Archive for August, 2005

658. INTERESTING A PUBLISHER IN YOUR MANUSCRIPT

Tuesday, August 30th, 2005

Folks:

The posting below offers guidelines on preparing a book prospectus to a potential publisher. It is from Chapter, Chapter 2: Interest a Publisher in Your Manuscript, in Writing and Developing Your College Textbook, by Mary Ellen Lepionka. Atlantic Path Publishing. copyright © 2003 by Mary Ellen Lepionka. All rights reserved. [www.atlanticpathpublishing.com] ISBN 0-9728164-0-2 Reprinted with permission.

Regards,

Rick Reis
reis@stanford.edu
UP NEXT: Declining by Degrees

Tomorrow’s Academic Careers

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INTEREST A PUBLISHER IN YOUR MANUSCRIPT

Your Prospectus

Each company has its own requirements for a prospectus and might send you guidelines or a preprinted form. Typically the prospectus is a two- or three-page explanation of what you are doing, for whom you are doing it, and why. That is, the prospectus states your topic, scope and sequence, and theme; identifies your market and audience; and sets forth your rationale or main goal. This is the “story” of your book.

In commercial publishing a book’s story is critically important. Editors usually are teamed with marketing and advertising managers, who use the story (1) to determine if the company thinks it can sell your book profitably, (2) to identify specific potential customers, (3) to launch marketing and advertising campaigns, and (4) to educate and win the commitment of the sales force. The story also guides the book designer and others whose job it is to make sure your book looks right for what it is trying to do.

Telling the Story. Because your book is one of dozens or even hundreds presented by editorial teams to the publisher and ultimately to the sales force, its story should be stated briefly. The brief statement is like an abstract containing a working title and the key words that define and sell the book idea. The prospectus should start with this story abstract and then go on to elaborate. Examples of book stories follow:

SOCIAL WORK will be introductory text for entry-level courses in programs leading to licensure in social work and will integrate theory and practice using a problem-solving casebook approach.

TECHNOLOGY AND THE ENVIRONMENT is a thematic, multidisciplinary treatment of the global impacts of technology on human environments from prehistoric times to the present and supports courses in earth science and cultural ecology.

PRINCIPLES OF SCIENTIFIC RESEARCH will be a comprehensive general-purpose handbook with guidelines for observing, measuring, describing, and reporting research in the physical and social sciences.

HISTORY THEN AND NOW is a topical survey of the history of history for graduate students taking Historiography I and Historiography II, with an emphasis on the role of culture in the selection and interpretation of evidence.

IN THE FIRST INSTANCE will reexamine theories of the origins of the universe in light of new discoveries from radiotelemetry and particle physics, and will complement general introductory textbooks in physics.

INTRODUCTION TO TECHNICAL WRITING surveys all aspects of professional practice in the field and features authentic models of excellent writing for future technical writers in both technological and nontechnological fields.

BIOLOGY AND THE LIFE SCIENCES: An introduction is an introductory text for undergraduate survey courses in biology or the life sciences. DNA and the human genome project is the unifying central theme of the book, and a whole chapter is devoted to the implications of recombinant DNA, reproductive technologies, and gene therapies in the treatment of disease.

EDUCATION AND DIVERSITY will focus on the social foundations of education in the U.S. with an emphasis on the social contexts of issues concerning multicultural education, bilingual education, and inclusion.

Planned Contents. The prospectus next walks the editor through the nuts and bolts of the books by describing the organization of it and the elements and features that will be in it-its apparatus and pedagogy, the subjects of later chapters of this book. How will chapters open and close, for example, and what regular features will appear in each chapter? Will there be figures and tables? Photos? How many of each? Will there be a glossary? An instructor’s manual? And so on.

Markets. The prospectus should go on to identify the likely primary and secondary markets for the book. Who will buy it? Who will read it? Your primary market is where you expect to sell the most copies, while the secondary market includes others who might be interested in using your textbook. For instance, the primary market for this book is prospective textbook authors, the people for whom I have written it. Secondary markets might include institutions of higher education and college textbook publishers or editors.

Competition. Your prospectus should include your competition analysis. Briefly list and evaluate each competing text you have identified, explaining how your book will be similar to and different from it in goals, structure, and content. This discussion should lead to an explanation of what you believe is outstanding or unique about your book. Also report if your book idea or chapters have been field tested in your own or others’ courses. A sample prospectus-the one for this book, which was accepted for signing by a major publisher-is presented in the chapter appendix. While this book is not a college textbook, and the prospectus is brief, the same elements of a good prospectus are there.

Your Preliminary Book Outline

An outline functions as both a writing guide and a organizational scheme. Each part or unit and each chapter is identified by number and title, followed by topics and subtopics in the order you plan to write. Observing the formal rules for outlining rather than merely listing topics will help you establish a structure for the book. Preliminary book outlines typically undergo changes as a result of the publisher’s market analyses, analyses of competing books, and feedback from editors and peer reviewers, not to mention needed changes that authors themselves usually discover during drafting. In addition, if your undergraduate textbook involves a large investment, the publisher might propose changes to your outline to ensure any of the following outcomes, based on consumer wants and needs:

*Chapters generally have consistent and appropriate lengths.
* The book includes timely topics and topics that customers generally expect. It also foregoes topics that customers insist they do not want or need.
* To a reasonable extent the book organization works according to known ways in which the course is taught.
* The content is appropriate for the intended course level or for the reading or intellectual level of the intended audience.
* The book can compete successfully with market leaders in its field.

The writing outline is the basis for a table of contents (TOC), which is perhaps the most important tool for marketing and selling the book. If you are developing your book in collaboration with editors, you may receive specific informed suggestions for converting your outline into the system of headings and subheadings that will become your table of contents. Otherwise, you will need to do this yourself in an informed way. Chapter 7 of this book is devoted to the art and science of creating a proper heading structure for your book.

Your Sample Chapters and Cover Letter

If possible, include two or three sample chapters with your prospectus and drafting outline, or establish when you will send sample chapters. A sample chapter should be double-spaced with pages numbered consecutively and should have all its components in place, including any apparatus and pedagogical features you have planned, figures and tables, and references. It is assumed that you are working on a computer and saving to hard drive and disk. Aside from giving the editor an example of how far your planning has gone and what you have to say, sample chapters present your voice and show off our ability to maintain a consistent writing style and format (see Chapters 5 and 11).

The cover letter recalls your previous contract, briefly reiterates that you have a manuscript or book idea for the publisher’s consideration, and identifies all your enclosures. You also provide detailed information about your availability for your project and where, when, and how the editor can reach you. The editor will need practical information as well, such as the present status of the manuscript, your timetable for submitting sample chapters and for completing the work, the estimated length, and even the word processing program you are using.

In your cover letter also indicate if you are making a multiple submission-submitting a prospectus to more than one publisher simultaneously-although you are not obligated to do so. Publishers naturally discourage simultaneous submissions to multiple submission outright. Because of the extreme competitiveness of the textbook industry and the amounts of money involved, publishers are sensitive to needs for product secrecy and competitive edge. Authors have used the multiple submission strategy to their advantage, however, as it facilitates an earlier response from the publisher.

Getting an Offer

Waiting is next and often takes longer than one would like. Acquisitions editors may be on the road, traveling to conventions and campuses, and unable to attend to your submission immediately. Editors typically send your prospectus and sample chapters out for professional peer review, which also can take some time. Finally, the sponsoring editor may need to present your book plan to other tiers of corporate management before an offer can be made. Regardless, prospective authors are perfectly justified in recontacting the editor in a month or two if there has been no response.

