During a recent consulting session with an instructor about her upcoming blended-delivery course, our discussion turned toward which learning activities would best serve students when delivered online vs. those that would best serve students when delivered in the classroom.

It’s an interesting question: What unique learning attributes are contained in a room that—for a period of time—contains one instructor and a group of students?

When I ask faculty what they do in the classroom, the answer I most often receive first is that they “lecture” or “talk about the content” or “present information.” When pressed further faculty refer to other activities. “I watch students to see if they are paying attention,” or “I ask questions to see if they understand the material.” And then I begin to hear yet another group of activities that includes the following:

• “We discuss the material.”
• “Students meet in their project groups and I spend time with each group.”
• “We do practice problems on the board.”
• “We review the homework assignment.”

So, here are three things that happen in a face-to-face classroom: delivery of content, assessment of student engagement with the material, and guidance of student learning and performance.

Interestingly, when I ask faculty what they like most about teaching, rarely have I ever heard lecturing top the list. In fact, I’ve never heard that answer. What I usually hear are answers related to that last task. “I enjoy guiding students through the work of learning,” or “watching students get it,” or “seeing the ‘ah-ha’ moments.” I would guess that if we asked students what they enjoy most about learning, these moments would be high on their lists as well.

What if one could actually structure a course to include more of these teaching moments—these moments of guiding student learning?

Barbara Walvoord reported on this type of course in 2003. “I wanted to use my time not to deliver information, but to engage in discussion with students and respond to their writing, encouraging their development of sophisticated analytical skills and creativity.”

To accomplish this, she basically re-created her Shakespeare class as a hybrid course. Information and ideas were delivered via readings and by videos already owned by the library. The rather large course was broken up into several groups of approximately 18 students. Each group met with the instructor once a week for an hour of discussion. Students were held accountable for their weekly short assignments, notes on readings and the video presentations, and on their participation in discussion.

Every student spoke in class every week, wrote every week, and received personalized feedback from the instructor on drafts of essays. The drop rate for this section of the class was the same as that for other sections. All measures indicated a successful and rigorous learning experience for the students.

Walvoord’s framework may have been “faculty productivity”—a term that sets an educator’s teeth on edge, much like nails across a chalkboard. Yet, her process does result in that central joy of instruction. So, what is it that the instructor can uniquely bring to the classroom? Herself? Her feedback? Her ability to guide discussion?

Well, that is actually a large part of what happens when a course is re-designed for hybrid/blended delivery. Faculty time is focused on providing immediate feedback on performance and practice, engaging students in discussions around concepts and ideas, asking guiding questions about group or individual projects, and listening and responding to student presentations.

For more information, see the following resources:

Walvoord, B. (2003). New Modes of Productivity for Student Learning. New Directions for Higher Education, No. 121. 35-49.

A couple of weeks ago, I attended the Computers and Advanced Technology in Education conference in Beijing, a city where I went to college 20 years ago. To me, it felt a bit strange to hear the familiar subjects—new instructional tools and pedagogical methods—being discussed in an ancient city of China, which has become so modernized that I could barely recognize it. At the conference, the clear divide between the technical and pedagogical tracks reminded me of the disparity between modern technology and the historical cultural roots of China. Almost all of the presentations delivered by Chinese scholars focused on technology, and most of the technologically focused papers seemed to shy away from any deep analysis of the pedagogical impact of these technologies. This made me wonder, ‘Where were those insightful learning theories developed in China thousands years ahead of the west? Where was Confucius and his philosophy of teaching and learning?’

An interesting thought came to my mind as I was wandering through those technology demonstrations: what if Confucius were given the opportunity to teach online? Would he be as resistant to technology as many of our conservative faculty are? Or would he be willing to use the Internet to serve his mission of perfecting human beings through education?

As someone who taught through dialogue and observation, Confucius would very likely to be skeptical about teaching online. Yet, if he were to take advantage of online technology (as many faculty are doing now), I would speculate that his way of teaching would be dramatically different from most online instructors. Since I cannot easily anticipate what Confucius would do, I would just venture to list a few things that I believe would not happen if Confucius were to teach online:

1. There would be no learning objectives.
2. There would be no learning modules.
3. There would be no “instructors” in the class, but “coaches” and “mentors”.
4. There would be no tests and exams.
5. There wouldn’t be any “course” or “courses.”
6. There wouldn’t be a green light allowing every student to study online.

Now, here are my rationales for the would-not-happens.

