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Mar. 1996
Vol.5 No.3

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When Teachers Become Learners

Marilla D. Svinicki
Center for Teaching Effectiveness
University of Texas at Austin
If doctors make the worst patients, teachers make the worst students. Teachers get upset with students who clamor for reductive answers to complex questions in their subject areas, failing to recognize that they often do the same when it comes to learning about teaching.

For years, I got upset with faculty who did not seem to want what I, as a colleague who'd specialized in understanding teaching, was trying to share with them through the faculty development center. Finally, I've learned to stop and ask myself: How can I, as a psychologist, forget that faculty members' learning about teaching is just as subject to the principles of learning as is their students' learning about content? And yet, that seems precisely what I do each time we initiate a wonderful new program on improving teaching only to find it greeted with a decided lack of enthusiasm by our intended audience, sometimes even by those who requested it in the first place.

Now, instead of lamenting "What's wrong with the faculty these days?" I try to recommit myself to treating my learners (the faculty) as learners and recognize that much of what I tell them to do with regard to their students also applies to them as well.

For myself, then, and for my fellow faculty developers, let me lay out a few ideas about learning and motivation we need to keep in mind when designing or assessing programs for faculty. They are, finally, the same ideas faculty need to keep in mind when teaching students, ideas we might all benefit from remembering as we learn from our own experiences.

Proposition 1:
Faculty are no more alike in their learning styles than their students.

I know I have prompted many a faculty member to remember that a class of fifty students represents fifty different learning styles and backgrounds, and there's no reason to expect that one instructional strategy will fit every student. Why, then, did it take me so long to get over the disappointment I felt when not every faculty member appreciated attending the workshops I offered? Even worse, when they did attend, not every attendee appreciated my devotion to active learning as a workshop strategy. I once heard a participant grumble, "She's not going to tell us. She's going to make us figure it out for ourselves."

Once it did sink in that faculty have as many different learning preferences as students, I felt somehow better. In fact, if I had looked at my own learning style I would have realized that even I don't choose to attend workshops on everything I need to learn about. There are times when I prefer to learn in private and times when I need someone's help. My faculty colleagues are no different. There are many interested in learning about teaching who are not interested in attending workshops. They'd prefer a one-on-one discussion or perhaps a reading list. They may even prefer on-the-job, trial and error learning.

The implications of this revelation? Besides not taking their lack of attendance personally, we should recognize that these stylistic differences mean that we need to be as diverse and flexible in our teaching about teaching as we expect faculty to be in their teaching about content. We have all-day intensive workshops for some people and some topics; short, one-shot workshops for the curious, but undecided; written, self-study materials for those with tight schedules and only random minutes in which to learn more about teaching. The advent of distributed learning technologies now even makes it possible to deliver some of our instruction via computers to the privacy of someone's office in the dead of night.

This accommodation to differences in the styles and preferences of our learners also serves as a good model for the way they might best treat their own students. It is hard to imagine teaching in a new mode if you have not experienced it yourself. Thus, if we make it possible for faculty to experience a range of strategies for learning, they might become more interested in adopting those strategies in their classes for their students. In effect, by varying our teaching strategies, we practice what we preach.

Proposition 2:
Motivation to learn derives from the learner's estimates of the usefulness of the task and the probability of success.

"Is that going to be on the test?" When students ask this question, most faculty go right up the wall. But motivation theory tells us it's a natural reaction when we're faced with new material that has to be learned. Is this material going to be useful? Faculty are asking the same question when they don't want to spend time on topics that aren't directly relevant to their discipline. I couldn't count the number of times a faculty member has said to me, "Well, this is fine for [someone else's discipline] but it won't work in [my discipline] so I'm not interested."

Motivation theory offers insight into this behavior characteristic of resistance to new learning. No single theory fits every person and every situation, but some very generative models offer good suggestions about designing instruction that takes this resistance into account. Perhaps the most useful model here is one based on "task value" and "expectancy for success."

Task value refers to the degree to which the task or information is worthwhile to the learner. There are several ways for something to be worthwhile. If we need a skill right now, we're motivated to learn it. I personally learned more about statistics while doing my dissertation

For faculty, as for students, trust necessarily precedes the risk of learning something new

than I had in the three graduate level statistics courses I took. As a designer of faculty programs, I make use of this concept by scheduling activities and providing materials when they are most likely to be needed. For example, it's hard to get someone fired up about grading at the beginning the semester; they're not there yet. But around the third week, when grading tasks begin flowing in, people are much more ready to hear how to make grading easier and more reliable.

We repeatedly tell faculty to show students how they will use what they're being taught later on. Faculty need to have the same faith in the utility of the learning they undertake. We have to show them practical examples of how the information can be used in their teaching. Note that I said "practical examples." Abstractions and generalities give the big picture, but examples of how something can actually be used are the key to lifting learners over barriers of resistance. That's why programs for faculty which draw on the experience of other faculty are so well-received.

