аЯрЁБс>ўџ FHўџџџEџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџџьЅС#` №Пl=bjbj\.\. .D>D>Dl5џџџџџџЄЄЄЄЄЄЄЄИ  ИxЖ$$$$$$$$ї љ љ љ љ љ љ $.h–КЄS$$SSЄЄ$$2 S Є$Є$ї Sї ЄЄ $ №ŽYzцoШ]" ї H0x P‚P PЄ ь$>b, Ž$ВЁ$$$ $$$xSSSSИИИdфИИИИИИЄЄЄЄЄЄџџџџ Effective Teaching As Practical Wisdom By Bruce Griffith I can imagine few honors greater than being deemed an effective teacher by respected colleagues, nor can I imagine a greater responsibility than that of offering advice to colleagues with whom I share the honorable but challenging task of educating young American adults for the twenty-first century. This honor and challenge is increased when the audience is composed primarily of those who bear responsibility for the development of teachers, for whatever effect an educator may have is thereby multiplied. Accused of corrupting the youth of Athens, Socrates stressed a point we must all recall: the teacher must live in the community in which his or her students become citizens and thus suffers the consequences of his or her faulty teaching. If we prepare poor teachers, we multiply the damage we do to ourselves and others. If I am to comment on effective teaching, certainly I should be able to define what is meant by “effective.” Most of us would probably begin with a utilitarian definition of effective teaching as teaching that promotes the greatest increase in learning for the greatest number of students. Certainly one cannot describe teaching as effective if students fail to learn. But every educator who has ever been connected even remotely with the debate over evaluation is aware of the difficulties of assuming any simple casual connection between good teaching and measurable gains in learning. Are low levels of student advancement in inner city schools due to poor teachers? Is a teacher effective if he or she promotes slightly more learning by the majority of average students but fails to motivate the academically gifted minority to achieve their potential? Is improved performance on standardized tests an accurate measure of the sort of learning that is the goal of higher education? The utilitarian calculus of greatest total benefit is no simple matter in education. But if we cannot agree on how to measure effective teaching, how can we hope to promote it? One response to the recognition that even good teaching may not always produce learning is to focus on technique or method. The assumption underlying this approach is that teaching is in some sense a science, or that it resembles engineering. When the underlying psychological principles governing learning are understood and applied skillfully, teaching is effective. If students obstinately refuse to learn from an effective teacher, some external factor must be responsible. In this model, good teaching involves teacher behavior and can be measured without reference to student learning. Most of those who teach at the post-secondary level reject the notion that they should be “engineers of the mind,” as Joseph Stalin imagined them to be. Rather they either consider effective teaching to consist exclusively of the mastery and clear presentation of content or to be a gift or an art. The first assumption divorces the measurement of effective teaching from student learning, for one’s expertise in one’s discipline can only be measured by others in that field, and the possession of the doctorate is a certification of such expertise. The vision of teaching as an art or a gift, on the other hand, is student-centered, but it denies that any sort of training can produce an effective teacher. Those who are effective are so because, like great artists, their inner beings are fully expressed in the art of teaching. Such gifted teachers utilize with skill many of the techniques identified by researchers as effective, but they do so in an organic or intuitive or natural way. It must be very confusing for our future teachers to learn that certain methodologies are essential to good teaching and then, in the next period, to observe a professor who violates virtually all of those methodological principles. If, as is often the case, this “bad” teacher is able to promote learning by his or her students, the confusion increases. Nor is this an exceptional instance. On the average, if effective teaching is measured by student learning, post-secondary educators are more effective than those at the secondary level, though they are in most cases virtually untrained in teaching methodology. The most obvious explanation of this situation, if I am correct, is that we at the college level need to do less to promote learning by our students because those most resistant to learning have left the system before they got to us. Those who go on to college will learn in less favorable circumstances because they are more able and more motivated, so teaching can be more effective as measured by learning, even though it may be less skilled. Many of my colleagues betray this assumption as they complain about lower admissions standards and being forced to teach lower-level courses for non-majors. Overtly and indirectly all of us have been exposed in our graduate training to the premise that the scholar is superior to the mere teacher, and that insofar as teaching is rewarding it resembles the graduate seminar in which independent learners, having mastered the methodology of the discipline, present and critique each other’s potential contributions to the expansion of human knowledge. Effective teaching in this model can only be expected in upper-level courses for majors in reasonably selective institutions. Such classes are necessarily small, so the measure of effective teaching is qualitative rather than quantitative. But what of the masses? What of the required freshman survey class in which one is expected to produce learning by large numbers of students whose prior knowledge and motivations is suspect and whose disciplinary preparation is almost certainly inadequate? University professors by their behavior generally demonstrate their disdain for such courses, but by a process of self-selection considerable numbers of teachers who welcome this challenge end up at small liberal arts colleges. I consider myself to be one of these. Admittedly the freshman-level General Education course is a challenge, but it seems to me to be the most fascinating a college teacher can meet. The “cafeteria style” curricula of the 1970s and early 1980s assured that most of us did not have to face this challenge squarely, but as we have returned to some sort of core, more and more of us do and will. We should welcome it as an opportunity to grow as teachers, but we must realize that our fullest utilization of that opportunity requires that we collaborate. I would like to believe that after more than twenty-five