Keeping students happy, Darwinian-style

The other day, Sciencewoman posted about her trials and tribulations in pacing lectures: whether 'tis better to pitch the class at the speed of the slowest note-takers, or, by moving more quickly, lose them.  Lots of disagreement appeared amongst the comments (who has time to create separate versions of the lecture notes for students with some words blanked out?) but it brought back some interesting memories.

A few years ago, when I started my first full-time academic post, I had to take a "how to teach" course as a contractual obligation.  Not just a one- or two-day training session, oh no.  This was a several-hours-a-week ongoing Enormous Waste of Time that led to an entirely superfluous qualification that currently lurks in the dustpile near the end of my CV.

  

Sample session: "How to Lecture to Large Groups Effectively", where 5 minutes of material was stretched out to two hours of powerpoint slides (plain b&w: don't use colours in case you disadvantage students with colour vision or reading disabilities) read out (with little elaboration: don't use culturally-specific anecdotes or examples in case you disadvantage international students) at a steady pace (slowly: don't speak too fast in case you disadvantage non-native speakers of English and/or students with reading disabilities).  Every couple of bullet points was interrupted with a check that we understood everything so far (we were a class of academics and this material was delivered at a level a 12-year-old could follow: eventually someone asked her if it would be possible to move more quickly), and every few slides was interspersed with token group exercises where we had to reflect on what we'd learned so far (not a lot - there was very little content in all the handwaving).

By the end of the session, when it was clear that we had filled our requisite flipchart pages, the instructor was practically hugging herself with glee that she had imparted her message so effectively.  By the end of the session, I had practically ground my teeth down to the dentine.  It was a perfect lesson in how not to teach: the visuals were dull, the delivery was monotonous, the "interactive" exercises were simplistic and redundant, and the pace was so slow that the entire class became intensely frustrated.

Ironically, those dreadful "how to teach" sessions probably have sculpted my lecturing style.  Whether it's fair or not, they made me decide that it's worse to alienate the top of the class through boredom and frustration by pitching the delivery at the weakest students than it is to alienate the bottom of the class through incomprehension by pitching the delivery at the best students.  In other words, if I must lose students during my lectures, I'd rather lose the dim than the bright.

Ouch.  Not very caring and sharing, is it?

Now, I pitch the class at the upper-to-middle (students at the 1st class to 2:1 level).  I distribute lecture notes online in advance of the class and make it clear that I'll assume that students have the notes in front of them during the lecture.  The pace seems to suit the majority, or at least I get no indication otherwise.  If any students have trouble keeping up, they also keep very quiet about it.  Or maybe they just bring the notes and pay attention next time.

And yes, I use colour on my slides, frequently ramble off-piste with whatever relevant anecdotes come to mind, and speak in my natural style that happens to be fairly rapid.  And my teaching evaluations come back positive with nary a cross word about level or pace.

Am I just very lucky and keep getting classes of students with reasonable attitudes and expectations?  Or does my refusal to cater for the bottom of the class actually work out best for the class as a whole?

Either way, if it ain't broke...

I'm not a psycho******

I found myself on the British Psychological Society website today, on a page where different types of psychologist are described for Ms. and Mr. Interested Layperson.  All the usual suspects are there: clinical psychologist, educational psychologist, forensic psychologist, and several others.

No academic psychologist, though.

I can think of a few reasons why academic psychologists are not listed.  For one, the BPS is not terribly important within academic psychology.  It's actually fairly irrelevant, apart from accrediting the degrees we teach on, and most academic psychologists I know don't bother registering with the society.  It's important for other fields, sure, but research academics gain little benefit from shelling out the annual fees.  Personally, I don't publish within the flagship journal (British Journal of Psychology), or any of the others, and rarely even cite from them; my subfield publishes in different places.  There are many subfields of psychological research that are only carried out by academics, and not at all by any of the "official" types of psychologist listed on the BPS site, but apparently they don't count as types of psychology.

On the other side of the coin, the BPS tends to have a policy of splendid isolation in limiting membership eligibility.  Like many academics working in the science of the mind, I'm not even entitled to join the BPS because I didn't study psychology in an accredited undergraduate (or postgraduate conversion) degree.  Never mind that I've worked and published in the field for several years - the only way I could join the BPS is to sit a qualifying exam and I will almost certainly never be bothered doing that.  Anyone who studied psychology outside the UK also has to jump through hoops to be allowed to join.

Another reason that the BPS doesn't mention academic psychologists is that they currently have a movement to restrict use of the term "psychologist" to registered members.  No appearing on telly or sticking up a sign on a high street doorway without paying your dues, it seems.  Also, according to proposals for a Psychological Professions Council, no hinting that you work in anything psych-related:

It is expected that the title ‘Psychologist’ will be protected and, in order to provide for complete protection of the public, any other title or description incorporating the term ‘psychology’, ‘psychological’ or ‘psychologist’ – or any variant of these – will be made unlawful for non-registrants.

"Complete protection of the public", indeed.  Sounds like the BPS and its cronies have been taking press lessons from the Department of Homeland Security.

Now, I am a non-psychologist and proud of it.  I am a scientist who happens to examine how the mind works.  Further details in this proposal claim that "services provided in connection with the acquisition or dissemination of knowledge for teaching and research will be explicitly excluded" from the restriction, but there's still a massive grey area.

What if I appear on tv or radio talking about my research?  Or give a public engagement talk about psychology in general?  What if  start writing a blog that reveals my real name?  Is all that still dissemination for teaching/research?  I don't think so, and I also don't think that these "services" should be prohibited from using the words psychology, psychological or psychologist - or any variant of these.

