Unexpected tales from the practical class
by e_e_evans PhD student
This post comes to you, like a football match, in two parts. Part one will be a more reflective, thoughtful piece. The latter will be more of a comedic “the undergrads these days?!” Bit.
Part 1: You are not your work but it still hurts
I’m going to give this part as little context as possible so as to provide few, if any, identifying characteristics for the sake of anonymity.
Personality clashes are always tricky. On the one hand it’s just how people are, on the other, we all have to develop filters so that we can adjust our behaviour to situations. Case in point, you might swear like a sailor most of the time but you won’t do it in front of your gran.
We Brits have a terrible problem with not saying things directly to the point that those of Germanic decent appear blunt and harsh to our ears, when really it’s just because we tip-toe around things and lace our language with subtext and innuendo. Americans will sound friendly to the point of us suspecting that the speaker is disingenuous (when they probably aren’t) while our love of sarcasm makes us difficult to read. My point is, it takes all types to make a world.
But when someone so bluntly, so brazenly and publicly makes a comment about your work it’s hard to rationalise it. The individual in question is a student that myself and several colleagues have had interactions with before. Said student has been opinionated within a classroom setting but not as to contribute to the class but instead to pass judgement on the teaching of the class.
For me, this came to a head when, during an introduction to the topic at hand, (which included me addressing how the students could use the example as a way to improve their work), said student cut in stating that what we (for it wasn’t just me) were talking about was irrelevant and they wanted to get onto the important ‘actual’ stuff. It was cutting and all we could do was respond as diplomatically as possible (had we been blunt and unfiltered we probably would have told them were to go, i.e. Out of the room and not to return until they’d evaluated their behaviour).
In a teacher and student situation the control of what is deemed relevant or irrelevant is firmly in the hands of the one doing to teaching. And I think this applies regardless of the relative ages of the student or teacher. A student may disregard the teaching at a later date and make a value judgement then but in the moment to verbalise a judgement during the class is not appropriate.
The move towards student as consumer is making this kind of thing more prevalent but the fact remains, in the classroom setting those who teach are the ones with the skills and knowledge. Things that may appear to be asides or digressions may actually lead to the student becoming a more rounded individual. If, however, they want prescriptive learning with no flexibility and personal flare to the work, may I recommend just reading text books?
Part 2: Via la phone-less revolution
I’m wondering whether a phone hand-in at the start of university lectures and practicals may be the way forward. Why? Oh boy…
I mentioned in my previous posting on this site my despair at the lack of attention spans of the current crop of students and it came to a head this week.
So, are you sitting comfortably? Then we’ll begin.
A friend who first trained as a lawyer before moving on to a different vocation once told me about his personal experiences of falling asleep in university classes. That is to say he managed what would usually be thought impossible and fell asleep in tutorial seminars. The set up for such classes hasn’t changed all that much and usually consists of a class of about 20 or fewer students sat in the style of King Arthur’s court with a seminar leader, usually a lecturer. The very thought of falling asleep so visibly surprised me, in a semi-dark room with 200 other students yes, but in a small group…! I am, however, fairly sure that falling asleep isn’t the go to solution for the uninterested student today, no, instead they turn to that wonder of technology, the mobile phone.
(Aside: This week a colleague of mine did witness a student fall asleep in a practical class!)
This week’s lab classes are what I would consider “fun ones”. Touring about research labs is always interesting and the students were getting three for the price of one; optics, SEM and X-ray CT. The class was split into groups of about seven students and rotated around. The reason why it was only seven-ish per group is the SEM room is small. By the by, the a fore mentioned sleeping student nodded off in the SEM room. Yeah, I know.
So I was manning the part of the tour covering the CT scanners. A quick presentation on the science, showing them the equipment, mentioning X-ray safety, showing some data, talking about the lab research and finally showing how the scanner works. I had about 40 minutes with each of the 3 groups and that was quite a lot of talking. (Aside number 2: I currently have a cold so teaching for 3 hours solid in a noisy lab didn’t done me much good, so I’ve taken a spot of sick leave this week so I could work and teach later in the week).
You would think, therefore that the attention the students would show would somehow be proportional to the effort I was making. They want to be here, right? They’re paying for it (at its most base, capitalist level). If you think that, regrettably, you are wrong. Less than half made notes, a fair few muttered and smiled between themselves as I was talking and the greatest insult, yep you guessed it, playing on their mobile phones.
Now I cannot demand respect; respect is earned and I am a PhD student most of them have met only once before. What I thought was a given was courtesy. Ha!
I fell like a broken record going on about this. In a class where you just get on with things you’re only wasting your own time if you check Facebook or whatever instead of doing the work and asking questions. But in a small group teaching scenario? Here’s my brutally honest feeling on the matter: It’s rude.
The fact is, in the moment when I clapped eyes on this one particular student stood directly in front of me on their phone I was dumbfounded. I just didn’t know what to say so I ignored it. Unfortunately that condones the student’s actions.
Now, there are perfectly good reasons to have a phone handy in a class; maybe to make notes on in lieu of a laptop or notebook, perhaps to look up information (that’s a regular thing in other classes I teach), some students did take pictures of what I showed them or maybe they need to be in contact with a family member or similar because of an emergency. Unfortunately the cynic in me doubts such noble ends for this week’s crop of students that are surgically attached to their phone.
Y’know, the wonderful thing about being taught something is you can fully engage with it and you don’t have to think about other things. Like any other performance medium, a good lecture takes you out of yourself. That’s a luxury these days. But the nano-second attention spans of some mean they are missing out on the joy of focusing completely on something.
One of the reasons I play video games is because I like getting absorbed in a world. When I’m slaying dragons in Skyrim I’m not wondering about videos on YouTube, or the EU, or the hostilities in Kashmir, or the drug war in Mexico, or the US election, or who’s in the singles charts, or what to get someone for Christmas et al because I’m slaying dragons to awesome orchestral music on the side of a snow covered mountain that is crowned with an ancient dwarf ruin! (Why yes, I did get a free download of Skyrim: Special Edition recently, how could you tell?).
Interest, I think, is key because although I can become interested to the level of fixation with trivial stuff (like video games) I also love my job and it interests me. I assume (or maybe I should hope) that that is why the students have chosen to do their degree subject. Because they are interested. Now, like everything there are less fun bits to my work: data mining on excel, editing text, general paperwork, more editing, and yes my mind will wander but I try and fight against it for the sake of the interesting bits so I can be attentive for longer and…
Oh sorry, am I boring you?
The author would like to point of that the closing line of this piece was a joke.
She also knows that whoever got to the end of this is probably a member of a choir in the crowd that she’s preaching to.
Futher more, she is well aware of the irony of the fact that most of this post was written on her mobile, but in her defense switching on a desktop is cumbersome when you just want to get an idea down in writing.