It is the beginning of Thanksgiving Week. I was sent home from work this past Friday evening with the mandate from my school administrator to “rest, relax, and come back refreshed.” This week is our first break from pandemic instruction — a fever of another sort instigated by the coronavirus. For the first time since August, I do not have to cram at least an extra day-and-a-half of teacher preparation into my 60 hour weekend. So, without having to drag myself into the classroom at 6:00AM Monday morning, I have devoted a luxurious 25 hours so far this weekend to graduate course work alone. This is my rest, relaxation, and refreshment. Am I still behind? Yes. Of course. But I do know that I can accomplish much over the next few days.

My timeline

Time is a sensitive topic for me, and my blog has adopted it as a repetitive theme. In fact, don’t blame me if this post brings about a sense of deja vu; after all, the prompt is a word-for-word duplicate of Week 10’s writing suggestion: What is left to do? What challenges have you faced? Will you be able to meet your timeline for completion? Why or why not? Will you be able to implement? Evaluate?

All of these questions point to time, and due to my even more extreme lack of time early in my project, my official timeline was never truly established. I tried to set an achievable timeline, but it quickly evaporated before my eyes. Things I thought I could do were unattainable. Days I wanted to commit to my project were stolen by continuous policy changes at work. So instead of serving as a carefully-paced plan, my timeline has effectively become a deadline, a race to the finish.

What I want to happen…

Because I have been given this gift of a holiday week and because other responsibilities have been tackled in their own proper time, I expect to cover great distances over the next few days. I have targeted the following tasks to meet my goal:

• complete instructions and narrative text for students on each assignment,
• add questions to topic quizzes,
• create module assessments,
• create and insert instructional videos,
• check that all hyperlinks are properly functioning,
• complete my Job Aid document,
• prepare a presentation of my final project, and
• analyze and reflect on my work.

It will certainly be a working holiday, and that’s OK by me. I am just thankful on this Thanksgiving that it will be a holiday from pandemic instruction.

Dictionary.com defines “crunch time” as “a period when the pressure to succeed is great, often toward the end of an undertaking.”  For my instructional design project, the arrival of November signals that the end is in sight. I am therefore officially in crunch time. Believe me when I say that the pressure is great.

My to-do list…

So what is left to do? An uninformative yet truthful answer would be, “much.” My goal is for my course to flow from start-to-finish with the magic of the “next” button. To make that happen, I am tediously working my way through my large collection of assignments and activities and adding directions and narrative. In essence, I am transcribing any instructions I would give to the learners if they were in front of me face-to-face. I want my learners to always know what is expected of them and how to accomplish it. They should never be confused.

I also still need to storyboard and record a variety of instructional videos that I’ve slated for incorporation. Although I do have some raw ingredients for these videos in place, I know from previous experience that they do not necessarily come together quickly. I will need to consciously set aside time for that particular endeavor. Along those lines, I still have some quizzes to create in Google Forms and assessments to transfer to Canvas.

If this course were designed at the level expected by my employer, my job would be complete with the items mentioned above. Since I am undertaking this project as a true instructional design piece, however, I will additionally need to create a job aid for the instructor and a course evaluation piece to allow for ongoing course improvement. Both of these items currently exist only in the planning stages.

Accomplishments

Although it may sound as if I have little progress to show for my efforts, I have, in reality, accomplished and overcome much. One monumental challenge that I have been bravely fighting is the interference of my daytime job with this project. When I applied to my graduate program more than a year ago, I had no idea how my job requirements as a high school science teacher would change during a global pandemic. Carving out time for this project design has been extremely difficult. However, with the encouragement of my husband, my classmates, and my professor, I have plodded forward in my course design and now see increasing potential for success. In my mind, that view of the goal line is my greatest accomplishment.

Other challenges have been hurdled, as well. I began this project with the intention of constructing it to parallel the instructional “model” prescribed my employer (synchronous instruction of face-to-face and remote learners). But with the suggestion of my professor, I transitioned my original plan to a more instructionally-sound asynchronous design.

Cinderella and midnight

So will I be able to meet my timeline for completion, or will my coach turn into a pumpkin pulled by mice? Honestly, that story will need to unfold. I do believe that I will wrap up my instructional design in time for submission to this graduate course, but I am not 100% positive that I will be able to complete my plan to the standard that resides in my head and in my heart. My day job is still sapping away my time and strength.

