Straight from the “if you can’t change your mind, how do you know you have one?” department, I am writing an early American history course that violates many of the precepts I have been teaching to online instructors for the last 15 years.
Don’t rely on outside material
No, I have not gone over the the Dark Side and course cartridges. But in trying to avoid my same old thing (writing out and recording lectures with images), I am instead creating custom segments of Films on Demand videos. I even plan to use some as discussion prompts. If anything happens to Films on Demand, I’m sunk. I have consulted with our library specialist, who says it’s stable – that’s certainly more of a guarantee than, say, something on YouTube.
Create all your own stuff
Nope, I’m not. I’m relying on a textbook and sources I put together, a few lectures from me, and my own connecting text on we pages. But a lot of the “meat” is created by other historians instead, those with actual studios and lighting and funding and doctorates.
Don’t create long video lectures
Done it, 30 minutes on the Salem Witch Trials using Screenflow. And it’s not actually that good.
Don’t create discussions where the main goal is to discuss
Doing it, creating two-level discussions where they respond emotionally to a video prompt falsely encouraging two sides, then leading them deeper, as I used to do in my old old method from 2007 (an eternity in internet years).
Don’t forget it’s college, not high school
I’m creating an extra credit assignment that has them use a colonial cookbook to make something from their family and share video/photos. And we’re gonna discuss things like whether slavery was wrong and whether the South had a right to secede (they’ll be chewing on the edge of their playpens).
Have them create something meaningful that’s important to you
I planned to do this – I really did. I even told Laurel Thatcher Ulrich I was going to do it, stealing her idea from Tangible Things. But after hours of gathering bookmarks with specific search terms to make sure that students really use primary sources from the colonial era, I have had second thoughts. This is probably from seeing the inevitable 19th century romantic paintings being posted as “primary sources” for the Salem Witch Trials, the Boston Tea Party, GW crossing the Delaware, and other 17th and 18th century events.
This last I’ll think about some more.
But thus I go forth, violating my precepts with equanimity if not actual common sense.
I have always been a big fan of paper calendars. But when it comes to teaching, there are many things I need to put on a calendar that are the same from semester to semester. My solution recently has been creating a spreadsheet calendar, putting in these recurring items (grade primary sources, grade Writing Assignment III, etc), then printing it out and writing in the dates.
After almost three decades working with Microsoft products, I could not figure out how to get the pages to print correctly.
Why do I need such a calendar, when the LMS has its own calendar? For the first time since Blackboard days, I will be teaching in three different systems: MiraCosta’s Canvas (two classes), MiraCosta’s Moodle (four classes), and free Canvas (one class). This is how I will transition from Moodle to Canvas over the next 18 months.
The Canvas and Moodle calendars, plus my own grading calendar, would need to be in the same place to do this electronically. So today I used the URL from the Canvas and Moodle calendars, and put them into Google’s calendar, then added my grading tasks.
Both LMSs, unfortunately, export the full calendar (all classes), not each class – this is a problem because Google imports them all as one calendar, with all tasks in the same color regardless of which class it is. I wanted a separate Google calendar for each class. Luckily, I was able to solve this for Canvas by exporting each course’s calendar from Student View, as recommended by Chris Long in the Canvas Community. There is no way to do this for Moodle, but it didn’t matter, because both sections are of the same class and on the same calendar.
Now I have all tasks in one place, accessible on my phone or on computer.
I’ve never not used a paper calendar of some kind (yes, I know, call me steampunky), so we’ll see how it goes.
I hope to start a series of posts here on things I’m doing in Canvas, but that are cool anyway. Some will be workarounds, some ideas for making things look better, some techniques born out of utter frustration.
My first concerns Announcements. In Moodle (many of my posts will start “In Moodle”, an approach dreaded by many in the Canvas Community) I could just paste Announcements in at the top of the main page, and copy or adapt them into Latest News for instant emailing to all. In Canvas, the Announcements page is decidedly a separate thing. If I don’t want announcements to be the main Home page, they won’t be obvious except by email or other notifications.
But I don’t want to post twice, once in Announcements and once by editing the Home Page. I want the Announcements to dynamically appear on the Home page, where I want them to. So I followed the wonderful instructions posted halfway down this page at the Canvas Community (I’d love to link directly to the post, but you can’t do that there), posted by Sharmaine Regisford with thanks to others.
