student resistance to doing the online work. Fiddle faddle, I said — if anyone can do these, I can. So I put two on the schedule for this semester. They almost got cancelled for low enrollment, but didn’t. They each have about (c’mon, guess) 20 students.

In the meantime, I have an inbox full of emails begging entrance to the online sections. I know that many will fail the online sections due to lack of self-direction and motivation (especially those asking to add once the semester has begun, which it did today). I think their motivation would increase if they had to be in class once a week. I also think being in class for a hybrid provides a balance, and a place to ask those technical questions, see what’s going on using the screen, talk together in person for some immediacy. I’ve told my students that my hybrids are not on-site classes with an online component. They are online classes with on-site discussion, kind of like a seminar. They’re gonna be great.

In 1999, the online thing was new, and the on-site thing was most familiar. Students were worried about the online part. Now it’s almost reversed. Online students want only online — they don’t want to come to campus. And that means there is a defined “online student” now.

I found an old student survey that the Technology and Pedagogy Committee did back in 1999 today, while I was looking for something else entirely. We surveyed whether our college students were interested in taking fully online classes, and they were tentative: 67% said yes. Now we squabble about whether online classes are “replacing” on-site classes, whether we will lose our position on campus if we “give up” sections to online.

I’d be interested to see some stats on how many students take both on-site and online classes at the same college, because I have a feeling it is less than five years ago. Perhaps on-site students aren’t as interested in online, and vice versa. Maybe they know their own needs, or maybe it’s all determined by their schedules, desire for flexibility, or misconceptions that online is easier (I know students who maintain this perspective despite their dismal performance in online classes because they don’t do the work).

The new committee I’m chairing now, MiraCosta Online Educators, had some meetings while I was on sabbatical, and today I listened to the recordings. An hour-long conversation took place over how to designate hybrid classes in the schedule. Some of our classes are 100% online, but others demand on-site testing, or an on-site orientation. We also envision synchronous online classes. How are these to be indicated in the schedule? How will students know what’s going on? (I happen to think these two questions aren’t as closely related as they seem – students rarely read the schedule.) Will students be there for these hybrids? Is it what they want?

Or do we have now online students, and on-site students?

Extending on my Wild West metaphor from my last post, and my students as cats or dogs metaphor from long ago, I’m playing with another false dichotomy as I take a break from writing my book chapter. I think that teachers tend to be either ranchers or farmers. And I know because I’m a rancher.

flickr cc stevecadman

As a rancher, I provide vast lands of resources and fenced areas for safety. I take the group to new grassy areas as needed to help their growth. I make sure they are provided with the basics they need to thrive. But they do the work, seeking out the food, water and salt. I round them up and brand them, but of course they don’t do everything I tell them, and so long as they’re OK I leave them alone. If one or two wander off, I try not to worry – all of them cannot be expected to thrive. My ranch is open. I do not choose the qualities, abilities, or potential of my stock. Instead I focus on creating the best environment possible.

Ranchers as teachers focus on creating a learning environment that is rich in resources and community, spending much time in preparing the right conditions. They are concerned with the doings of the group and provide freedom for both success and failure.

I know many teachers who are farmers. They plant the seeds and help the crops grow. They tend and coddle, feed and water. They get rid of weeds that might inhibit growth and fret when a plant doesn’t blossom or thrive.

Farmers focus on the students individually, get involved in their personal challenges, and show sympathy. They provide extensive support in terms of counseling, and helping students find resources. They often spend extra time with individuals in office hours, teaching and re-teaching what was taught in class.

As a rancher, I am both fascinated and annoyed by the efforts of farmers, who want to fence off my stock when they need to graze, encouraging them to expect assistance. They help students enormously in terms of safety and caring, but provide less in terms of freedom. I worry that students coddled by farmers will have trouble in their jobs, expecting bosses and co-workers to always help them out. I worry that they won’t be able to move beyond circumstances like poverty, broken homes, tough jobs, and difficult schedules to get a university degree. Instead, I want to foster independence and strength.

In both cases, of course, ranchers and farmers are caretakers. We do not see the final results of our efforts once our stock or crop leaves our land. We cannot say which way is best. But whichever role is more like ours, we need to understand and appreciate the other. But clearly, I’m a rancher.