I do know, however, that I will not be given the luxury of implementing this course during the timeframe of my graduate class. Implementation and the subsequent evaluation will occur instead during the Spring semester when my Environmental Systems students will reach this point in their course’s scope and sequence. Given what I have gone through this Fall semester, I look forward to reaping the benefits of my hard work – – – a full grading quarter of deliverable instruction.

Right before I chose to pursue my master’s degree in Instructional Design, I played around with the idea of becoming a Certified Public Accountant. With no business-related coursework recorded on my undergraduate transcript, I undertook the necessary prerequisite classes in financial and managerial accounting and economics. I greatly enjoyed that pursuit for about one year until I came to the painful realization that very few people would hire an older person as an intern. This a-ha moment meant that it would be extremely difficult for me to meet the work experience requirements necessary for certification with the State. I then redirected my efforts into a field that capitalizes on my already-existing experience — Instructional Design. But during that year of exploring the world of accounting, I came across the term “WIP,” or “Work in Progress.”

Work in Progress

In accounting, WIP usually refers to a manufacturer’s asset account that is comprised of unfinished goods. This account reflects everything that has been plugged into a product – – – raw materials, labor, manufacturing overhead, if I remember correctly – – – with the intention of converting those items into saleable inventory. At this point in time, my current instructional design project is in WIP. Resources, intellectual assets, and labor have all been applied, but the project itself is an unfinished good. I’m taking comfort in the knowledge that accountants would still consider my project in its current state as an asset and not a liability. It retains its potential to become something of greater value.

Listening to my advisors…

Like most manufacturing executives, I am more successful when I take the advice of my assembled advisors. My Instructional Design peers have not let me down and have provided valuable feedback. At this point in time, I am still implementing earlier input by reworking my course into a fully asynchronous learning opportunity. Although this format does not align with my employer’s expectations, it has proven to be more straightforward and cohesive. I tend to design through the eyes of the learner, and I am now able to assume a consistent vantage point. Because I am currently adding directions to my assembled assignments, I reread my work with one question in mind: can the learner complete this assignment independently and at the time of their choosing? By focusing upon asynchronous instruction, my work is more targeted and productive.

Additional feedback has also led me to rework one of my objective, summative assessments into a rubric-guided project. Learners will now have the opportunity to demonstrate their learning by creating a case study on a natural or man-made disaster. I chose to embrace this suggested design change because a product-based assessment better supports constructivist learning. It also allows learners with differing strengths and abilities to find success.

Project management

My greatest challenge in this project has been to carve out the time necessary to create a quality instructional design piece. Due to extraordinary demands created by the coronavirus pandemic, my competing responsibility as a high school science teacher has exponentially consumed my life. Although I fully understand that the pace is extremely fast in the corporate environment, I believe I would have so much more to show for my efforts if this project were my full-time assignment. I do know that my years in education have prepared me to create instructional pieces efficiently and effectively on a daily basis, albeit not to this scope. I have to believe that, unlike my original goal of becoming a CPA, my age and experience are working in my favor as I strive to become an Instructional Designer.

As I survey my current situation in life, I feel renewed hope. I am still here, and I have actually accomplished a few things. These past eight weeks have generated a constant supply of memes – – – those poignantly humorous visual snippets of popular culture. As a teacher in the COVID-19 era, I have also been flooded with themes and mottos and inspirational sayings sent down from the administrative sages up high. After all, we teachers have the nasty habit of trying to make sense of things. So what is the most commonly heard phrase in my instructional neck of the woods? We must be fluid and flexible. “Fluid and flexible” sounds so much better than the more accurately stated “educational contortionist.” These past eight weeks have seen more changes in direction, procedures, policies, and best practices than I have experienced during my entire teaching career. So yes, fluid and flexible is certainly the way to go.

Fold in the cheese…

One of the more comical but on-target expressions that is currently resonating throughout the teaching community comes from the Canadian sitcom Schitt’s Creek and the TikTok social media app. Yes, “fold in the cheese, David.” For those unacquainted with the premise of the skit, it basically encapsulates a person in authority telling someone on a lower rank to do a job that the supervisor does not understand him or herself. Moira Rose does not know what “folding in the cheese” is nor how to go about doing it while making enchiladas, but she insists that David must still, somehow, some way, fold in the cheese. Teachers quickly made the connection between this vignette and being told to teach remote and in-person students synchronously without extra time, resources, direction, or functioning technology. We must deliver a product that administrators, curriculum superintendents, board members, and elected officials insist exists but do not know how to produce on their own.

