This post is meant to be the first in a reflective series on the ways in which equitable and inclusive pedagogy manifests in my teaching. Many of us educators recognize the importance of equity when it comes to our work in the classroom, yet too rarely are we asked to explicitly name the links between what we actually do and what we purport to value. My aim is to rectify that here - or at least start.
When it comes to professional growth, I have spent much of the past two years scrutinizing the relationship between grading practices and equitable learning outcomes. Joe Feldman's work has proven to be profoundly influential on my thinking when it comes to this subject matter, and I credit many of my thoughts here to his book, Grading for Equity: What It Is, Why It Matters, and How It Can Transform Schools and Classrooms. I won't recap the thrust of his argument, but suffice it to say that, the more I explore and interrogate this topic, the more I come to understand that equitable grading practices and good pedagogy are well and truly one and the same, affirming Gloria Ladson-Billings' similar assertion from way back in 1995. For this post, I want to focus on some of the ways in which our biases influence our grading practices and share some strategies for how we might go about mitigating their role in the classroom. Indeed, the term "Implicit Bias" is currently en vogue in many conversations around equity and inclusion - and rightfully so. Bias, or the relative strength by which two items are linked together in our minds, is built into the very way in which our brains evolved to operate. To understand how bias contributes to inequitable grading practices, it can be helpful to consider how biases take hold and shape our actions. Take something like diamonds. Most of us associate "diamonds" with "love," largely thanks to the frequency of advertisements that reinforce this link, which means a simple stone can evoke a range of emotions. Fewer of us, however, think of washing machines when we see a diamond (unless you happened to lose an engagement ring in one). While something like diamonds likely has little bearing on our grading practices in the classroom, the same cannot be said for something like racial identity (or gender identity or any other form of identity, for that matter). We live in a culture where something like blackness is linked to danger all the time, whereas something like whiteness is commonly associated with beauty. The more often these things are linked, the stronger the association. And as these associations take hold, they shape our dispositions and actions toward others in ways that can be both beneficial (e.g. giving a student the benefit of the doubt) and harmful (e.g. penalizing a student). When it comes to mitigating our biases, the first step is to determine what your biases actually are. Project Implicit at Harvard University offers a variety of association tests, which measure the speed at which different concepts are linked in your mind and then shares the results. Alternatively, Patricia Devine's three-step process of "Detect, Reflect, Reject" treats implicit bias like a habit, which necessitates awareness before it can be broken. The point here is that you can't address your biases until you surface them. Once your biases are identified, the second step is to scrutinize all the ways in which they can shape assessment and grading (and there are many). Because we can never fully rid ourselves of bias (again, our brain is literally built to have them), this is a process that should last the duration of your entire teaching career. However, don't let that deter you! There are many steps that you can take to develop what Feldman calls "bias-resistant" grading that are simple and actionable. Below, you will find some from my own teaching practice that I have found to be effective.
With the spring term (and the academic year) coming to a close, the ever-looming spectre of grades has once again emerged, albeit with a slightly different twist. What exactly does it mean to assign grades in the midst of a pandemic? Answering that question, of course, implies that we already know what it means to assign grades in the first place, but if experience has taught us anything, it's that coming to clear consensus on this question is extremely challenging. Indeed, few topics in education are as emotionally-charged as grades.