Sometimes editors will offer you a contract on the basis of your initial submission of your manuscript proposal, but they more typically request more information or more sample chapters or your response to peer reviews. Let us say, for instance, that reviewers unanimously felt that your sample chapter on law enforcement is too long, overemphasizes federal law enforcement over local and state law enforcement, and omits any mention of special law enforcement units such as border patrol, tribal police, and campus police. The editor might ask you to address these concerns by revising and resubmitting the chapter. The decision to make you an offer will rest on your response. Inexperienced or unknown textbook authors who do not respond well or refuse to make changes, perhaps in the belief that their draft is fait accompli, do not get signed.

Let us assume that you offer a thorough, timely, and well thought out response to the editorial suggestions, however, and that, as the next chapter suggests, you get to sign a contract with the publisher of your choice.

657. STUDENT SERVICES FOR DISTANCE EDUCATION STUDENTS

Thursday, August 25th, 2005

Folks:

The posting below give some pointers on working with non-traditional online students. It is from Chapter 10: The Role of Distance Education in Enhancing Accessibility for Adult Learners by Karen I. Rhoda, Best Practices in Adult Learning by Lee Bash, Averett University, .Editor. Copyright © 2005 by Anker Publishing Company, Inc. All rights reserved. ISBN 1-882982-78-9 Anker Publishing Company, Inc. 176 Ballville Road, P.O. Box 249, Bolton, MA 01740-0249 [www.ankerpub.com]. Reprinted with permission.

Regards,

Rick Reis
reis@stanford.edu
UP NEXT: Interest a Publisher in Your Manuscript

Tomorrow’s Academia

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STUDENT SERVICES FOR DISTANCE EDUCATION STUDENTS

For example, student services professionals in distance education do not see the online students. Therefore, the offering of online courses and degree programs adds a layer of complexity to the services typically provided for students enrolled in on-campus courses and degree programs. Services for students who enroll in distance education need to be designed carefully with the realization that students may never come to campus. Careful guidance of students helps build an affinity between the students and the college of university.

The Factors to Consider

Experience provides clear evidence that high-quality, comprehensive student support services are critical to enrollment and retention for online degree programs. Access to education in a digitized society confirms that services for online learners must provide the vital link that produces affinity between the student and the academic campus. For today’s learners, especially adults, this means the expectation for responsiveness to their individual needs. This kind of response to adult students represents a departure of service for most traditional universities. Services for adults in online programs must be “concerned largely with changing procedures and processes to better serve new audiences. The changes have been highly entrepreneurial, market oriented, and responsive to these growing [numbers] of [students]” (Hanna, 2003, p. 69). As Cureton (2003) points out, today’s adult learners come to the academy from the work arena expecting the same quick response they get fr!
om an ATM machine.

As noted, traditional age students have grown up in a technological era, comfortable communicating in online chat rooms, surfing the Internet for information and using email, Palm Pilots, cell phones, and instant messaging. Many adult students have become accustomed to relying on technology because of their experience in the work arena. However, this doesn’t mean that all traditional students and adult learners will know how to take an online course and will have a positive attitude toward doing so. Several factors need to be remembered.

* Adult students beginning or returning to college may not have experience with the kind of technology that is applied to higher education. Many enroll in college studies to help them enter the professional or white-collar work arena from their current blue-collar status. They may know how to operate a robotic piece of equipment but may not know how to navigate their way through course management software such as WebCT. Though the baby boomers surf the web more than any other age group (Winters, 2000), they may not have acquired the technical skills required to be students in online classes.

* Lifestyles today reflect such high use of technology that “approximately 90% of adult students have access to a computer-either at home or in the workplace” (Bash, 2003, p. 47). However, this does not remove the trepidation of adult learners who are grappling with technology, academic jargon, and the unfamiliar process of taking college courses while trying to maintain their work and family responsibilities. Some adult learners begin or return to college because their place of work has downsized or changed ownership. Adult learners who are without jobs and are unnerved about their personal situation are already feeling vulnerable. This feeling is compounded when they must attempt to deal with technology as applied to collegiate learning.

* Student services for distant learning programs are typically set up for all students who enroll in online courses and degree programs. Students run the gamut from highly sophisticated computer users to those who need help with the simplest technology. Since the digital divide is widening rather than narrowing, it has results in economic barriers to technological proficiency. This impedes the ability to succeed in the technology in collegiate settings, particularly in state universities with open admission policies.

* Distance education programs have greater success in recruiting and retaining students when their operation includes student services. Programs that don’t have student services are more likely to fail. Schrum (as qtd. in “Helping Students Become Tech-Savvy,” 2003) notes, “colleges seem to have this sink or swim mentality when it comes to [comfort levels with technology]. It’s like, ’sign up for these courses and we’ll see if you make it’” (p. 3).

Accreditation for distance education programs that are offered entirely online requires that student services be part of the criteria. For example, the Higher Learning Commission of the North Central Association of Colleges and Schools provides an extensive list of best practices for student services in order to acquire accreditation for electronically offered degree and certificate programs in the region under its auspices. Institutions must heed these guidelines if they want to receive accreditation and be able to recruit.

656. SELF-PUBLISHING – POTENTIAL BENEFITS AND RISKS

Tuesday, August 23rd, 2005

Folks:

The posting below looks at the advantages and disadvantages to faculty of self-publishing books.. It is from Chapter, Chapter 2: Self-Publishing Has Potential Benefits and Risks, in Self-Publishing:Textbooks and Instructional Materials: A Practical Guide to Successful-and Respectable-Self-publishing by Franklin H. Silverman, Ph.D. Atlantic Path Publishing, Copyright © 2004 by Atlantic Path Publishing. All rights reserved. Atlantic Path Publishing, P.O. Box 1556, Gloucester, MA 01931-1556 [www.atlanticpathpublishing.com]. Reprinted with permission.

Regards,

Rick Reis
reis@stanford.edu
UP NEXT: Student Services for Distance Education Students

Tomorrow’s Academic Careers

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SELF-PUBLISHING – POTENTIAL BENEFITS AND RISKS

Self-publishing, like all activities, has risks and can yield both benefits and losses. If you find that the potential benefits of self-publishing a textbook or academic material appear to outweigh the risks, then self-publishing is worth considering. However, you also will need to determine the benefit/risk ration for self-publishing each particular book or material, because this ratio is unlikely to be the same for every project. That is, self-publishing could be advantageous in some cases and not in others.

There are a number of ways that you can gain or lose by self-publishing a textbook or instructional material. Ways that are among the most relevant for college instructors are indicated in this chapter along with factors to weigh when considering options-i.e., determining the benefit/risk ratio for a particular project. This information should help you when deciding whether to self-publish a particular project.

Potential Benefits of Self-Publishing

Many academics have self-published more than one academic work. They did so again because the benefits they derived from doing so outweighed the losses. This is certainly the reason that I have continued to self-publish. Some of the benefits from self-publishing include the following.

* Providing information or tools that otherwise might not be available to others
* Retaining control over price, form, length, and content
* Making it unnecessary to cope with contractual matters, such as the “satisfactory manuscript” clause
* Controlling the length of time that a textbook or instructional material stays in print
* Authorizing revisions to keep textbooks and instructional materials current
* Retaining the copyright
* Controlling reprint rights
* Shortening the time lag between the completion of a project and its publication* Generating greater income than from royalties and rights sales
* Controlling marketing and promotion
* Learning new skills
* Benefiting indirectly from family participation
* Having pleasure!

This list is not intended to be exhaustive or to dictate priorities. Implications of these items are considered next.

Providing Information Not Otherwise Available

Textbook publishers, because of their bottom-line orientation, may be unwilling to publish some textbooks and instructional materials that could be helpful (perhaps even extremely helpful) to students. One reason may be that their author(s) are unable to document a market of adequate size for publishing to be profitable. By self-publishing such a textbook or instructional material, you are likely to make a contribution (perhaps even a substantial one) to your field. Another reason may be that the publisher rejected the manuscript because some of the material was highly controversial-i.e., not mainstream or politically correct. Self-publishing might enable you to contribute nationally to the discussion of issues about which you have strong feelings.