Although my experience with “folding in the cheese” at work has eaten away at my life, I am thankful that my graduate instructional design work has been sane and forgiving. Stepping away from my work duties for just a bit this weekend, I was able to gain some ground on my awaiting instructional design project. It is coming to life.

Ch-ch-ch-changes…

Once I plunged back into my original design, I first needed to process feedback provided by my peers. The changes that they suggested served to make my design tighter, more cohesive. For example, one of my peers’ comments prompted me to create a key that describes the basic requirements of my various activity types. The activity type entitled “Internet Research” is now formally described as “guides to select Internet sites with accompanying questions.” After making this change, I logged into the Canvas LMS and got to work. Once I explored Canvas’s offerings, I decided to revisit my design for yet another revision to bring the structure together. By simply renaming my activity types by language already used in Canvas (i.e., “discussion” instead of “forum”), I believe I have strengthened my product.

Bend and keep grrowing…

I am comfortable in saying that my instructional design piece has now moved solidly into development. However, my previous research on the flexible Kemp ID model reassures me that there is nothing wrong with occasionally back stepping into design. I am finding that this model possibly does capture the free-flow nature of my innate work habits. At this point in time, I have been most comfortable with abandoning the traditional progression of ADDIE and instead working from an overall course framework that is gaining more and more flesh and substance over time. I have the big picture, the bones, and am bringing the specifics into focus. I am trying my best to be fluid and flexible.

Is it already October? Yes, it is! September swirled me away with an instructional pandemic of sorts – – – attempting to synchronously teach high school science to face-to-face and remote students on a cobbled-together, glitchy platform. Remote students have laptops and Chromebooks; face-to-face students have tiny cell phones screens and paper. Hours and days and weeks of no sleep and endless computer work all while adjusting my mask, floating on a cart between two floors in a large building, spraying and wiping desks with disinfectant, and checking if my Zoom microphone is on mute. A few declared COVID-19 cases announced on campus, and my instructional design project still sat, patiently waiting. This week, I finally settled into a new normal at work that signaled time to undergo another growth spurt. Time to invest time in my project and focus on what I set out to do.

What’s working…

With my project resumed, what has gone well? After sorting through the feedback provided to me by my professor and my peers, I found that my original design plan surprisingly still held much value. I was able to rely upon much of my initial work to guide me while constructing the actual course in the Canvas Learning Management System. Given my recent intensive immersion (read: “drowning”) in another inferior LMS at work, Canvas was incredibly easy and intuitive to learn. I did not require viewing any tutorials and felt very comfortable arranging and uploading course work from the immediate start. I still have very much to do. As I shared with the peers invited into my course’s interior, I am not working in a traditional, linear fashion from start to finish. Instead, I have built the overall skeleton of the course and am now affixing pieces of meat here and there.

What still needs to work…

As for challenges that face me, one situation looms above all others: finding time in a 100+ hour work week. Building a course is time-intensive, especially when constructing it fully ahead of implementation. In a traditional K-12 teaching position, a skilled teacher can “fly” with the paint still wet on a newly-crafted lesson. After all, it is relatively easy to disguise lesson imperfections from adolescents during classroom implementation. However, when preparing an entire course for review by peers prior to implementation, every little flaw becomes glaringly obvious. A thorough, unrushed, critical eye is essential.

I am still needing to carve out daily attention to my design project. Truthfully, I may only have been able to find 5 to 15 minutes every few days to look over things this past month. But if I had claimed those 5 to 15 minutes when they were available, I would be that much further along. I know that this discipline is something that I still need to cultivate for a future in professional instructional design.

An educational community

Throughout this graduate experience, I have grown to truly appreciate my peers. Not only have the reviews by my classmates and professor been mostly positive, but they have been overwhelmingly encouraging and understanding at a time when I need it most. The feedback I have received has influenced me to rewrite this project as 100% asynchronous. I had originally set out to construct it following the ill-advised model prescribed at work – – – synchronous instruction of face-to-face and remote learners while allowing for a few asynchronous stragglers. Although I will need to modify my project if it is eventually implemented in my existing classroom, I have found that building a purely asynchronous structure is much more instructionally sound. This experience is certainly driving home for me the concepts and theories about types of remote learning that I have studied over the past year.

