engaged learning


2
Apr 10

How do we get young men to want to go to college and want to work hard once they get there?

Earlier this week I read an article about the challenge of engaging male students in a meaningful college experience.  I  saw the anti-intellectual attitude alluded to in this article displayed at the high school level when I was a teacher and coach, and I see it now in my work in higher education.  It’s not that male students aren’t intelligent, don’t work hard, or aren’t prepared for college-level work.  It’s just that, in far too many cases, being a good learner and being a “man” are mistakenly viewed as being mutually exclusive.  This false dichotomy leaves young men feeling like they have to choose one role or the other.  And, at 18 years old being “cool” or “chill” generally wins out.  This means that participating in class, being seen in the library, or having any sort of academic conversation outside of class is strictly taboo (Note:  many will do “academic” things when no one is looking, but my experience has been that the best kind of learning is, at least part of the time, public and social).

Really, there are two related problems here:  (1) Getting males to want to go to college, trade school, technical training, etc. and (2) Helping those that do go to take full advantage of the opportunity rather than doing enough to not kicked out, but without looking like they really care all that much.  I realize that my mentioning these problems is not earth-shattering and that there are a lot of people thinking about the same thing.  The shortcoming I see is in the way we go about trying to remedy these problems.
This made me wonder how we could package some of our basic messages about the value of education and deliver them in ways that would resonate with the students we are trying to reach, particularly male students.  The Inside Higher Ed article I linked to above mentions a strategy employed by Morehouse College in Atlanta, Georgia wherein students are introduced to the concept of a “Morehouse Man” that embodies a set of core values that the institution believes are characteristic of the type of men they hope to graduate (Morehouse is an all-male institution).  The intent is to help students see and believe that being a man includes being well-dressed, well-spoken, well-educated, etc. and that to become that sort of man a student needs to do certain things while they are in college.  The question I would have is whether the audience they are intending to reach (those students that for whatever reason aren’t living up to the ideals held out by the institution) really want to become a “Morehouse Man” or at least the image of  a “Morehouse Man” that has been created by this messaging.  
An example of this same sort of challenge is outlined in Made to Stick, by Chip and Dan Heath.  In a nutshell, the state of Texas wanted to decrease the amount of litter on their highways.  And, they knew which Texans were most likely to litter, so they targeted their campaign at “Bubba.”  Bubba represented the 18 – 35 year old male, pickup truck driving, country music listening demographic that seemed to be at the heart of the litter problem.  The idea was to give the standard “don’t litter” message using both language and messengers that “Bubba” would relate to.  So, they brought in members of the Dallas Cowboys, Mike Scott of the Houston Astros, and Willie Nelson and the now well-known phrase “Don’t mess with Texas” was born.  These weren’t just famous people, they were people that Bubba saw as real Texans, men that Bubba wanted to be like.  The strategy worked and visible litter along Texas roadways had decreased 72% within five years.  
So, the question am left with in all of this is who our Bubbas are and how we can package two old messages (education is valuable and education means doing things that lead to good learning) in new ways.  Who would male students respond to and what could that person or group of people say that would make an 18 year-old male student want to be a scholar?   

5
Mar 10

A “Third Place” on campus: What would an academic town hall for freshmen look like?

I just returned from a meeting with a group of librarians on my campus (as an aside, whatever stereotypical illusions I held about librarians being socially awkward book worms were destoryed in the 90 minutes I spent with them).  Our conversation centered on (1) their desire to create a third place space within the library that students can come to when they aren’t at home and aren’t in class and (2) my department’s desire to create a space where freshman students and their mentors can build relationships, work collaboratively, and engage in meaningful dialogue.  The concept of third place was pioneered by Ray Oldenburg and, in short, describes a public space where members of a community can come together to dialogue and form bonds.  

