Resources

Click Here for Book Review Knowledge and Decolonial Politics: A Critical Reader offers the perspectives of educators and learners within current developmental settings, highlighting the systemic barriers faced whilst trying to implement decolonial pedagogies and practices. In the hope to challenge the dominance of Western Eurocentric thought in education and international development, the authors of this book offer counter narratives to promote the use of embodied cultural knowledges and histories, along with Indigenous perspectives, in order to subvert Western knowledge systems which are inherently colonial in nature. Changing education as we know it today requires creating spaces in which multiple knowledges can co-exist and benefit from one another. These spaces will ensure the continuity of decolonial practices and shape the intellectual politics of future generations. (From the Publisher)

Click Here for Book Review The educational technology sector is growing fast, with schools, colleges and universities more than ever looking for the best ways to use technology in the classroom. At the same time, there is an increasing appetite for learning and teaching practices to be backed up by evidence. However, there are few resources that bring these two things together. Enhancing Learning and Teaching with Technology brings together researchers, technologists and educators to discuss how technology can be designed and used for learning and teaching to best effect. It addresses what the research says about: - how and why learning happens and how different technologies can enhance it; - engaging a variety of learners through technology and helping them benefit from it; - and how technology can support teaching. The book is an accessible introduction to learning and teaching with technology for teachers and other educational professionals, regardless of their experience with using technology for education. (From the Publisher)

Click Here for Book Review A qualitatively designed, intentionally dialogic strategy for understanding the depth of normalized violence and constructing pedagogies for promoting peace. - Ryan Korstange, Middle Tennessee State University Pedagogies for Building Cultures of Peace explores how normalizations of violence are constructed from the perspective of young adults and how pedagogies can be created toward building cultures of peace. Findings show the diverse ways in which enmity (or the dehumanized other) is constructed, including through socialization processes, associating difference as deficient, systems of exclusion, disengaged citizenship, and cultures of competition and rivalry. Results also show how critical adult education can reveal hidden forms of power embedded within normalizations of violence, creating opportunities for peacebuilding education. By collaboratively engaging in peace research with youth, and by explicitly exploring power as a central component of violence, violence transformation and peacebuilding education led by youth become imaginable. (From the Publisher)

Course design in online learning juggles a range of factors to produce an effective learning environment. For instance, most of us who teach online must navigate the expectations of our institution. Maybe a requirement to adhere to some external standard, like Quality Matters, exists. Perhaps the learning management system defines what one might do. Some schools require the use of a design consultant, while others throw faculty into the deep end of course development without any support. And, then, of course, we always must account for the students. I tend to boil online class structure down to the following: consistency matters, less is more, clarity in all things, and never lose the personal, and course design is never done. Consistency matters speaks to the basic principle of setting the same pattern week in and week out. The freedom of asynchronous online learning (work on your own from anywhere, anytime) differs markedly from a student knowing to turn up on specific days, at a given time, and in a set location. Many undergraduates still need the discipline built in. Setting repetitive due dates, for instance, allows a learner to integrate the class into her or his calendar and to schedule other obligations (e.g., work, childcare, recreation) accordingly. Organizing the course materials via a weekly agenda in a fixed place enables the students to know where to look for readings/videos and how to determine what to turn in, where, and by when.  Less is more applies in several areas. Only the rare student will read every line of my syllabus, carefully parse my directions, or watch every video. I try to help here. Creating my syllabus using Moodle’s “Book” for example, allows me to generate a Table of Contents. Students then might skip to what they prioritize (like grading) and only refer to policies (academic integrity, disability accommodation, etc.) when needed. I also use this function for the weekly assignments. Students can bypass the learning goals the University wants posted and immediately access the readings/videos and the worksheets.    Similarly, in video presentations, if I can do 2-4 minutes rather than 10 or 15, I stand a better chance of a student listening all the way through. But even when I go long, I cannot waste their time. Good video production requires thinking through what is most important, planning out my commentary and visuals, and speaking at the pace of something like a Crash Course lesson. Students then tend to stick with it and even re-view when they need a second or third shot at an idea because it is not burdensome or scattered. Clarity in all things means avoiding confusion by providing step-by-step instructions for every assignment, a rubric for how it will be assessed, links to technical support for what students might need to accomplish it (such as how to make a video), statements about when precisely to anticipate feedback, and a forum to pose their questions–again with response time being key. Online learning lacks the luxury of chatting face-to-face in class about what I want to see or how the grading is coming along. Instead, I must anticipate, as well as draw from experience, what kinds of questions students raise and plan accordingly to answer them at the outset. Never lose the personal takes me back to when I first started out in online and most of my students brought with them the expectations of a face-to-face environment. They wanted to see my face and hear my voice. They wanted not automatically graded assignments, but my personal comments. I also learned the value of students hearing from me “live” every week, even when everything might be running like clockwork. A weekly note to the class or a quick video about the connection of a current event to what we are doing reminds them I am there and active and paying attention. Sending individual feedback on something as mundane as a discussion board post says I take their ideas seriously. I also, then, get more students making appointments with me to work through issues or to chat about their interests. These interactions make use of my expertise in more areas than content delivery and that is, as we all know, where most authentic learning happens. Finally, course design is never done. Each iteration of a class teaches us something new about what works and what we can do better. Making the time to reflect on the specifics, or to learn new tricks by engaging with other faculty, brings pedagogy to the forefront and that, to my mind, always benefits the learning experience.