Another requirement to growing in an educational community is offering your feedback to others. Overall, I have been amazed by the work of my cohort and always look forward to perusing the other designs. I sometimes end up asking more questions (my favorite is “what software did you use for those videos?”) and gleaning ideas than offering insight. Oftentimes, I find myself viewing the instructional piece from the vantage point of the student – – – are instructions clear, do any spelling or grammatical errors jump out at me, is there a recognizable flow. Mostly, I offer reassurance: you are on the right track, this project speaks to me, I am growing by observing your design.

It’s as easy as L-M-S…

After spending years working with the LMS wannabe Google Classroom, briefly dabbling in the independent TalentLMS, and now in the midst of a decidedly contentious and forced relationship with Schoology, I was so happy to build this course in Canvas. From rearranging components to uploading resources, everything worked. My various experiences from both work and graduate study seem to be melding. In a very short time, I have been able to apply instructional design concepts (LTEC 5210 and 5211), some of my newer HTML knowledge (LTEC 5420), and even visual treatments of graphics (LTEC 5220). Combined with my trial-by-fire with Canvas’s weaker, sometimes inept cousin Schoology, I feel very prepared. I am growing.

Up until this point, my instructional design courses have emphasized the use of the ADDIE instructional model when constructing projects — Analyze, Design, Develop, Implement, and Evaluate. ADDIE holds the title of either gold standard or common currency, depending upon who you listen to. But now that my course work has progressed into the last two semesters of my master’s program, alternative instructional design models are surfacing. One such option is the Morrison-Ross-Kemp model, oftentimes simply known as the Kemp instructional design model.

Not new, not old, but definitely different…

The Kemp model breaks away from the rigidity of ADDIE and “corresponds with a more flexible ID process” (Akbulut, 2007, p. 64). It consists of nine interdependent steps and seeks to approach instruction from the vantage point of the learner:

• identifying instructional design problems and specifying relevant goals,
• examining learner characteristics,
• identifying subject content and analyzing task components that are related to instructional goals,
• stating instructional objectives for the learners,
• sequencing content within each unit to sustain logical learning,
• designing instructional strategies for each learner to master the objectives,
• planning instructional delivery,
• developing evaluation instruments, and
• selecting resources to support learning activities. (Akbulut, 2007, p. 64)

This strategy of focusing upon the learner results in a more fluid, flexible model than ADDIE. Rather than proceeding from step to step, the Kemp model may be more conducive to letting the creative juices flow. An instructional designer may find him or herself laying down the foundation for instructional delivery while identifying the goals. Similarly, the initial uncovering of learner characteristics may immediately prompt the creation of evaluation instruments. In this manner, the two models may mirror each other in many of their steps, but the unencumbered stream of the Kemp model sets it apart.

Instructional design models vs. instructional theory models

Setting these differences aside, one can easily acknowledge that both the Kemp model and ADDIE seek to create effective lessons and instruction from the application of sound instructional theory. And whereas instructional design models describe a technique for preparation, the instructional theory model instills the actual flavor.

Instructional theory models ascribe to different explanations for how people learn. They range from strict behaviorism to the more modern social constructivism. If learning activities are chosen to support a particular instructional theory, then it really does not matter which ID model was used to produce the final product. Behaviorism will dictate the use of repetitive drills, and social constructivism will necessitate reflection, discourse, and creation. Since most ID models can accommodate the various learning theories driven by the client, maturing instructional designers may gravitate to the ID model that he or she finds most effective and comfortable. The client may not understand or even care what process was used to create the end product, as long as it meets the prescribed needs.

So which ID model do I gravitate toward?

Although the Kemp model is new to me, I surprisingly saw many of my habits described in its intertwined steps. My professional role as a high school teacher has required me to create and implement instructional opportunities for my students on a daily basis. Because my analysis, design, and development are almost always temporally concurrent with implementation and evaluation, I rarely find ADDIE to be a practical model. I simply am not afforded the time necessary to “build” an entire course in advance. Instead, K-12 teachers are encouraged to keep their plans fluid, flexible, and “not too far ahead.” It has been ingrained in me by my administrators that if I am planning more than two or three weeks ahead, then I will lose sight of the needs of my students. The Kemp model therefore resonates with me because it continues to revisit the learners’ needs and allows for creative instructional design on the fly.

