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This article by Liz Tay in the Australian iTnews highlights the work of Indiana University researcher Lee Sheldon, who’s suggested that employees and teachers may need new systems to motivate their next incoming generation:

Employers: Look to gaming to motivate staff

Sheldon grades his classes on a system similar to World of Warcraft. Students start at Level 1 and zero experience points (XP), and work their way upwards towards mastery. Materially, this system isn’t that different from what’s already out there. The only difference is the viewpoint — top-down or bottom-up?

The vast majority of our school grading systems are based on the idea that a student starts with a perfect score, and works downward from there. Failed tests are a sea of red minus signs and huge X’s. By that definition, the most successful student is the one that has failed the least. Sheldon’s students start from a point of being (functionally) worthless, and slowly work their way up towards mastery.

Real life is closer to Sheldon’s model. And anything that makes school a bit more like real life is okay in my book.

Job descriptions are written in terms of competencies — i.e., “you should be able to do x, y, and z; ability to do a, b, and c is a bonus.” Any extra skills you might have are generally immaterial to the job. I’m a software developer now, and so my ability to juggle is meaningless.

I kind of wish I was still teaching, so I could try out Sheldon’s scheme. For example, I’d consider defining grades in terms of competencies, rather than points on a test. Consider grading a unit on Newton’s laws. What if the expectations, presented at the beginning of the unit, looked like this?

A student will receive a grade of D upon: (1) reciting Newton’s three laws, and (2) giving an example of each.

A student will receive a grade of C upon: achieving the requirements for a grade of D, and (3) solving basic force problems using Newton’s second law in one dimension.

A student will receive a grade of B upon: achieving the requirements for a grade of C, and (4) solving basic force problems using forces at right angles using Newton’s second law in two dimensions.

A student will receive a grade of A upon: achieving the requirements for a grade of B, and (5) solving complex force problems involving four or more forces at any angles in two dimensions.

A test would become five questions, corresponding to the numbered entries above. (Or maybe 15 questions, three for each item. The student “passes” that competency if (s)he gets at least two of three right.)

Optimistically, this system gets rid of grade inflation. Numerical grades tend to be relative to one another, and the entire class can swing up or down (usually up) as a whole. At the end of the quarter, what does a grade of ‘90′ mean? Not much.

If you’re an overachieving student, an average of 97 doesn’t tell you anything about your absolute proficiency at the subject. And worse, it dissuades you from learning even more, since the system says that you’re already at the top of the scale. Why bother?

Sheldon’s system may even result in students choosing “majors” in high school. For those who have a good sense of what their career would bring them, this isn’t a bad thing in the least. I knew I hated literature and history from a young age, and I loved math and science. What if I could direct my energy in really excelling in those fields, while attaining lesser mastery in those fields in which I had no interest? In fact, why even bother having a maximum grade? Students who can analyze literature four grade levels above their chronological grade level should be rewarded for doing so.

I don’t expect schools to take on something like this. Ironically I think parents and administrators like the fluid nature of grades. Grades can be easily manipulated and are quite subjective. Teachers and students can attempt to “explain away” the reason for a particular grade penalty. (E.g., “this question wasn’t perfectly fair,” “I talked about it in class but it wasn’t in the textbook,” “you didn’t get enough partial credit,” et cetera.)

Sheldon’s grading system would expose the disparity in achievement across genders and races. And it would show that students with learning and mental disabilities are actually not able to keep up with their peers, which is a politically incorrect result (even if it is, in most cases, true).

What do you think? Paradigm shift? Or a new way of looking at the same problem?

I started this blog in 2006, when I was teaching physics at a small Catholic school in upstate New York. I left my teaching job in 2008 in search of greener pastures (in the pecuniary sense, not the chlorophyll sense). Well, I’ve succeeded in finding the more verdant, for sure, but that hasn’t much helped my blogging.

Since I’m not directly connected to the world of physics (and academics) anymore, I haven’t had a whole lot to say. Occasionally I’ve had ideas, but I feel that I can no longer write with the authority that someone writing a science blog should. There are many, many, many brilliant science bloggers out there who do a much better job than I can at presenting these issues. These days I identify more as a computer scientist (blech!) than as a physicist. However, I’m very happy in my new position and wouldn’t change it for the world.

In the intervening half-year since I ran out of steam writing about physics, I’ve let this space languish. I don’t want to do that anymore.

I’m going to be repurposing this blog over the next few weeks. I’m aiming to write shorter posts, focusing on my life and observations on the world, including science, politics, spirituality (and non-spirituality), technology, and the arts. I’ve always been something of a polymath, and in the past it’s been very limiting forcing myself to write about only one topic here. Hopefully this will change.

