Ignore for the moment the wealth of educational research (c.f. Bligh, 2000) that identifies how the large classroom is the antithesis of the ideal learning environment.  This blog is about arguments you may want to consider when your Chair walks into your office and pronounces that your number has been selected at random (or not if  a) you’re untenured, b) you’re research is waning or c) (s)he read your blog about the void in leadership in your department) to teach the survey course.

Argument #1:  Take One for the Economy

This is the most common tactic in play.  We all love teaching the boutique course to upper-level students that is centered on our research interests.  Counter the Chair’s request by pointing out how the ~15ish upper/graduate level students desperately need those courses to gain skills to enter the workforce (Aside: As a rule, find novel ways to inject the word “workforce” into ANY conversation with a Chair/Dean/Provost etc.).

Argument #2:  Andy has better genes

This one requires a bit more finesse.  You need to argue that a colleague (I have a colleague named Andy that I love to pick on so I’ll use him) is so gifted in his teaching style that it would be a disservice to the students to offer someone as pedestrian as yourself.  Now you and the Chair know that what you’re really saying is that Andy’s research volume has dropped and/or is in an area you don’t understand and that he, Andy, is not worthy to walk with the elite of the department (READ: those such as yourself with larger research volumes).  This argument is abetted by the common belief that some instructors truly DO have the teaching gene and such skill cannot be learned through practice and training  (Aside: These faculty probably use the same reasoning at home to avoid cooking).

Argument #3:  What’s It Gonna Take?

The Corleone family probably never had to teach a large lecture (but if they did I would imagine the class having excellent attendance).  I’m not suggesting making a bedroom present of the Chair’s favorite pet (unless it’s one of those yippy dogs) but I suggest when you’re backed in a corner it’s time to go gangsta.  Causally touch an award plaque or textbook you authored or picture of the Chair’s yippy dog and ask in your best Marlon Brando voice “So, what’s it gonna take?”  The Chair will feign surprise and maybe even indignation so you need to be ready with an offer that he truly CAN’T refuse.  Assuming you’re not prepared to carry out doggicide offer an increase in your research buy-out (the amount of your own salary you’ll pay from your larger research volume) or leading some committee that is universally considered the academic equivalent of cleaning the lawn of doggie do.  If these bribes gifts aren’t considered acceptable sweeten the pot by reminding the Chair that Andy has a gift for teaching* (*READ: diminished research volume).

Let’s be blunt.  The large classroom format has little pedagogical support as a preferred environment for learning, yet this is the format commonly offered in many first-year college and university courses.  At the University of Michigan, where I teach a large class entitled Extreme Weather, I estimate that probably 90% of our 27,027 undergraduate students will have had a class of more than 100 students during their years on campus.

The University of Michigan is certainly not alone in the use of large classes.  The following lists the number of “large” classes by institution and illustrates that most, if not all, research universities rely heavily on the use of large classes.

According to Carl Wieman, universities grew from a model of apprenticeship .  That is,

“the university was where an expert worked closely with an apprentice, assigning them challenging tasks and then providing guidance as needed to carry out those tasks, as well as offering ongoing feedback on their work (and this still exists in graduate schools).  As the population grew, the apprentice model expanded into the university with an increasing number of students for each expert.  The lecture format began long ago as an efficient way to pass along information and basic skills such as writing and arithmetic in the absence of written texts. The economies of scale led to this expanding to the current situation of a remote lecturer addressing often several hundreds of largely passive students.”

So the large lecture is simply a corporate decision to manage costs with minimal regard to the quality of the learning environment these classes represents.  Schools like Michigan go to great lengths to attract the best and brightest and then, once matriculated, offers large courses with minimal faculty contact time (caveat: there are programs at the University of Michigan like it’s Undergraduate Research Opportunity Program that excels at connecting students with faculty in research).  Despite this there is little push back from the affected populations:

1. Students largely accept large classes as the norm.
2. They who pay (God bless them) are generally disconnected from the delivery of product and have not pushed back.
3. Faculty who don’t teach large classes are probably the main reason they exist. Large classes for entry-level students allows faculty to focus on higher level courses close to their interests.
4. Faculty who do teach large classes  are either hired specifically for that role (i.e. less expectation for volume of research and scholarship that regular faculty face) or are assigned either willingly or unwillingly.
5. University administrations want to keep faculty happy (see 3) while not alienating its “customers” (see 2).

So, who defends the interests of the learners who have little say in the selection of formal learning environments?  This blog is dedicated to exploring the world of large classes to identify what’s being done in higher education and/or what should be done in higher education to offer alternatives to the large class.