Monthly Archives: October 2020

Burning to the ground and starting over (or Transformative teaching during COVID)

When faced with the reality of teaching online we have two choices: (1) try to bend our current pre-pandemic courses and ways of teaching into an online format, or (2) start from scratch and call a do-over.

I chose the latter.

I am not a stranger to tackling learning in new unexpected spaces. My truth is, I enjoy the creative aspect of the brass tacks of course design. What constraints do we have? What are our goals? Where are we going? A few years ago, we lost our large lecture theatre due to renovations on BioSciences. Space was tight, so I finagled teaching a section of our large biology course in one of our residence halls – specifically, downstairs in the ballroom. (This was a feat of creativity supported and crafted by UBC housing, Food Services – who brought us hot chocolate in the evenings, the Centre for Student Involvement and Careers, and the Biology Program – all of whom decided this was a worthwhile effort.) The course ran twice per week at 7PM, and we affectionately called it “the pajama section”.

This summer, when I began thinking about how to transform a course for online teaching, I recognized the process. This was not so different from taking a large lecture course from a big theatre into a ballroom. Here are my top principles to consider:

1. What does this new environment provide that the old one did not? Teaching in a residence ballroom meant a lot of losses. There were no seats, no blackboards or whiteboards, no projection system. But it did have open space that we do not get in lecture theatres. It had open, accessible walls. It had room to dance! And so we did (with pool noodles as chromosomes).

We used the vast space to create things.

We used the walls as galleries.

We hauled in chairs each week, and students began arriving early to help unfold them. Together we crafted a magical learning space that was different but special. Students learning from home this year have lost a lot of the experience they would have in our face-to-face classrooms. What have they gained? What do they have access to now that they do not have access to in a classroom? The answers here may be particular to a specific course, but the universal principle is the same. (As an example for my course this term (a third year laboratory course), one of the things they  gained is temporal – they can do their lab activities at home anytime during the week. They are not constrained to a particular lab section.)

2. Step 1 provides a frame shift towards recognizing that learning from home can be better (in some ways) instead of just adequate. How can this new environment be leveraged in a positive way? This is not unlike the process of flipping a classroom. Start small – maybe with one or two lessons. Creating one amazing thing that students can do at home that they can NOT easily do in a face-to-face classroom can fundamentally shift the attitude towards an online course. (As an example, my students learned about the importance of calibrating an instrument by calibrating their ovens. They document behaviour of birds and/or squirrels out their windows).

3. As I work through the iterative process of “what do they have access to?” and “how can that be leveraged?”, sometimes there are nice places where old curriculum overlaps, and sometimes there is not. Don’t be afraid to let go of the old stuff and do something new. Let’s face it. We are functioning in an emergency teaching situation. We won’t hit all the targets. If something doesn’t transform effectively, get rid of it. Or replace it with something new. One “new” we had in our ballroom was learning about different types of hybrid citrus fruit (from an amazingly small number of wild species), which had nothing to do with anything in our normal curriculum – but it was fun and the students learned something different. Give yourself the opportunity to play and have fun. You will likely stumble onto  some teaching tricks or activities that will make your online classrooms even better the next time around. 

