Labor-Based Grading: More Process, Less Pressure

by Kristy Kelly, Director of Writing, School of Writing, Literature, & Film

Just the other day in my Writing 222 class on Argumentation, I asked students to freewrite on the question “What is the connection between grades and learning?” We use labor-based grading in my WR 222 classes, so I initiate conversations with my students early on about what grades do to their learning: where do grades focus their motivation? What emotions do they elicit? What beliefs do they prompt about their capacity to face new learning situations?

The class, like most others to whom I’ve posed this question, had a wide-ranging set of responses. Some reported that grades motivate them to work harder or give them a clearer sense of where they stand in a subject. Others discussed the “academic validation” that grades can provide when they get a high grade, and on the flip side, the sense of deflation and self-doubt that arises when they get a grade lower than expected. Still more referenced the experience of stress, pressure, and anxiety that grades induce, so that taking classes becomes more about protecting a GPA than about deeply engaging with course content. Overall, it was clear just how large grades loom over students’ perception of their own capability as learners, and how grades function as an extrinsic motivation that stimulate anxiety as much or more than engagement.

While the transition into labor-based grading was a little bumpy due partially to the pandemic, it did open up space for students to think more about improving their writing and less about the grade stamped on the work they were able to produce, particularly in the chaotic learning conditions of Covid. Like many composition scholars and teachers nationwide, I started experimenting with labor-based grading to amplify the most rewarding elements of writing classes—exploring difficult questions through research, collaboration in peer review, a deep commitment to revision and reflection—while dialing down the pressures attached to assigning and receiving grades.

The Limits and Benefits of Labor-Based Grading

There are many ways to deploy labor based grading, but the basic concept remains the same: students are guaranteed a particular grade (in the case of my classes, a B) for completing a particular amount of labor according to a shared set of specifications. Students complete more labor—additional assignment components, subsequent rounds peer review, further reflection, and so on—to earn a higher grade.

As Asao Inoue has theorized, this model isn’t simply about reducing stress about grades. It’s also intended to correct inequities steeped into the culture of higher education, which values the performance of academic standards designed to uphold whiteness and white supremacy. From this perspective, evaluating students’ work based on its alignment with “Standard Written English” is itself an act of racism. Attaching evaluation to students’ labor, rather than their performance of a prestige dialect that may not reflect their cultural or educational background, is one small step toward creating a more equitable learning environment.

Any evaluative model, no matter how equity-focused, prompts the question: “equitable for whom?” Our classes still demand letter grades to measure students’ performance, and other scholars of composition have expressed concern that labor-based grading simply trades one inequitable model for another. Perhaps most notably, Ellen Carillo has argued that evaluating students based on labor still privileges some learners over others, and can place multiply-marginalized students, disabled students, or any students who need more time to complete assignments at a distinct disadvantage.

Student Responses to a New Take on Grades

My own students have expressed a similar mix of enthusiasm coupled with healthy skepticism. Skeptics have shared their discomfort with the shift from rewarding the process over the product: some feel that labor-based grading required too much work relative to the amount of labor they’d have put in to get an A on a traditional model. (Those kinds of complaints only convinced me further of the promise of labor-based grading to break out of arbitrary and inequitable standards). Others felt that the model disadvantaged students with less time to devote to the class, or that the additional assignment components felt like “extra” labor, mirror Ellen Carillo’s concerns about accessibility.

But for those who resonated with the model, the consensus was clear: labor based grading gave them more space to test new ideas, reduced the stress of trying to predict what grade they would get, and increased their investment in meeting their writing goals. Students reported getting more enjoyment out of the writing process, feeling the freedom to embrace creativity, and feeling a deeper, intrinsic incentive to improve their writing and analytical thinking skills.

Considering the Switch to Labor Based Grading

As a teacher, you might be wondering: “how can I ensure that my students are actually meeting a shared set of standards if they’re guaranteed a certain grade for submitting an assignment? Couldn’t they turn in anything and still get a B?” I wondered that myself when I first started using this model, and to ensure that students do meet core learning outcomes and benchmarks, we’ve started using a “C- Threshold” that the essay must crest in order to get a B (following the assignment prompt to its specifications, including appropriate citations, responding meaningfully to the assignment topic, and so on).

The need for such a threshold reveals one of the imperfections of labor-based grading: while this model can loosen the pressure to adhere to an arbitrary set of standards, it still results in a grade. And in an educational system where students must retain vigilance about their GPA, course points remain a core incentive for their performance in the class.

But by conceiving of grading as a contract, you and your students can create a shared set of standards that you want to uphold. Some of the strongest writing I’ve seen in my classes has come from collaborating with my students to determine what ingredients lead to an A, B, C, and beyond. While labor-based grading certainly doesn’t cure all inequities, it can increase students’ ownership over their process, create transparency around standards, and give them just a little more space to take creative leaps of faith.