1. No Learning Objectives
Confucius believed that through “studying,” one proceeded to reach the stage of human excellence. In this regard, the goal of education was to cultivate and facilitate self-improvement. Such improvement, in his opinion, was personal and could only happen through individual engagement in learning. Since humans differ in nature, Confucius suggested that instructions ought to be tailored for each individual student. The Analects of Confucius recorded that once a question was asked about whether the student should immediately put into practice something he was taught. To one student who Confucius thought was particularly zealous, he recommended that the student first consult his father and older brothers. To the other student who Confucius thought lacked enthusiasm, he said yes, put it into practice right away (The Analects of Confucius).

This story makes Confucius the earliest practitioner of constructivism. One could easily infer from his thoughts and practices that he viewed the paths to achieve the ultimate learning goals as being different from one student to another. In this sense, he would oppose putting any milestones on the journey of learning because people were traveling at different routes and even their own routes might change during the process. In developing online learning, we label those milestones as “learning objectives,” which were set by the instructors and given to students as common targets that move them along “a well-trod and clearly marked road.” The main challenge of learning, in this perspective, is to keep students moving down the road on schedule. (Ron Weigel, 2005).

These milestones or learning objectives would certainly be removed by Confucius.

2. No Learning Modules
Break the content into bite-sized chunks to make it easy for students to digest! Carefully label each chunk with instructions and dates for it to be consumed! Place them in a good sequence so that they are completed by the students in the right order!

None of these design tips would have found their place if Confucius were to teach online.
Confucius, even in his own time, never used structured class to teach. Because of this, one can hardly imagine him using modules to break knowledge into discrete pieces.

Confucius saw learning as a process of observation, followed by reflection, and internalization or implementation. His thought infers a clear distinction between information acquisition and the formation of knowledge and wisdom. He would leave it to the students to observe and to acquire information without interfering and would never limit what students could “observe” by storing things in a fixed module.

3. No Instructors but “Coaches” and “Mentors”
Confucius’ methods of teaching were striking. He didn’t discourse at length (no lectures either!). Instead he posed questions, cited passages from classic texts, used apt analogies, or simply just listened and waited for the students to arrive at the right answer. He would not be there to tell students when to finish what assignment or what’s right and what’s wrong. Instead, he was to coach and mentor them on an individual basis.

4. No Tests and Exams
Confucius never use structured exams to assess the progress of student learning. Instead, he seemed to care more about how students reflected upon what they had “observed” and transformed these observations into knowledge and wisdom.

Confucius once asked a student, “Do you think that my way of acquiring knowledge is simply to study many things and remember them?” The student said, “Yes, isn’t that the case?” Confucius replied, “No, I have one principle which I use like a thread, upon which to string them all.”

His answer demonstrated his awareness of his own thinking process, which we now define as “metacognition.” Metacognitive capabilities can never to be mined through pure retrieval of information, nor would they be assessed by tests and exams.

5. No More “Courses”
Although Confucius did have a curriculum for subjects like music, speech, poetry, literature, and history, none of these was offered in isolation. Instead, he took a holistic approach by cross-referencing all subjects.

Without the boundary of walls, online learning has the great potential to enable multidisciplinary curricula, which I believe Confucius would like to use. In this regard, the concept of “a course” or “courses” would disappear.

6. Survival of the Eager and Willing
How many online instructors are struggling with keeping students on task? How many are frustrated by the fact that no matter how hard they try, there are always some that just won’t learn? Well, Confucius would not let himself be bothered by this problem because he would not teach “dullards,” and would “only teach those who were bursting with eagerness for enlightenment” (The Analects of Confucius). He would certainly apply this principle to online learning, which requires more enthusiasm and self-motivation to complete.

In reviewing Confucius theories, I see some limitations in his thinking (such as the unchallengeable acceptance of traditions). However, there are many of his ideas and practices that may still provoke useful thinking about what we do today. I think reviewing his way of teaching would at least make us aware of the overuse of the behaviorist approach in online teaching, which has a tendency to downgrade learning to one or a collection of short-term trainings.

The Educause Center for Applied Research (ECAR) recently released its fourth annual research study on the role of technology in student life, which describes their findings of the ways college students use technology and the impact this may have on instruction. In case you don’t want to leaf through the 122-page PDF, you can read Andy Guess’s article in Inside Higher Education for an excellent analysis of the study. But the ECAR report is well worth reading. The tables and stats alone will come in handy for you to whip out at any cocktail party when the discussion turns to “these kids today”.

Researchers found that as suspected, college students are using technology like crazy.