Email Triage

I belong to group on Facebook for parents of students at my daughter’s university. It’s mostly a supportive fascinating group, but as tensions mounted with the uncertainty of fall term, a parent began complaining about lack of rapid email response from one of his student’s professors.
This was my reply:
“On behalf of all the teachers and professors out there, let me tell you about my Sunday afternoon. Your students (especially first year students) are undergoing massive personal growth right now. That’s part of the experience of being a young person. What this means, is that professors – especially those teaching first year – are under email triage the first few months of school. September typically starts off strong, and the worst of it hits mid-October, after the first round of midterms. 
If I get an email from a student with a question about class? THAT IS AWESOME! But – it may take me a few days to get to it. Because my email triage means that I have students who may be suicidal, who are paralyzed with homesickness, who are experiencing early stage of mental illness, who are in horrible unexpected housing situations and need immediate emergency university housing (which is extremely limited right now, beings as we are in the midst of a pandemic). I have dealt with all of these.
The reality is, we care about your students. I know it’s frustrating, parents, to see what your kids are going through with this shift to online learning. Believe me, I would like nothing more than to be in the classroom with my students. Instead, I spend Sunday afternoons translating what would be a dynamic in-class learning experience (today we would be learning meiosis with pool noodles as chromosomes) – into what I hope will be an equally dynamic Zoom experience. I don’t have enough time to do this, but I’m trying anyway. So is almost every one of my colleagues.
Which brings me to now – 7 PM on a Sunday evening – and here I am at the drug store buying and delivering supplies to one of my students. (My class is medium sized – I expect enrolment to be about 110, even though it’s “full” at 96.) This student recently returned to the country (Canada) and is undergoing mandatory quarantine and can’t get lab supplies for class. So this filters to the top of my triage this evening – and then I will be up late addressing other student concerns. All that to say that I see you, teachers and professors! I’m proud of all of us for the work we are doing.”
I believe that each of us develops our own email triage system at the start of the school year.
This is my person method:
(1) Students in crisis are obviously first. Depending on the term and the specific crises, this may be all I get to in any given day. Part of the grace I am granting myself this year is to accept that some days this is enough.
(2) Student course concerns. Again, this can easily take a full day – particularly around midterm time when there are lots of questions. I have two amazing TAs this term who help with a lot of this one.
(3) Reference letters. Any given term, I would estimate I write between 25-50 reference letters. I keep a sticky note on my laptop with a list of references that I need to write as the email requests come in.
(4) Individually addressed emails from committees/working groups. This ebbs and flows. Sometimes I get to these within a few days, and sometimes I don’t.
(5) Other individually addressed emails from colleagues at work. Sometimes I don’t get to these at all. I usually see them and flag them to get to later, but the truth is that I often don’t.
(6) On the rare days when I get through 1-5, I will read mass emails from work. By “mass”, I mean not specifically addressed to me, but maybe addressed to the department or faculty.
(7) Work spam. I rarely get to these, but these include a lot of emails that come to or through  the university at large.

A Tribute to Sky

The photo below is from September 17, 2019, when Sky and I gave a high-5 after our first day at Monarch School. This school is the brainchild of a teacher named Sandra McBrayer, who recognized that youth experiencing homelessness should not be expected to infiltrate into standard school environments. (As a simple and tangible example, where are they meant to store textbooks or do homework?) 

Sky had spent time in the classroom before, at UBC, but this environment was different for her. There was more chaos between classes as kids came and went. The building was big, and she didn’t know anyone but me.

This day was the first day that I truly appreciated Sky’s gift at reading the room. She would calmly sidle up to someone and plop down on the floor. Pretty soon, she’d made a new friend.

As the year progressed, the depth of Sky’s friend circle grew. Pretty soon, students were asking if they could take Sky on walks around the school (yes.) She was solid, calm, and caring.

In October, a student joined us who didn’t talk to us. He came into the classroom with his hoodie pulled tight over his head. He slumped in his chair. He refused to participate and claimed he didn’t like dogs. He has a personal story worthy of a movie. I watched Sky inch her way closer over the following weeks. Never in his space, but close enough to provide presence. Pretty soon, he began seeking her out and petting her. This particular student became a complete joy within a short period of time – he became an engaged, excited student – and Sky became his sidekick. By the time we dispersed with COVID hit in March, they were fast friends.

(I want this post to be a tribute to Sky, but the reality of this experience is bigger than our influence. For personal reasons, this particular student did not finish the year with us, and I think of him often. I hope he is safe.)

Sky’s experience at Monarch last year will probably be her last formal work. She’s 10 years old, so happy retirement to the best dog ever.