Many thanks to those of you who have read my rants about physics and education. That content will remain on the site in the “Physics Is Phun” category.

You don’t get to make many new beginnings in life. Fortunately in blogging it’s a lot easier.

I’ve been putting off writing this post for at least a month now; hence the reason for little new content.

I’ve decided to leave teaching.

My major reason for changing jobs is that I have bills to pay and would like to start a family soon. I can’t do that on a (Catholic school) teacher’s salary, and so I’ve been seeking other things.

After a very short job search I found a position that’s pretty much perfect for me — I’m going to be working as a programmer in a physics group at a major corporate research center. The particular project I’ll be working on has medical applications, and so I can sleep at night knowing that I’m doing good things to help society. I’ve always felt like I missed working in physics in any real capacity, and this will certainly give me my opportunity to be part of a team doing some solid science. I have a great deal to learn and I’m looking forward to the opportunity.

As a result of going back into corporate life, I’m hoping to have some more free time for personal projects. I love the entire concept of Open Course Ware (OCW) and would like to pursue projects in which I create physics content for all. Certainly, this blog is part of that effort, and hopefully the posts will become more frequent rather than less.

I don’t intend to make this my permanent good-bye from education. I’m going to maintain my AAPT membership and hope to attend some meetings in the near future. After four years in the classroom I feel that I finally have a pretty good sense of the goings-on at a school and how the various players (parents, teachers, administrators, and of course, students) fit together. I will continue to follow the world of education, and hope to contribute to physics education from outside the classroom.

Many thanks to all I’ve worked with in my past four years — colleagues, administrators, parents, and most especially, students. I have learned so much from all of you. These experiences will stay with me for the rest of my life, and I will be forever grateful for the gifts you have given me.

I wrote the following, my philosophy of science education, a couple of years ago.  I recently came across it. It’s good to know that I still feel the way I do, if not even more strongly.

I believe that science, mathematics, engineering, and technology are the backbone of our nation’s strength. Science teachers are therefore some of the most critical people in guiding our nation into the future.

I believe that teachers must have exceptional knowledge of their subject matter. Students need to be “sold” on science, and a science teacher that does not love their subject to its core probably should not be teaching. I believe that science teachers must stay current with knowledge from within their field. Science is an ever-changing discipline, and teachers who are not up-to-date on recent developments in their field cannot be effective teachers.

I believe that inquiry learning, when used properly, can produce the question-asking, critical thinking, and problem solving skills required for success in the twenty-first century. Unfortunately, in this era of content-based accountability in education, the body of knowledge required is so broad as to leave little time for inquiry-based lessons. However, I believe that at least 5% of the curriculum should be structured to be inquiry-based. This is a small sacrifice in time with a large potential payback in student performance and attitude.

I believe in “24/7 involvement.” Students should be thinking of science and math constantly. As a physics student, much of my insight as to the physical nature of the world did not occur during lecture, but in the evenings as I drifted asleep, or in discussions of natural philosophy with classmates. As a teacher, I am committed to making myself available to my students through e-mail and instant messaging, so that I can answer students’ questions at any time of day or night. I encourage discussion amongst classmates, so that they may synthesize physical thoughts on their own. Finally, I encourage my students to keep an eye on the natural phenomena around them, to build curiosity and to develop “physical intuition.”

I believe that science isn’t easy. Standards should be constructed in a way that all learners are challenged to an appropriate level for them. However, a difficult course needn’t have a difficult instructor. My philosophy is to create a framework of high expectations, while simultaneously offering support for students to meet those demands.

I believe that science courses should be taught in an interdisciplinary fashion. Too often, science is taught within the “silo model” — distinct categories of earth science, biology, chemistry, and physics — without anything to connect content from one field with that of another. In the twenty-first century, so-called “hyphenated sciences” are the norm (e.g., biochemistry, biophysics, chemical physics, nanotechnology, astrobiology). Teachers, even at the high-school level, must prepare their lectures with an eye toward connecting all disciplines within science. Teachers must work to break down the silos and convince students that science is one great field, not many smaller independent sub-fields.

Most of all, I believe that the most important trait science teachers can instill in their students is curiosity. Science is a process, not a body of knowledge. The most successful scientists ask more questions than they answer. I ask my students to ask questions about what they see, and encourage them to use their knowledge and physical intuition to develop physical explanations.

Finally, I believe that students work harder than ever in their academic and extracurricular activities. I have the utmost respect for students, and I try to demonstrate that respect in every interaction with students, parents, fellow teachers, and supervisors.

I believe in science, I believe in education, I believe in students, and I believe in the responsibility of humankind to control its own destiny through science and engineering. I wish to do my small part.

James S. Cronen; April, 2006