1. First, post an Announcement in your class (I just did a welcome message).
2. Grab the feed URL for the announcements by going to the Announcements page and right-clicking on the RSS symbol (it won’t be there if you didn’t post a first Announcement).
The URL should end with .atom.
3. Go to FeedWind at http://feed.mikle.com.
4. In the spot, paste in the feed URL.
5. Choose your settings. I like 1 feed height, scrollbar on, autoscroll off, text-only, max length 132 characters.
6. Grab the regular code from the right side, not the iframe code.
7. Start a new text document on your computer and paste the code.
8. Save the file as .html.
9. Go to Canvas and open Files. Upload the .html file you just created to your Canvas course files. Once it’s there, mouse over the name of it to find the document number – write it down somewhere.
10. Go to the page where you want the Announcements to appear. Switch to HTML editor.
11. Paste this in:
<iframe title=”Course Announcements” src=”/courses/#######/files/#########/download” width=”100%” height=”112″></iframe>
In this example the first ####### is your course number and the second ######### is the file number.
The course number is in the URL of your Canvas course:
So for this example, that would be:
<iframe title=”Course Announcements” src=”/courses/6660/files/57294/download” width=”100%” height=”112″></iframe>
The result is an iframe on your page that will always show the most recent announcement (so long as you chose that on the settings at FeedWind).
Update: As of this week, Canvas provides the option to add announcements to the top of your home page. Not as pretty, but it works:
You start changing the names of assignments to things like “L1” so you can squeeze the column smaller in the gradebook.
You keep looking for the arrow button on the toolbar because there’s so little available.
You just lost 95% of the custom class syllabus page because you tried to comment out everything after the first week.
You check the boxes on the Import Content page in slow motion because last time you wiped out the whole course.
You search all over the site for the section that lets you allow students to upload files, then find it as an inconspicuous link at the very bottom of the main Settings page.
You look for published images to steal instead of uploading your own because putting in a URL is so much easier than trying to upload, find and embed an image file.
Your idea of hell becomes a place where you’re faced with a list of dark green hyperlinks.
You stop allowing revisions of anything in a forum because SpeedGrader makes finding them impossible.
You give up on the idea of trying to link to a specific post in a forum because it’s too complicated.
You get an eye doctor appointment to deal with not being able to see the blue “unread” dots in the forums.
You give up trying to embed SSL web pages and let everything link out.
You get a bad sprain from overusing the scroll wheel.
You start creating things inside the system even though you know better.
You think of the tasks of your life in terms of “Previous” and “Next”.
Yes, I’m practicing using the Oxford comma. But I’m also practicing guided pathways for student work.
In the LMS, you can restrict access to one assignment until another assignment has been done.
Having completed well-designed Learning Units to prepare students for their writing assignments, I added them to all my classes. Then I made the writing assignment unavailable until they took the Learning Unit. I was nice, demanding only a score of 1% before they could submit it and access the writing assignment — I just wanted to be sure they opened it and went through it, practicing the skills they’d need with instant feedback.
Having done that, I waited for next semester. But it kept eating at me. Why was I insisting they do this task before another, forcing them to do it, forcing them into what I was sure would be the last-minute opening of a writing assignment due that night, and the angst when they realized they couldn’t just write it and get it over with?
It seemed to violate my willingness to let them fail.
Fact is, when I started developing these units this semester, I posted a few as extra credit, just to see if they helped the writing. Why wouldn’t a student do the unit for extra credit, especially if it was designed to help them get a better score on the assignment. Yet 2/3 didn’t do it.
So I should force them? To what end? Better assignments? Doesn’t seem likely. Because not all of them care about feedback, or about their grade, or about doing well. Those who do will do the unit anyway. Those who don’t will be mad, or frustrated, or annoyed. Not good for getting work done. It feels…punitive. Rush your work in my class, will you? Well here — splat — take that!
So I went back and removed all restrictions, and replaced them with a request. The writing assignmets now say “please do the Learning Unit first!” That’s it. Asking nicely. Feels more respectful of all their needs, not just the need to do good work. We’ll see what happens.