That said, schools have been forced to reexamine their grading practices in the process of moving online in the wake of COVID-19. In a recently published report, Global Online Academy highlights the various ways in which schools have sought to address this sticky issue, along with some of the key values that are informing these decisions. For context, my own institution initially elected to adopt a Pass/Fail grading policy at the beginning of this term, which was later changed to "Credit/No Credit" (a topic for another post!). I wrote in a previous entry that these unique circumstances are intensely challenging, yet also present educators with a rare opportunity to experiment with long-standing structures that are historically difficult to shift or interrogate. When it comes to grades, a Credit/No Credit system is a radical departure from my institution's status quo, where grades are incredibly important to both students and teachers alike. With students and teachers suddenly thrust into this new paradigm, is there something to be learned? A Loss of Motivation Not surprisingly, many of my students have reported a loss of motivation when it comes to their learning this spring, for which there are many reasons: they are attempting to learn in new environments (both physical and social), in different schedules, and amidst a prevasive cultural anxiety that continues to bear down on all of us. Yet, I have been struck by the number of students that have self-attributed this lack of motivation to an absence of numerical grades. If there isn't going to be a number at the end of the term, why learn at all? As disheartening as this may seem, it should not come as a surprise. Numerous studies have shown extrinsic motivation is not an effective strategy when it comes to motivating authentic learning (Feldman 34-35; Pink 44-45; Kohn 26), encouraging students to do the bare minimum rather than faciliting high order or creative thinking skills. At the same time, schools do an excellent job of sociating students into an external rewards system, which often means that, when the carrot stick is gone, there is no reason to keep moving forward. Continued Motivation? On the flip side, some of my students have found ways to remain engaged and invested in their learning, despite all the changes to their education. Such a feat strikes me as truly remarkable, but it also strikes me as a real learning opportunity for us teachers: for those students that remain engaged, what is motivating them? As the term comes to a close, I've taken to asking some of my students to reflect on this question and the answers have been illuminating. Indeed, nearly every student cited prior relationships as one of the primary driving forces behind their engagement this spring, whether that be due to a feeling of recipricol responsibility (their teachers have worked hard, so they feel compelled to do the same in return), a desire to continue building a relationship that began in previous terms, or a feeling that the teacher and student were engaged in a joint-venture. Perhaps not surprisingly, shifting from a numeric grading system to a Credit/No Credit option has had little bearing on these factors. These reports are, of course, purely ancedotal, which limits what we can and can't say about the relationship between grades and motivation in our current context. And yet, I think there is some real wisdom here. Relationships have always mattered when it comes to student learning, perhaps now more than ever, so as we consider what our classroom look like in the years to come (which very likely will entail more online learning), ask yourself what it would mean to re-center student relationships in your teaching? The results may be worth it. Bibliography Feldman, Joe. Grading for Equity: What It Is, Why It Matters, and How It Can Transform Schools and Classrooms. Thousand Oaks, CA: Corwin, 2019. Kohn, J. Punished by rewards: The trouble with gold stars, incentive plans, A's, praise, and other bribes. Boston, MA: Houghton, Mifflin Harcourt, 1993. Pink, Daniel. Drive, the Surprising Truth About What Motivates Us. New York: Penguin, 2011. In my last post, I wrote about how online learning presents teachers with an opportunity to craft learning experiences that promote greater degrees of student agency, which in turn have the potential to instill the sort of intrinsic motivation that many of us seek to cultivate in our own classrooms. With many of our students already navigating the classroom asynchronously, this seems like an opportune moment for this type of experimentation. For this post, I want to share another example of how I have been trying to inject more student agency into my teaching, this time at a slightly larger scale. For context, I was inspired by Eric Hudson's piece titled, "How to Design for Online Learning: Four Approaches to Nonlinear Curriculum," which introduces the idea of parallel units. The gist is that, rather than having all students move through a set sequence, they can pick and choose the order in which they engage with new material. I don't yet have the infrastructure in place to offer students quite this degree of choice in their learning experiences, so I decided to test this out on a smaller scale in my elective, "Religion in America". For context, students taking this course explore the history of religious freedom and religious tolerance in both the First Amendment to the U.S. Constitution and its application in the courts. In the past, I've allocated about a week for the exploration of anti-Catholicism in American history, which builds up to a common reading of Everson v. Board of Education (our second SCOTUS case of the course). This term, however, I decided to give students an option: they could explore the history of anti-Catholicism or they could explore the history of anti-Semitism, leading up to court cases relevant to their chosen tradition. Due to the fact that I had already developed a learning sequence for anti-Catholicism, it was easy enough to craft a parallel structure for student exploration of anti-Semitism. As you can see in the images below, students begin with a short background reading on their chosen tradition, which helps establish a common framework for understanding. They then have a chance to pick from a curated selection of primary