Reference

Akbulut, Y . (2007). Implications of Two Well-Known Models For Instructional Designers In Distance Education: Dick-Carey Versus Morrison-Ross-Kemp . Turkish Online Journal of Distance Education, 8 (2) , 62-68 . Retrieved from https://dergipark.org.tr/en/pub/tojde/issue/16920/176576

One of the most beautiful aspects of my graduate education is gathering feedback from my classmates. I find this fact a revelation to me, because my past work experiences have almost always gravitated toward stand-alone assignments. Over time, I have become known as a professional hermit of sorts. I really like working by myself and serving as the sole creative mind behind my projects. However, this past year of immersing myself into Instructional Design has changed my perspective. I now look forward to reading and hearing the insight provided by others. I value input.

Three Reviewers

For my draft design document, I was fortunate to partner with three peers that each bring unique wisdom and suggestions to my project. Even better, each classmate was able to directly connect to my project in one way or another due to his or her own work experiences. I feel almost as though I was able to enlist three new subject matter experts to oversee and guide me in my undertaking.

The first review was submitted by a fellow teacher. I found her understanding comments about the current shift in K-12 educational practices during COVID-19 to boost my confidence. She understood and validated many of my instructional decisions. Her supportive tone made it easy to respect her recommendation to vary my summative assessments from the standard objective and short-answer exam. I see how consistency can sometimes lead to monotony. If the curriculum and time frame allows, I would like to act on this advice so that the learners will have a more complete experience when demonstrating their growth.

My second reviewer hails from a different professional background. Although she does work with an academic institution, she brings content expertise to the table. My instructional design project addresses select environmental science concepts for a high school audience; my peer reviewer has an extensive work history in an environmental science office. It is quite the match! This reviewer was able to make connections to additional content that I can either incorporate or spiral back to. She also contributed solely wearing the hat of an instructional designer by reminding me to apply Bloom’s taxonomy to my objectives and accurately report any necessary technology. Consequently, I plan to revisit the verbs chosen for my objectives so that they precisely convey the desired mastery level. Communication is most certainly key.

My third and final reviewer is another high school teacher also wrestling with the thorny educational issues presented by COVID-19. I truly appreciate his input since I know he is a fellow comrade in the trenches. This reviewer’s ideas serve to help me polish my organization of the learning activities outlined in my design draft. I did choose descriptive names such as “Article Reading,” “Online Forum,” “Internet Research,” and “Inquiry Activity” to categorize my lessons. However, my reviewer recommended adding a legend or key that would fully flesh out these names into specific, understandable actions. I agree that such a construct would improve the transmission of learning expectations to the learner and instructor alike.

The take-away?

I value the words of my peers, and I found their comments to be on target and beneficial to my progress. Although I choose not to incorporate every formatting or content suggestion, I do know that my project will improve with more critical eyes on its development. Peer review is nothing to be feared or avoided. It is a necessary component of constructivist learning.

As a high school science teacher, I love the opportunity to reinvent myself every August. My annual ritual involves thoroughly assessing my classroom procedures, my lesson plans, my technological and digital resources, my physical desktop, and even my professional wardrobe. Nothing is immune from the chopping block if it is deemed inefficient, ineffective, or outdated. I get to start every school year with a fresh, hopefully more streamlined and powerful approach.

This school year, I have at least three reasons to evaluate my practices with especially objective eyes: I am incorporating social distancing practices into my classroom, I am floating between the first and third floor, and I am simultaneously teaching both remote and face-to-face students. In short, I need a road map for rewriting almost all of my classroom practices. Fortunately, my final graduate program courses are bringing me some answers. The timing couldn’t be better.

What the research is telling me.

My current course tasked me with reading and reflecting about three instructional design articles: one chosen by my professor, one chosen by a peer, and one chosen by myself. When considering problem based learning, Savery and Duffy (1995, p. 36) emphasize “the importance of a learning community where ideas are discussed and understanding enriched.” Petrovic-Dzerdz and Trépanier (2018) further consider how the learning community concept applies to one of my current dilemmas: transferring face-to-face content to an online format. I was encouraged to read their assertion that “even more social activity (can be incorporated) in an online environment than in the physical classroom” (p. 272). Finally, Scheffel et al. (2019) provide specific, concrete steps for transferring face-to-face content to a blended or virtual format with their proposed DC4E instructional design model. Taken together, this collection of seemingly disparate sources speaks loudly to provide me with justification for and the beginning pathway to an interactive, online learning community this school year.