I’ll leave you with a few tips and mindset shifts if you’re considering labor-based grading in your own course:

Tips and Mindset Shifts for Teachers

  • Commenting on student writing becomes less about grade justification and more about student improvement.
  • You can use additional labor components to emphasize the parts of the writing process you and your students find most valuable: rather than tacking on more assignments, it can be about inviting students to engage more deeply with the writing process, or letting students choose their own path through a project.
  • There is a logistical learning curve: what happens when a student completes a portion of an additional labor-based option, for example? Setting up a concrete system and asking students for feedback can help with consistency.
  • It can be hard to let go of what grade you think an assignment “should” get—and that’s part of the point.

Tips and Mindset Shifts for Students

  • Labor-based grading places more of the onus on the student to decide what aspects of a project they want to opt into or out of. They may need more lead time or direct guidance as they make those decisions.
  • Many students are acclimated to the traditional grading system and can feel uncomfortable engaging with grades in a different way. Talking with them about their relationship with grades is a good way to address that!
  • Students often view the additional labor components as “extra credit” or may not have an innate sense of how project components fit together. They may need extra clarity about what exactly is required and what the expectations are to earn the additional points.
  • While more flexibility can lead to greater growth, it sometimes leads to anxiety at first! Take time early in the term to help students set their own goals, and use plenty of reflection so they can track their progress.

Here’s a list of resources to consult if you’re considering the move to labor-based grading

Taking (& Being Taken By) Time

by Sarah Norek

Last fall, I attended Time Isn’t Neutral, a workshop put on by the folks from Whiteness @ Work. I honestly don’t remember my expectations/curiosities going into it. I coordinate workshops at the ASC, and we facilitate a lot of content that connects to time and how to manage it, plan, schedule, etc. Heading into their workshop I was excited to see other people deliver content on time and looked forward to new perspectives we might be able to bring into our ASC content too.

I learned a lot. My concept of time kind of melted. And now I’m in this gooey space of trying to make sense of my approach to and experience of time, and how that aligns (or doesn’t) to my values.

One concept that Desiree Adaway and Jessica Fish (of Whiteness @ Work) introduced in the workshop was “time famine”: not having enough time to do the things we want to do, because we’re doing the things we need to do. We hear about this experience from students (and colleagues, friends, peers, etc. a lot). In my experience, often my wants are activities that replenish, fill, and ground me, which kind of makes them feel like needs, whether or not I prioritize them as such. How to reconcile that?

Something else Adaway and Fish brought into the conversation was a comparison between monochronic (more linear) and polychronic (more fluid, more attentive to relationships) time. If you haven’t explored these and what makes them distinct from each other, I totally recommend it! As a workshop participant, as drawn as I felt to polychronic time, the fact that I very much operate within a more monochronic, linear system was quite clear. Adaway and Fish also present clock time (monochronic time) as a construct of colonialism and white supremacy, providing a rich set of thought-provoking details and research that I’m still deeply processing and reflecting on.

In my experience, time feels linear, and its linearity feels absolute. This is how I perceive time, and how my work and, well, time, gets allotted. I work within a grid of days and hours and seconds, with tasks and deadlines and commitments that need to fit within the 24-hour day for seven days a week and 365 days a year. I’m not unique in this, I know. My work – my days – tend to begin and end at appointed times, and much of what takes place within those times is informed by the 24/7/365 of it all. But that’s not necessarily how my thinking, my processing, my energy (etc.) works.

As a timely (haha!) example, I’ve been starting and stopping on the draft of this blog post for the last two weeks/three months: work time gets blocked on my calendar but, when I start to draft, I inevitably have to physically move, or put distance between the writing and thinking. These are steps (haha again!) to my process when working through challenging things. And, the approach doesn’t fit neatly within the rectangle the work has been allotted in my day. More planning! I might say. Better awareness of my time and myself! And yes, those both will support the work, sure. But also, the work is inherently impacted by the time structure I operate within, and I would argue that it’s not as simple as those moves. Which is a helpful reminder for myself as I think about my own planning and also as we talk about time with folks in workshops: we encourage tapping into self-awareness, trying different tools for scheduling, and I still think these entry-points work. I also think this recent experience of work and energy and thinking not necessarily puzzling neatly into a linear structure helps too. It’s a process. It might be messy. And there’s nothing wrong with it being messy, or not fitting exactly. Challenging, yes. But not wrong.

I once reflected to a friend that I was a messy thinker, and they generously offered back that it wasn’t messy, it was just non-linear. Kindest game changer ever. And I wonder about this non-linear thinking piece and the more-linear time piece and how they intersect – for me and for others, too. I also wonder about how we support students to thrive and succeed in a more linear system, while also honoring their lived experiences, wisdom, culture and approaches to time. The two don’t necessarily align – system and life – but they’re still unfolding simultaneously. So what?

Since the Time Isn’t Neutral workshop, I’ve made what feel like small shifts in the way I think and talk and write about time; while not monumental, they feel like movement. I find myself leaning away from the “management” wording and more towards planning, scheduling, thinking about what the work is that’s being done, what values are being … valued … in my choices. In workshops and conversations, we try to offer several different options for tools to choose from, and to invite choice. I think, too, I want to be more intentional about asking questions to learn more about how someone conceptualizes time, how they approach planning their days, how they think about their wants and needs and responsibilities and commitments. What do they prioritize? What’s their time narrative? What do they need to do and what do they want to do and how is their whole self being represented in their planning?

