Leveraging Opinion & Belief: Why Should They Care?

Let me start by saying this: as an adjunct instructor for psychology and sociology at Yavapai College, I have the opportunity to teach really interesting subjects.  I know, I know.  You have a particular affinity for your own field(s), too.  In fact, for most of the instructors and professors I know, the path to academia looked a little more like this:

Than like this:

Still, I'll make no secret of the fact I think my own subjects are the best, and I'll tell you why: every single student in every one of my classes has some level of personal experience with the subject material.  Every student developed in the womb, was born, and - for better or for worse - grew up in some sort of family system.  Each of them has interest in sex and sexuality (though their levels of knowledge and experience in this area vary wildly).  I have yet to meet a student who hasn't known someone who died or loved someone who has a mental illness.  And almost all of them have wondered at some point how anyone could possibly care enough about high school sports to kidnap a rival's beloved mascot.  Because my fields focus on the scientific study of human behavior - our development, motivations, beliefs, and interactions, as well as how we perceive and organize the world around us - what students learn in my classes exists on more than just a theoretical level.

In order to get students to recognize the truth of this statement, somewhere along the line I realized I could capitalize on their natural tendency to offer their opinions and beliefs when presented with a given topic.  Every instructor has had the frustrating experience of trying to reach the odd obdurate individual who is overly wedded to his or her preexisting belief system.  But the fact most students have their own thoughts and opinions about the material presented in your course doesn't always have to be a bad thing!  As an instructor, you can actually use this reality to your advantage.

I have found this is particularly true of online students, who are often fairly tech-saavy and come into the online classroom with a fair amount of experience stating and defending their thoughts on every online forum from Facebook to Popular Science.  The key, obviously, is to demand a higher level of rigor than those students are used to, and to require their sources include (or, perhaps, are confined to) the textbook and/or articles you've assigned for the course in which they're enrolled.

Here are some ways in which I've used this phenomenon in my classes:

• Rather than asking students to discuss which individuals are most at risk for HIV/AIDS and why, I'll ask them to take a position on the FDA's banning of men who have had sex with men from donating blood in the United States, and to defend their position using sources provided in the class.

• Instead of requiring students to describe the impact of age-related changes to vision and reaction times, I'll have them propose laws regarding older drivers.  Or for that matter, younger drivers.

• Should teens have to do service-learning to graduate from high school?  Should parents be prohibited from spanking their children?  What are the potential benefits and drawbacks of Little League baseball for kids?  If it was your job to revise standardized testing, how would you evaluate the quality and effectiveness of public schools?  If you could wave a magic wand and everyone would make the same amount of money for full-time work, how difficult would it be to recruit doctors and other professions that require considerable educational and cognitive investment?

Students care about these types of questions.  Often, they have already thought about the issues.  My husband, Jason, recently encountered an English 101 student who stated that since she'd posted an adequate result on her AIMS test in the 10th grade, she hadn't had any quality composition instruction since.  Can you imagine the thoughts she might be able to offer on how to revise standardized testing?  And that's just one example!

This approach has two added benefits.  The first, obviously, is for the instructor.  While I do use some easily-graded measures like true-false, fill-in-the-blank, or multiple-choice questions, I really feel that essay and short answer are where it's at.  Supposedly it was Einstein who said something to the extent of, "If you can't explain it simply, you don't understand it well enough."  I like essay as a tool for assessing student learning.  But let's face it: reading and grading 48 essay responses comparing and contrasting the theories of Jean Piaget and Lev Vygotsky can feel downright painful by the time you're reaching the end.  On the other hand, reading the same number of nuanced arguments about MSM blood donations is a lot more engaging for the instructor.

The other benefit is for the student.  Although I'm bound to have my own feelings and opinions about what they write (HIV testing has, after all, improved to the point where many nations allow MSM to donate blood under certain conditions), no matter which answer a student gives, I'm going to argue with it when I provide feedback.  If there's anything I want students to get out of their college education, it is the understanding that the world around them exists in a thousand shades of gray.

And ultimately, I'm far more worried about the students who come out of a classroom feeling like they've mastered the course concepts than the ones who come out feeling like they've been left with more questions than answers.