Sometimes, a last-minute lesson plan written on a scrap piece of paper with a brown pencil you found on the floor is just as good as anything.

Being present in the classroom

In the Chronicle of Higher Education this week, James M. Lang wrote about the "pedagogy of presence" in the classroom.  Lang notes that there is often an invisible barrier between the instructor and students, built out of course material that needs to be covered, a strict plan for the class period, and even thinking about what's next in the day.  He cites research, though, that suggests that even more important than specific course material to students' learning are the personal relationships students experience during college.  To relate on a personal level means balancing plans, outcomes assessment, and the other technical bits of the profession, with really paying attention to the human beings in the room--seeing, hearing, and empathizing with them.  "Being more present to my students might mean letting go of my grip on my classroom schedule. If we don’t get through every scrap of the material today, we’ll probably get to it in the next class session."

I'm a big fan of mindfulness and reflection, and I'm always trying to be more present to the people in my life (and sorry readers and facebook friends, I really mean the people in the room).  I made this my personal goal for today's Logic class.  Being present to large groups of people doesn't come easy for most professors, I expect, especially not shy folk like me.  I credit much of any success I have as a classroom teacher to the acting and speech training I forced myself to endure in college to counter my introverted tendencies.  However, the stage has that fourth wall, and it's easy as an actor to stay behind the barrier.  I often find that I do the same at the front of the classroom.

I went to class early today and arranged the tables into small groupings, with the goal of having students looking at each other.  I did this so that students could work on paying attention to each other, and also to prevent myself from standing at the front behind my invisible barrier.  I had a plan for the class, and even a short powerpoint with the agenda and main topics for the day, but I allowed more space than usual in the activities--both for students to talk to each other, and for students to talk to me.  I focused on really listening, on following some lines of thought that students seemed interested in (even though those ideas weren't part of my material for the day), and on having them spend some time working with each other to make sure they were learning what they needed to before going on to the next section in the text.

Though I had to rethink the class period (no using last year's powerpoint which explained, quite clearly, the material--at least for those good at just sitting and listening!), I felt fairly good about the class. I think the students were learning, and I enjoyed the 50 minutes (which, of course, flew by).

First big fail

Oh technology, you fickle friend.  I stayed up late last night *really late* to have a whiz-bang activity ready for class using my tablet, and you failed me.  My tablet is not very useful without wireless.  I had to write on the chalk board!  I have chalk on my pants now!

As is often the case, I was able to (once I finished crying over my tablet) reconfigure a class activity by thinking of some quick group work.  Though I spent too much time trying to get the new-fangled technology working, things seemed to work well enough in the group activity.

One of the things I was hoping to do with my fancy tablet was to show students the answer to a difficult question on their pre-assessment, using Venn diagrams which I was going to draw right on the worksheet.  I did this on the chalk board (no fancy colors or other tabletty magic).  On the note of the pre-assessment, I do think it served some of its purpose, which was to give my TA and me a sense of the logical talent of the class.  Turns out there's quite a bit!  On the other hand, I'm worried, especially with my showcase of chalky Venn diagrams, that I may have overwhelmed students in the first week.  Time will tell.

Naked teaching, indeed.  It's the evening before the first day of classes in a new semester; the stuff of which nightmares of naked teaching are made.  I never actually have THAT dream.  My nightmares tend to run more along the lines of showing up to class sans syllabus, sans plans, and with an unappreciative audience that arrives late and throws things at me.  Usually, it's not that bad in real life; however, I don't typically think of my first day of classes as being particularly meaningful.

SO, I have big plans for tomorrow.  I'm using a "pre-assessment" for the first time in my Logic course.  I've taught Logic for years and years, but have always shied away from anything that seems like a test on the first day--especially because Logic, to some folks, can look like another language (or, worse yet, like math!).  This time, though, I'm determined to give the students a sense of what they should be able to do with the tools we'll learn in class, and I hope it also gives me a sense of their talents and challenges so that I can better think about the activities of the course.  Tune in tomorrow for the big news on how it worked!