This all feels sort of parallel to Marie Kondo saying she’s not as focused on decluttering space anymore – that she’s “sparking joy” in other ways, more interested now in putting her time towards her family, her young children in particular, which also means living in a little more clutter, perhaps a little less linearity – tapping into the polychronic piece of things is my new connection to it. And I love that she’s made her shift in thinking transparent, that she’s sharing about how she thinks about the time she has and the activities she chooses now to fill it with. We’re allowed to change. Time is simultaneously pervasive and unique, which allows for a lot of habits and a lot of opportunities for adjustment and transformation.

Staff Picks – Supporting Student Employee Holistic Well-Being

by Woodrós Wolford

Student staff provide valuable services for their peers while also moving towards balance with their personal, academic, and professional goals and needs. Here, ASC & Writing Center staff share some of the moves we make as supervisors to support holistic well-being for student employees. The moves shared includes ones to smooth out processes for taking time off or intentional choices in how one personally engages with student employees.

This is by no means an exhaustive list! There are so many ways staff can, and do, support students in thinking ahead realistically to take care of their needs.

As you check out these picks, consider your own experiences. What choices do you make with folks you supervise or work with? What has worked for you as an employee?

Anna Bentley – Modeling

Modeling work-life balance (or whatever you like to call it) is the most effective move I make with student staff. Supervisors can talk all day long about self-care and work-life balance, but if they don’t model it, those words feel empty and can lead to confusion and resentment. I take time off work or work from home fairly regularly, and I tell my team of student staff why I’m out to normalize taking off. Sometimes I’m sick, sometimes my kid is sick, sometimes I’m having a bad mental health day, sometimes I take off for planned vacation, or sometimes I take some time off for no particular reason at all because it’s good to do that sometimes!

Adam Lenz – Hiring & Training

We recently added a question during our hiring process that asked students to describe a situation when their time was stretched too thin. We wanted to know how they realized they had pushed themselves too hard, what they needed to get through the experience, and what the outcomes were based on their choices. Doing so has helped us better identify how we can adapt our upcoming trainings to match what our new student employees are doing, not what we want them to be doing. In this way, we better meet them where they are and improve the onboarding process to meet their personal needs and growth points.

Chris Ervin – Automatic Approval

My strategy is pretty boring and very administrative in nature. Our time-off request system is this: If there’s a shift someone needs off within a week from the current date, they can put the shift on the trade board and another consultant can pick it up. When we have capacity, I’ll remove them from the shift even if another consultant doesn’t pick it up. However, if the time-off request is more than a week away, it’s approved automatically. I combine this process with reminders to consultants to look ahead to their needs over the course of the term and submit time-off requests as early as possible. I think this strategy encourages student staff to approach their work with professionalism (looking ahead to their time-off needs) and shows that I know they are students and humans first.

Clare Creighton – Clear & Generous Deadlines

When I am responsible for requests or asks, I try to be generous with and clear about deadlines (and sometimes the rationale behind them), and when possible, I ask about folks’ capacity and when they might be able to get something done. I also have changed my mentality around reminders and nudges. We’re busy folks – I miss things (ahem, this submission); sometimes others miss things. Rather than think “I shouldn’t have to remind someone,” I accept the busyness of our lives and occasionally help folks track and prioritize when things get complex. 

Marjorie Coffey – Tech with Intention

We use a variety of technology for scheduling and communication that writing consultants often choose to access through their phones or laptops. During training, I show consultants how to update notification settings and encourage them to plan for when and how they engage with technology. I share how I think about and decide what apps to use or not outside of work and share approaches that differ from my own. I hope this encourages consultants to make intentional decisions around technology and boundaries between work and other areas of their lives.

Sarah Norek – Consistent Check-Ins

I try to check in regularly with the person I supervise to see how they’re doing. Not earth shattering, I know, but I ask each time we meet how it’s going with all they’re juggling, how they’re feeling, and what they’re thinking/noticing about work (employment) and the time they have available to do everything (school, self, etc.). A lot of our work together can be done remotely too, so I offer this/remind on this as an option for any periods of high stress or to support taking time when not feeling well but also having the option to still get those hours if wanted/desired (whether remotely then or later when feeling better).

Woodrós Wolford – Overcorrect for Neutrality

Student employees often care deeply about their work and can feel guilty taking time off to care for their own needs. So, when a student employee reaches out to me in an emergent situation to say they might need to take time off tomorrow if there’s enough coverage, I am explicit in my support of them taking care of themselves. That’s the top priority. We can solve it. This helps remove guilt about taking time off. Then, that freed energy allows folks to be more proactive in planning ahead for their needs, both for the term as a whole and in finding coverage if something comes up suddenly.