Controlling Price, Form, Length, and Content

The publisher has the final word on the form, content, and length of a book or material. Consequently, if the author is not the publisher and the author and publisher degree on cost, form, length, and/or content, the publisher’s preferences usually will prevail. Decisions that textbook publishers make regarding cost, form, length, and content usually are dictated mainly by what customers want or expect. Another factor is the amount of income that a book or material has to generate to be profitable. Furthermore, the publisher may require a book to be a particular length so that it can be sold for a particular price. Length is determined through research on what customers regard as appropriate for a course.

The content of a book also can be influenced by a publisher’s bottom line. To maximize adoptions of a textbook, for example, a publisher may insist that the content an organization be traditional. A publisher may also insist that any points of view (or biases) the author has that could reduce adoptions be eliminated. However, it is possible that the author’s points of view, which must be declared, are more strongly supported by research than traditional views.

Avoiding the “Satisfactory Manuscript” Clause

All book and material publishing contracts contain what is referred to as the “satisfactory manuscript” clause. This clause states that the publisher can refuse to publish a book or material that, in its judgment, is not satisfactory in form and/or content. Some manuscripts are substandard and not salable as written. However, publishers have unfortunately misused this clause to escape having to publish books and materials for reasons not legitimately related to form or content. Textbook publishers have been known to use the satisfactory manuscript clause to escape having to publish a book for any reason. Perhaps the market for that book has been satisfied by another one of the publisher’s titles, for instance. Or the cost of publishing the work will make it unprofitable. Some publishers invoking the satisfactory manuscript clause even demand that the author return his or her advance with interest!

If you are planning to self-publish a textbook or instructional material, you will not have this problem. You are the one who decides whether the book or material gets published. You can publish it even if the niche it was intended to fill is considerably smaller than when you began the project. And you are the one-for better or worse-who judges the quality of your work.

Controlling How Long the Work Is In Print

A textbook publisher may declare a book or material out of print when it no longer sells a particular number of copies in a year. For a textbook, this number can be as low as 500. A self-publisher can keep a book or material in print for as long as it sells any copies, however, particularly if individual copies are printed on demand or in short print runs or if the book or material is distributed electronically (e.g., as downloadable files on the Internet).

It can be advantageous to you, incidentally, if your publisher keeps your textbook or instructional material in print indefinitely by using print-on-demand (POD) technology. Your publisher could then reduce competition for one of its other textbooks by preventing yours from being revised and marketed by another publisher. A self-publisher would never run into this situation, because he or she would own the copyright and could, therefore, revise and market the book or material in any lawful way that he or she desired.

Authorizing Revisions

A textbook publisher is unlikely to permit a book or material to be revised unless it is selling a certain minimum number of copies a year. For a textbook, this number could be high, as many as five thousand or more. A publisher also may refuse to authorize a revision for other reasons, for example, if it has acquired another title for the course that has more adoptions. Textbooks in most fields must be revised periodically to continue to be adopted. Consequently, not revising a textbook periodically is likely to kill it, regardless of its merits as a teaching tool.

A self-publisher can revise a textbook or instructional material whenever a revision seems to be needed. In fact, he or she can do so almost continuously, particularly if the textbook or instructional material can be either published on the Internet or printed on demand.

Retaining Copyright

A textbook or instructional material that you author is your property. Amendments to the Copyright Act of 1976 give you and your heirs the exclusive right to exploit the book or material until 70 years after your death. By signing a publishing contract, you transfer ownership of it to the publisher. You lose very little by doing so if the publisher pays you a fair royalty and does an adequate job marketing your book or material. However, based on my own experience and that of many members of the Text and Academic Authors Association, this often does not happen, particularly for a textbook or instructional material that publisher assumes does not have the potential to become a best seller.

If you self-publish a textbook or instructional material, you retain the ownership of copyright. Consequently, you can market it in any way you want, including selling it to a textbook publisher.

Controlling Subsidiary Rights

If someone wants to quote portions of your book or material in a publication, and that use is not permitted by the “fair use” doctrine of the copyright law (see Chapter 10), he or she must get the permission of the copyright owner. Consequently, by transferring copyright to a publisher, the authors essentially loses control over who gets permission to quote from his or her book or otherwise use the material. In fact, as author you lose the ability even to quote extensively from your own work without the publisher’s permission. The author receives only a percentage (probably 50 percent) of the permissions fees that are paid. Authors who self-publish a textbook or instructional material retain copyright, and thus retain control over reprint rights as well as other subsidiary rights.

Getting into Print Quickly

It usually takes a minimum of nine months to publish a textbook or instructional material after a publisher has accepted the manuscript for publication. Much of this time is consumed by the manuscript waiting its turn for something to be done to it (e.g., copyediting). By undertaking or outsourcing many of the production tasks, a self-publisher often can shorten this interval.

Making More Money

Your textbook or instructional material may generate more income for you if you self-publish it. Whether it does so depends, of course, on how must it costs you to produce and market it and the number of copies you sell. A number of academic authors who could easily have gotten publishing contracts for their textbooks or instructional materials chose to self-publish because doing so could generate more income.

Directing Marketing and Promotion

Textbooks and instructional materials that a publisher regards as not having the potential to become best sellers are rarely marketed adequately. This means that if you want your book or material to reach as large a segment of its intended audience as possible, you will have to assume an active role in marketing it. However, the publisher’s agents responsible for marketing your book or material may not welcome your involvement. Or they may be unable to do what is necessary to market your textbook or instructional material adequately, because the budget available for doing so is inadequate. In fact, the budget may be close to nothing.

If you self-publish a textbook or instructional material, you will have full control over marketing and promoting it. Marketing and promotion involve significant cost in time and money, however. Some possible strategies for these purposes are described in Chapter 11.

Inviting Family Participation

Your involvement in self-publishing may have the potential to benefit one or more members of your family in a number of ways, such as the following.

* Providing spending money for one or more of your high school-age children. Their pay would depend on their responsibilities. As their responsibilities increased, their salary would be expected to also.
* Bringing your relationship with a partner or spouse of one of your children closer to you by working with them on a book project.
* Interesting one or more of your relatives in textbook publishing as a career.

There may well be other indirect benefits from family participation.

Having Pleasure!

Most people who have self-published more than one book or material continued doing so because they enjoy it. As one advocate-Judith Applebaum (1988, p. 151)-stated:

In these push-button times, the pleasures of physical achievement are reserved mainly for children, but self-publishers, along with a handful of other adults who work with their hands building things they love, are privileged to share the I-made-it-myself elation.

655. RECONCEPTUALIZING THE FACULTY ROLE; ALTERNATIVE MODELS

Thursday, August 18th, 2005

Folks:

The posting below looks at the new mentoring roles that most faculty must now assume. It is from Chapter 19: Reconceptualizing the Faculty Role: Alternative Models, by James R. Chan, Michael V. Fortunato, Alan Mandell, Susan Oaks, and Duncan RyanMann, SUNY Empire State College, in Reinventing Ourselves: Interdisciplinary Education, Collaborative Learning, and Experimentation in Higher Education, by Barbara Leigh Smith & John McCann, Editors. Copyright © 2001 by Anker Publishing Company, Inc. All rights reserved. ISBN 1-882982-35-5 Anker Publishing Company, Inc. 176 Ballville Road, P.O. Box 249, Bolton, MA 01740-0249 [www.ankerpub.com]. Reprinted with permission.

