Mr. John Hendron
Improvement can only happen with feedback. It’s a simple statement, and we might challenge ourselves to think about it long enough to challenge it. I’m hard pressed not to agree with this statement in about every hypothetical situation I throw at it.
We get feedback each and every day (from others, and yes, too, from own selves).
Feedback takes many forms, however. I may know something about the outfit I’ve chosen to wear if I get comments from co-workers… “Wow, that’s a bright tie! Where’s the party?!” That could mean my tie is really a winner, or it might also mean some folks think it’s a bit too loud for the office. I might also get feedback on my tie from glances, pointed fingers, or a thumbs up from a colleague as they walk by engaged on their phone in conversation.
When I address a group of people, feedback can come in the form of questions, facial expressions as I speak, or even off-the-cuff comments made as I exit from attendees. In training situations, the same applies, but I might also follow-up with a request for written feedback.
As many of us in this program do as we write, we may sit down, write several paragraphs, then walk away. When we return (the same day, a week later, etc.) to the writing, and re-read what we’ve written, we can immediately utilize our own internal feedback (“that sentence is awesome!” or “I am not even sure what I meant there, I need to work on this transition…”).
Reflection is the process by which we assess the variety of feedback we receive and focus on strategies for improvement. Reflection may be an exercise in filtering, deciding what feedback to address and which to ignore. Or deciding how to respond… what to change, how to change, and how improvement is even possible. Will improvment take just small changes? New training? A complete re-assessment of my skills? Or maybe just a more conservative tie for the next school board meeting?
And this whole process hinges upon the quality of the feedback! Informal feedback is often free, such as glances, nods, and pats on the back. It’s the more critical, sustained feedback that is harder to come by. Verbose feedback isn’t naturally better feedback, however quality feedback often is going to have depth to it, and depth can take time to provide, and require many words to be expressed.
In the feedback I received using a rubric for our “Formative Assessment I” presentations, I received the following comments. Good, quality written feedback, for sure:
Committee expressed a desire to see more explicit attention to both graded work and self-reflection in portfolio. These two aspects were dealt with, but relatively obliquely.
I had summarized by reflection on graded work through the blog, here. The comment on oliqueness no doubt stemmed from the fact that I remembered this aspect of my presentation at the end, almost as an afterthought. I wrote the blog post because it was a required component for the presentation, as documented in the rubric. The process of reflection, however, was difficult due to the disparate quality of the feedback that has been provided, to date. It was also challenging in some cases because some of my papers had been filed in the recycling bin, where I could no longer access the feedback that had been hand-written. The remainder of this post will focus on what I think is good, quality feedback.
Along a continuum of feedback, which if we desired, we might call the Continuum of Feedback Quality or C.F.Q., imagine three focii:
- Cursory feedback, in the form of checkmarks, a value (95%), or other markings showing evidence that the assignment had been read.
- More specific feedback, using a guide or rubric, showing one’s progress along a number of criteria, along with a value score (95%).
- Specific feedback using a rubric, with values, but also verbose comments ; a discussion about your original ideas; comments go beyond writing mechanics and address original thought, scholarship, etc.
Thus far, being in the Ed.D. program, I’ve received feedback that could stand-in as exemplars for each of the points illustrated along the C.F.Q. No doubt, I’ve given my share of feedback examples throughout my career as an educator that would stand-in for goalposts along all areas of the C.F.Q. too.
The first focus point lets us know that someone actually read the work we submitted. A score without an explanation is of little value, even when full credit is awarded.
The second focus point has some value, especially when the rubric is given at the same time as the assignment, and it is well-understood.
In my last stint as an adjunct professor, I made blogging a requirement for an undergraduate course. Ten years ago it might have been seen as an innovative learning practice, with the most technology-savvy students finding blogging akin to their own preferred way of expression. The geeks, at least, could relate. Today, I found most of my students had never maintained a blog. They were active participants in other forms of social media (namely, Facebook), but blogging for many was a new means for communication. Furthermore, many had not had a lot of experience using journaling as a reflective process.
The other types of assignments I gave required different types of feedback; quizzes may have been multiple choice, where the answers were either right or wrong. A formal paper required me to turn on the commenting feature in Word. But the blog posts were more informal, but the most fun to grade.
They also took the most time. Time is money, but sometimes time is required for quality.
Each week in my class we had a blogging assignment, and it was every Saturday night that I fired up my news aggregator to check and see what had been written. I read through them all first. Then, I’d go to the actual blogs and start writing back.