On Cheese and Gratitude

by Chris Gasser

When I graduated with my Bachelor’s, I celebrated by going on a cruise with my now wife, Lauren. After a few days at sea, Lauren wasn’t feeling well, and she ordered a grilled cheese at the formal dining room. The waiter gave a quizzical look, then confirmed that the order would be possible. When the waiter removed the shiny silver lid for Lauren’s dinner, there it sat: the most glorious hunk of cheddar cheese I’ve ever seen. Fresh grill marks and all.

Without melting to that level of cheesiness, I want to offer a sincere thank you to all of you who have read my posts over the years, who have asked thoughtful questions, and who have shared back your enthusiasm around all things student success. I also want to offer a thank you for those of you who have shared excitement for my transition into my new role as OSU’s University Innovation Alliance Fellow. I’m thrilled to have the opportunity to serve the OSU community in new and innovative ways.

When the The Success Kitchen was first thought of, Marjorie proclaimed, “What a boon!,” now the tagline, and a boon it has been! Writing for, and collaborating with, you all has made me a better student success professional, and I am forever grateful. Luckily for me, this isn’t really goodbye. I’ll still brie around— now just in Kerr. As always, I would love to hear about the gouda things you are doing, the new and cheddar ways you are hoping to support students, and just generally the things stop you from feeling bleu. Let’s grab a coffee?

Cheers!

Chris

What Are OSU Colleagues Reading?

Back by popular demand! We asked colleagues, “What have you read that has informed your work or resonated for you, and why? This can be reading in any form (e.g., books, articles, videos, podcasts, audiobooks, etc.).” Perhaps you’ll find your first summer read or potential book club option in what OSU colleagues have shared here.

Stephanie Ramos, Associate Director of Undergraduate Research

“Life is like a good cup of coffee, full of flavor and meant to savor” -Bonnie Milletto, Portland, Oregon, Motivational Speaker

Book cover for Dedicated to the Cup: Nine Ways to Reinvent a Life! by Bonnie Milleto,

In Dedicated to the Cup: Nine Ways to Reinvent a Life, Bonnie Milletto explores the power of reinvention and personal transformation drawing on the journey of self-discovery and growth. Milletto offers practical advice and inspirational stories to help readers unlock their full potential and pursue their dreams. Whether you’re looking to make a career change, start a new project, or simply live more intentionally, “Dedicated to the Cup” provides a roadmap for embracing change and creating a fulfilling life on your own terms. With its engaging storytelling and practical wisdom, this book is a must-read for anyone seeking inspiration and guidance on their journey of personal growth and transformation.

Brenna Gomez, Director of Career Integration, Career Development Center

Book cover of Identity-Conscious Supervision in Student Affairs: Building Relationships and Transforming Systems by Robert Brown, Shruti Desai, and Craig Elliot.

This academic year I’ve been leading a community read in the Career Development Center on Identity-conscious Supervision in Student Affairs: Building Relationships and Transforming Systems (Valley Library Print, Ebook). We’re 2/3 of the way through the book and have been engaging in rich and vulnerable conversations. The authors encourage readers to understand their own dominant and marginalized identities before bringing identity conversations to supervisees, while paying special attention to power dynamics and conflict. Our office did note that the authors have not yet mentioned consent—always be sure to ask your supervisee before proceeding with a conversation on identity.

Kevin A. Dougherty, Dean of Students

Book cover of Invisible Man by Ralph Ellison

Ralph Ellison’s book, Invisible Man (Valley Library Print), has and will always be a reminder of how I move throughout my personal and professional life. In the beginning of his novel, he says “I am an invisible man. No, I am not a spook like those who haunted Edgar Allen Poe; nor am I one of your Hollywood-movie ectoplasms. I am a man of substance, of flesh and bone, fiber and liquids—and I might even be said to possess a mind. I am invisible, understand, simply because people refuse to see me.” Later in his book on page 577, he says “Life is to be lived, not controlled; and humanity is won by continuing to play in face of certain defeat.” Each of us represents something bigger than ourselves. We should all take the time to understand and see people beyond their exterior or preconceived notions. Ellison’s quote of certain defeat reminds me of what Dr. Maya Angelou once said, “You may encounter many defeats, but you must not be defeated.”

Emily Bowling, Director of Community Engagement & Leadership, Student Experience & Engagement

Book cover of Deep Work: Rules for Focused Success in a Distracted World by Cal Newport

I’ve been inspired by Cal Newport’s Deep Work and Deep Questions. Deep work is being able to focus on cognitively intense projects. Most people (including me!) need to (re)train their brains for this type of work as a result of constant digital distractions. Practicing deep work allows people to produce better results and experience higher levels of fulfillment. I’ve been working on time blocking to practice greater concentration and deep work. Committing to space outside of the frantic blur of email and DMs. has been rewarding and I’ve noticed how many colleagues are also hungry for this, too!