Regards,

Rick Reis
reis@stanford.edu
UP NEXT: Self-Publishing – Potential Benefits and Risks

Tomorrow’s Academic Careers

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RECONCEPTUALIZING THE FACULTY ROLE; ALTERNATIVE MODELS

Faculty as Mentor

A certain privilege has traditionally been associated with the status of the faculty member: access to specialized knowledge, the prerogative to identify what is important to learn, the right to impart that knowledge to those who come to us to gain it, and the authority to judge if another has acquired appropriate learning. In conventional academic settings, the very expertise of the faculty has been framed by a set of boundaries that separated faculty from students. Faculty held the important knowledge, conveyed it to those who cared to know, and developed criteria for and carried out what was determined to be appropriate evaluation.

The presuppositions of such a model have been opened to debate by a range of issues and realities that now characterize our educational landscape. We live in a world where the question of what is important to know is not easily answered and where the amount of knowledge at least theoretically available to us continues to expand at a phenomenal rate: that is, in a world where such authority is fleeting. Even the supposedly clear and meaningful disciplinary conditions that informed so much of our own education and our identities as academic professions have been thrown into question. No thoughtful faculty person can know enough about what there is to know to make final claims about that knowledge.’

Further, the institutions within which we work have dramatically changed. The range of students who enter our classrooms-in terms of ethnicity, race, gender, age, and life experiences-has expanded. It is nearly impossible to prejudge who will sit before us, what they already know, what they want to know, and what tools we might employ to most effectively help them learn. What we had taken for granted before (however appropriately or inappropriately) we cannot assume today.

Institutions have responded to some of these realities in a number of ways. The drive to find a viable market niche and to respond to new clientele has meant more flexible schedules, evening classes, weekend options, distance learning programs, the formal acknowledgement of learning gained outside of accredited academic institutions, and institutional fixtures (from orientations to the library to course guides) that are more user-friendly. Clearly, colleges have become more aware of trying to meet the needs of an increasingly diverse student body-of providing levels of access, particularly through newly devised delivery systems that had not existed before.

Most of these institutional changes have been at the edges of faculty experience. They have not usually touched the more protected arena of faculty privilege. Particularly with the inclusion of a greater number of working adult students, however, faculty have been called upon to expand the range and nature of their interactions with students. On a simple level, it has not been unusual for faculty to have increased the hours they are available to students outside of the classroom. More significantly, because of the experiences, goals, dilemmas, and academic strengths and weaknesses that these so-called nontraditional students have brought to our academic worlds, faculty have found themselves taking on more advisory roles, serving as guides and consultants, and helping their students negotiate their way through formerly alien academic terrain to gain the kinds of skills and competencies that we know they need. The inclusion of such a counseling dimension into the very fab!
ric of many of our lives as academic instructors has also meant a subtle but important shift in the nature of communication between faculty and student. We have learned to listen with new attentiveness and care, knowing that our ability to understand and respond is directly related to our students’ success as learners.

But the most powerful shift occurs when the interrelated movement from providing better institutional access to listening and counseling does touch the very core of the conventional faculty role. And it is here that the potential of a new relationship between students and teacher emerges. As Mandell and Herman (1996) have described such a collaborative stance is at the heart of the role of faculty as mentor. That is, in an institutional context that works for true access (not only for admittance but for the possibility of success), listening becomes a necessary art, and teaching-and the knowledge upon which it is based-becomes an ongoing project of locating and/or creating imaginative learning tools to respond to the academic needs of individual students whose voices we can never disregard. Garrison (1992) describes the emerging dialog this way:

Only through continuous and critical dialogue between learner and facilitator can a dynamic and optimal balance of control be realized. The balance of control will probably shift depending on the context and the proficiency of the learner. However, through sharing control there is an increased probability of students reaching desired and worthwhile learning goals which, in turn, would result in improved motivation, ability to learn, and self-directedness. (p. 144)

In the last few years, the word mentoring has taken on a rather hierarchical cast. In such contexts (many of them corporate), mentors are experienced guides who know and can offer expert advice, those who have been especially successful and can show others how to succeed. But the notion of faculty as mentor introduced here emphasizes sharing control and meaningful reciprocity. In fact, it is about the deliberate creation of opportunities for common learning. It also is motivated by the quest to follow the lead offered by an individual student’s questions, concerts, or idiosyncratic understanding into new areas of academic exploration, even those that stretch and challenge our own sense of what we know. In this way, mentoring accents the importance of our strengths as academic generalists who have learned work with problems that cut across the disciplines and themes that are inherently interdisciplinary. Mentoring embeds us in a distinctive approach to teaching and lear!
ning that deliberately legitimates the questioning of faculty authority and the claims to knowledge upon which that authority rests. By inviting a student to participate in his/her own learning (for example, through faculty and students creating individualized learning contracts as an integral part of the learning process or working together to design an entire curriculum), and by providing room for a student to gain the new skills necessary to work independently, we offer ourselves as engaged interlocutors who demonstrate that we care deeply about dialog and reflection and about the critical examination of pertinent questions, many of which were not our questions at the start.

In effect, through interactions with their students, mentors try to model the very kind of learning they hope their students will continue to pursue. That is, in a quite powerful and palpable way, the ideal of lifelong learning, usually reserved for students, equally pertains to the faculty mentor. We are always in the process of creating new studies with students, tinkering with old plans, searching for and coordinating effective resources, immersing ourselves in a new question, following the lead of an issue that a student has begun to articulate, making connections with a colleague who may offer a suggestive direction. We are, above all, listening, guiding, trying out new learning strategies, and staying alert to what may become yet another opening.

Perhaps like all more democratic experiments, the experience of faculty as mentor is a rather precarious one. Traditional faculty authority has been based on bodies of knowledge and academic structures that reinforce them. To enter a world of mentoring is to practice with the expectation that through serious and honest discourse and negotiation (and a community of other mentors who can provide support, encouragement, and critical scrutiny), plans for individual studies and curricula can be built that are academically rich and that flow from the lives of our students as parents, workers, scholars, members of a community, and citizens. To gain experience in such a faculty role that emphasizes not separation but connection, dialog, and a reweaving of relationships of authority is, in itself, a new kind of privilege.

654 LIFE ON THE TENURE TRACK – RELATING TO STUDENTS

Tuesday, August 16th, 2005

Folks:

James M. Lang, an assistant professor at Assumption College in Worcester, MA., has written a great story of his first year as a college teacher that provides keen insights that will help graduate students and new faculty – and maybe even not-so-new faculty – learn to survive and flourish as good teachers. The posting below is a set of two excerpts from the March chapter, Relating, in which he talks about what he needs to do to make effective connections with his students. It is from his book: Life on the Tenure Track, Lessons from the First Year. The Johns Hopkins University Press. Copyright© 2005 The Johns Hopkins University Press. All rights reserved. Published 2005 [www.press.jhu.edu] Reprinted with permission.

Regards,

Rick Reis
reis@stanford.edu
UP NEXT: Reconceptualizing the Faculty Role: Alternative Models

Tomorrow’s Teaching and Learning

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LIFE ON THE TENURE TRACK – RELATING TO STUDENTS

The time away from the classroom, between my illness and spring break, helped me begin to see an important shift I had been making over the course of the year-one that concerned my relationship with my students.

Before coming to Assumption, I saw myself as an explorer leading a band of shipmates on exciting intellectual journeys. I had studied the maps; I knew how to navigate; I had done the research, and my excitement and intellectual curiosity would inspire my crew to follow me into dark and mysterious places. They had signed up for the voyage, and I expected them to follow me willingly, even enthusiastically. After all, once we reached the new land, they would all have an equal share in the intellectual treasure.

But that relationship model didn’t work for me and my students at Assumption-and won’t work, I expect, for faculty at most colleges in the United States. Not all of the students, first of all, had willingly signed on for the journey. Some were on board because their parents had pushed them there; some were along for the shipboard parties; others saw their college courses as getting them from point A to point B and planned to jump ship at the first port-the promise of a secure job with a good salary. Of course there were exceptions, but many of them hadn’t come on board for the sole purpose of accompanying me on journeys of intellectual discovery.