What I need to know more about…

I desperately want to continue the discussion, debate and hands-on learning that have characterized my previous face-to-face classrooms. After reading these three articles, I know I must investigate further how technology can encourage and facilitate an interactive, scientific community. For my graduate instructional design project, I will need to master the forum and questioning capacities of the Canvas LMS. For my high school teaching assignment, I will explore corresponding features in Schoology. For both, I can search out and vet web-based applications such as Kialo and Wakelet that contribute to community building and critical thinking. Scheffel et al. chart how to practically shift face-to-face curriculum to online; I need to plan how to shift not just my curriculum but also my face-to-face scientific community to online.

How this will impact me…

By striving to combine my face-to-face and online students into a single educational community, I am committing to a social constructivist approach. My students (as learners that will partake in my instructional design) will gain meaning from the collective effort of the class. To increase the success of this project design, I will need to provide a framework for student collaboration and exploration. I will need to build in flexibility to anticipate student learning paths deviating from the expected. I will need to develop assessment tools that forgo traditional objective questions and instead provide open-ended opportunities for demonstrating concept mastery.

I get to start with a fresh, hopefully more streamlined and powerful approach.

References

Petrovic-Dzerdz, M., & Trépanier, A. (2018). Online hunting, gathering and sharing: A return to experiential learning in a digital age. International Review of Research in Open and Distributed Learning, 19(2), 271-281.

Savery, J. R., & Duffy, T. M. (1995). Problem based learning: An instructional model and its constructivist framework. Educational Technology, 35, 31–38

Scheffel, M., van Limbeek, E., Joppe, D., van Hooijdonk, J., Kockelkoren, C., Schmitz, M., Ebus, P., Sloep, P., & Drachsler, H. (2019). The means to a blend: A practical model for the redesign of face-to-face education to blended learning. In Scheffel M., Broisin J., Pammer-Schindler V., Ioannou A., & Schneider J. (Eds.), Transforming learning with meaningful technologies. EC-TEL 2019. Lecture notes in computer science: Vol. 11722 (pp. 701-704). 

I am not a runner. I have run a few races, however. In fact, I signed up again this year for my employer’s fundraising 5K that had been scheduled for late March. I’m usually the one who shifts to a walk halfway along the course. I’ve either been that pale, non-muscular girl or, as of late, the plump older lady wearing a very long shirt over her yoga pants. But that’s just distance running. I’ve always done favorably in school, work, and pretty much life in general. But today, I am back to being that out-of-breath woman who crosses the finish line long after the race organizers have reeled in the magical tape and stowed it away for next year. Except now my lackluster finish is in school, work, life. I’m not used to this feeling.

Participation trophy?

In all reality, I do feel that I had more direction and purpose with Project B than I did with Project A. I see that new calm as evidence of learning. I challenged myself with learning a new (albeit simplified) LMS and temporarily broke away from my codependent relationship with Google Classroom. That went well.

Thanks to this project (and the late-night voice overs I now do for my work), I’ve also increased my comfort with cranking out a quick video using PowerPoint, OBS, Screencastify, or Adobe Premier Pro. That also went well.

The main struggle I faced was having to essentially contrive a project in the first place. I wish I had been given a job from an authentic client rather than bending my husband into that position. I certainly DID walk through the ADDIE process for the most part, but I felt almost like it was role play. I prefer real. So I guess next time I will forgo the whole COVID-19 thing. Yes, that.

But I still did it.

Coincidentally, I found an email in my inbox today that said I would still be receiving the race t-shirt I purchased back in February although the race had been cancelled. I smiled. I wanted that t-shirt. In fact, I decided that my instructional design Project B was my latest race. And although I did not produce at the level at which I am accustomed, I will be OK with myself. I will celebrate the fact that I actually crossed the finish line; I will claim a victory.

We are at the end of our course. After viewing my peers video presentations of their projects, I look back in awe. We are ALL so different. We all constructed our own learning. I see that as evidence of a class well-taught. The hand was offered if we needed holding, but it wasn’t being shoved in our face if we wanted to run with an idea.

I enjoyed seeing my classmates’ videos, but I did miss discussion and questioning. It was difficult to judge where I fit in, since we all showcased different bits and pieces, we all implemented different LMS’s or presentation strategies, and we all conquered vastly different projects.

Yet in that vast array of creativity, I did notice the common framework of ADDIE. We all tried our best to use its structure to guide our design, guide our product. If I were to suggest one idea to improve the situation, it would be interesting if UNT had a client-matching program in place. Although that idea may not work in practicality, it would be interesting to see how we perform when working for a truly new acquaintance. I believe we would gain huge strides in mastering the instructional designer/client relationship.