Flipped: A Teacher's Reflection

What did I think about my first attempt to flip a classroom? What were some positives and negatives? What might I need to adjust or change?

Some of what I liked:

Students, as whole whole, seemed much more engaged. Students would ask questions about what they viewed and about quizzes they took. The pace and structure of class time (sans lectures) forced students to be attentive; there was always something to DO, as idle or even passive moments were few and far between.

The class was incredibly active. Not having to spend time introducing grammar material in class, time could be spent doing activities: discussions and group tasks, cognitive and physical, at the board and even on the floor. This helped maintain students' focus and kept student from always just sitting in their desks for 50 minutes.

The class was incredibly interactive. Students' questions drove "teacher time". Students sought feedback throughout class activities. Yes, I transitioned from activity to activity, but so many of those transitions were based on the pace  and needs of students. Lesson plans became lesson concepts or even lists of possible activities, all contingent on how students reacted to the activities in which the students where engaged. It was like one big feedback loop.

I could enter class with more confidence that I knew which aspects were causing students difficulty, which things they "weren't getting". I knew the content they were to have covered, and I could see which questions were proving troublesome to many students or which students were having trouble with which questions or tasks. Much more than ever before, I could enter the classroom with data-driven understandings rather than intuitions and perceptions.

Class time was maximized. At least this is my estimation. The time I most value is the time to work through the difficulties students have. Close behind is the time used to strengthen students' skills. By taking the lectures (which would have otherwise occupied time during class) and moving them online as homework, significantly more time became available to focus on those things that I, as a teacher, can really bring to the classroom.

What I didn't necessarily like:

Busy Busy Busy
Record keeping and observations were never-ending. Which students completed the quizzes? Which students watched the tutorials? Who is completing homework. You need to be aware of this every morning. (Thankfully, Moodle keeps statistics, which meant I could see the exact times that students watched tutorials, completed quizzes, or even clicked links to extra resources!)

Which quiz questions or topics are causing difficulty? If you don't know this, you won't know to address that in class. This meant that almost every morning required assessment of problems, record keeping, and adjustment to planned lessons, all before 8:30 a.m. It sometimes felt overwhelming, but it always felt worthwhile.

Also, as this past term was not a "flip" I had planned, I was doing all my work on the fly, usually only a day "(sometimes a few minutes) ahead of the students. The stress was palpable. Once done however, only tweaks are needed. I think I'm sitting relatively pretty for this next term.

Participation
There were three students who rarely (if ever) could be cajoled into participating in the flipped model. One student had excellent grammar skills already. That student only sporadically watched tutorials or took quizzes (ungraded) when he felt necessary. I wasn't worried about him. A second student was a bit more consistent, but his skills were lower and he could've used more practice. He still passed.

The third student simply would not do the work outside of class. Could he log on? Yes, he showed me. Did he log on? No. In spite of repeated encouragements and admonitions, in spite of emails and after class discussions, the student simply would not watch the tutorials. He never watched even one tutorial and completed but one quiz. It showed in his exam scores.

Had it been a traditional classroom style, would he have done homework? Perhaps not. Nevertheless, it is cause for pause when students refuse to "flip" with you.

Conclusion
Flipping a class is a lot of work. A LOT! (Unless, of course, you can rely on other people's Youtube videos. That would never do for me.) Nevertheless, I loved it. The students, by and large, loved it. I've spent this winter holiday tweaking quizzes, reorganizing materials, and reshooting some videos, all in the excitement of trying it again in just over a week!

Do students like it flipped?

If a teacher "flips" a course, obviously that teacher believes it is a useful thing to do. Rarely would a teacher go through the work to completely revamp a course without thinking it is to their students' benefit. But, what do students think?

Personally, I received an overwhelmingly positive response. Anecdotally, I had three students mention how much they liked being able to watch lectures at home, skipping ones they already knew, and reviewing areas of difficulty. Another students mentioned that he used the online lectures to review before tests, and the usage logs bear this out.

In addition, there were some great comments in the evaluations*. Some of those comments (the more instructive and exciting are listed below:

• The Moodle videos that Matthew prepares for his students as a review are very helpful. Even if we miss a class we can understand them.
• This teacher is really good. He do a lot of activities to practice all the topics and to involve all the students during the class.
• I have had class of listening and speaking with Ms. Showman before in the last term, and I did not like so much, but I always notice your effort and interest in class. Now in Grammar and Writing I love his classes. Also it is important to say that his videos in moodle are SO helpful and great. I am learning grammar as never before. And he is so kind and patient with our questions. Your organization is amazing.

Of course, not every student connects well with a given method. Below is a criticism** of the method and, I suppose, me:

• The teacher explain most of his ideas using Moodle website by uploading videos. I think it is better to explain the lecture materials inside the class, an that help us understand and ask some questions that could help us. I think the teacher try to escape from the questions that students could ask during the lecture. There is no interesting because there is no questions, ideas, and interactions during the lecture, and that because most of lecture materials that we study are online.