So I had to abandon that model, and the best replacement I could come up with to describe my role in the relationship that was evolving between me and my students was on that at first, I confess, stuck in my craw: I was like the coach of a high school sports team. We were a solid team with all the fundamental skills under our belt. Nothing too flashy-we weren’t the state champions, but we weren’t the conference doormats, either. My players came out for various reasons. Some were here out of inertia, because they had been playing the sport for a long time; others had been shoved onto the team by their parents; a few truly loved the sport; and one or two were capable of play at the professional level someday.

But this mix of players, with their different motivations and skill levels, meant that I had to focus my energies on four tasks: encouraging everyone into a love of the game, even if it meant jumping around and waving my arms during my halftime speech, or taking everyone out for pizza once in a while; drilling them on the basics, with daily practice; preparing them for the big games and evaluating their performance afterwards; and, finally, making sure they understood how playing the sport would benefit them throughout their lives.

So in March, following spring break, I begin to step more enthusiastically into the role of coach. I am coming to understand that if I want my students to participate in the discussions and exercises I plan, part of my job is to convince them that what we are doing matters-both in their future courses at the college and in their lives beyond college. My classroom practice slowly evolves from encouraging them to discuss interesting things to structuring discussions in which we practice the basic skills of my discipline: looking closely at texts, generating interpretations, and testing those interpretations against the words on the page and against each other. I make frequent mention of the relationship between specific classroom activities and what I will expect from them on their tests and papers, as well as-whenever possible-what employment or citizenship will demand from them beyond college. I start to wonder whether I should have been doing these same things with my s!
tudents at Northwestern.

My three different class preparations (for four courses total) are spread across the major course divisions at the college-a freshman introductory course, an intermediate required course for majors, and an upper-level elective-making my efforts especially challenging. What works for one group of students doesn’t always work for the others. So, just like last semester, I am still constantly working on course preparations, trying to find new ways to keep the students interested and to gear the classroom activities towards the development of specific analytic and interpretive skills.

On my second class day back to Introduction to Literature, for example, in mid-March, I begin out discussion of Ursula K. LeGuin’s story “The Ones Who Walk Away from Omelas”-a philosophical fable in which a town’s happiness depends entirely on keeping a small girl locked in a basement-in squalid conditions-with an activity I had once read about called the “concrete image” exercise. After introducing the story, I ask the students to clear their minds and think about the one most prominent concrete image of the story. Once they think of it, I tell them, write it down in as much detail as possible, then try to figure out how it helps you understand the meaning of the story.

(This counts as their weekly writing exercise, the substitute I have come up with for the quizzes that the presidents insisted were such a necessity. Once a week I pose a thought question at the beginning of class, one that require them to write a full paragraph about a specific element of the story, in enough detail to demonstrate that they have read the material. It also requires them, though, to offer an in-depth analysis of that element, something that goes beyond mere description. I always use the question I pose for their weekly writing exercises as the first discussion question for that day.)

Once I have collected this exercise, I ask for volunteers to describe their images for me. Most of them focus on the girl, but they emphasize different elements of her condition, and I list these on the board. Once we have done that, I ask them to help me organize our images into a structure that ill explain what the story means-and in the case of this philosophical fable, what lesson the author wants us to learn.

At the end of class, and it has been a good one, I make my pitch for the utility of what we have just done.

“This exercise,” I explain, “models for you one way of analyzing a work of literature, and it’s a way that you can and should be using in the papers you have due in a few weeks.”

Ears prick up at this. I see some students pick up their pens and poise them over their notebooks.

“When you are reading a work of literature, keep your eye out for concrete images like these” (I gesture at the board), “for extremely details descriptions of objects or people or places, for the details that the author devotes a lot of attention to and that really stand out when you read. Those are the places to focus your attention when you are ready to start thinking about what the work means. Look closely at those details and images in the text, think about what they mean, analyze the specific word choices the author makes, and consider whether they represent more than what might first appear to you. Make a list of images or details that stand out, and do what we have just done here: try to find some principle that connects them, that organizes them.

“If you are reading something for the first time and feel lost, look to the images and details. And in your papers, always make sure that you are doing the sort of close analysis of those images and details that we have done here today.”

More and more, as the semester proceeds, my classes being to look like this. We spend time in class honoring particular skills-skills that might seem specific to the art of literary interpretation, I tell them, but that will be required of them throughout their lives: reading closely, analyzing texts and situations, interpreting the written word, organizing their thoughts and words into papers and presentations.

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As an undergraduate myself, I wasn’t interested in interacting with my professors outside the classroom. I was curious about their lives but would have felt uncomfortable in social situations with them. Perhaps my reluctance or inability to connect with my students more fully outside the classroom stems from my memory of that attitude in myself, and from an assumption that my students feel the same way I did back then.

An indeed, in this second semester I am coming to understand how much my undergraduate attitudes about students and teachers and education have colored-and in many cases warped-my current perspectives.

I don’t know whether I am alone in this, but a part of me has always felt that the undergraduate Jim Lang sets a good standard for the values and behavior of the older Jim Langs who have come along since then. I was an idealist in college, and I remain one; I hate it when people snidely dismiss the idealism of their youth. I still believe in the power of ideas to change the world. That belief is part of what keeps me in this business.

But by the middle of my second semester I am becoming more and more aware that the undergraduate Jim Lang, whose idealism I still admire, did not have the knowledge or experience to be a good judge of pedagogical practices or student relations. He didn’t understand classroom dynamics; he would never have seen how his own assertive voice might intimidate others; he would have dismissed as silly or timid anyone who feared joining a classroom conversation. He was the product of an all-male high school and a male-oriented culture of sports and Catholicism at Notre Dame. He would have groaned and rolled his eyes at the sort of exercises I regularly conduct to make students comfortable and open to discussion in my classrooms.

He wasn’t exactly an idiot, but he had his blinders.

Understanding my relationships with my students more clearly, and learning to manage them more effectively, has meant sloughing off some pieces of that old Jim Lang and coming to realize that his experiences out there in the seats don’t always serve me very well up here in front of the blackboard.

I have watched colleagues go through similar realizations and have watched others who never come to see that their experiences in college or graduate schools should not necessarily form the measuring stick for their own teaching practices. Many of us who entered Ph.D. programs did so because we learned best by means of reading and listening to lecturers. But many students out in the seats in liberal arts colleges like mine don’t learn best by those means, and they need more interactive and hands-on forms of teaching.

The most complex relationship I find myself having to negotiate in my continued development as teacher, then, is the one between my past and present selves.

653. ENHANCING TEACHING THROUGH PEER CLASSROOM OBJECTIVES

Thursday, August 11th, 2005

The posting below gives some recommendations for effective peer classroom observation programs >From Chapter Twelve: Enhancing Teaching Through Peer Classroom Objectives by Barbara J. Millis and Barbara B. Kaplan in: Improving College Teaching by Peter Seldin, Lubin School of Business, Pace University. Pleasantville, NY. Copyright (c) 1995 by Anker Publishing Company, Inc. All rights reserved. ISBN 1-882982-08-8. Anker Publishing Company, Inc. 176 Ballville Road. P.O. Box 249. Bolton, MA 01740-0249. [www.ankerpub.com]. Reprinted with permission.