 

Pull Up a Chair. (Food and Community Building)

There is an NPR podcast called “Hidden Brain”, where social psychologist Shankar Vedantam describes how eating together increases trust and cooperation.

The truth is, sharing food is a sacred human ritual that traverses time and bridges cultures. It is a ritual that unites us. Food is central to our grieving when we lose a loved one. Food trains have emerged as a way to shore up families with new babies. We share food as a celebratory event, or to simply establish friendships. Sharing food “increases trust and cooperation”.

It turns out that first year students are doing a lot of becoming. According to Upcraft et al, developing academic competence is just a small part of what transition to university or college entails. Young folks are also exploring identity, thinking about careers, exploring faith, and developing civic responsibility, among other pursuits that are fundamentally important to this process. An important one is learning to establish and maintain relationships.

I have long invited (lured) students to come to office hours with the promise of food. Not only does this “increase trust and cooperation”, but it gives students an easy excuse to show up without fanfare or premeditated questions. Just to show up, because they were invited to pull up a chair.

I’ve continued this tradition in our Collegia where I often show up with ingredients and spontaneously invite students to bake with me. The conversations we have while distracted with food are easy and important. When I teach a small 3rd year course in Human Ecology, we create a food calendar and share and learn about foods that are important to each of us. This small act really does increase trust and cooperation in this group.

I will leave this post with a recipe from my grandmother, who grew up on a Mennonite farm in the 1930s. I invite you to pull up a virtual chair.

“Oatmeal Cookies (Best)
1 cup shortening (Oleo)
1 1/2 c sugar (part br sugar)
2 eggs
2 3/4 c flour
1/2 c sour milk
1 1/2 tsp soda
1 tsp b powder
1 tsp salt
1 tsp cinnamon
Cream short sugars w/ eggs. Add milk. Then flour, s, b.p, salt, and cinnamon. 2 cps oatmeal. Nuts and choc. chips. A pinch of lemon peel is very good. 10 min. 375.”

 

The In-Between Times (A before lesson plan)

My good friend and colleague, Natalie Gerum over at the Centre for Student Involvement and Careers, is one of the most creative and careful educators I know. When it became clear that we would be teaching online this term, my single first thought was – “How do we build meaningful community in an online forum?”

Natalie is an expert community builder, and we both recognize the (well documented) importance of strong and early relationship building to the academic success of first year students. (For more on this, I suggest a book called “Challenging and Supporting the First Year Student” by Betsy Barefoot, M. Lee Upcraft, and John N. Gardner). (Full disclosure: I’m not actually teaching first year students this year, but I’ve taught first year for decades, and I think first year principles are so ingrained in my teaching that they are there to stay.) So I called Natalie.

In relationship building for education, one of the critically important but often overlooked pieces is what Natalie calls “the in between times”. These are those unscripted times when students walk into a classroom and sit down next to someone. They look around. They roll their eyes when the professor is late. They chat with the person sitting next to them. I whined, “How am I going to do this in Zoom?” And Natalie said… “well, you start your Zoom class. Let the students join, and disappear. Maybe show up 5 minutes late.” 

(See? She’s a genius.)

And so I began my term by opening up my Zoom lectures 15 minutes early and I post a PowerPoint slide of something to do. Sometimes it’s colouring (via Zoom annotation), or origami instructions, or a crossword puzzle. I share my computer music and play my extensive collection of 70s songs (so they really have something to talk about). And then I walk away and make coffee. When I come back 20 minutes later, community has happened. They’ve shared recipes on the chat forum. They’ve started a discussion group (without me). They’ve made friends.

Which just goes to support my tried and true teaching truth: sometimes the most important things we can do as educators is get out of their way. (More on this later…)

 

A Scientific Cake Experiment (Lesson Plan)

This term, our Biol 342 lab is working at home. This course is designed for Combined Majors in Science students and this is their lab on cake. In this lab, they compare volume of a standard cake recipe with chemical leavening to volume of a cake where they have stoichiometrically balanced the acid and base involved in the leavening to a third cake were they have substituted the type of acid.