Among the interesting statistics:

• 73% of students have laptops (although half don’t bring them to class)
• Average hours per week on the Internet: 18
• 81.6% of students use social networking sites such as Facebook or MySpace
• 74.7% have music/video devices
• 85.1% use instant messaging
• 43.1 % accessed a wiki every week
• Over 70% use the Internet (including library databases) for research

This study shows that student use of communication tools such as text messaging, IM, and social networking sites has increased significantly—up 11% since the last study in 2006. Students also make frequent use of Blackboard, email, and discussion boards in their academic work. But although this generation of college students has grown up immersed in these new technologies, they are not ready to abandon real-life human interaction quite yet. Researchers found “themes of skepticism and moderation alongside enthusiasm” among the students regarding the use of technology in courses, noting that 59 percent of students preferred a “moderate rather than extensive use of IT in courses.”

One theme that emerged from the study was that many students found that “the poor use (underuse/overuse/inappropriate use) of technology by faculty detracts from the learning experience.” Complaints included time wasted trying to make equipment work, poorly facilitated discussion boards, and poorly-trained faculty. It is good to know the youth of today are discerning customers. Students won’t buy into the use of technology unless a faculty member can use it well and integrate it meaningfully into the curriculum. Students know that technology alone is no substitute for good teaching practices.

Although student opinion seems to be a bit mixed about the use of technology in the classroom, the overall message of the report is clear: the times are changing and instructors must face the reality that this generation of “digital natives” has grown up with higher expectations for the skillful use of technology and has different ways of learning and accessing information. These new technologies aren’t going away and will just evolve into a Web 3.0 and 4.0 and so on. In the introduction, Harvard professor Chris Dede summarizes the entire state of affairs in one sentence: “Our ways of thinking and knowing, teaching and learning are undergoing a sea change and what is emerging is both rich and strange.” Dede recommends that educators work towards a pedagogical model that fuses the old methods and new, but as this is a bit easier said than done.

The Inside Higher Education article posed some interesting questions regarding the report that I’ve adapted a bit: “How can educators adapt their teaching methods to these emerging technologies? And should they? How are you dealing with this “sea change” and navigating through this ocean of wikis, blogs, RSS feeds, social bookmarking, and all things Web 2.0?

I took my first French class in 10th grade at a public school in a small Alabama town. The class was typical of most high-school foreign language courses. We spoke mostly in English and the assessments were designed to ensure that no one would fail the class. Vocabulary tests typically asked us to pair French terms in column A with their English equivalents in column B, like so:

Grammar tests were only slightly more challenging and usually consisted of simple sentences with missing verbs to conjugate, as shown below:

I often memorized the verb conjugations the night before (or in some cases, just minutes before the start of the test), then filled in blanks feverishly the minute the exam was in my hands. Speed was key, since my mental snapshot of the proper endings for each verb would begin to blur after five to ten minutes. Occasionally, we were subjected to some other form of memorization torture. This usually involved reciting poems or singing French Christmas carols.

That first year, I thought my French was formidable. (Or, as the French would say, “formidable.”) I could rattle off the French names of almost any object in the classroom. I could tell you exactly how to say I go, you go, and we go. (Saying where I, you, or we were going wasn’t always so easy.) The following year, I transferred to the Alabama School of Math and Science (ASMS), a rigorous magnet boarding school in Mobile. I had to take a French placement exam before enrolling at ASMS, and I knew I was in trouble when there wasn’t a single matching question on the test. My horrible score on the placement exam meant I had to start all over again with French I—along with nearly every other student who had taken a year (and in some cases, two years) of traditional high-school French.

On my first day of French class at ASMS, my teacher explained that our lessons would be built around French In Action, a series of videos designed to teach us French through total immersion. (“Videos” really isn’t the right word, since we viewed everything on gigantic laserdiscs.) As we watched the first few episodes, I was completely overwhelmed. I wondered what language I had been studying for the past year in my hometown, because it certainly wasn’t whatever those people on the screen were using to communicate with each other.

French In Action was part soap opera, part Sesame Street, and it wasn’t great at being either. The storylines were bland and the lesson recaps were repetitive. Yet, despite the actors’ dated haircuts, the overacting, the two-dimensional characters, and the ludicrous plot twists (or perhaps because of them), the whole class was hooked. We were so hungry for anything other than the usual verb conjugation tables and vocabulary memorization that we actually felt invested in the simple narratives. We cheered when Mireille’s bratty sister fell in a fountain in the park. We leaned forward with anticipation when it seemed Robert would finally ask Mireille on a date, and we laughed when our teacher tried to explain a new verb or noun through her own unique system of charades. She would flail her arms wildly, run around the room, improvise with props—anything to avoid a direct translation to English. The goal was to make us think in French, and that’s exactly what the class did.

I went on to major in French in undergrad and was the first student at the University of Alabama to participate in a semester-long exchange program with a French university. (There was another student who was supposed to join me for the adventure, but she went home when she discovered the dorm rooms didn’t offer private bathrooms.) After my semester in France, I decided to move to Germany to live with a few German friends I had made in France. I didn’t speak a word of German at the time.