Regards,

Rick Reis
reis@stanford.edu

UP NEXT: Life On The Tenure Track (August 10, 2005)

Tomorrow’s Teaching and Learning

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ENHANCING TEACHING THROUGH PEER CLASSROOM OBJECTIVES

Factors Contributing to Successful Peer Assessment Programs

>From UMUC’s experience with this ten-year, constantly evolving Peer Visit Program and from what is known about effective faculty development and administrative procedures, several recommendations may help other institutions develop effective peer classroom observation programs. Although focused on formative observations, many of the recommendations apply equally well to observations intended for summative purposes. They are deliberately broad. Thus, they may be relevant both on the macro-level, such as when a peer classroom observation program is established institution-wide, and on the micro-level, such as when two individuals agree to reciprocally visit one another’s classes. In practice, many classroom observation programs are initiated at the departmental level. Lucas (1990), for example, recommends that chairs “create a climate of trust and support so that visiting one another’s classrooms is acceptable and non-threatening” (p. 68). Significantly, Massey, Wilger,! and Colbeck’s (1994) ongoing research on departmental conditions suggest that supportive departments are relatively open to peer review of classes. These are the recommendations:

1. Classroom observations must be conducted in an atmosphere of trust and collegiality within the context of teaching enhancement. A positive climate of support, reasoned dialogue, and mutual professional goals underlie successful programs.

2. Teaching enhancement must be valued: even if the rewards remain intrinsic, the faculty involved must feel that there is a “pay-off” for their considerable investments in teaching improvement. Ideally, the institutional and departmental reward structures will encourage effective teaching, despite cynics who point out that words of commitment are less powerful than the realities of promotion and tenure.

3. Faculty must “buy into” the value of classroom observations to enhance their teaching. They must be convinced that the process itself works and that classroom observations offer rich, reflective, qualitative experiences. Good practice-supported by systematic, yet creative administration-can offer these assurances.

a. Responsive, responsible administrators-buoyed by conscientious support staff-must be selected to provide the infrastructure and motivation to insure that the program thrives.

b. Individual arrangements or any broader announcements or literature regarding classroom observations must make crystal clear the objectives. Full disclosure is essential: there should be no hidden agendas.

c. Effective faculty leaders are essential. The “best and the brightest” should be involved-individuals with the respect of campus colleagues who are committed to teaching but who also excel in research and service.

d. Even the “best and brightest” must be given systematic training in two essential skills: conducting the observation in a systematic, research-oriented manner and providing effective feedback within the broad context of sound pedagogical practices. Workshops offer concrete, interactive ways to accomplish this training, but less formal methods can also be effective, such as one-on-one coaching or serious review of prepared materials such as the Peer Visit Packet used at UMUC.

e. Faculty must be coached to use a three-stage consultation model that includes pre- and post-observation discussions and to conduct at least two classroom visits to get a broader perspective and to provide feedback on agreed-upon-changes.

f. Faculty must be encouraged to agree on a viable instrument to focus the observations. Many faculty prefer the type of focused narrative used at UMUC because it offers a holistic view of classroom activities and climate without presupposing any particular pedagogical approach, such as lecture.

g. All observations must be placed in the broader context of teaching enhancement. They should ideally be part of an extended review of classroom performance which takes into account other available data such as course materials, particularly the syllabi and exams; classroom research data; and student evaluations collected over time. (See the chapter by Fink, this volume.)

These recommendations emphasize key factors in the successful adaptation of a peer observation program. Faculty will be more motivated to participate if visits are conducted using principles of good practice in a climate of trust and mutual respect where teaching enhancement is valued.

652. TEACHING FOR TIPS

Tuesday, August 9th, 2005

The posting below is an interesting take on the “student as customer” notion. it is by Natasha Saje in Liberal Education, Winter 2005, published by the Association of American Colleges & Universities, 1818 R Street, NW, Washington, DC 20009 Liberal Education , Winter 2005, Volume 91, Number 1: The Future of Diversity . Copyright© 2005, AACU. Reprinted with permission.

Regards,

Rick Reis
reis@stanford.edu
UP NEXT: Enhancing Teaching Through Peer Classroom Objectives

Tomorrow’s Teaching and Learning

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TEACHING FOR TIPS

By Natasha Sajé

Some years ago, when I was waiting tables at an upscale restaurant in Washington, DC, I had a customer who, after receiving the whole artichoke he’d ordered, indignantly called me back. He pointed to the mess of chewed leaves on his plate and said, “This artichoke is tough.” I had two choices: I could instruct him (in front of his client) how to eat an artichoke, or I could accept the blame. “I’m so sorry,” I said. “Let me bring you the fettuccine.”

Waiting tables is filled with decisions like this, moments when servers use their knowledge of people to ease or vex their customers’ souls. The server must approach each table and ascertain what the patrons want, or more precisely, what they need. And this includes not just what they want to eat and drink, but also how much they know about food and wine, what kind of mood they’re in, and what degree of distance they prefer. Then the server has to adjust herself to their needs. The relationship is not unlike that between teachers and students.

Before I took a full-time teaching job, I taught courses as an adjunct for twenty years, often waiting tables as well. Both kinds of work combine the excitement of the unknown with the challenge of keeping track of details. You must be quick on your feet, picking up verbal and nonverbal cues. Who needs a glass of water, now? Who wants to speak but is too shy? You must care for people. You must create an environment in which customers can enjoy themselves or students can achieve self-realization. In both contexts, once you’ve figured out what they need–and if you don’t allow your ego to get in the way–a kind of grace takes hold. Whether they comprise a table of six or a classroom of twenty, you love them for being human and you try to make them love being in your hands (the Greek concept of agape with a dash of eros). And to serve them truly, you have to give them not what you want or what they say they want, but what they need. Sometimes fettuccine, sometimes an artichoke lecture. Occasionally, individuals can be rude, arrogant, or lazy. You must remind yourself: love them, love them; don’t sink to their level.

The student as customer

If I’m nostalgic for tending tables, for situations where a troublesome customer is out the door in an hour instead of a semester and where the relationship between service and pay is clear, perhaps it’s because of the impact of consumerism on higher education. It’s gotten to the point where students actually write things like “I’m not paying this kind of money to get a B” on their course evaluations. Teaching may not exact the physical demands of waiting tables–there are no fifteen-pound stainless steel coffee pots to lug around–but, with teachers evaluating students and students evaluating teachers, it does present dilemmas.

The student-as-customer phenomenon is unknown elsewhere in the world. In Europe, where educational institutions are public and free, students nonetheless feel privileged to enter them. In private U.S. colleges like mine, professors tremble in the wake of teaching evaluations and give higher grades because of them. It’s like working for a tip, except the payoff isn’t cash under the plate; it’s having one’s contract renewed. Administrators worry that the “customers” will shop elsewhere if they are not pleased. A recent study by Valen Johnson, a professor of statistics at Duke University, shows that students rate the courses in which they earn higher grades more favorably. At my college, where the average grade is an A-, administrators debate how to curtail the number of students who receive honors at graduation. One solution, of course, would be to abolish course evaluations. Grades would plummet faster than a broken cable car. Students say they want easy As, but is that what they need?

I also teach in a low residency program, which offers a master of fine arts in writing and where the evaluation of students and faculty alike takes the form of one-page essays. While they don’t solve the student-as-customer problem, these essays can do justice to complicated situations. Even the effort to articulate such situations entails a kind of learning. Anyone who reads the pair of essays–by student and teacher–can see how personality affected the semester’s work. Most colleges don’t use written evaluations because they’re time-consuming and difficult to standardize. But that’s my point: teaching and learning are difficult to standardize.

The bases of every food service operation are numbers and profit: the ratio of food cost to selling price, the number of “stars,” the amount of cash taken home each night, even the “86″ when there’s no more lamb. Profit is the reason restaurants don’t feed their employees. At that Washington restaurant, it took me only about two hungry weeks to revise the fastidious notion that I wouldn’t eat food off a guest’s plate. Once, the owner caught me gobbling marinated figs and solemnly informed me that each fig cost forty cents. Numbers may be the heart of the restaurant business, but they shouldn’t be the soul of higher education.