sources, which provides an opportunity for a deeper dive into their chosen tradition (this was also a great opportunity to dig into our library's archives, which I plan to write about in a later post!). At this point in the learning plan, I wanted students to have an opportunity both to share what they had learned with each other and isolate deeper themes emerging in their engagement (recall that all students had explored Mormonism in the week prior, which provided a foundation upon which they could build). As you can see, I've become a fan of using Padlet, along with Project Zero's Visible Thinking Routines, as mechanisms to facilitate and capture this sort of thinking. Regardless of the platform you use, this is probably the most important step in the learning plan. It keeps students in touch with each other (always a challenge in online learning), it gives me a chance to provide formative feedback on emerging understandings, and it establishes an initial framework through which students will read their chosen Supreme Court case in the second half of the week. Having spent some time engaging with each other on Padlet, students who chose to explore the history of anti-Catholicism now read Everson v. Board of Education, which examines public reimbursement for bussing students to Catholic schools, while students who chose to explore anti-Semitism read Braunfeld v. Brown, which examines the constitutionality of a Pennsylvania law requiring business to stay closed on Sundays. To bring everyone back together, I asked students to post to a common discussion board, which spills over into the following week. A few reflections in closing:
Developing parallel structures can have positive implications with respect to representation. In years past, Jewish voices had been largely absent from this course, yet developing the learning plan on anti-Semitism allowed me to rectify this. Making this change now has me wondering how I can leverage this type of parallel structure to incorporate a wider range of voices into other courses/units. Curating primary sources takes time. This was definitely the most time-consuming part of this process, as finding relevant sources necessitates both research and curation on the part of the teacher. That said, the fact that students had explored different traditions and different sources meant that there was an opportunity for authentic collaboration: students could look for similarities and differences between their chosen traditions, which in turn meant that I had to spend less time trying to craft tradition-specific discussion questions. Parallel Doesn't Really Mean Parallel. If anything, I think a braid might be a more appropriate metaphor here: students begin on independent tracks, come back together, return to independent engagement, and then reunite at the week's end. These moments of crossover strike me as particularly important, as they present an opportunity to leverage these independent pathways for deeper meaning-making and collaboration. Teaching is hard in the best of times. It's not surprising then that many of us educators are struggling to finish out the school year, which necessitates balancing the demands of designing online learning environments (which, prior to March, few of us had any experience doing) with our own well being. I don't know about everyone else, but I am feeling more and more like Sisyphus with each day that passes. And, at the same time, I have also increasingly come to recognize the unique opportunity that comes with all this disruption. In moving my classes online, I've been forced to clarify what is essential to the student learning experience in my classroom, which in turn has opened up space for me to question past assumptions about what the classroom should (or shouldn't) look like. As I look ahead to a future where students and teachers can be together again in the same physical space, I am optimistic that this experience can help us all become even better teachers. To that end, I've decided to capture some of my own learning and experimentation with online teaching in writing, particularly now that I've started to find my feet in my own (virtual) classroom. On the off chance that these ideas prove useful to other educators trying to navigate this strange new world, even better. So here it goes. While taking Global Online Academy's course, "Designing for Online Learning," back in March, I was struck by the prospect of leveraging online learning platforms to give students greater agency with respect to their learning experience. Student choice can be an effective mechanism when it comes to cultivating and facilitating intrinsic motivation, so this seemed like something worth incorporating into my courses. Last week, I decided to offer a small, low-stakes opportunity for student agency in my senior elective, "Religion in America," where students explored the relationship between Mormonism, religious intolerance, and the First Amendment in the 19th century. The sequence is relatively simple: students began with a common background reading, from which they extrapolated key passages with respect to the framing reading questions. I've become a big fan of using Padlet as a tool to help capture this sort of thinking, which you can see in the image below (I would also add that my school uses Canvas as the primary learning software for our students): At this point, I gave students an option: rather than have them all read the same primary source, they could choose from a variety options based on their specific interests, which I organized into different pages based on topic. After they had a chance to explore these sources, I asked students to respond to a "Connect, Extend, Challenge" thinking prompt from Project Zero, which closed out this particular module. There isn't anything particularly revolutionary about this learning module (it's a bit like a loose Jigsaw, in that students explore different sources on a related theme and then come back together to share what they found). That said, the final Padlet discussion contained more nuance than prior learning sequences: students had an opportunity to educate each other, locate broader themes, and identify connections between their chosen sources. Needless to say, this is something I plan to fold into my courses more and more as the term goes on.
