What Worked, What Didn’t: Course Reflection for the End of the Semester

Reflective writing enhances student metacognition and learning, which is why many of us integrate reflective assignments into our American literature and composition classes. Similarly, reflective teaching provides an opportunity for instructors to articulate their course’s strengths, identify areas for improvement, and strategize for the next semester. We spend so much time designing courses, organizing content, and crafting student learning outcomes that the daily yet significant details of what worked and what did not in terms of assignments, readings, discussion prompts, pacing, etc., may be lost in the shuffle from semester to semester. Course reflection is important because it ensures that our “big picture” pedagogical goals and values align with our everyday teaching practices.

Yet while many of us may assign a reflective essay at the end of this semester in order to reinforce students’ deep learning, very few of us will take the time to reflect on our own teaching practices–what we and our students accomplished and what we would do differently next time. The end of the semester is such an exhausting time and reflective practice requires the higher-order thinking that many of us may lack after grading stacks of essays! But setting aside just a few minutes at the end of the semester for course reflection might help you–and your students–as you return to your syllabus after the holiday break.

Books-and-red-wineIf you have just 10-15 minutes, make a cup of tea or pour a glass of wine. Think about and write responses to these questions:

  • What was the best moment in the course? How can my students and I have more moments like it?
  • What was the most challenging moment and why? How will I respond next time?
  • In what ways did my students surprise me this semester?

These questions might help you consider which assignments and readings to keep, cut, or change. Of course, not all aspects of a course are in your control. But what elements are? What changes can you make to enhance student learning?

If you have more time, pour another glass of wine, look over your syllabus and assignment sheets, and reflect on the various course components:

  • Syllabus
    • Policies to add or change
    • Student learning outcomes to change or add
    • Reading and assignment schedule: Is it coherent? Did the pacing work?
  • Writing assignments
    • Clarity
    • Assignment scaffolding
    • Did each writing assignment promote student learning?
    • Is there a writing assignment that could be cut?
  • Reading assignments
    • Pacing
    • Sequencing
    • Which readings to keep? To cut?
    • Which texts/authors worked?
  • Class sessions
    • Best lecture/worst lecture
    • Class discussion: What made them talk?
  • Did you try something new?
    • What made it effective?
    • What would you change?
    • What did you and your students learn from it?

Your future self will thank you for taking these notes while the semester is still fresh on your mind. And your future students will thank you as well: instructor reflection promotes student learning and improves the classroom experience.

Now, pour another glass of wine and celebrate the end of the semester! You’ve earned it!

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Dear College Professor: On the (Un)Ethical Use of Technology

Clay Zuba is very excited to make his first post as a regular contributor to PALS. Zuba is a teacher at Xavier College Preparatory High School in Phoenix, Arizona. He writes about his prior experience in the college-level classroom and asks higher education professionals to consider how to best serve the teaching needs of incoming students.

In this post, Zuba informs us of how high school and early college students often inadvertently use technology in ways that harm their learning process. For more from Zuba, you can find his nonfiction and fiction writing about House of the Seven Gables here

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Face of Laocoon in the Vatican via Livioandronico2013.

Dear College Professor,

You’re not going to like what I’m about to tell you. It’s going to make you uncomfortable. I daresay it may terrify you if you’re reading this blogpost near All Hallow’s Eve. But I’m going to tell you anyway. Because I care.

You and your students have vastly divergent conceptions of academic honesty.

I’m a high school English teacher. But as I’ve mentioned before, I used to teach college writing and literature. Because I have served as a university instructor, I can anticipate your expectations. Yet as a high school teacher, I have first-hand knowledge of how your incoming students will actually go about completing the tasks you will assign them.

Because at this point in the year you might be feeling pretty good about yourself. Approximately two months into the semester, you may be congratulating yourself over how your students, on only the second day of school, discussed Ethan Frome as an example of realism. You may regale your colleagues with a story of how, only three seconds into group work, one student had identified the climax of Adventures of Huckleberry Finn. You may marvel at how well your students comprehended the plot of The Sound and the Fury before even discussing it in class!   

If any of these scenarios describe your classroom this semester, I have bad news: your students are cheating.

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IMG_0429 via Xavier R. Chen

The Problem

This isn’t the kind of cheating you and your Dean have been concerned about. When a college professor thinks of cheating, she usually thinks of plagiarism. Or of students writing notes on the inner surfaces of their arms and legs, or using their Apple Watch, to answer questions during a test.