Preparation and Supplies

1 oven or toaster oven
1 9” cake pan OR 1 8” square pan
all purpose flour (1 1/2 c)
sugar (1 c)
baking cocoa (1/4 c) (NOTE: this is different than hot chocolate. Cocoa is unsweetened)
salt (1/2 t) (NOTE: “t” = teaspoon)
baking soda (1t)
vanilla extract (1t)
cider or white vinegar (1T) (NOTE: ’T’ = tablespoon)
another food safe acid (such as orange juice or lemon juice)
vegetable oil (1/3 c)
cold water (1 c)
a ruler or measuring tape


Students work in groups of 3 (remotely). One person bakes an old King Arthur Flour cake recipe. A second will bake the same cake, but with a molar balanced amount of vinegar rather than the amount prescribed in the recipe. The third person will bake the same cake, but will swap out the vinegar with another acid.

The basic cake: This recipe is very old. It was developed during world war II when rationing was common and eggs (a leavening agent) were scarce. This cake is so popular, it was selected as the Recipe of the Centuries by King Arthur Flour. The original recipe can be found here, which includes a simple icing if you’d like to include that on your cake: https://www.kingarthurflour.com/recipes/king-arthurs-original-cake-pan-cake-recipe

Instead of eggs, this cake recipe uses baking soda and vinegar to leaven the cake. Leavening is the addition of air pockets into your baked product. If you think of breaking open a loaf of bread, there are often large air pockets inside. These pockets form from CO2 released during leavening. The gas is trapped in the matrix of the flour, forming pockets. This process can be accomplished biologically through yeast, which metabolize sugar and release CO2, egg whites, which hold air pockets when whipped, or other agents. Leavening can also be accomplished chemically with the addition of an acid and a base.

We assume that our different recipes will result in cake with the same volumes. In your lab notebook, write a testable scientific hypothesis.

The basic recipe (person 1 bakes this)

Ingredients
1 1/2 cups (177g) All-Purpose Flour
1 cup (198g) sugar
1/4 cup (21g) cocoa powder
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon baking soda
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
1 tablespoon (14g) vinegar, cider or white
1/3 cup (67g) vegetable oil
1 cup (227g) cold water

Instructions
(1) Preheat your oven to 350°F (see lab 1 for adjustments your oven may need). Lightly grease an 8″ square or 9″ round pan that’s at least 2″ deep. You can use a very small amount of oil or butter to grease the pan.
(2) Whisk the dry ingredients together in a medium-sized bowl. Whisk the vanilla, vinegar, vegetable oil, and water in a separate bowl. Pour the wet ingredients into the bowl of dry ingredients, stirring until thoroughly combined. Pour the batter into the prepared pan.
(3) Bake the cake for 25-30 minutes, until a toothpick or knife inserted into the centre comes out clean, or with a few moist crumbs clinging to it. Carefully remove from the oven using oven mitts and let cool.
(4) Using a tape measure and your geometry skills, calculate the volume of your cake. The entire class should discuss how to do this to make sure all our data is obtained the same way.
(5) Upload a photo of your cake with the volume and your assigned type of cake (1, 2 or 3)

Work with your lab group to answer the following questions. Make sure these are in your lab notebook.

1. Evaluate the basic recipe above. Ignoring the cocoa, what is the acid present in this recipe? What is the base?

The recipe calls for 1 teaspoon of baking soda. The chemical formula is NaHCO3.

2. What is the molecular weight of baking soda?

3. One teaspoon of baking soda weighs approximately 4.8 g. How many moles are in 1 teaspoon of baking soda?

Vinegar is acetic acid. The chemical formula is CH3COOH.