By the time I left Germany five months later, my spoken German was nearly as good as my French. Of course, there were times when I wished I had learned a few basic grammar rules the old-fashioned way. I was forced to rely on my instincts when trying to conjugate a verb in a complex tense or pair the proper article with a masculine, feminine, or neuter noun. And I still couldn’t explain key differences in the four German cases—nominative, accusative, dative, and genitive—if my life depended on it. However, none of that stopped me from understanding and participating in lots of great conversations with my German friends or communicating with strangers at the grocery store or the pharmacy.

My experience learning German made me wonder (more than ever before) why student progress in learning a new language is still assessed through fill-in-the-blank tests and short essays. Before the days of YouTube, I could understand why an immersive approach to foreign language education was easier said than done. I can still recall how my class “oohed” and “aahed” years ago when one of my professors brought in a VHS tape with a few grainy episodes of Friends that she had recorded while in France. She clutched the precious black plastic cartridge tightly, hugging it to her chest as though she feared one of us might snatch it from her before she could insert it into the VCR. She told us that it cost over two hundred dollars to convert the tape to a North American video format, and we all shook our heads to express our disbelief and our gratitude.

Until recently, supplying students with a German episode of The Simpsons or a Japanese news broadcast required about as much planning and sacrifice as a cocaine smuggling operation. A devoted instructor might record a soap opera during a vacation abroad and carry the tape home like a priceless artifact from an archaeological dig. Once the tape was transported safely, the search would begin for the rare translator of foreign media formats—an elusive code breaker who could make the artifact accessible to the instructor’s students. Today, a wealth of foreign media is only a click away.

So, why isn’t everyone leveraging foreign-language media to create more immersive learning experiences? Some instructors might argue that, YouTube or no YouTube, good foreign language education isn’t primarily about learning enough to understand words and phrases used in popular entertainment and carry on an everyday conversation. The argument over what’s really important in language education (grammar, syntax, and spelling vs. general comprehension and diction) is nothing new. Yet, no matter which side you sympathize with, I think most instructors agree that video and audio can go a long way to promote thinking in a foreign language (as opposed to translation), reinforce key concepts, and burn words and phrases into long-term memory. This brings me to the critical, concluding question of my article, which I hope you will respond to by answering the survey below. (And feel free to provide further feedback by posting a comment.)

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My colleagues have contributed some very practical discussions of tools and theories for teaching and learning. My entry—which I hope will stimulate some conversation—takes a slightly different direction: research in technology and learning.

The Clark/Kozma delivery truck debate¹ shifted the focus of educational technology research away from comparing media or delivery systems (i.e. is using a video lecture better than a face-to-face lecture?) to a more systems-based agenda. This approach recognizes that technologies do not stand on their own, but rather teaching strategy, context, and technology/media each play their part in the learning process. This holistic form of analysis encourages educational researchers to address the following questions:

• What are the particular strengths of a particular tool when used in a particular context to support particular teaching strategies?
• Conversely, what are the strengths of particular teaching strategies to support students in a particular instructional context, such as an online learning context?

As an example, Roblyer and Knezek (2003) suggest one research focus might be on ways to increase the learning impact of technologies already in common use. PowerPoint is an existing, commonly used technology. How might one examine the instructional benefits of PowerPoint in a particular learning situation?

We start—as always—with the learning objective: what will the students know, or be able to do? Consider the following example: “Students will be able to describe the overall concept behind and components of the Kreb’s cycle.” To assess this objective, we create standardized grading guidelines (a.k.a. rubrics) for an essay question assessment. Armed with a rubric and a specific assessment method, we can attempt to determine which of the following approaches will best help students grasp this concept quickly and retain it longer.

1. The concept is described by the instructor in a classroom lecture using a text-only PowerPoint that is then placed on Blackboard for 24/7 access.
2. The concept is described by the instructor in the classroom using a graphical PowerPoint that is then placed on Blackboard for 24/7 access.
3. Students collaborate to create a graphical PowerPoint describing the cycle and share it on Blackboard 24/7 with their fellow students.

In each case, the PowerPoint is posted on Blackboard. However, there are differences in the media—one is textual, one is graphical—between instances 1 and 2. The difference between these two cases and case three is, of course, the active-learning instructional strategy of having students collaboratively create the PowerPoint representation of their learning.

I’d be interested in knowing your thoughts on directions in research on teaching, learning and technology. What technologies and teaching strategies work well in your disciplinary context? Let’s start a conversation!

¹Roblyer, M.D. (2003). New millennium research for educational technology: A call for a national research agenda. Journal of Research on Technology in Education 36(1) 60-1.