I wrote a few years ago about our overhaul of Intro Bio at Michigan. We substantially reduced the amount of content we cover in the course (though I suspect current students would be surprised to realize that – it still feels like more than enough). We also added in more in class activities (clicker questions as well as other things such as in class short answer problems and exercises aimed at increasing students’ comfort levels with figures). And, most notably for this post, we added in frequent quizzing. Students are expected to take a quiz before every class, with more basic questions related to the readings for that day, as well as higher order questions related to previous classes. Writing the questions for the quizzes the first semester was overwhelming, but my hope was that, in future semesters, it would be much less work. While it’s been less work, it’s still quite a stressful part of the course for me. After teaching the course multiple times after the semester where we overhauled things, I still feel like I am crawling across the finish line at the end of the semester – and that’s with teaching only half the semester! When I teach Intro Bio the next time, I will teach the whole semester, and I am pretty concerned about what state I will be in by the end of the semester if I teach the course the same way we have in recent years. The current course does not feel sustainable.
In talking with others who use similar approaches, I know I’m not alone in this feeling. Teaching this way takes up a huge amount of time, and we still have our other responsibilities (mentoring students, keeping our research programs going, department service, editorial responsibilities, etc.) Lately, I’ve been in multiple conversations with others where we wondered: what do we do if we’ve made a course demonstrably better for student learning but, at the same time, not sustainable for the faculty teaching it?
Also this week: are universities a partisan political issue in Canada, advice on giving talks, “turn that shit into a blog post”, and more.
A good writer knows the conventions that their reader expects. Then they slavishly follow these conventions 95% of the time so the reader doesn’t get distracted by convention violations and instead keep their attention on what you’re trying to communicate. A good writer also occasionally and very deliberately violates these conventions as a sort of exclamation to highlight and emphasize points. Continue reading
As I mentioned in my post last week, just before I headed to the airport, Terry McGlynn posted a list of topics that he wishes people would blog about. Given that I was already planning on doing some #airportblogging, this was really tempting! A couple of his ideas especially stood out to me. The first was about how graduate students can get experience that will prepare them for non-academic positions; I wrote about that last week. The second was this:
-Thoughts about parenting and doing science and academia. (I have written about being a parent and a spouse on the rare occasion, but at a very young age, my son asked for privacy about these matters, and I’ve respected this.) I realize I should be talking about being a parent-in-science more often, because this is a huge part of our lives, and keeping this sequestered just amplifies gender inequities.
I’ve written regularly about the juggling act of parenting and doing science and academia, so it wasn’t the first part that really caught my attention. It was the parenthetical bit. Something that I’ve been thinking about a lot lately is how quite a few people I know are juggling so many big things but, for the most part, only close friends or colleagues know about what they’re dealing with. A partial list of the issues includes personal health conditions; aging parents (or death of a parent); partners who have a chronic illness or major injury; non-trivial things with children; infertility; financial struggles; harassment and/or bullying; and major work upheaval.
In robotics, “uncanny valley” refers to the fact that robots that look and act somewhat human seem creepy. It’s better for them to either look and act not at all like humans, or to look and act exactly like humans. The latter hasn’t yet been achieved as far as I know.
In ecology, theoretical models and microcosm experiments also have an uncanny valley, when they are designed to mimic a particular natural system only in one or two particular respects. In all other respects they are unlike that particular natural system and not intended to mimic it.
Also this week: even simulated evolution is cleverer than you are, what kids today think scientists look like, myths of academic time management, and more.
Note from Jeremy: this is the second guest post in John DeLong‘s planned three part series on independent projects in large enrollment labs. Here’s part 1 if you missed it.
We are about halfway through our experiment basing the labs of a large enrollment ecology and evolution course on independent projects and student-driven exercises. Our goal is to offer the students an authentic scientific experience that allows them to develop their own initiative, follow their own nose, and to develop skills whose utility they can appreciate. This post is the second of three installments on this endeavor.
The overarching lab philosophy is to put students in charge and to facilitate learning scientific skills in the context of their own work. This means that we try to offer up new ‘learning’ opportunities at the right time. For example, we put data collection ahead of analysis instead of trying to teach statistics before there is a reason to use them. This seems so logical now, but it is a departure from our previous offerings. The pedagogical conflict we run into, however, is that we sacrifice some of the breadth we could cover to give students more time to dig into a smaller set of techniques.
Last week, Terry McGlynn wrote a post with a list of things he wishes other people would write posts about. I read this minutes before heading to the airport, and this was like catnip given my #airportblogging habit. So, I sat in the airport thinking about this topic Terry suggested:
How PhD students and postdocs are getting professional development to do things other than become a tenure-track faculty member
This is something I’ve been discussing a lot on seminar trips, with prospective grad students, and with colleagues, but I hadn’t thought about writing a post on it before. So, with thanks to Terry for the prompt, here’s the story of how one of my students has explored career interests outside academia.
Like many biology profs, Meghan often starts class by talking for a few minutes about the “organism of the day“, as a way to engage student interest and illustrate key concepts. I do something similar in my intro biostats course. I start some lectures with “statistical vignettes”: real-world examples that illustrate key statistical concepts and demonstrate their practical importance, hopefully in a fun way.
I’ll say right up front that I have no idea how successful these vignettes are.* I don’t know if they make much difference to how well students like the course, and honestly I doubt they move the needle in terms of student mastery of the material. But I like doing them, I can’t see how they’d do any harm, and I’m sure at least a few students like and appreciate them. So here are some of my statistical vignettes, which I’m sharing in case any of you might want to try them out in your own classes. In the comments, please share your own favorite statistical vignettes!
Also this week: against pi, statistical populations as useful (or not-so-useful) fictions, weasel words about causality, the public face of your scholarly discipline, confidence intervals vs. vitamin D, and more.