I may have written more than some of the students.
Since I didn’t meet the students face to face, this was my chance for personal, one-on-one dialogue. When I felt they hadn’t gone far enough in discussing one of my pre-determined topics, I’d probe further. I’d ask more questions. And next week, if they hadn’t written back, their score would reflect the one-sided conversation I was having with myself. Plus, I’d ask my questions again. For some students, this was the only way to get them to think more deeply about the course content. Sometimes their perspectives taught me something, and sometimes, I better understood them with the extension they had for communication in their ability to comment back. If comments were too critical, I took them out of the public eye, and wrote them privately via e-mail. Sometimes via e-mail I invited them to read, and comment, on another student’s blog post.
The feedback I received on blogging was positive. In one instance, I got a comment through a student blog from a parent. Others praised the experience as the most innovative thing they’d done in their four years of college. Above all else, many came to see my dedication towards their learning. I can honestly say I saw development in each of their blogs by the end of the semester; some thought more deeply about the course content, and some improved as writers. I can only imagine the professors here at VCU have similiar goals for us in our reflective blogging.
What’s my point? Quality feedback can be a valuable learning experience. Blogging supports this type of feedback. High marks on the C.F.Q. aren’t guaranteed, but the opportunity for dialogue through blog comments are there, by default, through the choice of medium. And in a program such as this the feedback can come from professors, but with no loss in C.F.Q., we can solicit feedback from our peers. Reading in our writing course about the “power” of peer feedback, I know it was of value to many.
Speaking of the writing course in the fall, that is where I received the highest quality of feedback from in my work. The feedback was verbose; it was not public like blog posts, but the commenting feature of Word was used heavily both in critical and complimentary means. The only think missing was the ability to write-back, and follow up. This is of course possible with e-mails to a professor, but the use of a more collaborative tool would have made this more prevelent and seamless (Google Docs, anyone?).
So, in the end, I found it a challenge to reflect upon feedback in the formal setting of F.A.1. Short comments suggesting changes in my A.P.A. style, or a comment summarizing the fact I’d met the obligation of the assignment didn’t give a lot to reflect upon. In one case, the feedback given was through Blackboard in a kind of code which I found quizzical at best to dechiper; my numerical score was high enough that I didn’t bother to question what the code meant. In one case, where a paper was reviewed by two professors, the comments and scores contradicted one another, which speaks to the subjective nature of grading. Subjectivity isn’t a bad thing, but when one score came with comments (and the higher numerical assessment), and the more critical score lacked legible comments, I was satisfied to know that at least one assessor found favor with my writing.
I read a blog post (I did not bookmark it, so you’ll have to take my word at this point) from another student of Dr. Becker’s, and in the class, Dr. Becker allegedly said that “grades don’t matter.” I agree with that statement, or sentiment, in that the comments we receive are far more valuable than a number. Yet, outside the world of that class, grades may matter a lot. Every one of the doctoral students I work with wants good scores. In some cases, the good scores may qualify them for tuition assistance. And good scores equate to the As or Bs that keep you in the program.
But as we move forward into the second year of the program, I’d like to encourage everyone’s contribution for opportunities to maximize the potential for quality along the so-called C.F.Q. The educational philosophy of not penalizing students in our schools with zeros, and instead giving students multiple opportunities for improvement, seems sympathetic with focusing and reflecting on our work, and not reflecting on numerical scores. What would this look like?
This would mean every exmemplar that makes it onto our blogs/portfolios is stellar. Projects would all be on-going. Our writing would take place in the confines of a collaborative Google Document. There’d be as much of our own thoughts and research as the comments and critique of professors and our learning colleagues. There’d be mulitple versions of our work. There’d be less need to reflect after a formal assessment had been made, because reflection would be an integral part of the work’s genesis. The process for creating this work would be less like a traditional class, and more like the art of craft seen in an atelier. Our work would take on a collaborative whiff; face to face classes could be “workshops” where feedback is exchanged.
Assigned blog posts would be longer in their comments section than that from the post.
We’d continue 1:1 sessions with our professors to reflect on our progress in the course.
Of course, a year of basking in verbose, quality feedback may change the face of F.A.2. It might just be the opportunity to highlight what we’ve learned from our peers. There could be nothing oblique about that.
As always when I’m long-winded, thanks for reading. This blog post is a very public way for my own self-imposed feedback and reflection, rolled-up into one artifact. I now know ways I can be better prepared for F.A.2., and hopefully I’ve shared some ideas to facilitate improvement of the reflective process for all.