4. What is the molecular weight of acetic acid?

When baking soda and acetic acid combine, the following reaction occurs:

NaHCO3 + HC2H3O2 → NaC2H3O2 + H2O + CO2

5. What is the gas given off during this reaction? (This will leaven your cake)

6. Balance the equation above. (Reminder: Count number of each element on each side and make sure nothing is gained or lost during this process…)

7. How many moles of acetic acid will you need to completely react with all the baking soda called for in the recipe?

8. What is the weight of acetic acid required?

9. One teaspoon of vinegar weighs approximately 4.8 g. What volume of vinegar will you add to your perfectly balanced cake?

A perfectly balanced cake (Person 2 bakes this)
Ingredients
1 1/2 cups (177g) All-Purpose Flour
1 cup (198g) sugar
1/4 cup (21g) cocoa powder
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon baking soda
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
the amount of vinegar calculated above
1/3 cup (67g) vegetable oil
1 cup (227g) cold water

Instructions
(1) Preheat your oven to 350°F (see lab 1 for adjustments your oven may need). Lightly grease an 8″ square or 9″ round pan that’s at least 2″ deep. You can use a very small amount of oil or butter to grease the pan.
(2) Whisk the dry ingredients together in a medium-sized bowl. Whisk the vanilla, vinegar, vegetable oil, and water in a separate bowl. Pour the wet ingredients into the bowl of dry ingredients, stirring until thoroughly combined. Pour the batter into the prepared pan.
(3) Bake the cake for 25-30 minutes, until a toothpick or knife inserted into the centre comes out clean, or with a few moist crumbs clinging to it. Carefully remove from the oven using oven mitts and let cool.
(4) Using a tape measure and your geometry skills, calculate the volume of your cake. The entire class should discuss how to do this to make sure all our data is obtained the same way.
(5) Upload a photo of your cake with the volume and your assigned type of cake (1, 2 or 3)

For the third recipe, you will substitute the acid in the cake.
Choose an edible acid from your kitchen. Orange or lemon juice is a good choice. Work with your group to answer the following in your lab notebook:

1. What is the acid ingredient you chose?
2. What is the balanced reaction of your acid with baking soda? (NOTE: you can look this up)
3. What percentage of your ingredient is actually acid? (i.e. orange juice is about 1.5% acid)
4. How much of your ingredient do you need to add to include enough acid to react with all the baking soda?

The remainder of the volume of your ingredient is mostly water, so adjust the water in the recipe as necessary. (If you use orange juice, you may not need to add any water…)

A new acid cake (Person 3 bakes this)
Ingredients
1 1/2 cups (177g) All-Purpose Flour
1 cup (198g) sugar
1/4 cup (21g) cocoa powder
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon baking soda
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
the amount of your acid ingredient calculated above
1/3 cup (67g) vegetable oil
1 cup (227g) cold water – adjusted for water in your acid

Instructions
(1) Preheat your oven to 350°F (see lab 1 for adjustments your oven may need). Lightly grease an 8″ square or 9″ round pan that’s at least 2″ deep. You can use a very small amount of oil or butter to grease the pan.
(2) Whisk the dry ingredients together in a medium-sized bowl. Whisk the vanilla, acid, vegetable oil, and water in a separate bowl. Pour the wet ingredients into the bowl of dry ingredients, stirring until thoroughly combined. Pour the batter into the prepared pan.
(3) Bake the cake for 25-30 minutes, until a toothpick or knife inserted into the centre comes out clean, or with a few moist crumbs clinging to it. Carefully remove from the oven using oven mitts and let cool.
(4) Using a tape measure and your geometry skills, calculate the volume of your cake. The entire class should discuss how to do this to make sure all our data is obtained the same way.
(5) Upload a photo of your cake with the volume and your assigned type of cake (1, 2 or 3)

Before enjoying your cake, let’s think back to that hypothesis you generated. How will you test this hypothesis?

To start, you will make some simple measurements and calculate the volume of your baked cake. (Your cake is likely domed in the centre, so one good way might be to measure the height of your cake at the edge, and use this to calculate the volume of your cake base. Then measure the height of your cake at the centre and calculate the volume of the domed “lid”. You will be making assumptions on the shape of this dome, but this should be a close estimate.)