Tough grades send a loving message (agape with a touch of eros). With an eye to the future, where the consequences of laziness are more serious than grades, they say “work harder.” Yet these days, even many administrators don’t believe that students need tough grades. The student who earns a D probably forgets what I’ve expressed in conferences and written on his papers. I hope he understands the grade as an expression of concern rather than as a form of punishment. But he probably focuses instead on that one crude letter, that 2.0.

I used to have nightmares about customers sitting down at one of my dirty tables. Now my nightmares involve opening my course evaluations, those one-to-five rankings of teaching, and finding all ones and twos. You see, my college doesn’t give tenure–another trend in higher education–so if the college decides I haven’t pleased the customers, I’ll be tending tables again.

Natasha Sajé is associate professor of English at Westminster College in Utah.

To respond to this article, e-mail liberaled@aacu.org, with the author’s name on the subject line.

651. JUNIOR FACULTY – HOW TO FIND GOOD MENTORS

Thursday, August 4th, 2005

olks:

The posting below gives some excellent suggestions on finding faculty mentors. It is from Chapter 4: Early and mid career mentoring and support: Finding mentors and setting priorities, maintaining momentum after tenure, in: Mentoring for Academic Careers in Engineering: Proceedings of the PAESMEM/Stanford School of Engineering Workshop. Editors: Eve Riskin, Mari Ostendorf, Pamela Cosman, Michelle Effros, Jia Li, Sheila Hemami, Robert M. Gray Grayphics Publishing. [www.grayphics.com] 1114 State Street, #7 in La Arcada, Santa Barbara, California Copyright (c) 2005 by Eve Riskin, Mari Ostendorf, Pamela Cosman, Michelle Effros, Jia Li, Sheila Hemami, Robert M. Gray. This material is freely available provided suitable acknowledgement is made to the source, PAESMEM, the National Science Foundation, and Stanford University and provided no changes are made without the permission of the editors. No claim is made to ownership of the images and these should not be used for other purp! oses without specific permission from their owners.

Regards,

Rick Reis
reis@stanford.edu

UP NEXT: Teaching for Tips

Tomorrow’s Academic Careers

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JUNIOR FACULTY – HOW TO FIND GOOD MENTORS

Co-chairs: Jia Li and Sheila Hemami Panel: D. Richard Brown, Assistant Professor, Worcester Polytechnic Institute Lydia Sohn, Assistant Professor, UC Berkeley Rebecca Willett, Graduate Student, U. Wisconsin/Rice Sheila Hemami, Associate Professor, Cornell Univ. Yoonkyung Lee, Assistant Professor, Ohio State

The needs and methods of junior faculty differ markedly from those of a graduate student. Be prepared by absorbing all you can from your graduate school mentor before you leave the nest, “be prepared” is good advice for more people than Boy Scouts. Many of the desirable attributes and effective strategies still apply, but many are no longer relevant. Perhaps the biggest difference is that you now have an entirely new system to learn. With luck you will know something about such things, but most likely you will not be well equipped to handle them. Most beginning assistant professors have had minimal teaching experience, no experience obtaining research funding, no advising experience, and little grasp of “how things work” in academia.

Some schools have organized programs for mentoring new faculty, sometimes forming teams based on preferences. Investigate to see if you have such resources available to you. Some departments assign mentors for new faculty, and that gives you someone to talk to and it may be enough. Often, however, it is not sufficient and you may need to seek additional council, possibly even from other institutions. It is particularly important at this stage to find someone with a reputation for both strong teaching and strong research and for a good balance between the two. Unfortunately deans and chairs are not always suitable for this role because they are less active in both teaching and research because of their administrative duties. Two attributes often mentioned for good mentors are that they should have a good sense of humor and that they should be pragmatic.

Probably the best strategy for finding a primary or secondary mentor is to chat with many possible candidates and pursue conversations with people with whom you feel comfortable. Take advantage of any connections you might have, for example local friends of your PhD supervisor or other professors you know and like. It is best to look for someone who is tenured, because learning about the tenure process early can make it far less scary. Every institution operates differently, but all have similar criteria for excellence in research, teaching, and professional service. Finding good advice for allocating your time can be very helpful.

How Can A Mentor Help?

In addition to addressing the skills needed to survive and prosper in academia already mentioned as reasons for seeking a mentor, there follow many other helpful influences a mentor can have on a new faculty member.

* A mentor can provide good advice on the key academic responsibilities of teaching and advising, including negotiating which courses to teach (balancing core and advanced), giving tips for getting good teaching evaluations from students and taking advantage of available resources for improving teaching skills, teaching the basics of students and advising (and where to find all the program and other requirements you will need to have at hand), supervising undergraduate and graduate projects, writing exams, grading strategies, interpreting course evaluations, and preparing for the unpredictable crises you are likely to encounter when advising students. Know your resources!

* A mentor can help guide you through your department’s maze. You need to know how to get things done, whom to see for what, how teaching assistants and research assistants are approved and appointed, and, unfortunately, what to do when you encounter cheating or violations of the university ethics or honor codes. These things happen at the best of places. This type of mentoring requires inside knowledge and hence a mentor within your department or school.

* A mentor can be invaluable when you write grant proposals for research funding. They can provide you with successful examples and review your draft proposals. They can also be a big help in dealing with the rejection that often comes with a failed proposal.

* A mentor can be a demystifier of the tenure process, and in planning ahead for the process. This often means encouraging you to maximize your visibility in your field through publications, talks at conferences, talks in industry and other universities, grant applications, and professional service as reviewer, associate editor, program committee, professional society officer, and other visible positions that enhance your field. Key to a successful tenure process will be having people in the field know and like your work.

* A mentor can help build relationships with other colleagues both within your department and elsewhere on campus.

* A mentor can help you to keep things in perspective-they often have a more global and experienced viewpoint that can transcend the daily crises that can beset junior faculty. In particular, mistakes will happen. Get past it. Grants and papers will get rejected, don’t take it personally and try again (and make it better).

These advantages only accrue if you maintain regular contact with your mentor, and regular lunches or walks or coffee provide a good opportunity for doing so.

Mentors at other institutions are less helpful in dealing with the home institution, but they can be a big help in many other aspects of your career. They can provide independent advice on your grant applications and an outside objective perspective on your career advancement. Sometimes they can find out useful information through their own informal networks. They can also nominate you for editorial and program committee service that can provide an excellent means of expanding your knowledge of the field and its members.

650. THE PEDAGOGICAL COLLOQUIUM

Tuesday, August 2nd, 2005

Folks:

The posting below looks at the pedagogical colloquium as useful requirement for all graduating Ph.D.’s. It is from Chapter 13, The Pedagogical Colloquium: Three Models, in:Teaching as Community Property, Essays on Higher Education, written by Lee S. Shulman, and edited by Pat Hutchings, who are respectively, president and vice president, of the Carnegie Foundation for the Advancement of Teaching. Copyright (c) 2004 by The Carnegie Foundation for the Advancement of Teaching. All rights reserved. Published by Jossey-Bass A Wiley Imprint 989 Market Street, San Francisco, CA 94103-1741 [www.josseybass.com] Reprinted with permission.

Regards,

Rick Reis
reis@stanford.edu

UP NEXT: Early and Mid Career Mentoring and Support

Tomorrow’s Teaching and Learning

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THE PEDAGOGICAL COLLOQUIUM – THREE MODELS

I want to begin by describing what were, for me, the two sources of the idea of the pedagogical colloquium.

The first is historical. In his wonderful account of the medieval university, in a chapter titled “The Pedagogical Juggernaut,” Walter Ong (1958) points out that the university was originally a normal school, a place for training teachers for universities and colleges. Accordingly, Ong points out, the final examination for the doctorate was a teaching examination, in which the candidate was required to demonstrate that he not only knew his field but could teach it. The “disputation” portion of the examination was in effect a test of whether the person could conduct a seminar or a discussion-a test of teaching.