Nadia Jaramillo Cherrez, Senior Instructional Designer, Ecampus Course Development and Training

Book cover of The Anti-Racist Writing Workshop: How to Decolonize the Creative Writing Classroom by Felicia Rose Chavez

Felicia Rose Chavez’s book The Anti-Racist Writing Workshop: How to Decolonize the Creative Classroom(Valley Library Print)comprises elements of a memoir and pedagogical guide that critique the traditional writing workshop model. Chavez’s experiential narrative weaves intentionality and wit to recount her struggles as a workshop participant where control over the process, outcomes, resources, and students reflected white dominance through silence. In response, she created the anti-racist writing workshop model that “imparts a pedagogy of deep listening” (17). This model seeks to foster a sense of community and give Writers of Color a space to exercise their voice. Inspired by her work, I explore how to adapt this model to online learning.

Grappling with Grounding

by Woodrós Wolford

Do you remember middle school? Was it a stressful time, or a pleasant one? I’ve met folks with a whole range of answers to that question, including many of my former students! That’s because I worked for seven years as a middle school teacher, and middle school can be a difficult time for developing humans. When I ran into issues of compassion fatigue (and I ran into that wall hard in 2016!), I started a learning journey around what’s happening in the brain and body when we have a stress response. From the beginning, I was curious about managing stress responses for myself personally, to be a better teacher, and for the students I served who were navigating a sea of hormones and brain shifts.

I collected oodles of resources and strategies, but I felt like I was swimming upstream when I tried to implement them. It’s hard to remember strategies when I need them most given how stress works in the brain!

Given that puzzle, I tried a new approach last spring. Before entering a consistently challenging part of the term, I took a session with my mental health coach to brainstorm a self-care “menu” and create a visual reminder I was more likely to notice during a stressful workday. While on the phone with my coach, I grabbed markers, a half-sheet of paper, and talked through my list as I wrote and drew my self-care menu. I knew the bright colors and little drawings would catch my attention and that finishing creating the menu during the call ensured it would happen. I even taped it on the window while on that call!

This year, in my role as the Academic Coaching Coordinator, I wanted to do something similar and give space and time for myself and for the amazing student-staff on the coaching team to create our own self-care menus for work.

After we brainstormed grounding practices that already worked for each of us (and I’m sure you’d know the sorts of activities that vibe for you, if you want to make your own), we sorted them along a continuum based on three areas:

  1. Things we can’t do at work because they take too much time, effort, or specific supplies
  2. Things that we can do here, between or before meetings
  3. Things we can do during a meeting

For our workplace self-care menus, we focused on categories two and three. We took the collectively created list as a starting point (a version of which is offered below) and personalized it to make it more specific and add new ideas.

It was trickiest to come up with what we could do while in a work meeting, such as:

  • breathing
  • drinking water or tea
  • playing with a fidget
  • noticing the support of a surface the body is resting on
  • scanning for three things of the same color
  • checking in with all five senses
  • subtly smelling a grounding scent
  • leaving to use the bathroom or get something

For “before or between meetings,” we had more ideas, with varying levels of difficulty. Some of those were:

  • Journaling
  • Engaging in mindfulness…meditation…time to just exist
  • Tending to our physical environment (watering a plant, tidying)
  • Touching something that’s warm or cool, like a hot beverage or cold water
  • Going outside
  • Moving! (stretching, dancing, etc.)
  • Releasing energy with loud sounds
  • Listening to music
  • Connecting to someone comforting
  • Visiting the MindSpa
  • Lying down
  • Looking at “50 Ways to Take a Break” or another break resource from the Learning Corner

If you’re in a moment where you want to “level up” your self-care systems, I hope these ideas inspire your own list based on what you know works for you, along with some sort of visual or other reminder that fits for you.

And, if you want to chat, my door, Teams, and email inbox are always open to ideas and invitations around this topic.

Warmly, and with wishes for wellness,

Woodrós

The Most Important Part of an Observation Is the Conversation

by Christopher Ervin

When I learned I would be a graduate teaching assistant during the second year of my MA program, I began observing my course professors, often noting strategies to emulate but sometimes practices to guard against. I don’t remember exactly what I observed, but I suspect a kindly literature professor reading directly from lecture notes landed on the “don’t” list. And seeing the impact of our facilitator calling on us by name and asking prompting, open questions, found its way to the “do this” list. Those early memories of learning how to teach from their examples have faded, but I absolutely know that talking to them about their teaching was not part of my process. I never scheduled any formal observations or requested follow-up conversations with my professors about why they were doing the things I observed. So, rather than hearing from them about their teaching, I took from those observations my own interpretations of their teaching styles, which I then placed within the context of what I anticipated my approach would be.

In the years since, I’ve had the opportunity to observe hundreds of graduate teaching assistants, writing consultants, peers, and mentors in both formal and informal contexts. I’ve also been observed (formally) dozens of times as a teacher and facilitator. In all my experiences observing and being observed, I’ve found the conversations, before and after, to be the cornerstone of a successful observation experience.

The Conversation Before

The conversation before an observation might be brief, but it’s no less important than the follow-up. The conversation preceding the observation serves several purposes, but overall, the first conversation, combined with the follow-up, wraps the observation in what I hope is a positive and caring interaction.