In this case, I’m talking about using online sources to replace their readings of the text. Or simply as a substitute to avoid thinking about the text. In a sense, you may not think about this type of behavior under the umbrella of academic honesty. Certainly, it falls under the category of unethical use of technology. Still, you might not have thought about it as cheating. But I want to suggest that you should.

Because your students do it all the time.

I have found that when confronted with a particular literary question, high school students consult the internet as a matter of course. For instance, when I teach Thoreau’s “Civil Disobedience,” I also teach how Thoreau uses irony as a literary device. I cite the author’s famous adage “the government is best that governs least” as an example. I help students see how by its very definition the function of a government is to govern. And that when he concludes that the best government is the one that governs least, he contradicts reader expectations. This is what makes it irony. I then ask students to work in groups to identify other examples of irony in the text of “Civil Disobedience” and to explain how Thoreau is using irony to persuade.

Invariably, if I divide students into groups of four, two of them will open their laptops, open their browsers, and ask its search engine to help them identify suitable examples of irony. It is their instinct. It is how they have been learning since they learned to ask questions. “How do I tie my shoe? What is the capital of Denmark? When was the War of 1812? What are some examples of irony in ‘Civil Disobedience?” And they will use the examples they found on the internet, rather than doing the work to find their own, as the basis for your class discussions.

They are not bad people. They do not think of this as cheating.  They just don’t know the difference between using the internet for research and using the internet to read and to study. They do not recognize that they are using technology unethically.

My students resort to the internet almost automatically as part of the act of reading. Having trouble with Margaret Fuller’s vocabulary in “The Great Lawsuit”? Finding it hard to follow Hawthorne’s byzantine sentences in The Scarlet Letter? Your students can find help on the internet. Even for understudied authors like Fuller, reading aids abound in the form of sites like Sparknotes, Cliffnotes, Gradesaver, random Prezi’s created by other students (many of them high school students), and their go-to-source for everything: Schmoop. They love to look it up on the Schmoop.

And if you assign your students The Golden Apples, I promise that left to their own devices (see what I did there?), your students will consult the Schmoop after reading the first three sentences rather than puzzle together the plot themselves. And after they start with Schmoop, you will be lucky if they read Welty’s text alongside an online reading aid. And they will come into your classroom having prepared themselves to discuss Welty based on their reading of some anonymous stranger’s reading of the novel (which that anonymous stranger probably pieced together from other online resources).

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Heathers via IMD

The Damage

Besides the fact that all of these behaviors I have described should fall under your school’s definition of Academic Dishonesty, unethical use of technology harms your students and prevents them from meeting the objectives of your course.

First of all, when your students look up answers to literary questions on the internet instead of doing the intellectual labor necessary to answer them, when they confuse research with study and interpretation, they are cheating. You might not like to think of it this way, but they just are. And they are plagiarizing because they are taking the ideas of others and representing them as their own.

Secondly, unless you curb unethical use of technology in your classroom, your students will never learn to think. I want to take a moment here and use Schmoop’s analysis of one of my favorite American novels, The House of the Seven Gables, to illustrate my point.

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Actual Screenshot of Analysis of House of the Seven Gables via the Schmoop. #notjoking.

As you can see from the above screenshot, the supposed knowledge that sites like Schmoop offer our students ranges from the inane (“You can’t really talk about the Puritans without talking about religion”) to ridiculously dumbed down: “The House of the Seven Gables is all about how families can mess you up. The Pyncheon family is a bad one – maybe even a cursed one – and it passes bad blood down through the years to perpetuate generations of badness.” You can only be thinking one thing right now, reader: “O. M. G.”

After reading Schmoop our collective heart beats faster. Not with joy, but with panic. For one thing, the Schmoop here vastly oversimplifies, even distorts, the theme of the novel. The House of the Seven Gables is certainly not “about how families can mess you up.” The novel is about how, to paraphrase the author himself, the collective sins of one generation pass down to the next. We know this, William Faulkner knew this, everyone knows this, but if our students take Schmoop’s analysis as fact they will adopt this gross misinterpretation of the novel as their own.

Furthermore, analyses like the one above teach our students “bad” writing. Because seriously, the writing on sites like Schmoop is bad. So bad, reader. I’m not going to even waste our time together by explaining it to you. But unchecked, your students will learn to write based on the example of these sites. And in doing so, will learn to write badly.