During the meeting my mind wandered a bit (who hasn’t had that happen in an administrative meeting) and I began to think about a recent blog post by Gary Daynes in which he drew connections between universities and cities.  In his post Gary describes a number of ways in which cities and universities are similar including power systems, food distribution, and police forces.  One element of cities or towns that I see missing from my University (and I would imagine a large number of institutions across the country) is the town square or commons area where members of the community congregate to do what I see as the real work of a city (e.g. share opinions about the health or malaise of the community, make suggestions for improvement, and showcase local products and creations).  I’ve oftened wished I lived in small town USA where this sort of thing happened more regularly.
So, this left me wondering about what an “academic town square,” particularly one targeted at first-year students, might look like.  My initial thoughts are that those desigining a space like this would need to keep a few things in mind:
1.  Comfort.  This needs to be a place where students would choose to go when they don’t have anything better to do.  Part of this is attending to physical comfort–it needs to include comfortable places to sit and to work and should “homey”–but, social comfort would be critical as well.  Care needs to be taken in encouraging social equality wherein a diversity of people and ideas are welcome.  And, a place to buy inexpensive, high-quality food (think coffe shop/cafe) would help as well.
2.  Invitations to collaborate.  The physical layout and objects placed in the space need to signal to those who enter it that this is a place where dialogue and group work are not only allowed but expected.    That means no desks, very little fixed furniture, and lots of studio-like space where people and congregate and engage in “messy” learning.  
3.  Opportunities for students to make the space their own.  The initial design needs to leave room for students to “move-in” and make it their own.  I’m not exactly sure what this would look like, but the space should be living and dynamic such that students can make their mark and create a sense of identity or sense of place there (for an example of what I mean, see this blog post from last summer).  This might include showcasing of student work (e.g. art, film, music, writing) and not just course projects or assignments.  
4.  Central and visible.  By definition the town square is the hub of the community, both physically and conceptually.  An academic town square needs to be accessible to students and should be highly visible so that students know where it is and can see the work that goes on there even if they don’t actively participate.  A “lab” tucked away in the basement of a building or the corner of the library will fall flat on its face. 
5.  Commonly accepted “house rules.”  Some sort of expectations as to what constitutes appropriate use of the space would need to be developed.  I’m not suggesting a placard of rules at the entry to the space like what you find at the neighborhood pool.  To be effective the code would need to be developed by those that use the space, not a university committee (or even a committee of students for that matter).  I’m not sure what the process would be here, but it seems important (anyone with ideas or suggestions for how this could be organized in an organic, grassroots way?).
Part of me thinks I’ve outlined an expensive plan for replicating the student union building.  But, the other part of me thinks that there is a need for a new space that is different from the student union in critical ways:  academic dialogue and deep learning experiences, but in an environment that feels like a student lounge.  As I walk through the student center on my campus I see lots of activity and energy but it happens in microbursts–a short conversation in the Taco Bell line, a hurried lunch with friends, stopping in to the Career Center to pick up a brochure, etc.    What’s missing are sustained dialogues about what students are learning in classes, informal conversations about the recent campus forum, or students arguing about healthcare and pulling up C-SPAN interviews online to illustrate their points.  
Am I crazy?  Could a space like the one I’ve described work on a college campus?  And, what would it look like if the target population was college freshmen?  

26
Feb 10

How much should we “require” of students?

Brigham Young University (BYU) recently announced a new and expanded Freshman Mentoring initiative that will provide every incoming freshman with the opportunity to connect with an upperclassmen peer mentor and enroll in two linked university core courses.   While most people associated with BYU are very excited about the change, we have encountered some resistance from incoming students and their parents who don’t like the idea of being “required” to participate.

My experiences over the last week or so with these students has left me wondering how two principles of learning can peacefully coexist:
(1)  Students should have opportunities to make meaningful choices about how and what they are learning and
(2)  Universities expect students to engage in selected learning activities because they are believed to lead to desirable outcomes.  
So, the question I’ve been left pondering when I hang up the phone with a frustrated mother is how much an institution can rightfully require their students to do.  It is almost universally accepted that institutions can require certain things of students in the way of graduation requirements; however, in most cases these requirements are merely a list of courses that a student must take or a number of curricular requirements that must be fulfilled.  There are some institutions who also require students to complete capstone experiences or to create portfolios demonstrating competence in particular learning outcome areas.  My first undergraduate institution (Mars Hill College) even required students to attend “chapel hour” 40 times during the course of their four years in order to graduate.  
For good or for bad, BYU “requires” very little of students.  As long as they fulfill a set of broad general education and religious education requirements, and meet the requirements of their particular program, they can graduate with a degree.  This has always bee interesting to me because I often hear high-level administrators praise the merits of captsone-like internships, study-abroad experiences, and mentored learning.  I’ve wondered why, if these things seem to make a difference in student learning, we don’t ask all students to participate.  
This all begs the question of student volition and how connected it is to how much and how well they learn.  Do things like having a mentor, being part of a learning community, or attending weekly devotionals make a difference for all students or just those that choose to participate?  And, what happens when we compel, somewhat forcefully, students to participate who might not otherwise?  Not surprisingly, mentoring literature from fields outside of higher education suggests that informal mentoring relationships generally lead to positive learning outcomes at a higher rate than assigned relationships.   What’s more, formal mentoring relationships are prone to becoming dysfunctional and leading to a host of negative outcomes for both mentors and proteges.  
It’s possible that the resistance my colleagues and I have seen will decrease over time as peer mentoring becomes part of the culture of BYU.  But, it’s also possible that we’ve made a terrible mistake by requiring students to participate in the program.  Thoughts?  When should institutions require things of students?  And, how do we make those pills easier to swallow in cases when learners object to the co-curricular things they are asked to do?