I have four goals for those initial conversations. First, I hope to learn what the person I’m observing would like me to focus my attention on during the observation. Organization of material? Clarity of explanation? Facilitation of group discussion? Interaction with participants, or interaction between participants? I lead the initial conversation with this goal-setting process, which also helps to empower and center the person I’m observing, and to dismantle some of the power dynamic inherent in an observation.

Second, I want to be sure the person I’m observing understands my process. Since I take copious notes, I want them to know that in advance. This is also when I tell them whether I’ll be taking notes on a laptop or tablet because I hope to avoid the impression that I am disengaged or multitasking. (It’s also when I invite them to share their preference with me—if they prefer I take handwritten notes, they can tell me then.) I also share the evaluation form/rubric if I’ll be using one (for evaluative observations, there’s usually some kind of university/department-mandated form).

Additionally, I hope the person I’m observing leaves the initial meeting knowing how the observation is going to be used. In some contexts, it’s clear (tenure file, for example). Elsewhere, the person being observed might know only that they’re being required to have an observation of their class/meeting, etc.—for example, when I observe faculty/staff I supervise as part of the evaluation process. In that case, they might not be sure who will have access to that observation report (if there is a formal report), how it might be used, and where it will “live” after the observation. Likewise, I ask them how they plan to use the report I share with them (teaching portfolio, for example) so that I have an opportunity to write a report that works for their purposes.

Finally, I do my best to be sure we both leave the meeting feeling excited—or at least not anxious—about the upcoming observation. Some of us dread being observed, and that anxiety can shape the class, meeting, etc. Strategically nudging the power balance back toward the person I’m observing—to the degree that such a shift can happen—by centering their goals and self-identified growth areas goes a long way to help them anticipate a productive and valuable experience.  In the end, I hope the initial conversation clears away some of the anxiety and sets the person I’m observing up for a really successful class, meeting, etc.

The Follow-Up Conversation

The follow-up conversation is typically what one might think of in the context of an observation. My approach is to reserve most of the time during the conversation for the person I’ve observed, giving them space to make meaning for themselves while I act as a sounding board for that meaning-making. As with the conversation before the observation, I enter the follow-up with a few specific goals.

First, I want to share what I noticed based on their self-identified goals. If they asked me to pay attention to how their students were interacting, I’ll have drawn a discussion map that shows who was speaking, and to whom, and how often. If they wanted me to focus my attention on a new approach to small-group work, I will have taken copious notes based on what I hear and see in the small groups. I consider this part a reflecting-back process, like I am a mirror they’ve been able to hold up to their teaching.

Second, I always offer genuine, specific praise and validation and talk about why I felt a particular approach or activity worked well. The value of praise can’t be understated. It not only confirms for the person being observed what they hope is working well, but it also often identifies for them approaches or strategies they might not have noticed about themselves.

Third, I hope to contribute some interpretation or additional meaning making about the class, meeting, etc. Non-judgmental question-asking serves as the cornerstone of this part of the follow-up conversation, but direct observations and notes are interspersed. If the initial conversation served its purpose, my direct observations during the follow-up should land well.

Ultimately, the conversation will be shaped by the relationship I have with the person being observed—if I am their supervisor, we might find opportunity to talk through a couple of specific approaches or behaviors that don’t align with the expectations of the position. If I am not their supervisor, we might focus primarily on formative types of evaluative suggestions, like when a faculty member is interested in hearing my perspective about how their discussion prompts landed with their students.

Remembering that Observations Enact Actual and Perceived Power Dynamics

Even with the most productive of conversations before and after the observation, I remain keenly aware that an existing power structure determines who is observed, who gets to observe, why they observe, in what context someone is observed, and what implications might arise from the observation. The fact that a faculty member or staff might invite a colleague or supervisor to observe them doesn’t erase the power dynamic between those individuals. Imagine the scenario in which a department head is applying for promotion to full professor and needs to be observed by faculty they supervise—just one example of how complex the power dynamic can become when we are invited to make formally observe others.

Exploring Student Communication through Fall Survey Engagement

by Clare Creighton

In April 2020, a small team of folks from Student Affairs and Academic Affairs designed and administered a survey to undergraduate, Corvallis-campus based students to better understand the student experience during the transition to remote learning. Since then, this team has conducted four additional surveys to gain insights into students’ experiences and perspectives.