When it comes to studying religious identity, many students harbor the major misconception that all members of a particular religious tradition believe the same thing. Of course, this couldn’t be further from the truth: religious traditions are internally diverse, full of both agreement and disagreement, much like any other group of people. Too often, however, our approaches in the classroom fail to capture this understanding, instead resorting to models that treats religious identity as a discrete entity that can be defined by a list of beliefs and practices, thereby compounding the problem.
Not surprisingly, this challenge is particularly acute when it comes to Muslim religious identity. Few of my students encounter Muslims in their day-to-day lives with any assemblance of regularity, which means they are given few opportunities to pluralize their understanding of what Muslims believe, think, and value. All the more so for Muslim women. I have had some success in challenging this idea of a religious monolith in the classroom using a speed dating activity of sorts to begin a unit on gender, sexuality, and Muslim identity. Pairs of students are each asked to read a short essay by a different female Muslim scholar, where they are then asked to “assume” her identity in class as they “meet” each other. When selecting texts, I have found Edward Curtis’s edited volume, titled The Columbia Sourcebook of Muslims in the United States, to be particularly useful, in large part because the included texts represent a wide range of perspectives. In the past, I have assigned the following from the aforementioned text:
At the start of class, I first have students meet in pairs to discuss the text they both read. Specifically, I have them consider the following question: what are three things that your author values/cares about? I encourage them to be concrete. The more specific that can be, the more successful the speed activity will be. After about ten minutes, I bring the students back together as a group and tell them that they are about to get the chance to “meet” a number of other Muslim women. They will have four minutes per date, where they will have the chance to introduce “themselves” and explain what it is that they care about. In order to aid in the organization of their thinking, I distribute a chart that allows them to record the name of their "date", who they are/what they do, things that they are about, and whether or not you think you’d get along. Logistically, I find it easiest to set up the speed dating in stations. Because two students have read each essay, one will remain at their station while the other will rotate, thus ensuring smooth transitions from date to date. Once the rules are clear, I have the students make the initial rotation and the dates begin. I time the activity, noting when two minutes have passed so they have time to switch. After four minutes, they move onto the next pair, and so on until they’ve “met” each person. I find four dates is usually sufficient to get the gist of the activity. Once all their dates are finished, I have the students do a bit of writing, asking them to identify one other woman with whom they think their author would get along and explain why. They write for 5-10 minutes, after which a discussion ensues. Due to fact that each student has essentially repeated the same stump speech for each date, they have a pretty good idea of what their author values, which offers a useful foundation for them to consider how their author might feel about the other individuals under consideration. Students are often quick to note internal disagreements about the hijab, common tensions between Muslims and western (white) feminists, and a general concern about restoring agency to Muslim women. The resulting understandings then are more concerned with teasing out the various issues with which Muslim women are concerned than they are in highlighting a litany of beliefs. I would argue that this approach is not only more sophisticated, better preparing students to tackle real issues that intersect with religious identity, but is also more engaging for the students. One of the biggest challenges in implementing student-led discussion rests in engaging students who would prefer to observe from the sidelines. There are a number of different reasons why a student would prefer to stay quiet - they haven't done the reading, they would prefer to listen, they have social anxiety, they fear saying the wrong thing, they are naturally introverted - all of which are legitimate and require different responses. That said, I do not believe that any of the above merits exemption from class participation. Discussion and interpersonal dialogue are skills - much like writing a paper or solving a math problem - that can be cultivated with careful feedback and consistent practice. We do not allow exemptions