student learning

Team-based learning (TBL) was developed over thirty years ago in response to challenges posed by students coming to class unprepared as well as the need for students to apply their knowledge to authentic and complex real-world problems. In this book, Sibley, Ostafichuk, and their contributing authors offer an overview and introduction to TBL for faculty who want to get started with this model of teaching and learning. Filled with vignettes of successes and failures by faculty who have used TBL, the book concludes with appendices of resources, a variety of options to use in the classroom for implementing TBL activities, and reflections on the challenges of implementing TBL in teaching. The book is helpfully divided into three sections.

Section one begins with an overview of TBL by introducing its four essential elements: (1) creating properly formed and managed permanent teams; (2) developing a readiness assurance process (RAP) to ensure motivated and prepared students; (3) using application activities which require students to use course concepts and skills; and (4) holding students accountable for their own learning. With this model of instruction the focus is shifted away from the professor to students who actively use what they have learned to solve problems. The next two chapters focus on ways to design and implement a TBL course. Roberson and Franchini’s approach to design is to begin in the middle by designing the team application activities and tasks that allow students to practice using the disciplinary concepts of the course and thus demonstrate their learning. The final chapter in the opening section (by Kubitz) provides a literature review of studies which documents the effectiveness of TBL and connects the model to a variety of learning theories (Vygotsky, Brunner, Perry, and Zull).

The heart of the book is found in section two with chapters which elaborate on the four essential elements of TBL introduced earlier. Each chapter is full of practical advice and vignettes from faculty who have utilized TBL. The authors discuss, for example, the different stages of the RAP - selecting appropriate quality readings (they recommend shorter rather longer assignments), developing individual readiness assessment and team assessment tests, offering practical advice about writing good multiple choice questions and developing reading guides to assist student preparation. The key to a successful TBL course is found in the application activities which engage students’ interests. When it works, the authors argue that student focus shifts from “what is the right answer?” to discussions about “why?” and the supporting evidence. They offer a number of ways in which students may simultaneously report on the decisions made about the same problem they are working on. Courses should be designed in such a way that students are accountable and rewarded not only for their individual performances, but also for contributions to the team and overall team performance.

The authors argue that for TBL to be effective, it is best to use it for an entire course rather than use it piecemeal. The book is full of practical advice, however, which is well-grounded in literature about teaching and learning so that faculty members who are hesitant to transform a course to TBL can still benefit from reading (advice such as how to write effective multiple choice questions and how to facilitate discussions). I should note that the vignettes and examples in the book from faculty who have used TBL include no one from Religious Studies. But after reviewing the book, I am motivated to try this model in my teaching.

Increasing skepticism regarding the value of traditional grading, mounting student debt, and low degree completion rates has led to escalating pressure on North American universities to provide evidence of assessment of student learning. Beyond standard letter grades, it is claimed, there are methods that can provide tangible proof that students are – or are not – learning (Astin, “The Promise and Peril of Outcomes Assessment,” The Chronicle of Higher Education). Ideally this information assists universities in shaping the “new normal” of higher education (2). This new normal, the authors argue, often imposes assessment from above; as a result, many university faculty are either apart from assessment-measuring or are excluded from the conversation regarding why additional assessment measures might be needed and how to use the information once it is gained. This latter point is the focus of this collection of essays, Using Evidence of Student Learning to Improve Higher Education. Written with various assessors in mind – from faculty to governing boards (12-17) – the essays are all rooted in the authors’ collective desire to make assessments consequential (20); only by putting assessment data to work for the institution will the data be made meaningful.

Kuh and Ikenberry, the principle co-investigators of the project (xiv), organize the topic of student assessment as a tool for the advancement of higher education into three helpful modules. After an introductory chapter that highlights the need for university campuses to move from compliance to active ownership in the assessment process (1-26), the collection is divided into three parts, each of which contains articles that pertain specifically to the various constituencies. “Part One: Making Assessment Work” (27-96) is comprised of three chapters. Hutchings, Kinzie, and Kuh’s “Evidence of Student Learning: What Counts and What Matters for Improvement” (27-50) highlights the variety of assessment methods as well as their respective strengths and limitations. This chapter reminds the reader that whether or not the vocabulary of “assessment” is employed, faculty are always engaged in the process of assessing student learning through assignments, surveys, exams, rubrics, and portfolios, even if not all recipients of this data consider it as such. This is a helpful chapter for religion faculty who might struggle with questions about how to assess student learning in a subject often fraught with individual meaning and significance and that stands quite far, by comparison, from a student’s relationship with other subjects (such as algebra or physical education). According to Kinzie, Hutchings, and Jankowski, an essential – and often neglected – second step in the assessment process is making use of the data. In “Fostering Greater Use of Assessment Results: Principles for Effective Practice” (51-72) and “Making Assessment Consequential: Organizing to Yield Results” (73-91), the authors carefully distinguish between “doing” assessment and “using” assessment; beginning with a brief history of the process, they trace effective use from the microcosm of a single course to the macrocosm of an entire institution. In particular, they emphasize that the collection of assessment data and its use must ultimately fold back on itself, closing the continuous loop of evaluation that ends with the next question: “What was the impact of the change?” (71).
 