In late October 2022, we initiated the fifth survey in this series and received responses from 2600 students. We will be releasing the full findings within the next few weeks, but I wanted to pull out a few key points that piqued my curiosity on the broader question: “What should communication look like between students and OSU?” Fortunately for all involved, I’m not the one answering this question. In fact, the Constituent Relationship Management (CRM) team is engaging in that work right now, and that group will review the responses on a few questions they helped design. For the scope of this blog, I want to highlight some areas of curiosity that came up relative to that theme of communicating with students:

  1. I coded the question “What support do you think you most need so you can be successful this year at OSU?” – the top two themes were financial support and academic resources, but many students used that space to give feedback on a specific course or instructor. The survey isn’t designed for local feedback of that sort, so I interpret this to mean we have a gap in our communication structure. How do we empower students to talk to their instructors? And, when needed (although rare), what mechanisms are in place for students when genuine issues with an instructor arise? I am intrigued by the feedback form the College of Science has in place and wonder what the role this form or others like it might play in supporting interaction between students and instructors.
  2. Near the end of the survey we asked “What do you wish we would have asked about in this survey?” Erin Bird coded these responses, and I saw in those themes an opportunity to do more to hear from students. They asked that OSU ask more about their experience as a student, ask questions about their mental health, and check in on them more. We don’t need to survey students more to create spaces for them to feel heard and to convey that they matter to the university. What opportunities already exist for students to share about their experience, or for an instructor, advisor, or support personnel to indicate interest in how they’re doing? What would that look like?
  3. At the end of the survey, we asked students to leave their name and email address if they’d like to receive follow-up information and resources. Getting email outreach after finishing a survey isn’t an ideal way to connect, and yet 33% of our respondents were interested in additional communication at the end of the survey. There is a clear interest for students in timely information about resources. I am curious where the appropriate home might be for an “I want outreach/help/information” request within our university ecosystem.
  4. The overall survey response rate was low (under 20%)—lower, in fact, than the other surveys in the series. On the other hand, the students who completed the survey gave rich and robust responses. When asked to define success, over 2100 respondents offered up 35,000 words. With both of those data points in mind, I am curious: how can we create routine mechanisms for students to share feedback that will be reviewed and shared more broadly?

I may have just offered four reasons not to administer a large-scale survey, but I actually believe wholly in this effort (and want to increase the response rate).  But a survey alone can’t accomplish our communication needs, and I believe that students and administrators, faculty, and staff would benefit from more nuanced conversation. For students, the value is in learning about resources in a timely fashion, an ability to give input and share their experience, and, at times, be checked-in on. From OSU’s perspective, having student input and perspective is vital in key success initiatives, effective communication, and our overall understanding of what needs and concerns exist.

We can and are working on large-scale communication through the CRM project and survey efforts like this, but I don’t want to lose sight of the ways we can do the work of communication at the small scale too. Individual people – student support personnel, advisors, instructors can play an important role here through day-to-day conversations with students. This week I’m going to pay attention to the conversations I’m having, and identify places where checking-in, inviting perspective, and offering resources can show up within existing dialogues.

For those interested in the full results of the survey, Erin Bird, Maureen Cochran, and I will be presenting as part of the FYI Friday series on Friday, February 3rd, at 1:00 pm via Zoom. Registration is required. If you are unable to attend, a recording will be available in Box along with the final report.

10 Ways to Check-In with Students during the Term

When teaching, course evaluations can provide a snapshot of students’ experiences which can be used to improve the course in future terms. That feedback is after the course has ended though. During the term, checking in with students about their experience of the course can provide helpful information that can allow for flexibility and adaptation to meet the needs of specific students or make adjustments that benefit the entire class. While formative assessment is always helpful to see how students are progressing in their learning, checking in on their experience of the course can offer a different kind of awareness and insight into opportunities for student support. In addition, being responsive after checking in can demonstrate your care for students and your willingness to work together to co-create a positive class experience. Including anonymous check-in options can also help students feel safer sharing about experiences or offering authentic feedback.

Here are a few ideas for how you can check in with students and gain valuable information to support your planning and pedagogy:

  1. Q&A Time: Save 5 minutes at the start of one class session each week for open question time. Encourage students to bring questions during that time or give them space to talk with a partner about a question before asking.
  2. Stop, Start, Continue: Hand out 3×5 cards and ask students to respond to Start, Stop, Continue prompts.
    • What’s something they’d like to start happening in the course?
    • What’s something they’d like to stop happening in the course?
    • What practice do they appreciate and want to continue?
  3. Anonymous Qualtrics Survey: Include a link to an anonymous Qualtrics survey in your syllabus and remind students about the link throughout the term. Invite them to share about how they’re experiencing the course throughout the term.
  4. Process Memos: When students submit assignments during the term, plan for a few of those assignments to include process memos where students reflect on their process and next steps in learning. Don’t grade process memos, or, grade only as complete/incomplete to encourage authentic reflection.
  5. Midterm Survey: Share an anonymous survey (hand out in class or distribute link online) half-way through the term with questions about specific elements of the course (e.g., class sessions, office hours, assignments, etc.). After surveying students, provide an overview of what you’ve learned and any adjustments you’re making to the course in response.
  6. Clearest and Muddiest Point: Start some class sessions by asking students to talk together and share out about what their clearest and muddiest points are. You can also do this anonymously using tools like Poll Everywhere or Mentimeter.
  7. Conferences: If you teach a course where individual or small group conferences are feasible, having 1:1 conversation can help you learn about students’ experiences and provide space for follow-up questions. Sharing a few prompts for students to think on prior to the conversation can be a great way to help students prepare to share experiences.
  8. Sticky Note Takeaways or Exit Tickets: Occasionally hand out a sticky note at the start of class, and have students write a takeaway or insight from the class session; make a connection between past and current content; or share how the day’s lecture, discussion, or activities landed for them. This can be particularly useful for understanding what students are learning and how they’ve experienced a new activity you’ve tried in class.
  9. Ungraded Reflection: Low-stakes, brief assignments with a guiding prompt can be a quick way for students to reflect in class and give you a sense of what students are thinking about or learning at a key point in the term.
  10. Submit an Exam Question: Ask students to submit questions and offer that 2-3 of the questions from class will end up on the exam itself. This provides insight into what students view as key concepts or challenging aspects of course. You can then be mindful of what does and doesn’t show up in submitted questions as you support students in preparing for the upcoming exams.