My reaction to this: I need to make the purpose of a flipped class even more explicit. Given that my class was questions-focused, given that I began every lesson by eliciting their questions, given that I assigned homework with the instruction that students were to write down any and all questions, I find it hard to believe that the student thinks I try to avoid questions and interactions.

That said, I know I can also make adjustments to make it clear that questions are not only welcome, but necessary to our class. I will need to be more explicit when explaining that the whole point of online lectures is to maximize time for questions and inquiries.

Onward we go!

* Evaluations are done anonymously and without course instructors present.
** Two administration aspects not related to flipped instruction were omitted.


Coming Soon: My own reactions

In transition: Reflections on the art of teaching, part 3

This is the last in a series of three reflections. In this post I’ll continue to reflect on some of the major things I’ve learned over the past 12 years of teaching. There are obviously more than three lessons I’ve learned during this time, but have been three that strike me as I am leaving China.

This particular reflection is of more practical nature that the previous two, but I hope it will still be thought-provoking. I will also point out that I am writing this at 3:00 a.m. in a jet-lag induced state of alertness.

Reflection 3: Memorization is overly maligned

Memorization has gotten a bad rap. Memorization (a.k.a. rote memorization) was the whipping post of my academic generation. It most likely still is. I'm not sure I ever heard a single professor speak well of rote memorization, let alone advocate its use. What was stressed was rather communication, critical thinking, creativity, self-expression and the like, all of which are good, essential, and perhaps even the goal of all instruction. I likewise attempt to foster these skills in my students. Nevertheless, after years of teaching English to English learners (as opposed to already literate high school students or university literature majors), I have concluded that to completely exclude memorization is neither desirable nor educationally sound.

Part of me wants to focus on mathematics and discuss multiplication tables because they are often cited when memorization is mentioned. However, in this entry I will try to stick to language, Chinese specifically.

Have you ever tried to write Chinese? Though it is a popular language choice at present and is gaining in popularity by the day, most of you have not. Here is one thing to know about writing Chinese: It cannot be studied without memorization, generally active memorization. To write Chinese (to “spell”), one must memorize. A learner can't simply “sound it out” like learners can somewhat do with English and more easily do with languages that have more standardized spelling systems (e.g. Spanish or German). Over time one simply may be able to acquire the skill relatively passively or subconsciously (Stephen Krashen's Input Hypothesis), but it is highly improbable, and not even native speakers wait for such acquisition, as young Chinese boys and girls labor to write characters over and over in their practice books. If Chinese children have to do so, would such memorization be a lesser need for second language learners of Chinese?

Of course a Chinese learner may be able to predict a possible meaning radical when writing a character (assuming those radicals been memorized), and yes, a Chinese learner can guess a possible sound radical (assuming those have been memorized as well), but when push comes to shove, a Chinese learner either knows how to write a character or doesn't. Yes, computer technology now makes is possible to “read” one’s way to writing ability. The pinyin system used to enter Chinese characters into a computer allows the composer to select the proper character from a list of many characters having the same sound, essentially letting someone read rather than write their way to a composition. Though this technology is incredibly helpful, this phenomena demonstrates a fundamental deficiency of language ability. Even well-educated Chinese forget how to write characters. I don't mean that they forget whether it's “relevant” or “relavant”. (It's the first, by the way). I mean that they sometimes cannot even begin writing the character. It's simply lost in the fog, as if they'd never learned it at all. This is a much discussed topic in China, one that has even led to the creation of a spelling bee type game show that foreign media have also picked up. (See articles in USA Today and The Wall Street Journal.)

Creativity, critical thinking and other higher order thinking skills are wonderful and are essential to academic success, but there really are some things that people must memorize: laboriously, monotonously, rigorously memorize. I am well aware of the pitfalls of overemphasizing memorization. Having worked almost exclusively with Chinese students for the past decade, I have known far too many students whose curiosity in all things not entertainment has been stamped out by the high pressure, high stakes, memorization-focused Chinese education system. I am all too familiar with the cognitive and creative underdevelopment that occurs when memorization becomes the goal rather than a component of the learning process. But therein lies the real point of contention: Is memorization the ends or the means?

There is nothing inherently wrong with memorization. Memorization itself is useful and valuable. Used well, with all strategies and mnemonic devices that have been employed over the past several millennia, it is still one of the important means to academic and professional success. Educators should not fear memorization, nor should they deride educators who ask or expect students to memorize this content or that content. However, memorization should never be a goal but should always be a means to fostering those higher order skills of thought and expression that we hold so dear.

In transition: Reflections on the art of teaching, part 2

This is part two in a series of three or four reflections. In this post I’ll continue to reflect on some of the major things I’ve learned over the past 12 years of teaching.

Reflection 2: Everyone can learn, but not everyone will.