Methodically similar to the first section, “Part Two: Who Cares? Key Stakeholders” (95-182), draws a valuable line in assessment-use analysis through four chapters. Casting their net quite widely, authors Cain, Hutchings, Ewell, Ikenberry, Jankowski, and Kinzie collectively affirm that faculty assessment is at the heart of educational development, assessment impetus must shift from exterior motivation to interior, and that assessment must be supported at all levels of the institution. For the past three decades, Kinzie, Ikenberry, and Ewell conclude in “The Bigger Picture: Student Learning Outcomes, Assessment and External Entities” (160-82), external bodies have been imposing assessment data collection, much of which has consisted of a bare minimum of electronic catalogues; while this external interest is warranted, those who benefit most by harnessing evidence of student learning are those who stand closest to those being assessed: faculty.

The final section, “Part Three: What Now? Focusing Assessment on Learning” (183-236), addresses two noteworthy elements of assessment projects: the weariness that plagues faculty who often face overwhelming demands for greater and more evaluation of their profession, and ways in which assessment results can be shared with appropriate constituencies. While Kuh and Hutchings’ “Assessment and Initiative Fatigue: Keeping the Focus on Learning” (183-200) highlights strategies to avoiding the inevitable fatigue by suggesting that faculty share the burden of assessment, that short-term projects be considered, that clear links to campus learning goals be identified prior to the work beginning, and that the work of assessment be balanced by scaling back other tasks. While the final chapter, Jankowski and Cain’s “From Compliance Reporting to Effective Communication” (201-19), focuses on the definitions and use of transparency in the successful relation of assessment data, the multi-authored conclusion, “Making Assessment Matter” (220-36), both summarizes the current context of assessment in North America, and offers thoughts regarding emerging trends and forces in higher education.

The American Academy of Religion White Paper, “The Religion Major and Liberal Education,” rightly claims that assessment in religion, religious studies, and theology is challenging due to a variety of important factors, including the constantly evolving nature of the discipline, the interdisciplinarity of religious studies, the lack of accrediting bodies to supervise content, and the ambiguity regarding career paths for graduates in the field (https://www.aarweb.org/AARMBR/AARMBR/Publications-and-News-/Data-and-Studies-/Teagle-Study.aspx). Nevertheless, religion, religious studies, and theology departments must face the challenge of assessment initiatives the same as any department; on a purely pragmatic level, it would be helpful to face the challenge of assessment with the valuable essays provided in Kuh and Ikenberry’s collection.

This book is meant to be put into someone’s hands in the months before they begin college, but it also serves as a useful tool for anyone contemplating returning to school after time away – adults getting ready to begin seminary, for example, after years in first or second careers – or for anyone wishing to become a “life-long learner,” whether in formal academic circles or in private life. Written in accessible language and peppered with illustrative examples, this slim volume blends common sense – such as eat a healthy, balanced diet, make time for regular exercise, get enough sleep, don’t cram – with a wide array of insights from neuroscience research and learning theory of the last fifteen years. Both authors have extensive experience and publications focused on the integration of cognitive research, biology, and learner-centered teaching: Doyle at Ferris State University and Zakrajsek in the Department of Family Medicine at UNC-Chapel Hill.

The topics covered in the eight main chapters focus on learning and: sleep, exercise, the use of multiple senses, discovering and utilizing patterns, memory, “fixed” versus “growth” mindsets, and paying attention. Each chapter quickly sets forth recent pertinent research, then concludes with five to ten summary points. Much of the material in the early chapters confirms common sense: getting enough sleep and exercising regularly are necessary for both learning and memory. The brain needs “down” time to process new information. Because sleep and exercise are so foundational for learning, these topics pop up repeatedly in subsequent chapters, especially in the discussions of memory and paying attention.

The discussions in chapters 4 through 8 take up facets of cognitive and learning research that move beyond common sense. Where two or more senses are put to use both learning and memory increase: for example, listening and reading, or reading aloud, or sight and touch. Even studying near the scent of roses has a positive impact. Elaboration is another key: the more routes one takes to the goal – such as via concept maps or annotating the pages of books – the stronger the learning. One chapter describes many ways of discerning patterns and “chunking” blocks of information to help make learning easier and faster. The chapter on memory reminds us that cramming is not nearly as effective as “distributed practice,” processing material in smaller bites over a longer period of time, which gives the brain time – it needs at least an hour – to do its work. This means that taking classes back-to-back, with little or no break in between, is nearly always a bad idea, especially in regard to the material in the first class. Resting between classes or learning activities, as well as taking short naps and breaks, daydreaming, or going for a walk or run, turn out to be essential for effective learning.

Many students are told in elementary school how smart they are, as if learning is a fixed attribute, rather than being praised for the hard work they are doing, which affirms their learning as a process of steady “growth.” As a result, they often have difficult transitions in middle school and beyond, where the material demands more and more effort. Long-term success is a result of steady work and effective learning strategies, not intelligence.
 
The New Science of Learning’s extensive use of citations provides lots of trails to follow if the reader is inclined to go deeper, but also makes the book choppier and less engaging than if the authors had rephrased the information in their own words. But this is a minor quibble. I plan to give a copy of this book to my son, who will start college next year, as well as my daughter, a high school sophomore, mostly because I learned so much about how to learn that I wish I had known long ago.