This edited volume – the first of its kind – is incredibly valuable for teachers interested in integrating particular technologies into their classrooms. Among the hundreds of scholarly articles and dozens of books about how to incorporate technology into teaching and learning, such as Michelle Miller’s Minds Online (2016, Harvard University Press) and José Antonio Bowen’s Teaching Naked (2012, Jossey-Bass), some articles have focused specifically on the teaching and learning of religion. For example, recent scholarship has shown how 360-degree cameras and virtual reality headsets allow students to become visually immersed in distant religious environments, facilitating an empathetic understanding and ethnographic analysis of religious place, ritual, and behavior (Johnson, “Using virtual reality,” Teaching Theology and Religion 21[2018]: 228-241). Another article looks at how social media technologies might increase student engagement and active learning, for example, when students tweet about experiences of martyrdom from the perspective of the martyr, the crowd, and the persecutors, and compare types of media used to communicate from a position of power and political or social vulnerability (Warren, “Teaching with Technology,” Teaching Theology and Religion 19 [2016]: 309-319). However, this is the first edited volume on the topic that explicitly addresses those who teach religion in higher education, and as someone who studies digital technologies and uses them for various pedagogical purposes, I thoroughly enjoyed reading it. I appreciated the diversity of technologies discussed, and the candor with which scholars acknowledged that not all technologies enhance or improve student learning. Richard Newton discusses strategies for using mobile devices as learning tools, such as providing backchannels (otherwise known as “live-tweeting”) for students to discuss and address questions while watching in-class films. David Kniep has students create podcasts interviewing religious practitioners, describing how the course challenged or deepened their prior understanding, and connecting scriptural texts to their contemporary world. Renate Hood argues that student response systems can increase student motivation, enhance classroom interaction, and lower students’ apprehension about engaging with religious, ethical, and personal topics. Kristy Slominski shows how clickers can encourage students to take stances on complex religious issues and acknowledge the range of perspectives within the classroom. Kyle Oliver discusses a variety of new media tools to help students visualize sacred sites, including virtual reality technologies such as Google Expeditions, Sites in 3D, and Google Earth, and online videos and picture repositories such as Sacred Destinations and Folkways. Scholars also address how to leverage social media practices in and out of the classroom. Rob O’Lynn emphasizes the relational quality of social media. Brooke Lester identifies both positive and negative outcomes of social media use: while it can help students form connections and communities, it limits anonymity and sometimes subjects users to online abuse. Anthony Sweat shows how blended learning can help students achieve lower-order outcomes outside of class so that they can focus on higher-order outcomes of analyzing, evaluating, and creating in the classroom. Christopher Heard and Steven Rouse demonstrate that integrating interactive fiction stories did not increase motivation among students, suggesting that not all technology adaptation will improve learning outcomes. Finally, contributors explore ways that technology can expand the classroom, for example, through virtual guest lectures with experts in the field or through massive online open seminars.