from writing papers or solving math problems; class discussion is no different. I often point out to my students that one of the benefits of having 10-15 students in the same space is that we get to take advantage of the plurality of viewpoints and perspectives around us. In other words, if more students participate, then we have a wider range of perspectives from which to draw and thus a richer understanding of the subject matter under consideration. To that end, I make it a point to note that each student bears a responsibility to the larger class when it comes to bringing their own unique perspective to the table. If this were not the case, then there would be little point in having everyone meet together in the same physical space. Yet, ignoring the above challenges would also be irresponsible on the part of the teacher. Student-led discussion requires careful attention, particularly if the goal is to incorporate the voice of each an every student, and we cannot assume that every students knows how to do this before they enter the classroom. With that in mind, I've developed a few strategies for engaging quieter students that I have found to be effective in the past, which are outlined below.
2. Small Group WorkI often find that students who are quieter in the larger group are often more comfortable expressing their ideas in smaller groups of 2-3. With that in mind, I often begin classes by having the students do a bit of writing before breaking them up into smaller groups in order to discuss their ideas. I use this time as a chance to move between the groups and engage with students in the smaller setting, which can offer me insight into the ideas of quieter students. Once we return to discussion, I can use this exchange as a gateway to engagement, jumping into the conversation myself when an observation or idea reminds me of the quieter student's point. I invite the quieter student to elaborate on this point, which offers them a window to share ideas that they have already explored, to some degree. 3. Offer "First Say"If a student is really struggling to gain a foothold in discussion, I usually meet with them one-on-one to discuss potential strategies, one of which is to give the student the first crack at the discussion topic. As noted above, I often begin class with some targeted writing, which means each student has produced some sort of record of their thinking prior to the discussion itself. With that in mind, I usually start conversation with the question posed in these mini-prompts, so for students that struggle to find their voice, I'll offer to call on them first, thus providing them a window to share some ideas that have been prepared ahead of time. 4. Develop a Communication SystemQuiet students will often cite the pace of discussion as a major challenge: the conversation moves too fast for them to interject. With that in mind, I've had good success in developing an informal communication with quieter students, where they can raise their hand if they have a point to say, which I'll usually acknowledge by making eye contact or nodding. I can then step in and halt the discussion, thus carving out a space for the quieter student to step in and share their views. 5. Engage the ClassIt's important that students know that the entire class bears a responsibility for the discussion that transpires in any given meeting. I like to do regular check-ins with the class regarding what is and isn't working, where balance is often identified as an area for improvement. With that in mind, I ask the class how they might carve out space for quieter students, as well as hold each other accountable for sharing their ideas/perspectives (their own suggestions are often quite insightful). There are also implicit ways of leveraging the more vocal students to engage their quieter peers, which can often be done through writing. While small groups is one way to foster such engagement, I occasionally use the short prompts from the start of class to accomplish the same task. Once students have finished writing, I have them pass their response to their right and then read and annotate their neighbor's response. We do this two or three more times, whereupon I then begin discussion by asking the students to share a point from someone else's reflection that they found compelling. This often provides a window for quieter students to enter discussion, for once their point is referenced, I'll then ask them to elaborate on their ideas. 6. Reading Writing AloudContinuing the above theme of leveraging in-class writing to engage quiet students, I'll sometimes have students read their written work aloud. While this is sometimes voluntarily, I'll occasionally ask everyone to share, quieter students included.
|
AuthorKurt Prescott is a Humanities Instructor at Maret School in Washington, D.C. Archives
November 2020
Categories
All
|