The power of peer example completes the expectancy/value motivation model. When we see peers using new information or skills successfully, our expectation of personal success increases. And this increased sense of self-efficacy increases our motivation.

People seldom undertake tasks where they feel guaranteed to fail, especially faculty. With their hectic, overloaded schedules and their high expectations of themselves, they will not have the patience or tolerance to attempt something that doesn't have a high probability of success. Multimedia offers a good example. The task value of being able to create multimedia presentations is high, but for many faculty, the belief that they could actually produce something so sophisticated is initially low, particularly if they see it demonstrated by a media wizard. However, when demonstrated by a fellow faculty member who has actually learned to manipulate the machines and programs to produce such materials, faculty expectations of themselves change markedly.

Proposition 3:
Even highly skilled learners revert to a lower level of learning with new material.

This principle asserts that learning proceeds in stages of sophistication, each representing a different way of understanding the material, and holds that when you begin learning a new content area, you revert to the earlier stages. So, for example, a novice tennis player must concentrate on getting down the basic strokes. Beginners cannot see or function effectively in the larger context of strategies and counter-strategies without a mastery of basics. Eventually, as they become facile and comfortable in the fundamentals, they begin to see the "game" part of the game. They want to learn new strokes, not just because they exist, but because they can be combined into strategic plays to win points through intelligence rather than strength.

This same progression of increasing sophistication occurs in learning about academic subjects. When you hear students ask "So what's the right way to do this?" they are really asking what the basics are. They're not at a level to appreciate finer points. Their concern is with immediate needs. "Just teach me how to hit the ball. I'll worry about where to hit it later."

Eventually, students who develop a solid grounding in the basics will begin to branch out to more sophisticated understandings. The instructor, who is already an expert in the area, is long past this stage and on to appreciating the content for what it can lead to, not just as an end in itself. The frustration faculty experience with students who insist on knowing what the right answer is reflects a failure to understand how learning happens.

Are faculty significantly different from their students? I can report that faculty can be as narrow in their view of new material as students. Hence they often deem workshops on basic teaching procedures more valuable than ones that dig deeper into the complexities of cognition and learning theory. In essence, faculty ask for the same instruction as their students: "Don't tell me all the details and ramifications; just tell me how to do it." This can be as frustrating to the faculty developer as it is to faculty in their own classes. We are aware that there is much more to a teaching decision than can be presented in a two-hour workshop, but we are constrained by our attendees' background and sophistication about learning. They want to know the steps in writing a multiple choice test, not the theories of measurement that underlie those steps.

So, should we pander to this lower level of understanding and present cookbook solutions to the complex problems of teaching? My answer will surprise you: yes, at least initially. We have to remember that our own level of sophistication with regard to instructional design is very different from that of most faculty simply because we have had more time to think about these things. They need to know the basics first, and they'll be as impatient as the students if they come away from a session with nothing tangible they can use. So, yes, initially we should focus on basic principles and suggest that there is much more to this topic than meets the eye.

Faculty differ from students, however, in that they are already very sophisticated learners. They may be novices in this subject, but not in learning itself. They are aware that there is more beyond the surface strategies, even if they are not ready to learn it. But the fact that they have reached higher levels of understanding in their own disciplines alerts them to the possibility of similar complexities in teaching. Therefore, they will reach the level of sophistication we aim at much more quickly than someone who has never reached that level in any area.

Proposition 4:
Learning is a risky business and takes courage and support.

In spite of the fact that faculty are highly sophisticated learners, embarking on a learning experience is no less risky for them than it is for their students. Becoming a learner again means exposing oneself to the possibility of failure, an unpleasant prospect to anyone accustomed to being very knowledgeable and in charge. For the faculty developer this means that we must remember that when faculty come to a faculty development program, they come as learners rather than experts. And as learners they need as much support and reassurance as their students do. Building the same level of trust with faculty as we encourage faculty to build with students is an important first step in getting them to move out into uncharted territory. They need to feel that we know what we're doing and are willing to support them while they take those first new steps. They need to feel safe that they will not be embarrassed or tricked into displaying a lack of skill. Their overall expertise and intelligence must be acknowledged, while at the same time we take into account the background and experience they may lack. For faculty, as for students, trust necessarily precedes the risk of learning something new.

Proposition 5:
We are learners, too.

There are many more lessons about learning we should remember when we work with faculty, but the ones just discussed form a good short list. I have found that when I keep things like these in mind, I get much less frustrated with the pace at which faculty adopt new ideas and with the resistance we sometimes get to what seem to be perfectly logical programs (at least to us). Maybe the next step for all of us in faculty development will be to start acknowledging more fully the learner in ourselves and to give ourselves the same latitude we would give the faculty.



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© Copyright 1996-2001. Published by Oryx Press, an imprint of Greenwood Publishing Group, Inc., in conjunction with James Rhem & Associates, Inc. (ISSN 1057-2880) All rights reserved worldwide.
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