There are a lot of threads coming together in the blogosphere that are helpful as we look for connections between what we do as teachers and what we’ve elected to the White House. I confess this has occupied my mind since the election, even though I was not surprised by the result.
|Brexiteers marching in York
5 days before the vote
Why wasn’t I suprised? Because I was in England during the Brexit vote. I was at the University of Durham talking to students who were afraid of losing their fellowships and their continental relationships. I had dinner with historians who were nervous about the vote, but reassured by the continual press coverage saying Brexit couldn’t win. When they asked me about Donald Trump (this was in June, remember) they wanted the same assurance he couldn’t win. When I said he certainly could, for the same reasons I was seeing Brexit marchers in the streets of York, I depressed a lot of people (even a Scotsman, which I thought was impossible).
At the B&B where I was staying, the middle-class owner said her heart said Brexit, but her knowledge that young people were the future made her vote RemaIN. The woman in the kitchen wanted out. The night before the vote, the London Times confidently announced a RemaIN victory, with lots of cool graphs showing which demographic would vote which way. Then Sunderland results came in, and everyone discounted it because it was Sunderland (depressed, northern). Then the rest of the results came in.
The cab driver, the morning after the vote, told me he was “over the moon” with happiness – he was convinced millions would return from the EU to bail out the NHS. I knew that wasn’t true. It had also become very clear to me that, as the B&B owner had said, the RemaINers were voting with their heads, and the Brexiteers were voting with their hearts, here in a country I had long considered a bastion of rationalism. America is not a bastion of rationalism. We are the nation of independent pioneer types, where freedom is new and still to a great extent untried. We assume, we take for granted — only 50% of us vote.
I’m sure those historians at the University are wondering what they did wrong, in the classroom and with their students. Of course their students, like ours, the ones who voted, didn’t vote for this. But I’ve been teaching for 26 years, not just the past 10 or so. And to a certain extent I’ve bought into the democratic ideals of the Twitter revolution, even as I’ve acknowledged echo chambers and the potential of the new mass media to be less mass, and more media, and to connect crazy people and give repressive ideologies a bullhorn.
So it’s fascinating to read the work of Audrey Watters this week, and to follow her trails. One particularly scary article, for the way it’s written as well as its subject, is Willie Osterwell’s What Was the Nerd?, which notes that white outcast coders and basement nerds may be at the heart of the new rise of fascism (it was certainly refreshing to see someone use this word other than me). Helen Beachem responded to Martin Weller, whom I followed on Twitter throughout the Brexit election. Weller posted brilliantly in September on the “unenlightenment” in open education. His work noted an issue I’ve been following for awhile: the deliberate turn away from rationalism and factual information, something I saw way back in 2008 as Glorifying the Doofus.
What Helen Beachem writes is that educational technology needs to be re-evaluated for its role in what’s happened. She points out that those who are learning successfully online were already successful in education, but that the promise was to do more, to develop everyone as independent learners, to work for a kind of establishment educational plan to counter the new market in e-learning. Taking students outside our institutions, we must be careful:
Suffice to say that when we help students into those unregulated spaces where their learning is unfettered by institutional management systems, assessment deadlines and fair use rules, we are not sending them into the country of the free. We are sending them to the data warehouses of Mark Zuckerberg and Jeff Weiner.
She also notes that the Brexiteers used social media as advertising, with no one taking responsibility for the emotional response that led to the spread of irrational ideas. She refers to those who live online as “adrenalised and hooked”. The online space itself needs to be interrogated, the culture where we all click and send and message and retweet and like posts — all this has “the illusion of elective power but none of the responsibilities of citizenship.”
Michael Feldstein considers that there are issues of literacy. He notes the political polls that were wrong, and that learning analytics has the same weakness. Data is narrative, he says, and we need to be “literate” (by which I think he means liberally educated, experienced, critically thinking) teachers to be able to make that data useful, and to question it as needed. In this view I see the possibility to reclaim teaching as the experienced construction of narrative that is informed by, but is not dictated by, information, because it acknowledges that information itself may contain inherent interpretations.
I am processing all this, trying to determine where I stand as a community college instructor of History, the one telling my students that nothing is unprecedented. While I have been happy to explore and live in online spaces, I have only rarely asked it of my students. While I have raged against the LMS and other “closed silos” for over a decade, 90% of the online courses I offer have remained in a protected space. Aware of my students’ lack of web savvy, I have asked that online resources be mined, and used, I hope critically. But clearly there is much more work to do.