We live in a time of educational transformations towards more 21st century pedagogies and learning. In the digital age children and young people need to learn critical thinking, creativity and innovation and the ability to solve complex problems and challenges. Traditional pedagogies are in crisis and many pupils experience school as both boring and irrelevant. As a response educators and researchers need to engage in transforming education through the invention of new designs in and for learning. This book explores how games can provide new ideas and new designs for future education. Computer games have become hugely popular and engaging, but as is apparent in this book, games are not magical solutions to making education more engaging, fun and relevant. Games and Education explores new designs in and for learning and offer inspiration to teachers, technologists and researchers interested in changing educational practices. Based on contributions from Scandinavian researchers, the book highlights participatory approaches to research and practice by providing more realistic experiences and models of how games can facilitate learning in school. (From the Publisher)

The power of affirmation lies in the acknowledgement of a job well done.  When colleagues applaud our success, we feel more a part of the enterprise, more connected, and more accepted. Being affirmed is being seen, noticed, made visible in erasing workplaces where so much of our work feels like it goes unnoticed or simply taken for granted. Feelings of isolation and separation are lightened with applause. Recently, I facilitated a workshop on teamwork and collaboration for a group of women who work as administrative assistants for a large corporation. For the most part, they feel unappreciated and under-valued. I led them in an activity which was intended to spark appreciation amongst them. I divided them into pairs and instructed each pair to interview the other. The interviewee was to share two of her recent successes at work. Then the roles were switched. When it came time to report back, each pair member was told to tell the entire group one of the interviewee’s successes for which the entire group would then applaud wildly. I gave the instructions and asked if there were any questions. One woman commented that if we applaud too loudly security might come. I told her we would risk it. The group quickly divided into pairs and began the conversations. After a bit, I reconvened the group and asked the first pair to report. I reminded the group to get ready to applaud for each person. The first woman told of her partner’s success. I began applauding and the group members joined in. With each success story, I extended the applause and added a cheer and called out the woman’s name. The group followed suit. Smiles appeared on each face, and the woman being applauded sat up a little straighter in her chair and smiled--a little bit. By the time we finished, the energy in the room was vibrant. It was an affirmation fest! At the end of the last session, as our benediction, we repeated the exercise. Rather than being interviewed, each woman told of an accomplishment she had in the last week or so. Without prompting, the women applauded wildly for each other. Security did not come. I encouraged the women to find ways to routinely inquire about each other’s professional successes as well as personal accomplishments. I ended the session, gathered my belongings, and opened the door to leave. A senior executive was standing in the hallway. He looked surprised when the door opened. He commented, without smiling or making eye contact, in a chastising tone, “You all are very raucous.” I said, “We most certainty are,” as I walked past him without stopping. The postal service was still the preferred mode of communication for important documents when I was working on my dissertation. I had sent my advisor a draft of two chapters. When the mail was delivered to our home, there was a thick, thick envelope. I looked at the address label. The huge envelope was for me, from my advisor. My heart sank. I was mortified. Why was the package sooo thick? I assumed that she did not like my work and had included the paperwork needed for me to withdraw from the program. I assumed she hated my work and wrote, in many pages, to inform me of my inadequacy. My fears paralyzed me. I left the package unopened for a day–too afraid to open it. Finally–after having driven my family crazy with my whining and self-criticism–I opened the package. Much to my surprise, relief, and delight, my advisor had so thoroughly read my work that her comments, affirmations, and edits were two pages for every one page I had written. My advisor had done the closest read I had ever received on my work. Her extensive comments were on the ways I could continue to strengthen already sound chapters. Her affirmation reduced me to tears. What she thought of my work meant the world to me. Hearing that my work was good and could be made better was a life-changing experience. Knowing that she poured over my work, considered my assertions, and resonated with my argument, made me take my own thoughts more seriously. It made me want to write better, deeper, more clearly. She had sent me a package of affirmation. When I was in elementary school, on report card day, my brother and I received $1 for every A, 50 cents for every B, nothing for a C, and we owed our parents for anything lower than a C. My parents were not paying us for the grades we made. They were affirming us, in a very tangible and pleasant way, for our hard work. They were teaching us that our good grades needed to be celebrated. They wanted us to know that our good grades were noticed and that our good grades were a point of pride. After we were paid by my father, my brother would ask to go to the store so he could spend his bounty. I, more frugal, put mine in the log cabin bank on my dresser. I was planning on buying a blue Ford Mustang on my 16th birthday. Our faculty has a ritual which has been quite meaningful for me when it was been my turn, and for which I love to participate for others. At faculty meetings, when someone is tenured and promoted, we read aloud excerpts of the letter sent to the Trustee Board. The excerpts extol the value of the work by the celebrated colleague. The excerpts make reference to their successes and accomplishments, and proclaim the good efforts of the colleague. Once the words are spoken, the colleague receives thunderous applause and the entire faculty lifts champagne glasses and toasts the colleague for a job well done. It is an elegant gesture. It is a moment when the collected body affirms the individual for the contribution made for the flourishing of the whole. It is a lovely moment. Performance, per se, is not the world I know. Beyond third grade, I have never taken a bow with other cast members of a play; I have never bowed after performing with a band or choir. What I have experienced is, after giving a scholarly paper at a guild meeting, noticing the decibels of applause after my paper. In those moments, I am appreciative of the applause. If/when the applause seems to linger, even a bit, I am especially pleased that the audience signals their affirmation of my work. It is a small thing, but it sustains me, lifts me; there is no applause after writing a book. A challenge of teaching adult students is that they want to be affirmed for what they already know. When the desire for affirmation is at the expense of openness to learning, this is not applause worthy. Refusing to learn, yet still wanting applause, can be disconcerting to the hopeful teacher. I recently survived end-of-the-semester student presentations. For the students who engaged the assignment, worked at exploring new materials, and created a meaningful and feasible project, I gave strong and clear affirmation. For at least three students I clapped loudly, uproariously, gladly. For the students who presented half-baked projects which lacked thoughtfulness and made me, at times, question my vocational choices, I did not give negative words of criticism. I instead sat in silence, withholding the anticipated affirmation. Students seemed confused when their paltry presentations did not garner the expected affirmation. I am disappointed when they choose to opt-out of working hard in a course they have enrolled in under their own volition. I am amazed when they are confused about not getting affirmation for poor work.  Here’s the thing about applause. It is a gracious and generous gesture which is needed by us all. It is not to be squandered or provided disingenuously. It is not to be demanded for lazy efforts. The sound of applause and the feeling it conjures is that for which so many of us yearn. This yearning is not selfish or grandiose. It is a heartfelt desire to do work that counts, to do work that is meaningful and held in high regard by our peers and elders. The applause of a single human being is of great consequence.