Let’s Make a Pie

by Nicole Hindes

Let’s make a pie.

With that simple sentence, I’ve invited you into a collaboration, but I haven’t actually asked if you want to make a pie with me. Do you also want to make a pie? How will we proceed? What norms and patterns will guide us – and what can intentionality help provide for us? At Indiana University, where I completed my Higher Education and Student Affairs master’s program, we often spoke about how important it is to be intentional in our practice, both in completing the work, and in how we showed up relationally with our students and colleagues. We used intentionality to further goals of student development and dignify relationship norms. “Be intentional” was a repeated refrain inside of my graduate experience. Intentionality is a powerful ingredient we can bring to our pie making effort and how we approach our work together.

So, we’ve chosen to make a pie, together. Both of us are in the place of wanting pie and wanting each other to be involved in the effort.

Is the pie the only thing we care about? How do we want our experience of pie making to be? How will our relationship be impacted by this experience of pie making?

One of the things that helps me find my way to intentionality in my practice at OSU is to look at an experience through a metaphor. We can use our experience of pie-making to deepen understanding about who we are in collaborations with others and build understanding about choices between us in how we will make this pie that illuminates patterns of collaboration and choices that aren’t limited to pie-making. We can also look at roles common inside of academia to consider how these roles, in archetypical form, constrain our access to choices.

If a Professor archetype is collaborating on a pie, we might see the busy professor ask that the pie crust be made ahead of time, expecting (or assuming) a level of base knowledge before deciding what will go in the crust. The professor might use communication norms that assert expertise and authority about the quality of the pie ingredients or the best way to make a pie. The professor may not see that their assertive claims make it too risky for the other to suggest an unusual, but also delicious, gluten-free crust.

Similarly, if a Campus Leader archetype is collaborating on a pie, we might come to the meeting about pie making and see that person set the timeline and predetermine the output expectations (‘traditional cherry’ or ‘key lime’). That person might not see how their suggested ideas or preferences could be heard as expectations that are limiting opportunities to consider the seasonality of fruit, the recipes preferred by the bakers, or understanding that there is a backlog of cakes that have been ordered.

If a New Student archetype is collaborating on a pie, they may be relating from a place of insecurity, unsure that pie in Corvallis is the same as pie in their hometown. They may not know how to bring up the shepherd’s pie they loved eating at their grandfather’s house. They may not know that the blackberry bushes in their backyard can be a valuable contribution to our pie-making goals.

Because archetypes and metaphors are so powerful to the human experience and how we make meaning of the world, we often find ourselves playing out scripts or norms of what dominant culture prescribes as normal. We can do this knowingly to find belonging – or unconsciously because we’re busy and operating as if on autopilot. Because we do our work inside of academia, there are some ways that norms and patterns might prescribe for us how to approach our pie making. These may or may not serve our goals. If we’re not intentional, we might find ourselves communicating or planning in a way that limits the possible pies we could cook up together.

So, remember that I want to make a pie with you? I have some ingredients, some experience and some challenging limitations getting a flaky crust. What ingredients do you have? What experience do you bring? Do you want to work together? What will our conversations be as we make this pie? After we make and consume the pie, how will our relationship have changed? What will that mean for future fruit harvests? Did my choices in relating with you create the context for you to trust me enough to tell me about your grandpa’s shepherd’s pie?

I’ll never forget asking a peer “how do you like to approach collaborations?” and seeing reflected back to me, in her response, how rarely she was asked that question. When I practice intentional collaboration with a group, I might use agendas and meeting design to create the context for collaboration that works for me, the team and our goals. If there’s anyone new to OSU or meeting each other for the first time in the collaboration, I might spend a meaningful chunk of the first meeting (30 minutes!) to build relationships and trust with the group. I like to choose conversation topics and questions that encourage everyone to share about prior roles, strengths and skills that may not be evident based on title or positionality. I’m practicing how to create a brainstorming or idea-generating process that ensures everyone—especially those with less social or positional power—have opportunities to contribute to the vision and approach of the project. Along the way, I try to promote conversation that builds understanding about everyone as whole people with lives outside of roles at OSU.

The pies we make will get eaten and enjoyed. The connections we make when we bake together will be the nourishment that resources us both for years to come. Do you want to make a pie with me?