years of teaching, I am not only effective but more effective than I was a decade ago. If so, I owe this to those who have helped me in my effort to learn to teach better: my colleagues. The contrasting models of effective teaching I have described are all, in a sense, myths. Each is based upon one or more fundamental truths and helps to clarify some dimension of teaching and learning. Teaching well requires both the discipline of science and the creativity of art, but it demands even more. The Greeks, as usual, had a word for it – phronesis. This term is translated in various ways, but its essence is captured in the term “practical wisdom” or, more simply, “good sense.” They used the term techne to describe the ability to do or make something well, while phronesis was the wisdom to live well. It was learned not from books but from living. The great playwrights of the Golden Age of Athens frequently centered their tragedies on the consequences of a lack of practical wisdom, as in Sophocles’ “Oedipus Rex” and “Antigone.” Thucydides equally valued this quality, which required that individuals or communities recognize the importance of the decision to be made and deliberate with the care demanded by that importance. Greek writers from Homer to Aristotle recognized that phronesis might be a gift found even in a young person, but more often it was the product of the experience of living. A long life, however, was no guarantee of wisdom. Phronesis was most likely to develop when the individual habitually sought advice from others. The sort of decisions which demand practical wisdom are those which involve what problem-solving schema define as “ill-formed problems” because the rules for reaching a solution are not clear and because they can be made only once. It stands to reason that the broader the experience brought to bear on the decision, the less likely individual weaknesses will lead to an unwise decision. Pericles, in his famous funeral oration, argued forcefully that Athens was wiser than her rivals because all of her citizens participated in the process of decision-making. Further, he insisted that Athenians were individually wiser because of their participation in this process. If the Greeks recognized the value of collaboration in the solution of complex human problems, why have we in higher education ignored it? In recent years many of us have become convinced that it is an effective technique for promoting student learning, yet we use it rarely ourselves in our effort to solve the complex and very important problem of promoting learning among a diverse group of young adults. We collaborate in designing our curricula, but we make our decisions as teachers of particular courses as isolated individuals. Perhaps the reason is that many of us identify ourselves with our disciplines rather than seeing ourselves as educators. As specialists we seem to have little to discuss with colleagues, unless perhaps they are in our discipline, and even in this latter case our individualism and assignment to different courses limits sharing. If, however, practical wisdom is an essential quality for effective teaching, programs can be designed to promote the collaboration which will foster it. It is to such a program that I owe what I hope is an increase in my effectiveness. Catawba’s freshman program is year-long, interdisciplinary, and required of all students. Its content focuses primarily on what selected ancient civilizations thought about the appropriate goals for humans individually and collectively. Much of the stress of the program, however, is on developing college-level cognitive abilities and easing the affective stresses of the transition into college life. More than a third of our faculty are involved as lecturers, composition instructors, or master learners (freshman advisors and small group mentors). We have collectively shaped every part of the program including the design of the text, shared lecture outlines, examinations, exercises, and discussion topics. We have found that this design process, which substantially limits the nearly absolute freedom enjoyed by most college professors actually enhances our individual skills and creativity. I have found, for example, that dialogue with teachers whose discipline, age, or learning style is radically different from mine has been of enormous value in helping me understand those of my students who are unlike me. Furthermore, I have learned techniques not natural to my own style which are effective in engaging such students in the learning process. I am constantly forced to think carefully about my objectives and to be able to justify every activity designed for the students in our program. If I omit a transition in a lecture, one of our master learners will point this out to me within hours. An ambiguous objective question rarely escapes notice, and essay questions appear on examinations only after their designers have carefully described the parameters of a good response. When students are confused, we know it immediately, rather than after they have failed graded work. Admittedly this program is highly labor-intensive, and the egos of program faculty are often bruised in the frankly critical atmosphere of our collaboration. The benefits, however, far outweigh the costs. Our students are treated more fairly than might otherwise be the case, and their multiple contacts with faculty in the program allow us to diagnoses their individual difficulties more quickly and accurately than we could in isolation. In the program we see ourselves as educators first and disciplinary experts second, and we carry some of that identification into our more specialized courses for majors. In short, we are wiser and therefore more effective teachers. The advantages of such a program for students who are beginning their training to be teachers should be evident. Every teacher is shaped as much by concrete models of effective teaching as by educational theory. A program designed to clarify expectations and to help students meet them is an ideal model for those who are preparing to teach. Furthermore, for these young people who will soon be attempting to solve the decidedly ill-formed problems posed daily to those teaching in the public schools, such a program can be a model of how educators should cooperate, demonstrate mutual respect while arguing vigorously, and generally deliberate well about the supremely important issues of the ends and means of education. Our education faculty assure me that they can see a significant and positive difference in the students who have gone through our program as freshmen. I can see an equally significant and positive difference in myself and my colleagues in the program. 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