Many changes in higher education have derived from Europe-wide initiatives such as the Bologna process, and have given increasing attention to student-centred learning and teaching approaches, allied to growth in teachers’ scholarship and academic development. Academic Growth in Higher Education: Questions and Answers centers around a decade-long research project, which is one component of a long-standing programme focused on ways to promote academic development and scholarship in higher education. The purpose of the book is to highlight debates and issues important in teaching and learning at the tertiary level in universities, colleges and schools – exploring issues that teachers and lecturers will need to address throughout their professional lives. These issues surround acts of student-centred learning, inquiry-based learning, teachers’ own practices in the classroom and, every bit as significant, the activities generated by their students in the process of learning. The intention is to identify some of the debates relevant to teaching and learning, to challenge some of the orthodoxies within traditional forms of teaching and learning, and to suggest some solutions though current practice over a wide context of activity. (From the Publisher)

The growth of online education prompts a need for qualitative research about student learning outcomes and teaching methodologies. It also requires the production of specific educational material that is consonant with this educational medium. In addition, practical advice for online educational methods is warranted. This book is a collection of articles that address a range of concerns within online education. The authors do a good job in the critical assessment of the current possibilities that online education provides. It also invites readers to engage in complex discussions about online education in the future.  Creativity and Critique in Online Learning is divided into two parts. The first part is concerned with teaching practices. In particular, it examines available online teaching instruments and places online education in a broader context. This section of the book contributes  a detailed analysis of online forums, discusses ways to make online teams work effectively, and explores how popular social networks, such as Facebook, contribute to informal learning. It also discusses what role multisensory learning has in online space, how to use all the senses in online education, as well as how to nurture creativity and critical assessment. This section is of interest to teachers and students alike because it looks at practical aspects of online education and gives useful advice on how to use them productively. The second part of the book focuses on particular online teaching challenges and how to effectively engage them. Online academic cheating, its growth, and various ways to fight this phenomenon are addressed. In addition, it provides help for how to build successful relationships, instill values, and cherish identity in the online teaching community. This section also takes a closer look at massive open online courses and their drawbacks, both explicit and implicit. One of the most interesting articles in this part is “The Move to Online Teaching: A Head of Department’s Perspective” by Diane Preston. This chapter invites readers to examine online education through the eyes of an experienced educator who is concerned about both the teaching process and institutional concerns. Overall, Creativity and Critique in Online Learning is recommended for a broad audience of educators. It contains useful information for teachers who are currently involved in online teaching, scholars, and policymakers in online education, as well as teachers practicing a traditional form of education and looking for interesting and innovative ways to make their subjects more appealing to contemporary students. One of the main pros of this book is that it does not try to present online education as a modern teaching panacea or the only choice for education in the future. On the contrary, the book presents online teaching in an unbiased manner. While it certainly praises the advantages and possibilities online education has for all participants of the teaching process, it also reveals existing flaws and addresses specific dangers of online education.