Reading this piece by Ong, I thought, why couldn’t we recreate that model today? (See Shulman, 1986.)

A second source of the idea of the pedagogical colloquium came to me as I was sitting in a meeting at the Association of American Colleges and Universities, where the discussion was about teaching. A professor from Wesleyan, I believe, stood up in the middle of the session an said to those of us from research universities: “We need new Ph.D.’s who have some clue about teaching. We want them to be scholars, of course. But on their first day, we put them in a classroom to teach trusting young people who have paid a great deal of money to learn at our institution. Couldn’t you send us some people who can do that?”

And my thought was: “Well, we’d be much more likely to send such people to you if that’s what you asked for.” And so, this notion of how one might ask for that sort of person became the pedagogical colloquium.

In other words, I view the pedagogical colloquium as a new version of the old concept of the public defense of the dissertation, whose emphasis was supposed to be on teaching, taken and shifted to the hiring institutions that now assert: “We want to see whether you are a scholar-teaching in your discipline.” Traditionally, in hiring, we’ve only done half of that; that is, we have candidates give a talk on their doctoral dissertation. The pedagogical colloquium is a way for a hiring institution to say that it would like candidates to do something that begins to demonstrate their understanding of the teaching of their discipline. Additionally, as I’ll point out, such a process would have other benefits.

Three Colloquium Models

One of the puzzlements about the pedagogical colloquium is what, exactly, we would want the candidate to talk about. This is an important question, and that answers certainly will depend in part on the discipline or field of study. (In some quarters, I’ve even begun calling the pedagogical colloquium the “disciplinary teaching colloquium,” to emphasize that it is an occasion not for soliloquies on teaching per se but for explicitly addressing the challenges of teaching in the discipline, interdiscipline, or profession.)

For starters, I’d like to propose three possible models.

The first would be a course narrative or course argument model. One of the questions that often gets asked of job candidates now is: “What would you like to teach?” A relatively simple next step would be to ask the candidate to walk us through that course, either in the form of a narrative or an argument, and to use the actual or proposed syllabus as a handout for his or her colloquium presentation.

The task of the pedagogical colloquium in this model would be to explain how the course is experienced by both the teacher and the students-what they do, and what they learn. What are some of the problems of teaching the course? And why is a course so organized and focused really important to teach? What ideas and activities were included, which were excluded, and why? In other words, why is this course an important experience for students to have if they are to understand the discipline?

An objection that some might make to this model is that it focuses more on curriculum than on teaching per se. But I assure you that it gets to questions of pedagogy, and to the “philosophy of education,” in ways that are wonderfully particular and telling. Rather than grand abstractions (”I’m in favor of active learning”), the candidate would talk about quite particular aims and methods: “Notice,” he or she might say, “that each of these three assignments gives the students an opportunity not only to think like an historian but to engage in a different aspect of historical inquiry. And one of my goals is for students actively to experience what it feels like to do historical work, even if they’ll never do it again.” Now, there we’re beginning to get an intersection of the disciplinary discourse and the pedagogical discourse.

A second model would be a colloquium centered on an essential idea or concept. Each of us who is experienced as a teacher knows that there are some ideas in our field that are devilishly difficult to teach©or rather, they’re easy as hell to teach, but hard for students to learn.

For example, one of the most resistant ideas for teachers of English is the concept of “theme.” Of course, English teachers know what they mean by “theme”; but if you really start unpacking the notion, it’s not a very easy idea. Would we say, for instance, that theme is what the story is about? Well, yes and no. And how many themes are there? Is there just one, or a few? At Stanford, we’ve done some case studies at the high school level of teachers trying to teach theme, and feedback from the students makes it clear that the concept is often terribly misunderstood. Similarly, in math, how many students really understand what a derivative is? I don’t mean whether they can calculate one, but whether they understand the idea conceptually. Or how about the concept of “tropism”?

The point is that in a concept-centered pedagogical colloquium, the candidate would take one of these hard ideas and explore some ways that he or she has tried (or proposes) to teach it.

The third model is the dilemma-centered colloquium. This model, like the prior one, assumes that some aspects of teaching are inherently problematic, and it invites the candidate to reflect publicly on his or her thinking about and approach to one of more of these key pedagogical dilemmas. What, for instance, is the right balance between breadth and depth in an introductory course? How can teachers make students authentic participants in the process of inquiry and still maintain appropriate kinds of responsibility? How can teachers use group work in large engineering classes and still hold individual students accountable for their work?

In this third model, we would urge the candidate to stay discipline-specific, and to offer concrete examples from his or her experience, if possible.

There three models overlap some. And of course there are other possible models, such as having a candidate actually teach a class. What I envision and hope for is a time when we have a variety of protocols that can be adapted to different disciplines, settings, and purposes.

One benefit of the pedagogical colloquium would be for graduate education. For institutions to give explicit attention to teaching during the hiring process would encourage attention to teaching as part of the antecedent graduate program experience. At the least, the pedagogical colloquium gives advantage to graduate programs that already have in place sophisticated pedagogical training programs.

Looking ahead, I would further hope that as use of the pedagogical colloquium in hiring spreads, those of us teaching graduate students would spend time helping our students become reflective about their teaching, even assisting them to prepare and rehearse their pedagogical presentations-as we already do on the research side.

But the pedagogical colloquium could bring benefits not only to graduate education. The hiring department or campus and its faculty also benefit from discussions within the unit that would necessarily be prompted by the pedagogical colloquium.

For starters, if four or five candidates for a position each give a pedagogical colloquium, the department needs to evaluate what it has seen. This means that is would be the responsibility of those conducting such evaluative discussions to get beyond the purely technical (”she told good jokes” or “he didn’t turn his back to the audience for more than eleven minutes at a time”) to the substance of what each candidate said. Such discussions around hiring can become the seedbed, the rehearsals, for comparable conversations among colleagues within a department, as we move toward the peer review of teaching as an aspect of departmental culture.

Second, the pedagogical colloquium could begin to change how a department assists faculty to develop over time, and how it rewards them for accomplishments in teaching. Consider, for instance, that if a department is hiring a candidate because it sees a particular sort of promise in the person pedagogically, it might then want to track that promise over time. In other words, the pedagogical colloquium would provide departments the opportunity to rethink the kind of information they gather and the feedback they give related to teaching effectiveness. And I think they would rapidly discover that under current circumstances they have absolutely no access to any of the data that would be most relevant. So, the pedagogical colloquium would create a need to being collecting new kinds of data.

Finally, the pedagogical colloquium would bring benefits by addressing an otherwise unmet obligation. I’m struck that the question I get asked most often about the colloquium is: “Isn’t is unfair to ask new doctoral students, or persons we hire laterally from industry in science and engineering programs, to make such a presentation about their teaching?

Now, I find that question very interesting. If those asking the question were presented with a candidate for a faculty position who had never done research, it wouldn’t occur to them to ask whether it’s fair to ask that candidate to talk about his or her research qualifications©but they will raise this question of fairness about asking the candidate to talk about teaching.

My response to such questions is that anything is fair if you give people ample warning of what they’re going to be asked to do. In fact I’d go a step further, by saying that if (a) they have ample warning and (b) the request is directly connected to the job they’re going immediately to be given to do if they’re hired, then asking for evidence of teaching promise or effectiveness is more than fair©its obligatory. We owe it to ourselves and to our students.

References

Ong, Walter J. 1958. Ramus: Method, and the Decay of Dailogue, from the Art of Discourse to the Art of Reason. Cambridge, MA: Harvard.
Shulman, Lee S. 1986. “Those Who Understand: Knowledge and Growth in Teaching.” Educational Researcher 15(2): 4-14.