Because they may have not comprehended the novel, or may have skipped parts, or not read it at all. Your students are browsing sites like Schmoop because they believe that the anonymous writers on sites like Schmoop are smarter, or possess greater expertise in literature, than they do. And as students, they aspire to achieve expertise, or at least imitate it. So when your students sit down to write their analytical essay on Gertrude Stein, they will remember this writing and consider it a template.

Sites like Schmoop are one reason I advised you that you need to teach writing, a lot. You need to make sure that you and capable others like you become your students’ model for writing analysis, not random anonymous people on the internet.

If your students use the internet as a substitute for thinking and reading, their critical thinking and reading comprehension skills will not grow through your teaching. And it is especially important for you to challenge students to grow when they enter your classroom at ages 18 and 19 because their brains are still developing. Now more than when they grow older, they can become better readers and better thinkers.

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4 Suggestions for Teaching Ethical Use of Technology

  1. Include unethical use of technology in the definition of Academic Dishonesty on your syllabus. In my own syllabus, I attach this additional rider to the boilerplate language on plagiarism provided by my school.

Note: in addition to the examples of plagiarism in your Student Handbook, using online sources such as Sparknotes or Schmoop to demonstrate reading and reading comprehension also falls under the category of academic dishonesty and constitute an unethical use of technology. Do not use such sources to answer questions in homework, group work, or class discussion. Do the work. Perform the intellectual labor necessary to meet the course objectives.”

  1. Explain the challenges that technology poses to your students’ learning in class. I usually do this on the first day of class, and again whenever I teach how to cite sources correctly and avoid plagiarism (and if you don’t teach citation, and I’m not telling you what to do, but OMG). Tell them how, and why, the websites they habitually use when they read literature harm them and constitute plagiarism.
  2. Police unethical use of technology in the classroom. At the very least, walk around and see what students are doing during lecture and group work. Call students out when you see them on Schmoop and Sparknotes and Gradesaver. At most, prohibit laptops, tablets, and phones from certain class discussions.
  3. Become familiar with the most commonly consulted internet sources for information about assigned texts. This is not as difficult or laborious as it sounds. Just type the name of the text your students are studying into the Google and read the first few search engine hits. This is what your students do. You don’t need to get too deep into the results, or any more complex in your queries.
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Teacher Appreciation Day via Karen Hedge

You are their teacher, not their friend

Even if you give your students guidelines in Rules 1 and 2 above, they will try to get around you. Your relationship with your students is by its very nature adversarial. It is your role to create and enforce rules, and their tendency, when the going gets tough and grades are at stake, to come up with ways to circumvent them.

They will conspire against you. Not in any sinister way, but they will work together to find the quickest means to complete reading and other assignments because they have overextended themselves between school, work, family, and extra-curricular activities. They will share their cheats and shortcuts with each other. They will circumvent you while you willfully remain blind.

Future cohorts of your students will ask your current students how they ever got through The Sound and the Fury in the two weeks you give them to read it, along with their Fundamentals of Inorganic Chemistry class, the accompanying lab, their social lives, helping take care of their younger siblings, etc. And unless you stop it now, your future students will arrive in your classroom equipped with the workarounds necessary to ace your class without the time, effort, and critical thinking that you expect of them.

I know that you don’t want to do this. Snooping around their most probable internet crutches makes you uncomfortable. I mean they’re your students! The should be able to trust you! You should be able to trust them, right? Resorting to such lengths to uncover their furtiveness does not conform to your idea of yourself as their Kool Professor. It does not fit the idea of the Kool Professor that your students, as long as you don’t push them too hard, allow you to believe yourself to be.

But you’re not their friend, and that’s not your job. You have to remember, your job is to help them, in some cases coerce them, to become their best selves. They are not your buddies. They are someone else’s children, and it is your job, it is your privilege, to intellectually, and to a certain extent emotionally, nurture them.

They are our future citizens and leaders. If you value literacy and critical thinking as I do, you will agree with me that the future of the human race, quite literally, depends on our vigilance in the classroom.

So you have to make them do the work. They deserve this from you.

It’s not too late. You can still make a difference.

orange clay

 

Clay Zuba is an English Teacher at Xavier College Preparatory High School in Phoenix, Arizona, where he teaches American Literature and writing. In 2016, he was awarded a Ph.D. in American literature at the University of Delaware. His acclaimed blog love7g.com about Nathaniel Hawthorne is a precursor to his upcoming historical novel Love in the House of the Seven Gables.