In Free Speech on Campus, Sigal R. Ben-Porath outlines her focus at the outset: “I offer a framework for thinking about free speech controversies both inside and outside the classroom, shifting the focus away from disputes about legality and harm and toward the practical considerations linked to education and inclusion. I attempt to provide readers with strategies to de-escalate tensions and negotiate highly charged debates surrounding trigger warnings, safe spaces, and speech that verges on hate” (3). In order to accomplish her task Ben-Porath uses the first four chapters of her book to describe the “current tools” used to protect free speech and the “common myths” that cloud leaders’ understanding of the problem (7-28). She offers a “framework for inclusive freedom” (29-46) and notes the ways in which that framework can be used to respond to “intellectual and dignitary harms. . . without suppressing speech” (47-84), and then she describes the ways in which the same approach can be deployed in the classroom (85-102). In the conclusion to her book she then shows how conflicts that she has cited elsewhere could have been resolved by relying on “inclusive freedom” (103-128). The concrete illustrations include the debate over Halloween costumes and safe spaces at Yale (13); racial equality in Missouri (13-14); trigger warnings in Chicago (14); and controversial speakers at Berkeley and Middlebury (15-17). Ben-Porath depicts three tools that have been used by colleges and universities to respond to such conflicts: Some have appealed to the First Amendment and the freedom of speech; others have appealed to academic freedom; and still others have used “speech codes” to control dialogue on campus (18-20). These tools “pull in different directions” and Ben-Porath notes that there are subtleties on campus that often escape notice (21). Academic freedom, not freedom of speech, is the “core value” of America’s campuses – that commitment conditions the right to free speech, prohibiting things like plagiarism and the misrepresentation of the results of research, even if the First Amendment protects such conversation (20). “Inclusive freedom” offers a different approach. It is based upon a commitment to two key principles: “First, a commitment to teaching and research can only be fulfilled in the context of an open-minded and intellectually honest environment” (74); and “Second, all members of the campus community must know that they are invited to participate in this pursuit” (74). Readers of Ben-Porath’s work will have questions: (1) Is there a bright line between society’s concern with the freedom of speech and academic freedom on its campuses? If, as the author notes, university campuses are “both the mirror of American democracy and the window into its future” (8), can universities and society be so easily isolated? (2) Could issues of plagiarism and the misrepresentation of research results be ethical matters and, therefore, unrelated to the question of how freedom of speech and academic freedom differ and overlap? (3) More importantly, can Ben-Porath be so sure that the strife on America’s campuses can be avoided or defused? Those who perceive themselves as the architects of a new social order or who see societal battles as a zero-sum game will not be easily dissuaded. (4) Readers will also wonder if Ben-Porath undermines her project by presupposing that the categories of harm and violence are appropriately applied to academic discourse. As long as one assumes that language can be violent, then opening discourse to contributions from diverse perspectives will always be constricted by the possibility that one will be charged with acting immorally. (5) Finally, on a practical note, readers will find that the author’s method is not as clearly outlined as it should be in such a brief treatment of the subject. Questions aside, those who teach in North America will recognize some of the debates that Ben-Porath describes. The conflict that abruptly ended the deanship of Professor Elaine Heath at Duke Divinity School illustrates how intractable and bitter debates can be about these issues. For those who teach on seminary campuses, there are added layers of complexity. To one degree or another, issues of Christian community, formation, and participation in the life of the church are concerns unique to theological education. In addition, notions of belonging and academic freedom are conditioned in seminaries by centuries of debate over what makes for sound theology and authentic Christian community. For that reason, in the world of theological education, a solution to the volatility of conversation in the classroom and among its faculty is an even more urgent priority.