Very kindly, the proposal also indicates that it will be easier for academic psychologists to join the new council body through a "non-standard" route that will involve supplication in front of a panel of registrant assessors.  So, it seems, they'll let me do the above things if I beg to join the club and keep paying my annual protection money.

There's an uneasy relationship between academic psychology and the BPS that can be basically summarised as you stay out of our way and we'll stay out of yours.  If the BPS can't even be bothered to list academic psychology as a valid type of psychology, and then propose to milk money out of us for the privilege of using the p-word, then I think they're breaking our (unspoken) agreement.

Anyone for psycho****?

Keeping below the parapet

Is it better to 

1. Follow internal politics and keep yourself visible to the powers that be, by being seen to apply for internal funding sources and/or directing your research towards the topics deemed "hot" by department or faculty heads?
   
2. Ignore most of what goes on internally unless it has a direct and immediate ramification on you, but otherwise carry on your own programme of research regardless of the topics currently being pushed by internal funding or senior management?

I must admit that I tend towards option 2, with occasional forays into option 1.  Perhaps, if those people in senior positions were actually involved in my research area, I might give more thought to their whims.  But they're not.  The only thing they know (or want to know) about what I do is the amount of money I bring in grants and the impact factor of the journals I publish in, so I am at a loss as to why I should pay any attention to what they feel like prioritising.

There are potential negative consequences to option 2.  If people are not particularly visible within their own department (and instead only work on visibility outside), then they could have a hard time making their case for promotion or having top people as referees on their CVs.

Pff!

My department is (in)famous for not being a place that you progress through promotion.  If you want to be promoted, you leave.  Likewise, since nobody in a senior position actually has a clue about my specific field of research, they wouldn't be much use to me as a referee.

There are also negative ramifications to option 1: if people have to follow the trail of breadcrumbs towards topics that the department/faculty likes, they would end up leaving that which interest them most and spending time getting to know new areas and applications.  Even if they managed to find a "hot" topic that interested them, in my university at least, the time and effort required to jump through internal funding hoops is pretty much the same as that required for external funding, where they'd have the same odds of getting 10 times the money.  Worst of all, if people get into internal politics they inevitably have to take sides in someone else's backstabbing, which I would find ethically unacceptable.

So, it seems, it might be better for me to stick wholeheartedly to option 2: keep my head down and do my own thing.  I know I won't be in my present university forever, partly for the aforementioned work reasons (small chance of promotion) and partly for personal reasons (I don't want to live in the UK permanently).  Frequent chats with friends and colleagues in the department show this is a fairly common pattern.  The happiest academics I know are those who work away in their own little empire, whether that empire consists of just the academic plus a student or postdoc, or a mini-army of collaborators and underlings under one roof.  While taking option 1 (and being a visible part of the internal political machine) can lead to an academic being labelled a high-flier and perhaps given preferential treatment regarding internal resources, it does not necessarily lead to a better career.  

Internal grants and internal pats on the back matter a lot less once you move onto another institution, whereas external validation looks good forever.

Of course, I might change my view entirely if I ever move to a university that I want to stay long-term, but, for now, I think it's best for me to keep my head well below the parapet.

O Caffeine (to the tune of O Canada)

There is an unfortunately linear relationship between productivity and caffeine in my bloodstream.  Yes, I'm well aware that the psychopharmacological properties of caffeine are not a magic wand for hard graft, but my point still holds.

I skipped my breakfast coffee this morning, and, right now, my mind is muzzy and soft around the edges.  Trying to reason out an intelligent train of thought is like trying to plait a ribbon while wearing oven gloves.  I'm working on a grant proposal at the moment and it's safer to leave it alone until I can write like I actually know something about the area.

Time to make some coffee, wait half an hour or so for the drug to cross the blood-brain barrier and get to work.

::::::::::::

I'm ba-aack.  Yawning less, certainly.  And I have that slightly brittle attentional focus I associate with coffee - the aforementioned ribbon of thought can be easily manipulated although I might drop it if I go too fast.  Wheee!

Surely the smartest thing any academic department can do is provide free coffee (or tea, hot beverage of choice, etc.) for staff and students?  And not nasty instant stuff either: proper coffee, drip filter at a minimum and espresso at best.  Not only is it a cheap way to raise morale but there's a great social aspect to running into people at the coffee machine.  Of the universities where I have spent enough time to make a judgement:

• University 1.  People paid a small sum into a kitty (managed by one of the admin staff) if they wanted to avail of the coffee-making facilities.  Research atmosphere in department = excellent. Research productivity = excellent.

• University 2.  Free coffee provided by department as a basic right along with light and heat.  Research atmosphere = excellent.  Research productivity = very good.

• University 3.  People paid directly into coin-operated machine that produced bad coffee at a discounted price.  Research atmosphere = okay-ish.  Research productivity = good. 

• University 4.  Coffee-making facilities introduced halfway through stay, though individuals had to provide their own coffee (which was frequently nicked by others).  Research atmosphere went from non-existent to okay-ish.  Research productivity went from okay-ish to good.

• University 5 (current university).  Coffee-making facilities are present (i.e., kitchens with kettles), but no means of making proper coffee.  Some individuals provide their own coffee (which is frequently nicked by others), some keep coffee-makers in their offices (where proper coffee can be made), but most buy from nearby coffee bars.  Research atmosphere = okay-ish to good.  Research productivity = very good.
  

Obviously, I need a bigger sample, but I see a relationship...