Enter your volume calculations into your lab notebook. Also enter the volume of your cake into with the type of cake you baked (1,2, or 3).

By the end of the week, we will have collectively baked a lot of cakes. How will we evaluate cake volume quantitatively to test our hypothesis?
Because we have 3 populations (basic, balanced, and new acid), we will use an ANOVA test. (Note for future: If we had 2 populations, we could use a t-test).

A Pandemic Teaching Philosophy

How do I build community in my Zoom classrooms? How do I honour the trauma my students have experienced this year, collectively and individually? How do I burn-to-the-ground the lab class I had carefully and recently built in the before-times, in order to create something better for an at home experience?

These are the questions I have struggled with, and these are the questions I cannot yet fully answer. When asked if I would take on teaching a laboratory course during a pandemic, I immediately agreed, simply because I know our students need lab courses. At the time, the fall term was unknown. (We knew we would be partially online, possibly partially face-to-face.) Like most of us, my primary goal when designing this course was to create a highly flexible experience that could be accessible to students under various stages of quarantine, in different areas of the world, in different time zones, and with the understanding that any of us could become sick or be required to care for sick household members at any time.

My fundamental goal academically is to create a safe place for students to explore science, practice scientific principles, and build confidence in their abilities as budding scientists. To do this work in a home-lab environment requires building community in my classrooms. I have enough experience working with young adults to know that this sometimes happens best when I purposefully get out of the way. I start each class early and arrive “late” to give students the gift of unscripted in-between moments they would normally have while sitting in a lecture hall, waiting for class to start. I offer unscripted activities (colouring pages or origami) and play music while students are waiting (and I’m making coffee). The term is just starting, but this simple act has given them ownership of that time and space. They have shared recipes, built chat rooms, and formed study groups on their own. I count these as steps towards what I hope will become an active thriving learning space over the next few weeks. 

Within the space of the first week, we have also addressed the trauma experienced by all of us. I invited students to share stories by annotating over a map of the world. We honoured the disappointment for a lab experience that they will not get. (As one example, there was a student who was really hoping to gain experience with PCR and gel electrophoresis.) This week we will explore this further by asking questions about a pencil. When we ask different members of the academy what questions they have about a pencil, we get widely different questions. Personally, I want to know what wood the pencil is made of. I can answer this in the lab – the techniques to do this are familiar to me – which is possibly why I ask that specific question. But to be honest, that’s pretty boring. If I take the pencil and walk down Main Mall to Physics, we have physicists who are world experts in graphite – and have recently used graphene as a superconductor. They would ask amazing brilliant questions that I wouldn’t think of. My colleagues in history may ask about the development of the current pencil since it’s invention in Napoleon Bonaparte’s army. A poet may ask what words are trapped inside that pencil, waiting to get out. The point of this exercise is to recognize that asking profoundly diverse questions is what makes membership in this academy important. The exact techniques each of us know are minor things. I can show a student how to do PCR in one afternoon. (And I will invite them to come by the lab next year, if they choose, and I will do just that.) The part that is exciting is asking the questions. And in our case, asking the questions specifically so that they can be soundly addressed with scientific methods. To further address the specific nature of this term,  I offer extra flexibility with due dates, as needed. I have delivered supplies to students quarantining because of a delayed return to Canada. My promise to myself and to my students is to be accessible and to help problem solve as dynamic needs arise. 

The excitement of a new possibility in education is not lost by the frantic nature of this exact moment. I know we can build classes and courses that can be better – or only possible – in an at-home learning environment. This principle has driven me forward. What can we do at home that we could not do in a face-to-face lab? In what ways can this experience be not merely adequate, but better, in a home learning environment? There are certainly massive things we have lost this year as educators and learners, but it’s possible that we have the opportunity to engineer equal amounts of gain.