In the education world, what I’ve just written may be as close to heresy as I can get. Let me be clear that I am in no way advocating or excusing laziness or otherwise low-quality education. Nevertheless, it is simply true that some students will not learn, not because they cannot, but because they will not. This could have any number of causes, and some of them may actually be related to irrelevant, unimaginative or otherwise poor teaching. Yet this fact remains a heartbreaking truth, even if in only a few select cases.

I’ve had two such cases in my teaching career thus far. One student never wanted to be at the school, didn’t want to go abroad and didn’t want a degree. He simply wanted his parents, who wanted him to go abroad and get a degree, to get him a job. (This is not at all strange in China for those with connections.) Eventually he began intentionally failing exams so that they would have no choice but to withdraw him from the school. A second student spent several years at the school and never seemed to improve, falling asleep in almost every class. It was so bad that the teachers eventually suggested that he may have a medical disorder needing treatment. In the end it was revealed that he was simply up playing video games all night, almost every night, for almost three years.

I bring up these examples neither to shame the students nor to justify myself or the teachers. I still think about these students and wonder if there’s anything I could have done differently to spark their interest, to provide that moment wherein everything falls into place and they themselves realize the joy (not to mention the importance) of learning and of having goals. I hope the other teachers that knew them also still think of them and wonder what could have been. Nevertheless, I also recognize that given the situations in which both the teacher and the students were placed, perhaps the outcomes were simply inevitable.

As teachers we strive to motivate students, to impart a love of learning to students, and to provide the unique sets of circumstances needed to enhance students' acquisition of knowledge, be that mathematics or language or art. Try as we might, however, there may be some students whom we are simply never able to reach. Might we have? Of course it’s possible, but a teacher has limited time, materials, and ideas. Of a hypothetical 1000 different motivational techniques, perhaps #347 would have clicked with that one student, but we merely never got around to that one. Do we have remorse for the students to whom we never got through? Yes, we do, and we must, but we must have remorse with the knowledge that sometimes, with some students, for whatever known or unknown reason, we just will not be able to break through to be the change we want to be in those students’ lives. And it breaks our hearts.

In transition: Reflections on the art of teaching, part 1

In my first post I mentioned my life in transition: transition from one country and culture to another, transition from a relatively well-paying job to what I hope will be only temporary joblessness, transition from ethnic singularity to diversity. Transitions seem to bring with them a certain opportunity to look back, to reassess, to reflect. Recently I have been reflecting about many things: about life, about hopes and desires, and about teaching.

Through trial and error, I have learned a lot about teaching Chinese students over the past ten years. I have learned much about teaching English over the past ten years. I have also learned a lot about the art of teaching itself, in all its nebulousness. Different methods, different styles, different activities―many have been attempted, many have failed, and a precious few have succeeded. Nevertheless, what I began to reflect on today is not so much about the practice of teaching itself, but rather about some truths that simply are. In this post I address what will likely be the first of three or four reflections.

Reflection 1: Living in a mystery

Teaching, like life, is something that reveals more of its mystery the longer one persists in it. Experience is wonderful, and it is said (as my more cliche-loving students like to remind me) that experience is the best teacher. After 11 or 12 years in the classroom (depending on how one calculates it), I know vastly more about managing a classroom, motivating students and effectively delivering lessons than I did as a 22 year old college graduate. Just a few years "in the trenches" can lead to more insights than an entire undergraduate education program, and a few more can sometimes even surpass a masters program. But something accompanies experience that eclipses improved technique and broader knowledge: the understanding that one does not really know as much as he or she thought.

As a young man I was armed with my Drake University education background, a resume that included stints in rural and urban summer camps, a year assisting in special education, and the certainty that I was about to change the world. I was young and impetuous, confident and arrogant. Now, 12 years later, having tasted both success and failure, having clicked with some students and having been woefully unable to connect with others, having helped some students to reach their goals and all but shedding tears over seeing some students have to give up their dreams, I emerge a still confident but much more humble educator than I once was.  Do I change the world? I hope so, one life at a time. Do I have the best ideas? I have some good ideas, but even the best ideas fall flat on the wrong days. Am I going to solve the educational needs of my students? I will certainly try to address them, but I won't always (and perhaps rarely) help as much as I or they would like. Will my students acquire a passion for learning? Some have, and I can remember each one by name. Others never saw the light.

I am still a relatively inexperienced father, my oldest son being only a month and a half past two years old. Despite this inexperience, I had a revelation one day in my living room, a revelation that I would wager most fathers before me have long since discovered. I was moving a coffee table (unrelated to the revelation) and thought, "I have read a lot of books and have talked to a lot of fathers, but I don't really know what I'm doing as a father. I'm just trying my best everyday. I'll bet that's what my father did, too. He didn't know everything or even THINK he knew everything, despite what my teenage brain may have thought. He knew he didn't know all that much, but he was doing his best with what he knew." I think it's the same with teaching. I've read a lot of books and journals, I've talked with other teachers, and I have a lot of tools I've developed, but when all is said and done, when the smoke clears and the dust settles, I'm really just trying my best to educate whomever will listen with whatever I have to offer. I can't but think that any honest teacher would say the same.